"You have to let me into my office," she says. "I have personal belongings in there."
"You are most welcome to make an appointment to come back to clear out your office," Karoly said. "When our security staff are available to escort you."
"You can't do this to me," she says.
"I not only can, I have," he says. "Get out. If you ever come back, I'll see to it that you're put in jail."
"I will get you for this," she says. "If it's the last thing I do."
"How very dramatic," he said. "If you're still here when I go back to the party three minutes from now, you will be very publicly led out of here in handcuffs."
I hear her footsteps retreat down the hall and Karoly shuffling papers on his desk. I feel a sneeze coming on, and as I put my hand over my nose to stop it, I dislodge something on the desk. The paper shuffling stops. I hold my breath. I can picture Karoly standing there listening intently. I think that if this play I'm in were Hamlet, I'd be skewered through the arras for a rat. As it is, I stand shifting my weight from one foot to the other in acute embarrassment. But nothing happens, and after a minute or two, Karoly turns out the light in his office and I hear his steps receding down the hall. I count to fifty very slowly, then quietly open the door and head out into the crowd.
ACT TWO, SCENE four: I've purchased at great personal expense, seventy-five dollars and change, although I expect it is worth it, the book called The Traveler and the Cave: The Mystery of the Magyar Venus, and I'm standing in line to get my copy signed. It's a very long line—Frank will have to be pleased—and I've lost my glass of champagne, the third one I've taken and haven't finished. But I'm curious to see what Karoly's reaction will be, and I wonder how I'm going to feel about it too. I reach the head of the line, book in hand, and he gives me a dazzling smile. "Hi," I say, handing him the book. "It's great to see you."
He takes it, and opens it to the title page. "Would you like it just signed?" he asks. "Or personalized?"
"Oh, make it to me," I say. There is a pause, and he looks at me expectantly.
"And your name is?" he says at last.
I am stung, although part of me knows this is ridiculous. It is just that for a brief period in my life, Charles Miller was everything to me. How can one forget such a time, even twenty years later? Obviously he has. Even standing there I am aware that had it not been for the fact that Rob and I have just split, I wouldn't really care.
"I've changed my mind," I say. "Just sign it for me, please."
"You look familiar," he says, handing me back the book. "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," I say, and turn and walk away.
ACT THREE, SCENE one: Back in the bar at the hotel. Frank, Diana, Grace, and Cybil are with me.
"Where's Anna?" someone asks. Frank, I think.
"I put her in a cab and sent her home," Cybil says. "Poor thing."
"What happened?" Grace says.
"I guess the crowds were too much for her," Cybil says. "She wasn't very coherent. She just kept saying 'I don't believe it, I don't believe it' over and over again. I hope she's okay. Perhaps it was a bad idea to bring her to something so crowded and public so soon after she's gotten out of the house."
"What does that mean, 'so soon after she's gotten out of the house'?" I ask.
"It is such a sad story," Cybil says. "You heard her say her little boy was killed in an accident. It was a terrible thing to happen, and Anna just couldn't handle it. She got that condition where you can't leave the house. What's it called? Something phobia."
"Agoraphobia," Grace says. "That's not the technical term. It means fear of the marketplace, the public place."
"Right," Cybil says. "The thing was, she wouldn't let her other children go out either, not to school or anywhere. Her husband left her, social workers moved in, and the kids were taken away from her. She was in therapy for ages, and it's only recently that she has been able to go out in a crowd like this. But she wanted to come and see everybody. Obviously, it was a bad idea."
"Dreadful thing," Grace says, and we all agree.
"Is Morgan coming?" I ask. I'm wondering how she is faring after that unpleasant little set to with Karoly.
"Don't know," Cybil says. "Off to some swank society 'do' no doubt. I told her we were coming here. She could come if she wanted to. She seemed to be in a rather strange mood, though."
"The next round's on me," Frank says. "A book launch as it were."
"You published Karoly? Do I have that right?" Cybil says.
"You do indeed," Frank replies. "He looked me up when he was ready to have the book published and we were able to reach a deal. I didn't know who this Karoly Molnar person was, but I recognized him the minute I saw him, and he me. I'm sure in the bidding war that ensued, the fact that we went back so many years worked in my favor. It's hard for me to compete with the big guys. I'm thrilled, of course. I think, what with the international media on the Magyar Venus, this one is going to be a best seller. The advance sales are, shall we say, gratifying. The diaries themselves are interesting, and Karoly's commentary is a hoot. Scholarly, of course, but in a really accessible way. Well, you saw him tonight. People were standing in rapt attention while he went on and on about the Upper Paleolithic, for God's sake. You have to admit that's some feat."
"So why didn't you invite him to join us?" Cybil says.
"I did," Frank says. "He told me he had a better offer. Not in so many words, of course. He's still got all that charm."
"Pig," Diana says suddenly. It's the first word I've heard her utter since that unfortunate confrontation overheard in Karoly's office.
"Who?" Frank says.
"Karoly Molnar," she replies.
"Why would you say that?" Frank says.
"Because" is her only reply.
Frank has signaled the waiter. "What was that drink we used to have in college?" Frank asks us. "The one with the strange name."
"B52s," Grace says. "Not a good idea. Lethal, if I remember correctly."
"Don't be such a killjoy, Grace. A round of B52s, on my tab." he says to the waiter.
"Where's the bathroom," I say, realizing that while I had intended to go earlier, I'd forgotten when I'd come across Anna. When I return, the party has spread out. Several people have come over from the Cottingham, some I know, others I don't. Frank gestures toward a lethal-looking concoction on the table.
"Yours," he mouths at me. "Be careful."
"What's in this, anyway?" I say, sipping it.
"Just about everything, " Cybil says. "Chambord, creme de cacao, heaven knows what else. Brings back old memories, doesn't it?"
"Brings a tear to your eye, more like it," Grace says. "It's awful, really. Watch yourselves."
I think she's right. It really is awful, so I only take a sip or two, and order another glass of wine.
"I see he came anyway, " Diana says, gesturing toward a group at the bar which now includes Karoly, Woodward Watson, and Courtney Cottingham. "In more important company."
"Do you think he's screwing her?" Cybil asks, gesturing in the general direction of Courtney.
"Isn't everybody?" Morgan says, sliding into the seat beside me.
"I'm not," Frank says, leaning over Morgan from behind her.
She stretches and plants a big kiss on his cheek. "I adore you, Frankie. I always have." Frank smiles and heads for the bar.
"He fired me," Diana says.
"Yes," I say.
"How did you know that?" she says, suspiciously.
Oops, I think. "He didn't even recognize me," I say morosely.
"You're not going to start crying in your cups, are you?" Grace says.
"You said yes when I told you I'd been fired," Diana says. "How did you know?"
I cast about for an answer, but am saved a reply because trouble has arrived in the person of Anna. She walks directly up to where Karoly and the others are standing, and says in a voice loud enough to carry across to where we're sitting, "How could you?"