His mouth quirked as he watched her munch the stuffed pastry. "Having a good time?"
"Food's great. And I like your parents. Remind me a little of my own. It's easy to see why they both wound up in the academic world. I can't envision your father working in a corporate environment."
"My father is a strong math-talent. I'm told that it was obvious from the start that he was not cut out to take over Stonebraker. That was why my grandfather put the pressure on me."
Orchid nodded. She had been introduced to Sarah and Glen Stonebraker shortly after they had arrived. They were a striking couple who wore the mantle of their education and intelligence with unselfconscious patrician ease, just as her own parents did. They had clearly been surprised by Orchid, but they had both been gracious and charming. There had been a lot of thoughtful speculation and even some relief in their eyes, but neither had been so rude as to grill their son's "agency date."
"You look much more like your grandfather than you do your father," Orchid remarked.
"I told you, the family considers me a throwback," Rafe said. "In more ways than one."
"I wish you wouldn't use that word."
"Throwback? Why not? Everyone else does." He put one foot on the terrace and leaned forward to rest his forearm on his thigh. "It's not entirely inaccurate. My grandfather and I are alike in a lot of ways. That's why we couldn't work together."
"Rafe, get real. You couldn't take orders from anyone, let alone your grandfather."
"That's the damn truth," said a deep, gravely voice from the direction of the open door behind Rafe. "Boy was as hard-headed, independent, and stubborn as an ox-mule from the day he was born. Always had to do things his way."
"Hello, Al." Rafe took his foot down off the low terrace wall and turned to look at his grandfather. "Enjoying your birthday party?"
"What's to enjoy?" Alfred G. strolled toward them. "So far I've been hit up for campaign contributions by three different Founders' Values party candidates. Your grandmother tells me I've got to dance the tango-waltz with her at midnight and Selby is acting like he already runs Stonebraker."
"Just another typical birthday party celebration for you," Rafe said.
Alfred G. narrowed his eyes in a calculating expression that reminded Orchid of his grandson. "Why don't you go mingle or something, Rafe? Give me a chance to get to know your friend, Orchid, here."
An extremely cautious expression crossed Rafe's face. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to leave you alone with Orchid."
Alfred G.'s perfect white teeth flashed in a charmingly dangerous smile. "She's not afraid of me, are you, Orchid?"
"Of course not, Mr. Stonebraker," Orchid said politely.
"There, you see?" Alfred G. beamed triumphantly at Rafe. "Run along. Let me have a little chat with your agency date."
Rafe looked at Orchid, brows raised in silent inquiry. When Orchid nodded in equally silent agreement, he gave an "on your head be it" shrug and started toward the door.
"Good luck," he said as he walked past his grandfather. "But don't come whining to me if the little chat doesn't turn out quite the way you expect."
Fifteen minutes later Rafe noticed that neither Alfred G. nor Orchid had come in from the terrace. A trickle of unease slithered across his nerve endings. He broke off a conversation with a sixteen-year-old cousin who yearned to go to the Western Islands. Turning, he made his way back through the crowd to the open glass doors.
Alfred G.'s voice boomed out of the shadows.
"What the hell do you mean, you're going to vote for Christine Bellows? She'll run this city-state straight into the ground with her tax-and-spend ways. Daria Gardener is the woman for the job."
"Gardener is a Founders' Values candidate," Orchid said crisply. "I wouldn't vote for her if she was the last politician on St. Helens."
"Anyone who doesn't vote a straight Founders' Values ticket is an idiot and a radical to boot."
"Anyone who votes only for Founders' Values candidates is a narrow-minded, hidebound, short-sighted traditionalist."
"What's wrong with being a traditionalist?" Alfred G. roared. "This planet was colonized by traditionalists."
"We can't go back to the time of the first generation Founders, no matter how much some folks would like to return to the good old days of no jelly-ice and no paranormal abilities. We have to move forward. It's the only path for a civilization that intends to survive. And that means we have to think about the future, not the past."
"Now, you listen to me, young woman. I've had a lot more experience in the real world than you have and I'm here to tell you—"
Rafe winced and moved swiftly away from the door. He had no inclination whatsoever to go out onto the terrace.
When he turned to retreat back into the crowd, he found Selby blocking his path.
"Hello, cousin." Selby's blue eyes were calculating behind the lenses of his glasses. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here tonight. This is the first Alfred G. birthday party you've attended since you left for the Western Islands."
Rafe eyed him thoughtfully. He and Selby were less than a year apart in age but Selby had always been a little taller and more heavily built. His light brown hair was cut by an expensive stylist at one of the city's most exclusive salons. He had the pleasant, open, rugged features that characterized the males on the Culverthorpe side of the family.
Selby had the sort of face that made people want to trust him within five seconds of meeting him. Sometimes it seemed to Rafe that he and his grandfather were the only ones who ever noticed the razor-sharp glint of vengeful bitterness in Selby's eyes.
It was not the sort of observation one could make aloud to others, Rafe reflected. He knew exactly what would happen if he told the rest of the family or the Stonebraker Board that loyal, hardworking cousin Selby was bent on destroying the company. If he tried, Rafe knew that he would probably get a stern lecture warning him not to let his primitive strat-talent nature influence his common sense and family bonds. Selby, unlike certain other ungrateful members of the clan, had devoted his entire career to Stonebraker.
"Hello, Selby."
Selby cast an ironic glance toward the terrace. "Is Uncle Al terrorizing your date?"
"My date can take care of herself."
Selby chuckled, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "You must be picking tough ones these days."
He had never liked Selby, Rafe reflected. Not even when they had been young playmates together. Selby was a tech-talent. He had been the kind of kid who could construct a miniature catapult with the new erector set he had received for Christmas before Rafe could figure out what insert part A into slot B meant. And then, after Rafe had finally succeeded in building a small, rather shaky fort with his own erector set, Selby had used his catapult to knock down the walls.
Things had not improved when they got to high school where Selby had always outshone Rafe in math and science. Underneath the uneven rivalry had been a simmering resentment on Selby's part. Rafe had not understood why his cousin disliked him so much until his parents told him what had happened to Selby's father. By then it was too late to mend the breach. In any event, Rafe had already made plans to head for the Western Islands. He and Selby had seen almost nothing of each other in the intervening years.
Selby swirled the vintage blue champagne in his glass and cast a speculative eye toward the door. "You don't seem overly concerned about defending your companion."