Jerry strides in, aimed straight at me. “Hey, Spence, you had a chance to look over that lease agreement for me?”
Carter lets out a quiet huff of laughter behind him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Oh.” Jerry glances around. “Is there a line?”
“Yes,” three of us say in unison.
Jerry puts his hands on his hips. “You’ve been distracted since Vivien moved in here. You know she’s not your only client.”
I grimace. This is exactly what I’ve been worried about. It would be just my luck for Jerry to mention something like this while complaining to the court clerk, and then I’d be pulled in front of a judge.
“Has your professional judgment become compromised?”
“No, your honor, it has been questionable the entire time.”
Before I can defend myself, the door opens again. I press my fingers to my head.
George and Dorothea stop in the doorway next to Carter.
“Oh, good. Everyone’s here,” George says. “Are you discussing movie night? When are you all showing up tonight? What do you know?”
“What are you all wearing? We’re dressing up, right?” Dorothea asks. “Who’s bringing the flask?”
I drag a hand down my face.
It’s not even nine thirty.
I haven’t seen The Palace this packed in years.
There’s a line at the concession stand that wraps halfway across the lobby. Someone’s laughing too loudly near the photo booth, which also has a line, and a corkboard along the wall is almost filled with Polaroids.
People are mingling throughout the cavernous space, some standing together in clumps while others weave through the throng.
Everyone is dressed up, suits and ties, sequined dresses catching the light, fur coats, glittering jewelry, and cuff links.
I’m almost shabby by comparison in my best slacks and sports coat.
I move deeper into the lobby, smiling and nodding at familiar faces and doing my best to avoid the questions and speculation by not stopping for too long.
No, I don’t know what is happening tonight.
No, I don’t know if Graham Deadwyler is actually coming.
No, I cannot share any information, even if I had it.
Peggy slips her arm into mine. “I haven’t worn this dress since 1972.” It’s a bright pink halter dress with fringe. She’s wearing silver knee-high boots with it.
“You look great.”
“I knew you’d say that.” She beams at me. “So, what’s really going on here?”
I point at a nearby flyer about the Graham Deadwyler tribute. “Movie night.”
She squints at me. “Mm-hmm. Oh, look Vivien’s sister is by herself. Go be a gentleman.” She shoos me toward Audrey, who is standing alone in a black dress, fiddling with a gold clutch purse.
“Hey, Audrey.” I stop next to her, both our backs to the wall.
“Hi.” She gives me a half-hearted wave.
