She put her finger to her lips to indicate that she wished to remain undetected, and one of the nurses nodded as she slipped out again. The other followed her into the corridor.

“That is one very nice man,” the nurse said to Jennifer.

“Yes, he is,” Jennifer agreed.

“Those kids will be talking about this for weeks,” her companion went on. “Just think, a famous person like that taking the time for them. It’s made my day, I can tell you.”

Jennifer exchanged a few more pleasantries with the woman and then left During the ride home she kept seeing Lee dancing with those children, an image she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, dismiss from her mind.

* * * *

Jennifer was determined to look her best that night. She might not be Lee’s date, but she would see him and longed to make a lasting impression. After their dinner date she was sure that he wanted her; this gave her a heady feeling of power which she couldn’t resist using. She deliberately chose her sexiest dress, a black off-the-shoulder taffeta with a scalloped hemline and puffed sleeves. She piled her hair on top of her head, adding earrings and a matching pendant of brilliant oval aquamarines surrounded by tiny diamonds. The jewelry was an anniversary present from Bob, which he, in a rare burst of chivalry, had refused to take back when they were divorced. The center stones enhanced her eyes, and the severe dress made her hair seem paler by contrast. When she was ready, she studied her reflection in the mirror and was sure that she had never looked better in her life.

Lee thought so, too. As she walked into the main dining room of the Bellevue Stratford with John Ashford, she saw Lee standing to one side with Joe Thornridge. Lee was resplendent in a white dinner jacket with satin lapels, a ruffled silk shirt, and narrow black pants with a black bowtie. His eyes traveled over Jennifer slowly and then met hers. In them, she saw a reflection of her own desire. Her breath caught in her throat, but she merely inclined her head coolly to acknowledge him. Lee did nothing, simply looked back at her with those searching, fathomless eyes. Jennifer turned her head and moved on.

Dolores was waiting at their table, with her date, a commercial photographer whom Jennifer had once met briefly. After she and John were seated, she looked around for Lee.

She had hoped that he would be placed out of her sight, but found to her dismay that he was only two tables away, with Joe Thornridge and his wife, a delicate blonde in a pastel pink dress. She had a clear view of Lee’s chiseled profile and gleaming hair. And, unfortunately, an equally clear view of his date.

Jennifer really tried not to look, but found this impossible. She kept sneaking glances at the young woman, who was seated at Lee’s left She seemed familiar, and then Jennifer realized, with a start, that this was the same girl pictured with Lee in the photograph in his living room.

Jennifer examined her again, a few minutes later, and changed her mind. It wasn’t the same person.

This one was a slightly distorted reflection in a mirror, like, and at the same time not like, the original in the photo. The cascading, waist-length black hair was the same, but this girl was slightly heavier, with a broader face and blunter features than the first She was very pretty, but she was not the girl in the picture.

But then, who was she? There was a strong family resemblance—she had to be a relative of the girl in the photo, the likeness was too close. Jennifer burned with curiosity, and something like despair. Whoever she was, she was Indian, and Jennifer wasn’t.

Harold Salamone got up on the dais to welcome the new players and wish the rest of the organization a prosperous year. Jennifer had heard it all before and studied her surroundings while the owner made his speech. The grand ballroom was huge, with an overhanging balcony surrounding the entire room, which was carpeted in red plush and dominated by a magnificent chandelier suspended from the ceiling by a golden chain. Salamone was talking from the stage, which had been converted to a speaker’s platform for the executives. The rest of the organization was seated at banquet tables scattered about on the ballroom floor. A large central area had been left clear for dancing, and a small orchestra was setting up in the pit below the stage. Waiters roved through the throng, taking drink orders and carrying silver buckets of champagne and other wines. It was a glittering, picturesque group, and Jennifer felt privileged to be part of it.

After Salamone, a few others spoke, and then the music began as dinner was served. Jennifer ate sparingly, her stomach in a knot, ever mindful of the man two tables away, as if the two of them were alone in the room.

The band played between courses, and Jennifer danced with John and with Dolores’s escort, Craig Davenport Just before dessert she went to the powder room and on the way back ran straight into Lee and his date as they came off the dance floor.

There was no avoiding an introduction. Lee, ever the gentleman, presented the women to one another. His companion was Dawn Blacktree.

Harold Salamone came up to talk to Lee as they stood there, and Jennifer was left to converse with Dawn alone. She learned that Dawn was indeed the sister of the young woman in the picture at Lee’s house. The latter had been Lee’s high school sweetheart, until she was killed in a fall from a horse \when she was seventeen.

This information did not make Jennifer feel better. Lee’s bond with this girl was sure to be very strong. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t even dislike Dawn, who was friendly and pleasant.

Joe Thornridge’s wife came up to ask Dawn something, and Jennifer found herself in a three-way conversation with Lee and Harold Salamone. She smiled a lot and wished she were elsewhere. Finally, Mr. Salamone took his leave.

“May your time with us be very happy, and your career here a success,” he said to Lee, grasping both of Lee’s hands in his. Lee thanked him, his lips twitching, and put his hand over his mouth as the older man walked away.

It was a few seconds before Jennifer realized that Lee was laughing. His shoulders were shaking, and there was a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

“What is it?” she said.

Lee coughed to cover his mirth. “I’m fond of Harold, I really am,” he said, “but I can hardly keep a straight face when he talks to me. Everything he says sounds like the inscription on a greeting card.”

This was so true that Jennifer found herself squelching laughter, too. Salamone was a master of banalities, and the more she thought about it, the funnier it became. She and Lee turned away from one another, unable to look at each other for fear of breaking up, like a couple of teenagers overcome with forbidden hilarity in church.

Jennifer finally risked a glance at him, and he was regarding her with a devilish expression.

“May all your troubles be little ones,” he began, and Jennifer clutched at his arm to stop him. She was off again, gasping, tears coming to her eyes, certain that any moment now they would be attracting attention. After all, what the hell could be so funny that it would reduce the two of them to hysterics in the middle of a banquet?

He opened his mouth, and she held up her hand. “Please,” she whispered, “no more. I’m making a fool of myself as it is.”

“And the road ahead paved with the fulfillment of your dreams,” he recited rapidly.

Jennifer was helpless. She fell against him, and he grabbed her to steady her. After a moment she sobered, noticing the tenderness in his eyes.

“You really do like me, don’t you?” he said softly. “You wish you didn’t, but you do.”

Jennifer’s silence was her answer.

“I know the feeling,” he said, releasing her. They stared at one another, an oasis of stillness in the bustling, crowded room.