Trust Me

Wouldn’t want to upset Super Client.”
    Desdemona stifled a groan. “Try not to do that, will you? He’s already nervous enough about this evening.” There was no getting around the fact that Stark would not be pleased to see Tony here, but it couldn’t be helped.
    “Where do you want these glasses?” Tony asked.
    “Put them on the counter and unpack them for me.” Desdemona looked at Vernon. “Where are the ice sculptures?”
    “In the van. Thought I’d find out where you want them placed before I unload them.”
    Desdemona consulted her computer sketch again and then slipped the PDA back into the pocket of her apron. “Follow me and I’ll show you. Aunt Bess, did you find the toothpicks?”
    “Got them right here.” Bess held up a small carton. “Tony can help me insert them into the shrimp.”
    “Sure,” Tony said.
    Stark reappeared in the doorway. “Desdemona, what about the sparkling water supply? Have we got enough?” He broke off abruptly when he caught sight of Tony. His gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”
    “I’m working for Desdemona, just like everyone else,” Tony said in a voice laced with swaggering challenge. “Got a problem with that?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Well, that’s too damn bad, isn’t it?”
    Desdemona moved quickly to forestall trouble. “Stark, Henry’s been delayed. Tony is filling in for him. Don’t worry about the sparkling water. We’ve got enough to float a battleship.”

    Three hours later Stark had forgotten all about his earlier anxiety over the sparkling water. He had even managed to ignore Tony’s presence in the kitchen. The reception was a flawless performance. Once again Desdemona had magically transformed him into a social success.
    He had a house full of happy clients. Their spouses and companions seemed to be enjoying themselves. A pleasant hubbub of conversation rose above the Mozart concerto that played discreetly in the background.
    People exclaimed over the food. The ice sculpture on the center buffet table sparkled. Augustus, aristocratic in black and white formal attire, was doing a fine job of entertaining everyone who stepped up to the bar for wine or seltzer. From the snippets of conversation Stark had overheard, he gathered that Desdemona’s uncle was regaling people with tales of his past experiences in the theater.
    Desdemona had saved his social hide once again, Stark thought. Knowing that gave him the confidence to move among his guests with some degree of ease. He recalled Desdemona’s advice on how to answer questions. Few people wanted extended, in-depth answers, she had said.
    The trick was to sound knowledgeable but not pedantic.
    “Most of the concepts are derived from information theory,” he said in response to an inquiry about the nature of complexity. He stopped himself before he could launch into a more detailed explanation. “But I won’t bore you with a long discussion of it tonight. Tell you what, my staff has prepared some short papers on how the new concepts are being applied to computer security. I’ll have some sent to your office….”
    “… Encryption is one of the obvious applications of complexity but there are others. Some of the most interesting will be in medicine and meteorology.” Easy smile. Share the intellectual humor here “You know how unpredictable the weather is. Talk about a complex structure….”
    To Stark’s surprise, he actually got a chuckle from that one.
    “… The term information highway is just a catchphrase to describe the linking of a lot of the major computer networks which already exist.” Pause to look thoughtfully concerned. “There are some serious implications for business as well as government, of course. Privacy and security issues involved, you know…”
    Out of the corner of his eye, Stark caught Desdemona’s approving smile. He turned his head as she brushed past him on her way back to the kitchen.
    “How am I doing?” he asked softly.
    “You’re doing great. A natural. You should have gone on the stage. Break a leg.” She hurried away.
    Stark studied the way in which her sleek black dress skimmed her shapely hips. She was definitely the most interesting woman in the room. No, he thought, conscious of the pleasant throb in his lower body, make that the sexiest woman in the room.
    It was good to have her here, he realized. Not only because she made this social stuff fly, but because he did not feel so alone in this crowd.
    Alone. The word