I dove back into the tide and began fighting my way across the current to the theater. Some fancy elbow work brought me to the columns separating the aisle doors from the foyer. The crowd thinned there; people who were trying to talk could get their heads close enough together to hear one another. Michael and Or‘ were huddled with five or six serious-looking people. I moved past without speaking in case these were major donors, and escaped into the body of the theater.
Dick was standing immediately inside the door on my right, talking to a man of sixty or so. Even though I knew he was here, seeing him so close made my heart skip a beat. Not romantic enthusiasm, just a jolt—kind of like losing your footing on a glassy floor. Dick seemed jolted too—he broke off a smooth phrase mid-word and gaped at me.
“Hi, Dick,” I said weakly. “I never knew you were a cello enthusiast.”
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I’ve been hired to sweep the theater. I have to take what work I can get these days.”
The sixtyish man looked at me with blank impatience. He didn’t care who I was or what I did as long as I got out of there fast. He was also oblivious of the children’s choir: free from the responsibility of looking angelic they were chasing each other through the seats, shrieking wildly, throwing rolls and bits of cake at each other.
“Yes, well, I’m in the middle of something, so why don’t you start work on the far side.” Dick wasn’t above a little humor as long as it wasn’t at his own expense.
“Are you wheeling and dealing?” I tried to infuse my voice with humble admiration. “Maybe I could watch you and get a few pointers, move up to toilet scrubbing or something.”
A flush rose in Dick’s closely shaven cheeks. On the verge of spitting out a curt insult, he turned it into a bark of laughter. “It’s been what—thirteen years? fourteen?— and you still know the shortest distance from your mouth to my goat.”
He grabbed my shoulder and moved me toward his partner. “This is Victoria Warshawski. She and I made a big mistake in law school by thinking we were in love. Teri’s and my kids are all going to have to work for five years before I’ll let them think about marriage. Vic, Peter Felitti, chairman of Amalgamated Portage.”
Felitti held out a reluctant hand—because I was his daughter’s predecessor? Or because he didn’t want me interrupting high-level finance? “I don’t remember the details of your settlement. You been paying ever since for your sins, Yarborough?”
I squeezed Felitti’s fingers with enough force to make him wince. “Not at all. It was my alimony that bought Dick his stake in Crawford, Mead. Now that he’s launched on his own, though, I’m trying to get the court to let me off the hook.”
Dick made a face. “Must you, Vic? I’ll be happy to swear all over town that you never asked for a dime. She’s a lawyer,” he added to Felitti, “but works as a detective.”
Turning back to me, he said plaintively, “Are you happy now? Can Pete and I finish our conversation?”
I was extricating myself—from Dick’s arm as well as the conversation—with what grace I could when Teri came in, the woman in beaded blue satin close on her heels.
“There you are,” the woman in blue said gaily. “Harmon Lessner wants to talk with you two especially. You can’t sneak off and do business now.”
Teri eyed me narrowly, trying to decide if I was a business encounter or a sexual competitor. Champagne had added a rosy glow beneath her foundation, but late as it was her makeup was still perfect: the eyeshadow on the lids where it belonged instead of meandering around her face; her lipstick, a subdued bronze that was an understated version of her dress, fresh and glossy. Her chestnut hair, pulled into a complicated knot, looked as though she had just left her hairdresser’s. No frizz, no stray strands creeping down her neck, marred the effect.
By this time of night, without looking in a mirror, I knew that my lipstick had vanished and that such styling as I had given my short curls was long gone. I wanted to think I had the more interesting personality, but Dick wasn’t interested in women with personality. I felt like telling Teri not to worry, that she had looks and they would win the day for her, but I sketched a wave at the four of them and moved on to the far door without speaking.
When I finally found Lotty it was past midnight. She was alone shivering in a corner of the outer lobby, her arms hugging her.
“Where’s Max?” I said sharply, pulling her close to me. “You need to get home, get to bed. I’ll find him and go get the car.”
“He left with Or‘ and Michael. They’re staying with him, you know. I’m all right, Vic, really. It’s merely that the concert stirred up old memories. They started to haunt me while I waited. I’ll walk with you to the car. The fresh air will do me good.”
“Are you and Max having a fight?” I hadn’t meant to ask, and the words came out abruptly.
Lotty made a face. “Max thinks I’m behaving badly about Carol. And maybe I am.”