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him the next time you met him. Even his eyes looked like they’d been inserted into his head on an assembly line.
    “Darling,” Mimi said, exhaling a long sigh. “You know you shouldn’t smoke and eat at the same time . . . What would Mother say?”
    “Luckily, Mother is dead, so I doubt she’d say anything,” George responded.
    “Husbands are just like children,” Mimi said. “It’s something people always tell you, but you never believe it until you get married. George, have you met Janey Wilcox?”
    George wiped his hand on his napkin and held out five stubby fingers. “Don’t know you but I know all about you,” he said. And then, without preamble, asked,
    “What’s it like knowing that half of America has seen you in your underwear?”
    “George!” Mimi exclaimed.
    “I was about to ask that very question,” Rupert said.
    “Maybe you should try it,” Janey said.
    “I’m afraid I’d become more of a laughingstock than I already am,” Rupert said.
    And Mimi said, “George, I swear darling, if you weren’t so rich, I’d divorce you.” And then Mimi turned and saw Comstock and Mauve. Janey caught Comstock’s eye and he quickly looked away.
    The inevitable moment of meeting was diverted, however, when Mimi said,
    “Rupert, darling, come and say hello to Mauve, will you? She’s got a terrible crush on you, but I promise to spare you at dinner.” Turning to George she said, “And as for 18947_ch01.qxd 4/14/03 11:22 PM Page 24
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    you, darling, if you’re going to be rude to our guests, can you at least make yourself useful? Janey needs a drink.” And bearing Rupert away, she left Janey with George.
    As he led her into an ornately decorated living room, he began babbling about the renovation, but Janey soon found herself losing attention. She was taken with her own thoughts, those being that Mimi and George’s marriage was exactly the sort of union she’d been trying to avoid her whole life. This wasn’t entirely truthful, as, so far, any man—rich or poor—had yet to express an interest in marrying her.
    But right now, being forced to listen to George go on and on about the costs of the different kinds of paneling in the room, it seemed like a blessing, and she wondered why the fabulous Mimi Kilroy had succumbed to marrying George Paxton. It wasn’t that he was so awful—summing him up, Janey could see that he had a glimmer of humor—but that he was so completely out of his element. Nor did this bode well for the “brilliant” Selden Rose: It certainly didn’t recommend him much if George was his good friend.
    As George went on and on—she believed he was talking about the packing methods for shipping furniture from Europe to America, a topic on which she did not, and never would, have an interest—she spotted Pippi Maus by the French doors leading to the terrace, and was immediately reminded of the delicious young man she’d seen her with in the car. At the moment, he was nowhere to be found, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at the party. Using the excuse of needing some fresh air, Janey strolled toward Pippi, and then, when she was nearly on top of her, pretended to suddenly see her. Arranging her expression into one of pleasant surprise, she said, “Pippi?” Pippi looked up at her with that expression that is typical of all famous people: a mixture of eagerness at being recognized, coupled with a fear of being ambushed by an overeager fan. Janey nearly snorted with derision—in her mind, Pippi wasn’t famous enough for that look, but she held out her hand and said, “Janey Wilcox.”
    “Oh,” Pippi said. Janey could tell that Pippi had no idea who she was, which was all the more annoying as under normal circumstances, Janey wouldn’t have wasted her time with a chit like Pippi—after all, there was nothing Pippi could do for her. But at the moment, she was dying to find out at least the name of Pippi’s afternoon companion, so she