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elongated table, was a solitary figure.  His legs were crossed as he sipped coffee and stared out the window at a sweeping view of rainy Chicago, the morning paper opened before him.  It was Robert Colgate.
       Unlike yesterday, when Bree talked with him on the top deck, he seemed well rested and relaxed today.  He was dressed in a plain brown suit, white shirt, brown tie, but it all fit his impressively built, tanned body as if it had been stitched on.  Not an ounce of fat seemed to be on the man.  Although Bree had spoken with him the day before, she was just as excited as everyone else to see him. 
       “Good morning, Robert,” Alan said strongly as he and his contingent approached.  Robert turned at the sound of Alan’s voice and looked at the approaching mob for the first time, his facial expression almost completely unchanged to them, although he did change.  For Bree was with them, and although he was trained enough to not give away his motives, she was the real object of his interest. 
       All of the finalists, including Bree, smiled as if they were meeting their favorite rock star and were giddy about it.  In law circles, and to all of the finalists, it didn’t get any bigger than Robert Colgate.
       Although Robert didn’t smile back at them, his cool demeanor warmed them. 
       “Ah, the Vegas group,” he said and they all laughed.  “I feel surrounded,” he added, folding his newspaper.  They all laughed again.  “Please, everybody sit.”
       Bree found it almost comical the way the pretty girls jockeyed for seats close to Robert.  Even the guys seemed aggressive.  Bree didn’t bother, the man, she felt, was too smart to be conned that way, and therefore was the last to sit down, ending up the farthest away.  If face time was the issue, she didn’t see what their problem was since he had a clear view of all of them.
       Of course, the pretty Prada girls easily outshined all others as their ability to sell themselves with all of their feminine wiles came across more impressively.  Bree listened carefully as each one described to Mr. Colgate their Ivy League educations, their judge father or surgeon mother or titan of industry grandpa.  Despite Monty Ross’s warnings earlier against self-promotion, they were dizzily self-promoting.  Bree could hardly believe how they continually dropped their own name, as if determined to etch it into Robert’s brain.   How they could believe a man of his worldly savvy would fall for such amateurish overkill, was beyond her.  But they kept at it, over and over.  Deidra Dentry must have said her name ten different times in one paragraph.  
       Bree studied Robert as he studied the talkers.  His facial expression was extremely difficult to read.  He paid close attention to each person speaking, and seemed polite about it, but she couldn’t tell if he bought into their hype, or dismissed them outright.  Which, for an attorney, was a skill honed by years of practice and experience, both of which Robert had plenty of.
       When they finally finished their excessive back-patting, for in Bree’s mind that was all they were doing, Robert stood up, as if he’d had enough.  Alan and the finalists all went to stand too, but Robert motioned them back down.  “No, no, stay where you are.  Have breakfast on the house.  But I’ve got to run.”
       “Here?” Alan asked as if he was stunned.  “You want them to have breakfast here in this room?”
       “Yes,” Robert replied as if he was somewhat irritated by Alan’s question.  “My treat.”   Then he looked at the finalists again.  “It was a pleasure meeting all of you.” 
       “It was a pleasure meeting you, too, Mr. Colgate,” Deidra said as Robert began moving away from the head of the table.  “You’re the best there is, in my view,” she added, and many of the