As the barista pulled my shot, the notes of a string quartet drifted up from below.

The party was in full swing.

I took my cup, leaned on the brass railing, and looked down at the sea of tuxedos and gowns — my mother in emerald silk, laughing with a politician; Roald with a martini, looking perfectly at home.

Chapter 7 — Two Men Below

Then two older men in sharp tuxedos stepped out of the ballroom, escaping the music, and stopped directly beneath me.

“Yancy really pulled it off,” the first said, loosening his bowtie.