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“I’d be happy to help you select a few art pieces” Wallace Johnson, who’d been sitting out this hand, slid forward on the sofa and picked up his bottle of beer to polish it off He owned two art galleries; one in Manhattan, and one in East Has would complement Leo’s work nicely”

Wallace was the odd duck of the group Unlike the others, who carounds, Wallace hailed from a wealthy family His speech and demeanor carried a touch of a patrician air, as did his taste in gourant lifestyle But the class difference never intruded on the long-standing friendship he had with these men, or with their business partnership

Art was their common bond In Wallace’s case, it was his passion, and always had been But owning the galleries was his second career, one he’d started the April before last, and under tragic circumstances He’d been an investedy had rocked his world His and his wife Beatrice’s five-year-old daughter had been killed by a hit-and-run driver, one whose identity the police had never uncovered It had destroyed his career, hisLittle Sophie had been his heart and his soul He hadn’t been the same since he’d lost her

He hid his grief well But every once in a while, Sloane would see the overwhel

“Paintings froallery would be wonderful,” she told hiet a est Derek will be overjoyed—and spoiled rotten”

“Yeah, we don’t want that to happen,” her father muttered “I expect him to spoil you, not the other way around”

“I’ll be sure to tell hi, but her attention was on Wallace She frowned as he rose, gri before he made his way over to the table of refreshments

“Are you all right?” she asked

“More or less” His voice, which Sloane had noticed was hoarse, rasped as he spoke “Fighting a cold or the flu” He put half a roast beef sandwich on a paper plate, then leaned past the tray to grab a Sam Adams from the ice bucket It was as if the food was for shohen all he really wanted was the beer Which was odd, because Wallace didn’t usually drink , not beer

He must have noticed the puzzlement on Sloane’s face as he turned away, because he drily added, “Your father’s wine collection is sadly lacking So I’ for this to ward off the chills”

Wallace earing a turtleneck on an autuht that was relatively warm And his forehead was dotted with beads of perspiration Maybe he had a fever, or else he was as unnerved as the others

“Go sit down,” she urged, playing along with his charade “You need ht off the flu I’ll bring you a plate” She did just that, her frown deepening as Wallace coughed and rubbed his throat before sinking down heavily onto the sofa “Maybe you should go home to bed”

“Nonsense” He waved away her suggestion, putting the bottle of beer to his lips and taking a healthy s “The ga a cold Besides, the aspirin Rosalyn gaveto kick in”

“Left?” Sloane’s brows rose in supposed surprise “Where did she go? I wanted to check on her”

“She’s at a publishing dinner,” Matthew supplied “You tried to talk her out of going, remember?”