“I’ll remember that the next time Arthur tries to manage my engineering contracts.”

A waiter came out through the glass door carrying a tray of empty water goblets from table twenty-two.

He stopped when he saw us sitting on the hood of the station wagon, then gave a quick, polite nod before walking toward the kitchen service entrance.

“The reception is officially over,” Clare said, watching the ballroom lights begin to go off row by row.

“Howard is locking the main doors.”