Then Dabney thought she heard a noise coming from the conference room. Dabney hoped she was imagining it. She had to check. If the conference room was empty, then she would run down the street to the Anglers’ Club.

She opened the door to find Jack Copper and Nina hooked together at the hips and at the mouth, leaning against the table used for board meetings. The green smoke was so thick that Dabney could barely see them, but she could tell they were seriously going at it.

“Hey, you two!” Dabney said brightly.

Immediately, they separated, and the air cleared enough for Dabney to see the stricken look on Nina’s face.

“Nina, I need to talk to you for a second,” Dabney said. “And, Jack, you can go. You got what you came for, right?”

Jack tugged at the bottom of his fishing shirt and adjusted his visor. “Um…yup,” he said. “See you later.” He beat a hasty retreat out of the conference room. Dabney waited until she heard his footsteps on the stairs before she closed the door. The air had cleared dramatically.

“God, that was embarrassing,” Nina said. “I feel like I’m sixteen again and you’re my mother. Why didn’t you knock?”

“I didn’t know where you were,” Dabney said. “I was worried.

“Worried about what?” Nina said. “We were just kissing. That is why you called him up, right? That is why you paid a hundred dollars of your own money for a second gift certificate, right? That is why you told him to come at three and conveniently exited stage left at two thirty. Right?”

“Right,” Dabney said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nina said. She looked out the window, down Main Street, at the receding figure of Jack Copper, hurrying away. “That’s over, for sure. He’ll never come up here again. Now if I want to see him, I’ll have to hunt him down. Thanks a million.”

“I actually did you a favor,” Dabney said.

“A favor?” Nina said. “You get to go out and have fun. You’ve seen Clen practically every day since Box has been in London. And do I say a word about it? No! Because you are my best friend and I want you to be happy. But you don’t feel the same way about me.”

“I do, though,” Dabney said.

“You don’t!” Nina said. “You set me up just to tear me down.”

“When I got to the office, I saw green smoke,” Dabney said. “Just like with George! Jack Copper isn’t a perfect match for you, Nina.”

“I don’t care if he’s a perfect match!” Nina said, her voice louder now. “I just want a man to pay attention to me! I just want to have fun! Isn’t there a third category? Where you see happy-for-now yellow? Or a peaceful blue? Or a pulsing-hot red?”

“No,” Dabney said. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, too bad,” Nina said.

“I want to find you someone special,” Dabney said. “Someone right. Someone for forever.”

“I don’t want someone for forever! I want someone for today! And you just chased him away!”

“You do want someone for forever,” Dabney said. “I know you do.” She welled up with tears. “And even if you don’t want it, I want it for you.” Tears streamed down Dabney’s face. She had been so sure Jack Copper would work, but no—he was the wrong choice. Dabney’s instincts were way off.

Nina plucked Dabney a tissue. “Dabney,” she said, “what is wrong with you?”

But Dabney wasn’t sure.

Agnes

She had a group of ten bikers heading out to Quidnet Pond. Six boys, four girls, all of them strong riders except for a child named Dalton, who hailed from New York City (Park Avenue between Sixty-Ninth and Seventieth) and who attended Collegiate. Dalton had gruesomely chapped lips and one of the reasons he was lagging behind and holding up the group was that he had to stop every three to four minutes to apply his SPF 30ChapStick. That, and his bike helmet—which Agnes noted was the most expensive bike helmet money could buy—didn’t fit properly and kept slipping forward into his eyes. He had nearly had a collision with the girls in front of him thanks to said helmet.

Agnes hated to admit it, but she wasn’t very fond of Dalton. She had snapped at him earlier, telling him he had to keep up or he would be demoted to the nine-year-olds’ group. It wasn’t a very nice thing for her to say. She wasn’t really angry at Dalton—he was merely annoying—she was angry at CJ. CJ had canceled coming up for the weekend; the room at the White Elephant hadn’t come through, and that apparently was a deal breaker.

“I don’t see why you can’t stay at the house,” Agnes had said. “Box is in London and my mother is never home.”

“I won’t be comfortable,” CJ said. “I won’t be relaxed. And if I’m going to spend time with you, I’d like to be both of those things.”

Uncomfortable and ill at ease because of Dabney, Agnes thought. If Dabney had been in London, CJ would have come.

He said, “I’d like you to come to New York this weekend.”

“No,” she said. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” he said.

She had tried to come up with a reason. She could go to New York, but she didn’t want to. CJ would be on the phone all weekend anyway, negotiating the never-ending Bantam Killjoy deal. BK had been drafted by the Jaguars, but he was unhappy; he wanted to be out West. CJ was trying to get him to Kansas City or San Diego. Or at least that was what Agnes thought was happening; she had sort of lost track.