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For the first time that she could remember, Caroline saw Claire Robinson blush. Or at least she thought the faint reddening of Claire’s cheeks was a blush, though it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Why would I congratulate the woman who got the man I’d have grabbed for myself if I’d only seen him first?” Claire replied, executing a smooth recovery. But then she offered Caroline one of the dazzling smiles she usually reserved for her best customers. “But you know I congratulate you, and you know I wish you the best, and now, please, please, won’t someone introduce me to Virginia Estherbrook? I’ve seen her as Cleopatra, and Portia, and Amanda in Private Lives and God only knows what all else.”

“Virgie?” Tony called, and across the room the aging actress turned, then started toward Tony, Caroline, and Claire. The crowd opened for her as the Red Sea parted for Moses, and a moment later she was holding her hand out as if she expected someone to kiss the large ruby that glittered on one of her arthritic fingers.

“What a wonderful wedding,” she proclaimed, thrusting her hand into Tony’s. “It almost makes me want to try it one more time.” She turned to Caroline, beaming happily. “But you’ve already taken the only man I ever wanted that I couldn’t have, so I suppose I’ll live out what years I have left as a lonely old crone, drying up to blow away in a midwinter breeze. Is that a line from something? If it isn’t, it should be.” Finally she turned to Claire. “I don’t believe I know you.” Once again she extended the hand with the enormous ruby, and for a moment — just a moment — Caroline thought Claire Robinson might actually kiss it.

“I’m Claire Robinson,” Claire said. “You don’t know what a pleasure this is for me — I’ve been such a fan for so many years—”

Virginia Estherbrook’s smile cooled slightly. “Not that many years, I trust,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly frosty edge.

“Oh, I–I didn’t mean it that way,” Claire said quickly. “I just meant — I mean, when you played Lady Teazle—”

“I’m afraid that was Helen Hayes,” the actress cut in. She turned to Caroline. “Where on earth did you find this enchanting creature?” She paused just long enough for Claire to start relaxing, then: “I assume she must be one of yours, since she’s certainly not our sort.” The emphasis on the penultimate word was just enough to make Claire flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Claire began. “I didn’t mean to—”

But Virginia Estherbrook was already waving her words airily away. “I’m sure you didn’t. People like you never do mean to, do they? Not to worry, dear — all’s well that ends well. And that, my darlings, truly is a line from something, and I believe it sounds like an exit line.” Her eyes fixed once more on Claire, but this time she made no offer of her hand. “Charmed, my dear. I do hope I live long enough for you to see me again sometime.” She paused for a single beat, then pointedly added two more words: “On stage.” An instant later she was gone, fading into the crowd so quickly that it was almost as if she’d never been there at all.

“Oh, God,” Claire Robinson groaned. “I feel like an idiot!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony reassured her. “Virgie’s bark is a lot worse than her bite.” Suddenly the doors to the suite opened, and half a dozen waiters appeared, carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres, and the reception began in earnest. Caroline, with her children and her husband by her side, began moving through the room from one group to another. To her relief, everyone seemed to be mixing happily with everyone else. Laurie and Rebecca Mayhew had found each other, and were off in a corner by themselves, chattering the way only girls their age can, though Rebecca looked so pale that Caroline wondered how she could even sit up.

Then, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Andrea Costanza, sitting alone at the end of a sofa, her face reflecting none of the joy Caroline saw wherever else she looked. Threading her way through the crowd, Caroline sat down next to her.

“Okay, give,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Andrea jumped as if she hadn’t been aware Caroline was even there. “Nothing,” she said a little too quickly.

“It’s got to be something,” Caroline pressed. “You look more like you’re at a funeral than a wedding.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Andrea said. “It’s just that—” She hesitated, then shook her head. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing at all. I’m sure you and Tony will be very happy.”

Caroline looked straight into her eyes. “But you’re not happy for me.”

Andrea shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s just me.” She forced a smile then. “Maybe Bev is right — maybe I’m just jealous because now you’ve had half a dozen husbands between the three of you, and I haven’t even had one.”

Caroline shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s Tony. You still don’t like him.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Andrea began, but Caroline shook her head.

“Not disliking him isn’t the same thing as liking him.”

“What can I say?” Andrea asked, sighing. “It’s probably nothing — it’s just that—” Almost against her will, her gaze shifted toward Rebecca Mayhew. Though Alicia Albion had assured her that the girl was getting better, it seemed to Andrea that nothing had changed at all; in fact, if anything, Rebecca looked slightly paler and thinner than she had last spring. And that, she knew, was what was bothering her. That, and the whole creepy feeling of the building Caroline was about to move into. But what should she say? Should she tell Caroline how worried she was about Rebecca? Why? What could it possibly have to do with Caroline? She made up her mind, and finally spoke. “It is nothing,” she said. “And this is your wedding, and I should be happy for you, and if you’re happy, then so am I.” She stood up. “So lead me to the champagne. Let’s celebrate.”

But before they could even signal a waiter, a voice rose above the babble of voices that filled the room.

Ryan’s voice.

“I’m not your son!” he was shouting. “You’re not my father and you never will be!” As the bedroom door slammed the crowd fell silent, and Caroline felt every eye in the room suddenly watching her.

It’ll be all right, she told herself as she hurried toward the bedroom to find out what had gone wrong. It’s got to be all right. Then she was in the bedroom, and Ryan was glaring angrily at her.

“I hate him,” the boy said. “I hate him, and I’ll always hate him.”

Going to her son, Caroline wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Oh, honey, don’t say that. Tony loves you. He loves all of us.”

Though Ryan said nothing, Caroline felt him stiffen in her arms, and knew he didn’t believe what she’d just said. But still, it would be all right.

She would make it all right.

CHAPTER 10

Andrea Costanza’s fingers had been drumming on the top of her desk for nearly half an hour, and though she herself was barely conscious of it, the occupants of every other cubicle in her vicinity were quickly going crazy. It was finally Nathan Rosenberg, whose desk faced Andrea’s and was separated from hers by nothing more than a five-foot metal divider, who decided he’d had enough. Rising from his chair, he moved around the end of his desk and peered over the divider. Sure enough, Andrea was staring off into space, her right hand resting on the desk, her fingers beating out a steady tattoo. “Enough with the drums, already,” he said.

Andrea, startled by the sudden interruption of her thoughts, jumped, and the drumming abruptly halted.