Mostly they wanted to talk to each other, or dance or hit the bar and buffets so she could do the duty, and move on.
But it struck her odder yet to see her people mix with his. To see Baxter leaning on one of the tables chatting up one of Roarke’s R&D execs. Then again, the exec was female, single, and sexy, so it wasn’t a shock.
And there was Caro, Roarke’s efficient admin, dancing with the adorable Dennis Mira. Over there, Santiago engaged in an obviously animated discussion with a couple of Roarke engineers over tall glasses of brew.
“Here.” Nadine walked up, handed Eve a flute. “Even in that amazing dress you look too much like a cop just standing over here.”
“The worlds have collided. I observe,” Eve said and sipped. “And there doesn’t seem to be any damage or destruction.”
Nadine scanned as Eve did. “You’ve thrown parties including both worlds before.”
“Yeah, but they seem to get more heavily populated, and the natives from each have more crossover.”
“And still, the planet spins,” Nadine finished. “I love your parties. First because I know there are going to be so many people here I know and like, and people I may not know who are interesting. And second, in a case like tonight, I get a fabulous gift. I really do love that bag.”
“Why do you haul around so much stuff? That’s the question.”
“How do I know what I might need at any given time during the day? It’s better to be prepared for anything. Oh, Morris is going to play with the band. I love when he plays the sax. He’s better,” she said quietly, “but still carrying a lot of sad. I’ve never lost anyone I’ve really loved. I don’t know how anyone handles it.”
“Silver shirt, red tie, silver band through the braid.”
Nadine angled her head. “What?”
“Color. He’s been wearing more color again for a while. He’s getting through it.”
“You know, I’m observant and fairly intuitive, too—reporter, writer—but I’d never have put that together. You’re right. He’s letting some color back into his life, and that’s good to see. So. What’s the story on him and DeWinter? Are they a thing?”
“No.”
“Well, you certainly sound sure, and, if I’m not mistaken, determined. Don’t you like . . . speaking of which, I believe she’s heading over here. And speaking of amazing dresses.”
DeWinter wore hot, slick red in a long sleek column that hugged every curve. A side slit ran nearly to her hip, revealing a long, long, toned leg and jeweled heels that sparkled like the Christmas lights with each stride.
“Dallas. I haven’t had a chance to thank you for the hospitality. It’s a fabulous party. Your home is beyond spectacular.”
“Thanks. Ah, Nadine Furst, Dr. Garnet DeWinter.”
“We’ve met. The Sanctuary case.” Still DeWinter extended a hand. “I very much enjoyed the last broadcast of Now, but I’ve become a serious fan of your work altogether.”
“Thanks. I’m a serious fan of your dress. Valencia?”
“Yes! What an eye you have. It turned out to be a fun choice when I saw Morris had chosen a red tie.” She sipped her own champagne, tossed back her hair—an explosion of caramel-and-gold curls. “I love to hear him play.”
“So . . . you and Morris are dating?”
Nadine’s cheery smile didn’t dim under Eve’s baleful stare.
“Keeping each other company. Neither of us want, or are ready, I’d say, for dating. I have my daughter to consider. And he has Amaryllis. I think it’s easier for him to talk about her with me as I didn’t know her, or know them together. But he’s certainly made my transition to New York smoother.”
“Oh?” Nadine broadened her smile. “How so?”
“It can be challenging to be the new person, especially the new person in charge. Morris gives me a sounding board, and a good sense of the people I work with. One of the reasons I left D.C. was I felt I’d become complacent, and needed a change. It was a well-run machine—I insist on that—but the structure, and the individual personalities, didn’t allow for much camaraderie or . . . joy. I’ve found both here.”
She gestured to the ballroom. “The work we do? All three of us. It’s difficult and so often dark. Without this? Without the personal connections, the joy, the interest in each other, it can become more difficult, and darker. I want to be
able to put on an amazing red dress now and again, listen to a man I find smart and interesting play the saxophone. I want to eat and drink and talk about nothing particularly important—or about the vitally important—with people I like, respect, and admire. Doing so makes me better at my work. It makes me a better mother.”
She sipped her champagne as she studied Eve. “You don’t like me yet, but you will. I’ll grow on you.”