Page 174 of Homeport

“Ryan Boldari.” He bent down to take her hand and kiss the gnarled knuckles. “I asked Miranda to introduce us, Mrs. Collingsforth. I wanted to thank you, personally, for your generosity in lending the Institute so many wonderful pieces from your collection. You’ve made the exhibit.”

“If the girl threw more parties instead of burying herself in a laboratory, I’d have lent them to her sooner.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He beamed at Mrs. Collingsforth, making Miranda feel superfluous. “Art needs to be celebrated, not simply studied.”

“Keeps herself glued to a microscope.”

“Where one often misses the big picture.”

Mrs. Collingsforth narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips. “I like you.”

“Thank you. I wonder, madam, if I could impose on you for a dance.”

“Well.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’d enjoy that, Mr. Boldari.”

“Please, call me Ryan,” he requested as he helped her to her feet. He tossed Miranda one wolfish grin over his shoulder as he led Mrs. Collingsforth into the music.

“That was smooth,” Andrew murmured at Miranda’s shoulder.

“As grease on a tree limb. It’s a wonder he doesn’t slide off and break his neck.” Because the champagne was still in her hand, she sipped. “Did you meet his family?”

“Are you kidding? I think every other person here is related to him. His mother collared me, wanting to know if we’d ever considered holding art classes for children here, and why not, didn’t I like children? And before I knew it she was introducing me to this child psychologist—single, female,” Andrew added. “She’s great.”

“The psychologist?”

“No—Well, she seemed very nice and nearly as confused as I was. Ryan’s mother. She’s great.” His hands were in his pockets, then out, wrapped around the carved newel post, fiddling with his tie.

Miranda took one of them and squeezed. “I know this is hard for you. All these people—Elise.”

“Sort of a minor trial by fire. Elise, the parents, me, and cases of free booze everywhere.” He glanced toward the entrance again. Annie hadn’t come.

“You need to keep busy. Do you want to dance?”

“You and me?” He shot her a stunned look, then dissolved in easy and genuine laughter. “We’d both end up in the ER with broken toes.”

“I’ll risk it if you will.”

His smile went tender. “Miranda, you’ve always been a high point in my life. I’m okay. Let’s just watch people who know what they’re doing.”

Then his smile stiffened. Miranda didn’t have to shift her gaze to know he’d seen Elise.

She came up to them, a sleek fairy in filmy white. Even as Miranda wanted to resent, she saw the nervousness in Elise’s eyes.

“I just wanted to congratulate you, both of you, on a wonderful and successful exhibit. Everyone’s raving about it. You’ve done a fabulous job for the Institute, and the organization.”

“We had a lot of help,” Miranda said. “The staff put in long, hard hours to make this happen.”

“It couldn’t be more perfect. Andrew.” She seemed to take a deep gulp of air. “I want to apologize for making things difficult. I know my being here is awkward for you. I won’t be staying much longer tonight, and I’ve decided to go back to Florence tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to change your plans for my benefit.”

“It’s for mine too.” She looked at Miranda then, struggled with a smile. “I didn’t want to leave without taking a minute to tell you how much I admire what you accomplished here. Your parents are very proud.”

Miranda goggled before she could control it. “My parents?”

“Yes, Elizabeth was just saying—”

“Annie.” Andrew said the name, almost like a prayer, and Elise broke off to stare up at him. “Excuse me.”

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