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a black dress and white apron appeared, proffering flutes of bubbly liquid. “Would you like a glass of champagne, ma’am?”
    I set my purse down on a nearby table and took one. “Thank you.”
    Somebody called my name, and looking up toward the opposite end of the mezzanine, I spotted a sexy blonde wearing a tight blue dress with a deep décolleté. It was Bunny Boyd, and she was waving at me. She turned to the group of people she was with and said something. And then she hurried down the stairs and through the crowd, beckoning me over.
    I turned to Matthew and Jenny, smiling apologetically. She shrugged, as if saying, “You do whatever you want, but you know what I think.”
    “Go,” he said. “We’ll catch up later.” I wove through the crowd toward Bunny.
    “I’m so happy you made it,” she shouted above the din. “I told Bernie about you. Come. I’ll show you around.” We made our way to the left staircase.
    She paused at the first step. “I really want you to see the second floor. It’s almost finished. I haven’t started the third floor yet.”
    I followed her up to a tall carved door. She opened it, saying, “This is the master bedroom. It needs only a few more details, so it’ll give you a good idea of the style I chose for Bernie’s house.”
    I stifled a chuckle. She sure liked to drop Bernie’s name a lot.
    I stepped into a room almost as large as my entire apartment. The windows were dressed in sumptuous cream dupioni silk, the same fabric that covered the padded headboard of the king-sized bed. The walls were robin’s-egg blue—one of my favorite colors—and underfoot was the most beautiful rug I had ever seen. It was an Oriental motif in shades of blue, taupe and cream.
Silk
, I thought, noticing the sheen of the pile. The rug was immense, stretching over the entire room. On the wall opposite the bed was a cream marble fireplace protected by a brass peacock screen. In front of it were two canvas-covered armchairs. Even without upholstery, they were magnificent. I had never seen such a luxurious room. I remembered to keep my mouth closed.
    Bunny pointed to the chairs. “I need handwoven linen to cover those and two footstools I’m having made to match.” She pointed to the bed. “I’ll also need a few yards of the same fabric to make throw pillows.”
    “This is a beautiful room,” I said. “I know exactly what you’re looking for.”
    She nodded. “I knew you would.” I followed her to the next room. “This is one of four guest bedrooms on this floor,” she said. “There are twelve bedrooms altogether, two more on the third floor and another five in the next wing.”
    Did I hear right? Twelve bedrooms? Holy crap!
    The walls were covered with hand-painted Oriental paper, depicting a mountain view with pagodas, gardens and birds. The furnishings, carved and gilt covered, looked as impressive as anything I’d seen in museums.
    “Everything here is original to the house,” she continued. “The only thing I’m doing in this room is having new draperies and bedcovers made. I’m looking for handwoven silk, the kind used in imperial kimonos. I’ll have to order it from Japan.”
    “That will look stunning,” I said, relieved that she wasn’t expecting me to produce that fabric. It could take an experienced silk weaver more than a year to make even one such kimono. I couldn’t imagine how long it would take to produce enough fabric to make curtains and a bedspread. She’d probably have to hire an army of weavers to complete the job. Suddenly, the contract dangling before my eyes was becoming a bit daunting. I remembered Jenny’s comment about how tough Bunny could be with suppliers and then shook my distress away and concentrated on the positive. A contract like this would put me on the map.
    The next room was a wood-paneled study. Bunny stepped in and crossed her arms. “I’ve got my work cut out for me in here.” She pointed to the moose head above the fieldstone