“I went to California for Jeannie Chu’s wedding.”

“A month for a wedding?” Her pursed lips told me what she thought of that. Then she waved away the annoying gnat of Bill. “When do you have to go to your job today?”

“Two hours. Plenty of time to shower and change. But first, let’s have some congee.”

Probably taken in by the charcoal silk pantsuit that was my mother’s handiwork, the Waldorf doorman actually smiled at me. In the carpeted, chandeliered lobby, three men conferred over PDAs, no doubt scheduling a very important meeting. A graceful woman rolled a suitcase toward the door. Even the two little boys waiting while their parents checked in wore button-down shirts and were behaving themselves.

In a club chair to my right I spotted Joel, not behind a potted palm but beside one. Silver pots and porcelain cups clustered on the coffee table between him and a neat, plump woman. Joel looked a little chubbier, a little balder than last time I’d seen him, but, with both his yarmulke and his tie askew, his hurried, preoccupied air was the same.

The woman, smiling and saying something, looked slightly younger than he. Allowing for facials, makeup, and the general care we women take of ourselves, that probably meant she was a few years older. She’d smoothed her graying hair into a neat bun. My mother would have approved of the twill cloth and conservative cut of her dark green suit.

Joel popped up, banging his shin as he came around the table. “Great to see you, Lydia. Lydia Chin, Alice Fairchild.”

Alice Fairchild stood and shook my hand. She wasn’t much taller than I: five-four, maybe, or five-five. “I’m delighted you’re available, Ms. Chin. Joel tells me you’re just the woman I need.”

“I hope so. And please, it’s Lydia.”

Joel manhandled a chair over. “Sit. Have some coffee.”