Preston's eyes widened ever so slightly. Then they immediately narrowed in speculation. "Is that so?" "Yes," Rafe said. "That's so."
Orchid fixed Rafe with a determined look. "Time to mingle."
"You run along," Rafe said. "I'll join you in a minute. I want to have a little chat with Dr. Luce."
Orchid closed her eyes. Things were out of control. "Uh, Rafe, I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"Stonebraker's right," Preston said cheerfully. "Why don't you run along and let the two of us get to know each other."
"You don't know what you're doing here, Preston," Orchid warned.
"Of course I do." He waved her off. "Don't worry. I'll see you again before you leave."
He was prey at the watering hole, Orchid thought. Blissfully unaware of the predator sneaking up on him in the bushes. In any other circumstances, she would have been more than happy to leave him to his fate. But this was Veronica's wedding.
She gave Rafe a stern look. "No scenes. Think of the bride and groom."
"No scenes," he promised happily. "Much too primitive." He did not take his attention off Preston.
Orchid gave up. She turned away and hurried along the gravel path back toward the safety of the herd.
When she reached the main cluster of wedding guests she headed straight for the wine bar. She did not dare look back to see what was happening at the far end of the garden.
"What can I get for you, ma'am?" the waiter asked politely.
"A large glass of whatever is handy."
The young man glanced back toward the section of the garden where she had been a few minutes earlier. He studied the tableau of Preston Luce talking with Rafe. An expression of sympathy crossed his face. "Yes, ma'am."
He reached for a bottle of expensive champagne, poured a glass, and set it down in front of her.
Orchid heard the collective gasp of astonishment from the crowd just as she started to take the first sip. She cringed. She could only hope that Veronica would someday forgive her. She took a long, fortifying swallow of champagne and braced herself.
Then with a sense of deep fatalism, she turned. Everyone was staring at the scene taking place at the reflecting pool.
Rafe stood at the water's edge. From Orchid's vantage point it was impossible to see the expression on his face, but his posture radiated mild concern and helpfulness.
Preston staggered to his feet in the center of the shallow pool. His white suit was drenched and stained with mud. He ignored the hand Rafe extended toward nun.
As Orchid and the others watched, Preston splashed across the pool in the opposite direction and climbed out on the other side. He scrambled awkwardly over the low rock wall that surrounded the garden and disappeared in the direction of the parking lot.
No one laughed. That would have been very un-meta-zen-syn. The assembled faculty and staff of the North Institute were much too sophisticated for such behavior. But no one seemed very dismayed by Preston's accident. In fact, the murmur of conversation that went through the crowd sounded suspiciously cheerful to Orchid.
She waited with a stoic sense of inevitability as Rafe walked back toward the crowd of onlookers. She saw him pause here and there to answer questions.
As he drew nearer, she could hear what he was saying.
"He slipped and fell. The stones near the edge of the pool are wet. Got to be careful . . ."
When he reached her she saw the look of gleaming satisfaction in his eyes. He reminded her of a wolf-hound returning from the hunt with a rabbit-mouse to lay at its master's feet. Rafe's tongue did not actually loll out of the side of his mouth, but she could tell that it was firmly wedged in his cheek.
She was tempted to pat him on the head.
The waiter handed him a glass of blue champagne without waiting to be asked.
Rafe accepted the offering with a surprised nod. "Thanks."
"My pleasure." The waiter met his eyes. "Least I could do in exchange for the pleasure of seeing Professor Luce pick himself up out of that pond. Probably all of the revenge some of us will ever get."
Rafe looked politely interested. "Revenge?"
"I'm tending bar today to pick up some extra cash. But in my real life, I'm an assistant in Professor Luce's department at the institute. Last month he published a paper that summarized the results of a year's worth of my work in the Journal of Synergistic Theory. Didn't even put my name on the list of research assistants who contributed to the project."
"Hold on, here," Rafe said. "If you're implying that I deliberately tossed Luce into that pool, I assure you, it was an accident."
The waiter grinned. "Every student of meta-zen-syn knows that there are no true accidents." Without waiting for a response, he moved off down the bar to pour wine for another guest.
Out of the corner of her eye, Orchid saw her parents walking toward her. She leaned back against the edge of the bar and took another sip of champagne.
"An accident you say?" she murmured.
"He lost his balance and fell. Could have happened to anyone."
Orchid was suddenly absurdly pleased. "Preston did not fall into that pool by accident."
Rafe gave her a superior smile. "Remember North's Second Principle: The struggle for balance and harmony governs all natural processes."
Anna appeared at Orchid's side. She smiled serenely at Rafe.
"And in a shining illustration of that important principle," she said, "it would appear that Professor Luce just lost the struggle to maintain his synergistic balance."
Orchid was startled to see the undisguised satisfaction in her mother's eyes. "Mom?"
"Yes, I know dear. It's not very meta-zen-syn of me to take such pleasure in seeing Preston fall into a pond. But we all have our little lapses. Don't tell your father."
"I don't think Preston fell into that pond." Orchid glanced at Rafe. "I think he may have had a little help."
"Nonsense," Edward said as he strolled over to join the small group. "Your mother is right. Preston just got a sharp lesson in synergistic realignment. Isn't that so, Mr. Stonebraker?"
Rafe shrugged philosophically. "Like they say, synergy happens."
Chapter 17
Shortly after midnight, Rafe came awake with the sudden, all-over awareness that Orchid was not asleep. He turned on his side, automatically reaching for her before he remembered that she was not here with him. This was the guest bedroom in her parents' home. She was in another room down the hall.
Earlier in the evening Edward had explained that no two homes in Northville were precisely identical, but all were built along the same meta-zen-syn aesthetic lines. The principles of simplicity, harmony, and balance dominated. The Adams' house was a serenely designed structure built around a courtyard. Every room had windowed walls that opened onto the central garden.
Rafe pushed back the covers and got to his feet. He started toward the door and belatedly remembered his trousers. Something told him that it would be very un-meta-zen-syn to be caught wandering naked down the hall to Orchid's room at this hour of the night. There were those who might view such activity as downright primitive.
He pulled on his trousers, fastened them, and headed toward the door.
Halfway there, he paused again.
He could not feel her presence in the room down the hall.
He freed his senses with a short flash of para-energy, allowing them to absorb the vibrations of the sleeping house. Two people in a single chamber at the far end of the hall. Mr. and Mrs. Adams. But no sensations came from the other bedroom.
Orchid was elsewhere. He turned slowly, listening for her with all of his senses.
She was outside in the courtyard garden.
He walked to the windowed wall of his bedroom and looked out into the night-shrouded scene. Orchid sat in the hollowed-out seat of a moon-washed meditation rock. She had her arms wrapped around her up-drawn knees. The folds of a white robe flowed around her.