Josie saw what could only be described as a pained look cross Dan’s face. The young man she’d noticed earlier materialized next to them and took Myra Mason’s arm, leading her down the stairs and into the crowd.
Dan Mason turned to the still-silent crowd with a debonair smile. Josie noted he was handsome in a strong, chiseled way. She particularly liked the eyebrows, which seemed to ask a question while framing sapphire eyes that looked like they could pierce with a single glare. She’d always liked dark-haired, blue-eyed men. She shook her head, wondering if it was the wine that had her thinking this way, and turned her attention to what Mason was saying.
“This annual birthday party is my mother’s idea. Thanks, Mom.” His audience rumbled with appreciation at this. “It’s a night that always serves me as a valuable reminder of how many people are happy I was born and how many of them are willing to come drink and eat to celebrate it.” As his guests laughed, Mason raised his glass. “To quote Voltaire, ‘Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.’ The staff informs me the buffet is ready, so drink and eat, my friends, and remember it’s pleasure, not just business.”
His manners couldn’t have been better, especially considering the pressure to rescue his family’s reputation after his mother’s gaff. As the crowd thinned, Josie managed to step back against the wall. Concealed in the shadows next to the stairwell, she watched as Mason descended. The young man who’d disappeared with Myra Mason reappeared almost right in front of Josie. “She’s back upstairs,” he said to Mason.
“Good.” Mason scanned the crowd of well-wishers. “I wish to God she didn’t insist on these things every year.”
The other man grinned. “It’s your public, Dan.”
“Yeah, easy for you to say, Alan. My guest list would be a whole lot shorter.” He clapped the man on the shoulder and moved away to greet a tall slender woman Josie recognized as a model.
Alan turned and his gaze fell on Josie in the shadows. He looked at her curiously. Josie flashed her best smile at him and strode past, covertly clicking her tape recorder off. As she paused to examine a waiter’s tray, she hazarded a quick glance back toward the stairwell and was startled to see he was still looking at her. Knowing he knew she had been eavesdropping, she turned, took a shrimp from the tray and acted as if she’d just noticed someone she knew across the room. It wasn’t difficult to pretend she had somewhere else to be. She was going to be in deep trouble if she couldn’t find a bathroom soon. The line outside the powder room in the hall was daunting. Such an enormous mansion must have a dozen though. She imagined them as huge spa-like master baths, smaller but still impressive guest baths with lush white towels and powder rooms containing a selection of toiletries for the convenience of their users. Unfortunately, none of these were immediately evident.
She opened a door to a dim office where she saw the guitarist from a heavy metal band and a scantily clad young model making out on the couch. Closing the door quickly, she realized those two were the template for many of the guests: young, successful, beautiful and mostly looking to get laid. Josie, who knew she was far from fat, still felt self-consciously overweight next to the skeletal, ephemeral women.
No bathroom. Several locked doors ostensibly concealed smarter couples than the one she’d come across. She finally opened a door to a powder room but it was occupied by a young woman sniffing lines of cocaine through a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill.
“Shit.” Josie backed out and turned around. She was close to the kitchen, another set of stairs at her elbow. “Forget this.” She marched up. Maybe she’d catch a glimpse of Daniel Mason, Sr., and finally be able to answer the question of what had happened to him.
Upstairs, Josie tiptoed down the dark hallway. She was distinctly aware she might run into someone like Myra Mason along the way. “All I want is a bathroom,” she muttered. “If I come across something else, so much the better.” She reached for the doorknob nearest her and twisted it.
Dan Mason the younger sat behind the desk inside the office, a laptop computer open in front of him. He looked up in surprise and immediately replaced his expression with one of welcome as he snapped the computer shut. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” He rose and came around the desk.
Josie froze, temporarily rendered speechless. He was tall, much taller than she was, something she hadn’t noticed downstairs. She tilted her head upward to look at him. “I—” She couldn’t bring herself to admit to this handsome young man that her bladder was bursting. “I’m Josie Stewart, Mr. Mason. Society reporter for New York Life.”
Dan’s smile twisted. “One of the press. Well, if you’re as good at reporting as you are at tracking people down, you ought to be with the Times. You found me where I thought I’d be safe finishing up a bit of business.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just—” She felt her cheeks grow hot. Dan continued to smile, but now he also looked concerned. It seemed he cared as much for her well being as he did for any of his guests when he must have known she had sneaked into the party. She took a little courage from that. “I was looking for a restroom. The ones downstairs are occupied.”
“I’m sure they are. And this place is a maze if you aren’t used to it. Please,” he said, gesturing toward a door at the back of the office, “help yourself.”
After availing herself of the facilities, Josie washed her hands in the marble sink, reapplied her lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror. The French twist she’d put in her hair suited her, and if she straightened her back and carried her head erect, she exuded an air of confidence she didn’t totally feel. Dan Mason would no doubt be escorting her straight to the front door, unless he’d called somebody else to his office to do it for him.
She opened the door to see him putting some files in a briefcase. “All set?” He sounded polite enough. “Shall we rejoin the party?”
Josie bit the inside of her lip at the thought of the stir it might make among the other reporters if she was caught in the act of going down the grand staircase in the company of Dan Mason himself. He grinned and she realized her reluctance had shown plainly on her face. He leaned forward as if to share a secret. “I don’t know about you but I’d rather go back using a more circumspect route. There’s another set of stairs—”
“Oh, that’s how I came up.”
“Of course you did.” He nodded and, taking her arm, steered her toward the door.
It opened before they reached it and Josie froze. She recognized the handsome elderly gentleman from the countless publicity photos she’d seen of him on file at New York Life, except for one thing: Below his tuxedo shirt and cummerbund he wore nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Daniel Mason, Sr., ex-mayor of New York, had forgotten to put on his pants.
“Am I late?” He looked around the room as if expecting it to be full of guests.
Josie had never heard that Mason the elder had a drinking problem, and when she looked at him, the fog in his eyes didn’t seem to be drug-induced. Which could only leave—
“You’re right on time, Dad.” Dan stepped forward. Without missing a beat, he straightened his father’s bowtie. “What do you say we go take care of that toast?” At that moment, Alan appeared at the door. “Alan, could you stay with Miss Stewart for a moment?”
Without waiting for an answer, Dan and his father disappeared through the office door as Alan shut it behind them. He leaned against it and folded his arms, his lips pursed as he regarded Josie. “What are you doing here, Miss Stewart? The party’s downstairs.”
Josie held up her hands. “I was just looking for a bathroom.” She felt as if somebody had yanked the floor out from under her. She gestured toward the hallway. “Is it Alzheimer’s?”
“You were looking for a bathroom and found Mr. Mason’s