I shake off that line of thinking and focus. There is no Matthew Steuer yet. No Evalyn Walsh McLean. No Hope Diamond. What if he doesn’t show? What if she’s changed her mind?
I listen. But as always, with questions, Spirit remains mute.
I shove aside my hesitation and cross the room, sliding up beside Pax. I try to speak from the side of my mouth, so as to keep up the appearance that we have no prior connection. It is odd and unconvincing.
“We don’t yet have the combination,” I say. I’m deliberately trying not to phrase it as a question. I’m holding out hope that Spirit will chime in. Their continued silence feels like a condemnation.
Pax is all angles today: sharp and stabby, jaws and fists. He is cold, cold, cold.
“We’ll get it,” he grunts.
I inhale, the questions on the tip of my tongue: How? Where? But I’m afraid that eventhinkingthese queries drives Spirit further away.
But before I can press Pax further, Evalyn Walsh McLean enters the room.
The guests gasp and smile and gossip.
They titter.
Some even lightly applaud.
But my breath is stolen. My heart plummets.
“She’s not wearing it,” I whisper. I glower at Evalyn’s bare throat. “How could we assume—”
Pax lays his hand on the small of my back. He is shunning his own number one rule:We must not appear to know one another. I ignore the urgency that lingers at his touch. “Look.” He tips his chin.
Evalyn holds a gem-studded leash. She is walking a dog, a boxer. And the dog—thedog!—wears the Hope Diamond around its thick, furry neck.
A $180,000 gem on a dog.
The diamond is immense, as big as a walnut, and as lush as blue velvet.
A wave of heady greed washes over me, through me. It tastes salty-sweet, like butterscotch candies.
“It’s massive,” I whisper. My heart races, seeking synchronicity with Pax’s heart. Then, at least, my reaction to this gem would feel warranted, like I could make sense of my avarice if he felt it, too. I’ve never felt so covetous. “Pax?” I reach my hand back, hoping to grasp Pax’s.
But Pax has disappeared. I imagine his anger swallowed him whole, and he could no longer bear to watch this display. I cannot even sense his presence nearby. No tether.
Hedda Hopper shuffles across the room. “Oh, Miz McLean. What a delight! You must take a photograph of your dear pooch wearing that precious jewel. And do allow me to print it. My readers will positively eat it up!”
Hedda ushers Evalyn to the photographer’s area. Evalyn squeals, squats, and hugs her muscular boxer.
“Look at the camera, Athena!” Evalyn shouts.
The flash pops, smokes, and Athena starts panting. Kiyoko crosses to the boxer and introduces herself, lightly bowing hello. The dog, Athena, gives Kiyoko a deep sniff.
Kiyoko tilts her head and smiles. “Are you ready for tonight’s festivities, Athena?”
Athena snorts. I can only imagine what her reply to Kiyoko was.
That dog’s calling all y’all a bunch of pompous assholes, is what.
I can’t help it; I laugh and watch Kiyoko do the same. Kiyoko’s laugh is like wind chimes. Spirit flickers the nearby candles, laughing with us. This laughter is a much-needed release. I relax a bit.
But I should know better than to let my guard down so quickly. Evalyn McLean glares at Kiyoko, kneeling next to Athena. “Do not harm my dog. She is family.”
“Of course she is,” Kiyoko says. “And I’d never think of it.” She skirts away quickly. None of us need to be seen interacting too much with Evalyn McLean.
