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Andrew’s eyes. Her spirits rose, so much so that she allowed Ryan to pull her into a dance.
    When she caught a glimpse of Richard, his nose all but pressed to a painting of the Holy Family, his eyes intent behind his glasses, she simply turned away.

    She’d take Ryan’s advice—this time—and live in the moment.
    She was considering another glass of champagne and another dance, when Elizabeth found her. “Miranda, you’re neglecting your duties. I’ve spoken with several people who said they’ve yet to have a word with you. The exhibition isn’t enough, you have to follow through.”
    “Of course, you’re right.” She handed the champagne she hadn’t yet sipped to her mother and their gazes held for one long moment. “I’ll do my duty. I’ll do what has to be done, for the Institute.” She stepped back.
    No, she realized, she was also going to do what needed to be done, for herself. “You might have said—just once tonight you might have said to me that I’d done a good job. But I suppose it would have stuck in your throat.”
    She turned, walked up the stairs to mingle with the guests on the second level.
    “Is there a problem, Elizabeth?”
    She flicked a glance over at her husband as he came to her side, then looked back up at Miranda. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to find out.”
    “Senator Lamb would like to see you. He’s a big supporter of the NEA.”
    “Yes, I know who he is.” Her voice was a shade too sharp. Deliberately she smoothed it out. “I’ll be happy to speak with him.”
    And then, she thought, she was going to deal with Miranda.
     
    She lost track of Ryan, assumed that Andrew was making Annie comfortable with the Boldaris. For an hour, Miranda concentrated on her role as hostess. When she finally slipped off into the ladies’ room, she was desperately relieved to find it empty.
    Too many people, she thought, leaning against the counter a moment. She just wasn’t good with so many people. Conversations, small talk, weak jokes. Her face was stiff from holding a smile in place.
    Then she shook herself. She had nothing to whine about. Everything was perfect. The exhibit, the gala, the press, the response. It would all go a long way to repairing the recent chinks in her reputation.
    She should be grateful for it. She would be grateful for it if she knew what to do next.
    Decisions were for tomorrow, she reminded herself. Tomorrow, after she’d confronted her mother. That was the only answer, she decided. The only logical step. It was time the two of them faced off.
    And if her mother was guilty? Part of a conspiracy of theft and murder?
    She shook her head. Tomorrow, she thought again, and reached in her bag for her lipstick.
    The explosion of sound had her hand jerking. The slim gold tube clattered onto the counter. Her eyes, locked on their twins in the mirror, went wide with shock.
    Gunshots? Impossible.
    Even as the denial raced through her, she heard the high, horrified sound of a woman’s scream.
    She rushed to the door, knocking her bag off the counter and scattering its contents behind her.
    Outside people were shouting, some were running. She shoved through, using hands and elbows. She broke free and ran for the steps just as Ryan rounded the lower landing.
    “It— From upstairs. It came from upstairs.”
    “Stay here.”
    He might have saved his breath. She hiked up her skirt and was pounding up behind him. He knocked aside the velvet rope that blocked the third-floor office level from the party area.
    “You check that way,” she began. “I’ll look down—”
    “The hell you will. If you won’t stay put, then you’ll come with me.” He took a firm hold of her hand, doing his best to block her body with his as he started down the hall.
    More footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them. Andrew leaped the last three. “That was a gun. Miranda, go downstairs. Annie, go down with her.”

    “No.”
    Since neither woman was going to listen, Ryan gestured to the left. “You check that way. We’ll go down here. Whoever fired the gun is probably long gone,” he said as he cautiously nudged open a door. “But you stay behind me.”
    “What are you? Bulletproof?” She reached in under his arm and flicked on the light. He simply shoved her back and stepped into the room himself to do a quick sweep. Satisfied it was empty, he pulled her in.
    “Use this office. Lock the door and call the police.”
    “I’ll call them when I know what to