She called out to Leonard, who was still cavorting in the surf with the guests’ children. When he heard Claude, he ran toward her, grabbing a shirt and a towel off a lounge chair as he passed.
“Sorry to bug you, sweetheart,” Claude said.
“You never bug me,” he told her, planting a kiss on her lips. “What’s up?”
“The ladies would like to see the roof and meet Spencer Harding,” Claude told him. “Would you mind escorting us?”
Leonard grimaced as he toweled his hair dry. “You wanna go up to the roof, let’s all go up to the roof. But why in the hell do you want to meet Harding? The man’s got the personality of a pit viper.”
“Told you,” Claude said.
“We’re worried about his wife,” Harriett replied.
“Oh? You know Rosamund?” Leonard asked.
“She’s a client of mine,” Jo said.
“Ah. Lovely girl. Way too good for that schmuck.”
“Yes, we agree,” Jo said.
“Well, come on, then.” Leonard led the way into the Dunn house. “But if he bites your head off, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
When the four of them emerged on the roof, Jo briefly wondered what all the fuss was about. Fifty middle-aged men mingled in groups of five or six. Most wore shorts and sandals. Aside from the watches on their wrists, few ostentatious signs of wealth were visible. It looked like a corporate retreat. Then, as Jo began to focus in on the faces, an uncanny feeling settled over her. She knew almost all of them, despite the fact that she’d never met any of them. Most were celebrities, but none were actors or entertainers. Tabloid paparazzi would have walked right past them. The moves they made were dutifully chronicled not by tabloids, but by reporters from the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. These were men who ran the world.
None of the men on the roof stopped talking or stared when Claude, Jo, and Harriett made their way through the crowd. There were other women on the roof, after all. Two swimsuited lifeguards were mingling with a group of men. As Jo passed, she picked up a snippet about private swim lessons. But the atmosphere changed after their arrival. Spines straightened. The laughter sounded a little less raucous and the conversations a bit more polite.
“Hang out here with Claude for a sec and let me see if I can find Harding for you,” Leonard said.
Harriett sauntered over to the railing on the side of the deck that looked over the Pointe. She’d taken her hands out of her pockets and Jo could see that she had something clenched in her fists. “I always wondered what secret things happened here on the roof, but I didn’t want to get in the way. So I hung out downstairs with all the other women. I met doctors. And judges. And Oscar-winning actresses.” She looked back over her shoulder, and her eyes landed on Claude. “Do you know what we all talked about?”
“What?” Claude went to stand beside Harriett.
“We talked about what was going on up here on the roof.”
“Is it everything you were expecting?” Claude asked.
“Oh yes.” The grin spreading across Harriett’s face worried Jo.
“Harriett?” It was Chase’s voice.
Jo spied him making his way across the roof, wearing a constipated smirk that he was trying to pass off as a smile. Harriett didn’t bother to look.
“What are you doing up here?” he whispered angrily when he reached them.
Claude turned around to face him. “Leonard brought them,” she said.
Chase reared backward, the drink in his hand sloshing over the rim of its glass. “My apologies. I’m their escort,” he responded. “Chase Osborne.”