Chapter 12: Back at the Corwin Gallery

Quinton found me in the kitchen at noon, and he did not say a word about the hall.

"There's a charity auction tonight," he said. "Odette's foundation. Black tie."

"Where?"

"The Corwin Gallery."

I put down my coffee.

"That's where I met Dexter," I said.

"I know."

"You want to take me back there?"

"Odette picked it. I can say we aren't going."

"No." I picked the coffee up again. "We'll go."

"Linnea."

"Paloma posted a sonogram. Dexter wrote can't wait to meet you under it. I'd like to see his face when I walk in on your arm."

"All right."

"And Quinton?"

"Yes."

"If you're going to be a coward about the wall, be a coward in private. In public you do your job."

He took that without a word.

His mouth did something that was almost not a smile.

That night I wore a dress the color of red wine.

Bree had cut it, hemmed it and threatened me with it.

"You look like a verdict," she said.

"Is that good?"

"It's the best kind."

The Corwin Gallery had not changed in seven years.

It still had white walls and a long marble floor that rang under heels.

The coat check was in the same corner.

I stopped in the doorway and looked at it.

I was twenty-three again and wearing my one good dress, with a coupon for a free glass of wine.

Quinton stood very still beside me.

"Are you all right?" he said.

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