Night Film

57

“Ms. Quincy is coming down,” said the doorman, hanging up the phone.

I bent down to Sam. Her ballet slippers were scruffy and her tutu was slightly crushed, but otherwise she looked all right.

“I’m proud of you, toots,” I told her.

The elevator doors opened, Cynthia emerging in a crisp white blouse, jeans, dazzling swish of gold hair, Tod’s suede driving loafers. I could see from her smiling face that she was furious.

“Hi, love,” she said to Sam. “Go wait for Mommy by the elevators.”

Sam blinked up at her and padded obediently across the marble lobby.

Cynthia turned to me. “I said six.”

“I know—”

“She was auditioning for The Nutcracker.”

“I worked it out with Dorothy. She’s going to make the party scene.”

She sighed, heading back across the lobby. “Just don’t forget Thursday,” she added over her shoulder.

“Thursday?”

She turned. “Bruce and I are going to Santa Barbara?”

“Right. Sam is staying with me for the weekend.”

Shooting me a warning look—Don’t mess this up—she took Sam’s hand and they stepped into the elevators. I held up a hand, waving, and Sam smiled just as the doors closed.