Memory in Death (In Death #22)(25)

"Yeah." She smiled at him, and had to admit the two of them looked pretty damn terrific. "We have. Maybe things'll stay quiet this year, so we can make more instead of running around after a deranged Santa."

"We can hope." The bedroom 'link beeped twice. "Our first guests are arriving. Shoes?"

"Yeah, yeah." She bent down to tug on one, narrowed her eyes at the sparkle on the strap. "Oh, my Jesus, don't tell me these are fricking diamonds on my shoes."

"All right, I won't tell you. Hustle up, there, Lieutenant. The hosts can't be fashionably late."

Diamonds on her shoes. He was a crazy man.

* * *

The crazy man threw a hell of a party—she had to give him credit. Within the hour, the ballroom was crowded with people. Lights sparkled tike wine, and the music streamed through. The tables were loaded with a good deal more than pig truffles. Fancy canapes, pates, mousse, glossy delicacies from around the world, and beyond it.

The waitstaff was every bit as elegant as the champagne they served on silver trays. She didn't bother to count the poinsettias, but the tree looked fine to her. In fact, it looked amazing, as did the pines that dripped more light, more color. The forest she'd seen that afternoon had become a wonderland.

Yeah, the guy threw a hell of a party.

"This is so totally juiced!" Mavis Freestone rushed up, leading with her very pregnant belly. At her velocity she bumped into Eve before Eve could avoid contact. "Nobody throws a splash like you guys."

Her hair was silver tonight, in a lot of long, shaggy layers. She wore red, so snug Eve wondered that the ball of her belly didn't burst free. In concession to her condition, her silver boots had short, squat heels shaped like Christmas trees.

Her eyebrows were a curve of silver stars. Eve didn't want to ask how she'd managed that one.

"You look absolutely radiant." Roarke took her hand, then smiled at the giant of a man in silver and red at her side. "Both of you, in fact."

"We're coming to the countdown." Leonardo rubbed his big hand over Mavis's back.

"Almost at what they consider full-term. Um, what's that? Can I have some of that?" She snatched three canapes off a passing tray, popped them like candy. "So when, you know, we're there, we're going to have sex day and night. Orgasms can kick you into labor. My teddy bear can sure do orgasm."

Leonardo's wide, copper-hued face went red along the cheekbones.

"So, you're set for the classes, right?"

Eve just couldn't talk about it, couldn't think about the coaching classes she and Roarke were scheduled to take. "Hey, there's Peabody. I think she's got a truffle."

"Truffle? Chocolate? Where? Later."

"There's my clever girl," Roarke murmured. "Saving us by baiting your best friend with food. The Miras have just arrived," he added.

Before Eve could comment, he was steering her toward them.

It was going to be awkward, she knew. It had been awkward between her and Mira since the two of them had knocked heads and sensibilities over the Icove case.

They'd both worked to keep it smooth, but there were still ripples. And Eve could feel them now as Mira glanced over and spotted her.

"We were held up." Mira kissed Roarke's cheek, smiled at Eve.

"Not literally, I hope," Roarke said as he shook Dennis's hand.

"Misplaced my tie." Dennis patted it. It was Christmas red with a pattern of little green Christmas trees running over it.

"Actually, I hid it." Mira slanted a look at her husband. "And was found out."

"I like it." Something about Dennis Mira with his dreamy eyes and mussy hair went straight to Eve's soft spot. "Festive."

"And look at you." Dennis took her hands, pulled back, wiggled his bushy eyebrows. "Glamorous."

"His idea." Eve tipped her head toward Roarke. "I'm ditching the shoes first chance."

"You look wonderful, both of you. And everything looks amazing." Mira, lovely as always in midnight blue, glanced around the ballroom. She'd done something with her hair, Eve noted. Little sparkly things glinted against the rich sable sweep.

"Let's get you a drink." Even as he spoke, a waiter magically appeared at Roarke's elbow. He lifted a glass of champagne from it for Mira. "Champagne, Dennis? Or can I offer you something stronger?"

"Stronger? Wouldn't say no."

"Come with me. I have something a little special. Ladies."

That was on purpose, Eve thought, and her neck tensed. Small talk was bad enough, and she only had a limited supply. But in the strained small-talk department, she was all but empty.

She fell back on the cliche. "So, I guess you're all ready for the holidays."

"Just about. You?"

"I don't know. I think. Listen, the food's—"

"Actually, I have something for you. I didn't bring it because I hoped you might be able to find a little time, come by the house tomorrow. For coffee."

"I..."

"I badly want to be friends again." Mira's eyes, a quiet blue, went misty. "I miss you. I miss you very much."

"Don't. We're friends." Or something more complicated, Eve thought, that was tangled in friendship. "I have something I have to do tomorrow, but after... I think I might want to talk about it. I think I might need to talk about it. After."