She felt Nick’s arms encircle her. “How’s my girl? Thirsty?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said and watched him head to the bar.
She noticed Parker in deep conversation with Stanton, Deirdre close at Stanton’s side. She wore the vague air of boredom that comes of having too much money and leisure time. Parker leaned toward Deirdre, always the attentive host. Close, too close, Elizabeth thought.
Elizabeth felt a tug at her arm and turned to find Karen.
“What’s happening?”
“Take a look,” Elizabeth said with a discreet nod toward Parker.
“No,” Karen said. “He isn’t. He wouldn’t.”
“He will,” Elizabeth said. “He’s never been as smart as he thinks he is. He’s got two heads and he’s always thinking with the wrong one.”
A server passed them with a tray of unidentifiable white-and-gray matter, some of it wrapped in green leaves.
“Don’t eat anything,” Karen whispered.
Elizabeth looked longingly at the passing tray. “Why not?” she said as Emily floated past them, chattering with guests.
“I can’t believe how easy this has been. Most of the foods aren’t meant to be cooked anyway and raw bars are back in style,” Emily said.
“Great,” Elizabeth said. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“Let’s head up to the roof,” Karen said.
Elizabeth caught Nick’s eye across the room; he was engaged in conversation. She pointed her finger upward and he nodded in acknowledgment but made no move to break away. She thought wistfully of their first outings when they stayed close to each other, always touching. We’re used to each other now, comfortable, Elizabeth told herself, as it should be.
Hearing Parker’s angry voice, Karen and Elizabeth stopped short of cutting through the den.
“Why didn’t the electrician install the spotlights over the replica?” Parker demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t you call him?”
Emily hesitated a moment. “I did. He couldn’t come back.”
“Why not?” he persisted.
“I—I—” she stumbled.
“Never mind,” Parker snapped. “You don’t know. You never know. Next time, I’ll take care of it.” Stalking away, he left perfectly manicured, perfumed, and coutured Emily standing there, her mouth turned down in a quivering pout.
Karen moved in Emily’s direction but Elizabeth held her back. “Don’t, you’ll embarrass her.”
They backed away and found Robert disengaging himself from a tall, slender, earnest professor sporting an outrageous handlebar mustache; part and parcel of Emily’s attempt to create a modern day salon.
“Your idea is wrong, young man. I advise you to reconsider,” the professor said, his mustache dancing with every word. “O’Neill’s work can never be comedy. Comedy is only for those who overcome. O’Neill’s final words were ‘born in a hotel room and, goddammit, died in a hotel room.’ What does that tell you?”
“He had poor planning skills,” Karen said, taking Robert’s hand to lead him away. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be funny.”
“Thanks for rescuing me,” Robert said as he kissed Karen’s ear. “What have I missed?”
“Parker and Emily had an argument, just as you predicted.”
Robert checked his watch as they made their way up the stairs to the roof. “Right on schedule. It won’t be long now. One way or another, this party’s going to be over in an hour. Trust me.”
The intimate roof space boasted a tall, red brick façade housing a compact fireplace where a healthy blaze crackled; candles and tiki torches flickered in the dusk. A luxurious blood-red silk carpet glinted in the firelight.
Elizabeth, Karen, and Robert enjoyed the peace and quiet until Parker, guests in tow, burst up the stairs and onto the roof. “This is one of only a handful of rooftop living spaces in Manhattan,” he was saying. “It was a bitch bringing everything up by crane.”
“You must love spending time up here,” someone said. “You can see clear across the Hudson.”
“Did you see Perry?” he asked as he passed Elizabeth.
“Yes, I saw him.”
“Thanks for putting in a good word for me,” he said, flashing one of his infamous predatory smiles.
“Here’s a word for you,” she said with a dismissive tone. “Several, actually.” She nodded toward Deirdre Perry disappearing down the stairs. “Keep your hands out of that cookie jar, or they won’t be the only things to get chopped off.”
He cackled, giving her a playful pat on the back and headed for the stairs.
Jerk-off.
A server paused and without thinking she took an hors d’oeuvre off the tray. Maybe I’ll just eat the cracker. As she brought the food to her mouth, a hand encircled her wrist, making her jump.
“You don’t want to do that, love,” Ian whispered.
Her pulse racing, she opened her hand, allowing the mystery tidbit to drop into his palm.
She steeled herself and faced him.
“It’s lovely to see you looking well,” he said. “Are you sorted out now?”
“I’m fine.”
“I do hope I wasn’t the cause of anything.”
“Not a chance.”
“Excellent. You were quite overcome. What’s the term for that?”
“Heat stroke.”
Ian smirked. “Yes, of course. Is the Prince here with you?”
“Downstairs, feeding and watering his white horse.”
“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Rather foolish of him to leave you alone, don’t you think?”
“Why? There’s no danger here.”
Ian nodded. “That’s a great relief.” He smiled, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
“We’ll probably be married by next summer.”
“Why wait? Dear Lizzie, if you really wanted to be married, I would think you would have done it by now.”
“Not all Americans are in a hurry. Some of us like to make sure we do everything right. The right man, at the right time.”
Ian smiled. “Of course.”
A moan cut through the hum of conversation. Ian and Elizabeth looked at each other and then across the terrace to see a man, hand over his mouth, sink onto a chair. Almost immediately, the man’s companion gasped and doubled over, clutching her stomach.
Robert and Ian rushed to their aid, Karen and Elizabeth on their heels.
“We need to get them downstairs,” Robert said.
As they all moved down the steps, they were greeted by more strange, guttural noises.
“I’m pretty sure the party is over,” Robert said as they reached the landing.
Peering