“It’s called making an entrance,” Damon murmured in Carol’s ear. “And it’s taken an awful lot of practice.” Roxanne acknowledged them with Euro-style kisses—longer, more lingering, on Damon’s tanned cheek. “Lovely to see you again.” “May I wish you a Happy Christmas,” Damon responded suavely. Roxanne took that as a positive sign. “Looking forward to catching up later.” Without excuse or explanation, as was her wont, she by-passed those congregated in the drawing room with no more than a flourishing wave. Most of the guests were sitting agog, nursing a drink, as though it was intermission time at a theatre. Roxanne allowed her daughter to escort her and Jeff to the best of the remaining guest rooms. “This won’t do, Carol,” Roxanne pronounced sharply, poised on the threshold as though refusing to go in. “Who’s in the Yellow Suite?”
