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gets them excited.”
    Karl gestured for Peter to precede him into the cafeteria. “C’mon. Let’s go have a piece of cake.”

EIGHT
    The ceiling of the cafeteria was filled with blue and gold streamers radiating out from its center. The walls were lined with posters of oboes, violins, clarinets, cellos, pianos and xylophones, Brahms, Bach, Mozart, Strauss, Copeland, and Bernstein. And the entire room glistened with the delighted voices of parents juggling pride and relief, grandparents competing for bragging rights, and children pleased to have both the concert behind them and Friday without classes.
    Kate had volunteered to serve refreshments. She was standing behind a four foot sheet cake with a treble clef made of enough sugar to assure every Pilates instructor in Scarsdale an extra week’s work. Sarah revolved around the room, accepting compliments with grace, sharing them with ease.
    Kate’s pleasure of watching her daughter celebrate the moment was interrupted by Brandon Jefferson, the CEO of the country’s second largest container shipping company. His granddaughter Betsy played the flute. Betsy was sweetly polite when Kate asked her if she’d like some cake. Brandon leaned over the cake so he could whisper.
    “I know tonight is all about the kids, but can I ask you a quick question about something I’ve been chewing on?” His voice was raspy. Brandon gave a decent chunk of his business to Greene Houseman. Kate would love to snare a piece of it for Drake, so of course she had time for him. She offered him three things: a piece of cake, a smile, and her ear.
    He was looking for as much cash as he could get his hands on as soon as possible to gobble up some Brazilian shipping company that was struggling to find its footing. Kate was a banker. He was a borrower. Even at a children’s concert. Kate said she had some ideas and they should talk in the morning. He nodded, put his arm on Betsy’s shoulder, and went off to find his wife and daughter.
    The line for cake thinned. Joanie Maxwell walked to Kate’s side. A bit taller, a couple of years older; Jeremy was her third so she had five or six years’ head start. In the two years since Kate had moved to Scarsdale they’d gotten to know each other; not in the sister sense, but more as two women juggling careers and families and high-profile husbands, both of whom had now publicly stumbled.
    “I shouldn’t mix parental pride and angst, Kate, but I saw Karl and Peter talking as everyone was heading into the cafeteria,” Joanie said. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but from the expression on Peter’s face, I fear Karl was giving him the full story of what it’s like to be fleeced by a hungry pack of lawyers.” Joanie pointed in the direction of the corner where Peter was standing by himself with an expression as though he’d just had his pocket picked. “Which, by the way, I’ve heard way too many times.”
    Kate felt as though she’d been outed in all the town’s newspapers. But she tried not to show either surprise or shame in what Joanie had said.
    “Listen, Kate, I know how embarrassing it is to have the whole world read about your husband’s troubles. Be grateful he wasn’t indicted or caught in the room next to Eliot Spitzer.” Joanie laughed but then put her hands on Kate’s arm. “I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”
    Kate and Peter had invited Karl and Joanie to one of the barbeques after Bennett Brothers began getting firebombed and so many of their neighbors fumbled for words or avoided them altogether. It was decent enough of her to return the kindness Kate and Peter had shown when the spotlight turned on Karl.
    “Thanks for the shoulder,” Kate said, returning Joanie’s smile. “I may take you up on it. We’re on a rough patch of road right now. No doubt about that. But we’ll grit our teeth and get through it.”
    “Karl and I gritted ours so long we’ve both ground them down to