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Sharpe,” Dr. Birnbaum filled in. “Come on, I've known Sam for years. She and my son grew up together.”
    Anna felt momentarily embarrassed, telling herself she should have remembered that.
    He leaned over and kissed Sam's cheek. “Sorry your dad lost, Sam. I thought he was fantastic in that movie.”
    “Me too,” Sam replied. “Thanks.”
    “Hey, what do those idiots know?” Dr. Birnbaum asked dismissively. “Every year I come to this thing to support my friends; every year some other guy wins. What can I say? I've got broad shoulders for them to cry on.”
    “Come on, Dr. Birnbaum,” Sam chided. “The truth is, you did half the faces and boobs here, and you wanted to see how they look in comparison to one another.”
    Dr. Birnbaum wagged a finger at her. “I don't discuss my clientele.”
    “Please. They're all in the
Star
,” Sam kidded. “‘Knife Styles of the Rich and Famous.’ You ought to autograph your work. A little Dr. B tattoo on a well-lifted butt. Everyone will want one.”
    Dr. Birnbaum smiled at her. “Funny girl.”
    Sam peered around. “Where's your wife?”
    “She never comes to these things.” He touched Anna's arm. “Anna, dear, could I speak with you a moment? Privately?”
    Anna was slightly taken aback. She'd never had a one-on-one with Ben's father before. What was this about?
    “Uh, sure. Sam, you excuse us?”
    “No problem,” Sam nodded. “I'll go mingle. It'll take a half hour before we can get a cocktail, anyway.” Anna watched as she moved off into the dense crowds gathered by the bars—she didn't get more than twenty feet before she was approached by a young man in a white Stetson and a jacket and string tie. The guy looked like he'd just stepped out of the O.K. Corral.
    “You have good taste,” Dr. Birnbaum observed to Anna. “Samantha Sharpe was always the brightest of my son's friends. I'm glad I ran into you. Ben sends his regards.”
    Anna was confused. “How did he know you'd run into me?”
    Dr. Birnbaum smiled. “You're right. He didn't. But whenever we talk on the phone, he asks if I've seen you.” The doctor waved to someone over Anna's shoulder.
    “You look fabulous, Tom!” Then he turned back to Anna. “My son told me recently that he shared with you some of my past … challenges.”
    The gambling, Anna thought. And the lying. And Dr. Birnbaum's nearly killing himself in a hotel room because he was so deeply in debt.
    “Yes,” she admitted. “He did.”
    Dr. Birnbaum pursed his lips. “I'm glad he did, actually—much as it pains me to say so. I've been in Gamblers Anonymous for three months. I'm committed to a life of total honesty as discussed in what I like to call their Big Book.”
    Anna went for a polite smile. She was happy that Ben's father was getting his act together, but she didn't understand why a life of total honesty meant that he had to share this information with her. It wasn't like they were friends. And unfortunately, she was no longer involved with his son.
    Anna's to-the-manor-born mother had a sort of mental Big Book of her own. Anna had mentally dubbed it the
This Is How We Do Things
Big Book (East Coast WASP edition). If that book had taught her anything, it was to keep skeletons in the palatial walk-in closet with the revolving shoe rack, where they belonged.
    “You think this is oversharing, me telling you all this. Especially in public,” Dr. Birnbaum observed. “I see it on your face. But the thing is …” He moved closer, his voice dropping. “Confidentially, I've never seen Ben as hung up on a girl as he is on you.”
    “
Was
,” Anna corrected.
    Dr. Birnbaum shook his head. “Still is, Anna. I know my kid.”
    Still? Anna's heart leapfrogged. Could that possibly be true? They'd parted badly when Ben had gone back to college at Princeton several weeks after they'd met. It had been very emotional then, and it felt the same way now. Anna was surprised that Ben would have shared those feelings with his