“Are you vat?” the Baron cooed in her ear.

“Oh. Sorry. Am I stepping on your foot?”

“No, my beauty. Only my heart. And you dance like an angel.”

Nauseating. She smiled pleasantly and swirled in his arms. “Thank you, Manfred.”

They swept gracefully about once more, and at last her eye met Whit’s, as the waltz drew to a merciful close. She stood slightly apart from the Baron and thanked him again.

“But perhaps they play another?” His disappointment was almost childlike.

“You dance a very handsome waltz, sir.” Whitney was at their side, bowing slightly to the perspiring German.

“And you are a very lucky man, Vitney.” Kezia and Whit exchanged a beatific glance and Kezia bestowed a last smile on the Baron as they glided away.

“Still alive?”

“Very much so. And I’ve really been hopelessly lazy. I haven’t talked to a soul tonight.” She had work to do and the evening was young.

“Want to stop and talk to some of your cronies now?”

“Why not? I haven’t seen any of them since I got back.”

“Then onwards, milady. Let us throw ourselves to the lions, and see who’s here.”

Everyone was, as Kezia had observed upon entering. And after a round of a dozen tables, and six or seven small groups standing near the dance floor, she was grateful to spot two of her friends. Whitnev left her to them, and went to share a cigar with his senior partner. A little congenial talk over a good Monte Cristo never hurt. He waved her on her way, and vanished in a cluster of black and white emitting the pungent fumes of Havana’s finest.

“Hi, you two.” Kezia joined two tall thin young women who seemed surprised to see her arrive.

“I didn’t know you were back!” Cheeks almost met as kisses flew into midair, and the three looked at each other with pleasure. Tiffany Benjamin was more than a little drunk, but Marina Walters looked bright and alive. Tiffany was married to William Patterson Benjamin IV, the number two man in the biggest brokerage house on Wall Street. And Marina was divorced. And loved it that way, or so she said. Kezia knew otherwise.

“When did you get back from Europe?” Marina smiled at her, and appraised the dress. “Hell of a neat dress, by the way. Saint Laurent?”

Kezia nodded.

“I thought so.”

“And so’s yours, Madame Hawkeye.” Marina nodded pleased assent, but Kezia knew it for a copy. “Christ, I got back two days ago, and I’m beginning to wonder if I was ever away.” Kezia spoke while keeping a casual eye on the room.

“I know the feeling. I got back last week, in time to get the kids back to school. By the time we’d done orthodontists, shoes, school uniforms, and three birthday parties, I forgot I’d ever been away. I’m ready for another summer. Where’d you go this year, Kezia?”

“The South of France, and I spent the last few days at Hilary’s in Marbella. You, Marina?”

“The Hamptons all summer. Boring as hell. This was not my most glowing summer.”

Kezia raised an eyebrow. “How come?”

“No men, or something like that.” She was creeping toward thirty-six and was thinking about having something done about the bags under her eyes. The summer before, she had had her breasts firmed up by “the most marvelous doctor” in Zurich. Kezia had hinted at it in the column, and Marina had been livid.

Tiffany had been to Greece for the summer, and she had also spent a few days with distant cousins in Rome. Bill had had to come home early. Bullock and Benjamin seemed to require the presence of its director almost constantly. But he thrived on it. He ate it and slept it and loved it. The Dow Jones ticked somewhere in his heart, and his pulse rate went up and down with the market. That was what Martin Hallam said in his column. But Tiffany understood; her father had been the same way. He had been the president of the Stock Exchange when he finally retired to a month of golf before the fatal heart attack. What a way to go, one foot on the Exchange, and the other on the golf course. Tiffany’s mother’s life was less dramatic. Like Tiffany, she drank. But less.

Tiffany was proud of Bill. He was an Important man. Even more important than her father. Or her brother. And hell, her brother worked just as hard as Bill did. Gloria said so. Her brother was a corporate lawyer with Wheeler, Spaulding, and Forbes, one of the oldest firms on Wall Street. But the brokerage house of Bullock and Benjamin was the most important on the Street. It made Tiffany someone. Mrs. William Patterson Benjamin IV. And she didn’t mind vacationing alone. She took the children to Gstaad at Christmas, Palm Beach in February, and Acapulco for spring vacation. In summer, they spent a month at the Vineyard with Bill’s mother, and then off they went to Europe; Monte Carlo, Paris, Cannes, St. Tropez, Cap d’Antibes, Marbella, Skorpios, Athens, Rome. It was divine. Everything was divine, according to Tiffany. So divine that she was drinking herself to death.

“Isn’t this the most divine party you’ve ever seen?” Tiffany was weaving slightly and watching her friends. Marina and Kezia exchanged a rapid glance, and Kezia nodded. She and Tiffany had gone to school together. She was a nice girl too, when she wasn’t drunk. It was something Kezia would not put in the column. Everyone knew she drank, and it hurt to see her like that. It wasn’t something amusing to read at breakfast, like Marina’s boob lift. This was different, painful. Suicide by champagne.

“What’s next on your agenda, Kezia?” Marina lit a cigarette, and Tiffany faded back into her glass.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll give a party.” After I write that article I landed today….

“Christ, you’ve got courage. I look at something like this and I cringe. Meg spent eight months planning it. Are you on the Arthritis Committee again this year?”

Kezia nodded. “They asked me about doing the Crippled Children’s Ball too.” Tiffany awoke at the mention of that.

“Crippled children? How dreadful!” At least she hadn’t said it was divine.

“What’s dreadful about it? It’s as good a ball as any of the others.” Marina was quick to the fiesta’s defense.

“But crippled children? I mean really, who could stand to look at them?” Marina looked at her, annoyed.

“Tiffany darling, have you ever seen an arthritic at the Arthritis Ball?”

“No … I don’t think so….”

“Then you won’t see any children at the Crippled Children’s Ball either.” Marina was matter-of-fact, and Tiffany seemed appeased, while something slimy turned over in Kezia’s stomach.

“I suppose you’re right, Marina. Are you going to do the ball, Kezia?”

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided. I’m a little tired of the benefit circuit, frankly. I’ve been doing that stuff for a hell of a long time.”

“Haven’t we all,” Marina echoed ruefully and flicked ashes into the waiter’s silent butler.

“You should get married, Kezia. It’s divine.” Tiffany smiled delightedly and lifted another glass of champagne from a passing tray. It was her third since Kezia had joined them. A waltz was beginning again at the far end of the room.

“And that, my friends, is my bad luck dance.” Kezia glanced around and inwardly groaned. Where in hell was Whit?

“Bad luck? How come?”

“That’s how come.” Kezia nodded quickly in the direction of the approaching Baron. He had requested the dance, and had looked high and low for her for half an hour.

“Lucky you.” Marina grinned evilly, and Tiffany did her best to focus.

“And that, Tiffany my love, is why I don’t get married.”

“Kezia! Our valtz!” It was useless to protest. She nodded gracefully at her friends and departed on the arm of the Baron.

“You mean she likes him?” Tiffany looked stunned. He was really very ugly. Even drunk she knew that much.

“No, you idiot. She means that with creeps like mat hounding her, who has time to find a decent guy?” Marina knew the problem only too well. She had been scouting a second husband for almost two years, and if someone halfway decent didn’t hurry along pretty damn soon, her settlement would fizzle out and her tits would fall again, and she’d get waffles on her ass. She figured she had about a year to hit it lucky before the roof fell in.

“I don’t know, Marina. Maybe she does like him. Kezia’s a little strange, you know. Sometimes I wonder if all that money coming to her so young affected her. I mean, after all, it would affect almost anyone. It’s not like you can lead a normal life when you’re one of the wealthiest …”

“Oh for chrissake, Tiffany, shut up. And why don’t you go home and sober up for a change?”

“What a rotten thing to say!” There were tears in Tiffany’s eyes.

“No, Tiffany. What a rotten thing to watch.” And with that, Marina turned on her heel and vanished in the direction of Halpern Medley. She had heard that he and Lucille had just broken up. That was the best time to get them. Frightened and bruised, scared to death to manage life on their own, missing the children, lonely at night. She had three children and would be more than happy to keep Halpern busy. He was an excellent catch.

On the dance floor, Kezia was whirling slowly in the arms of the Baron. Whitney was engaged in earnest conversation with a young broker with long, elegant hands. The clock on the wall struck three.

Tiffany went to sit dizzily on a red velvet banquette at the back of the room. Where was Bill? He had said something about calling Frankfurt. Frankfurt? Why Frankfurt? She couldn’t remember. But he had gone out to the lobby … hours ago? … and things were beginning to whirl. Bill? She couldn’t remember if he had brought her tonight, or was he out of town and had she come with Mark and Gloria? Had she … damn, why couldn’t she remember? Let’s see, she had had dinner at home with Bill and the children … alone with the children? … were the children still at the Vineyard with Mother Benjamin? … was…. Her stomach began to spin slowly with the room and she knew she was going to be sick.