“Ouch,” Hanna whispered in sympathy.

Elizabeth peered into the main ballroom. “Let’s go find the bar.”

“Yeah,” Hanna agreed with a rush of breath. “There are times in a woman’s life when she absolutely needs a drink.”

They started toward the main ballroom. Elizabeth wanted to hurry and disappear, but she was forced to move carefully in her sleek, silver evening gown.

“Vannick-Smythe at three o’clock,” Hanna warned in an undertone.

Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to her gossipy neighbor Vivian and made eye contact. “Uh-oh. She spotted us.”

Hanna bent her head. “Pretend we’re deep in conversation.”

“Right.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t bring her dogs,” said Hanna, referring to Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s yappy white Shih Tzus. Constantly by her side, the two dogs went uncannily well with the woman’s overdyed hair.

“I guess she couldn’t get them on the guest list,” Elizabeth speculated.

Hanna sputtered out a laugh. “Oops. Here she comes.” Then she raised her voice to conversation level. “And what did you think of yesterday’s political coup in Barasmundi?”

Elizabeth quickly jumped into the game. “I don’t think a woman can hold on to power in West Africa.” She resisted the urge to glance at Vivian, as the woman came to a halt beside them. “But if Maracitu can pull off the elections, it’ll help stabilize the north, maybe inspire the tribal leaders to participate in democratic rule.”

Hanna was a network news anchor, and an all-around political junkie. Elizabeth assumed her ploy was to make the conversation as inaccessible as possible for Vivian.

Luckily, Elizabeth was interested in world politics herself. It was one of the reasons she and Hanna had become such good friends.