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flirt, how to interest a man. All they need from me is a little guidance, a little reassurance that there is nothing whatsoever wrong with setting one's sights on a man who is—as I like to say—economically advantaged. They are already halfway there by the time they come to me, and it's no challenge at all, really. But you…my goodness! If I can take a history professor with no apparent fashion sense and limited social skills, and turn her into the kind of woman who would interest the most eligible bachelor on
earth,
then I will have proven to myself and to the world that my techniques are foolproof. You will be my triumph.”
    Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I'll use this as the feature case study in my next book.”
    Molly's mouth had dropped open in shock, and she was having trouble breathing through the sudden constriction in her chest. “You…” she began, ran out of air, and had to take another breath. “Book? About this? Oh, no, you won't. You're not putting this into any kind of book!”
    Elaine looked surprised. “But…”
    “Absolutely not!” Molly exclaimed. “Carter, tell your sister to swear that she'll never write a word about this, or I'll walk out of here and never speak to you again.”
    Elaine's eyebrows shot up into two exaggerated arches. “Fiery!” she said.
    “Oh, God,” Carter mumbled. “Listen, you two. Can't we just…”
    “Passionate,” Elaine continued, appraising Molly with a sharper eye. “I wouldn't have guessed that by looking at you, dear. But that's a good thing. We can work with that.”
    “Carter!” Molly shouted.
    Carter looked uneasily at his sister. “You heard her,” he said. “Sorry.”
    Elaine looked hurt. “Names and all identifying details would be changed,” she said. “Naturally.”
    Molly glared at her. “Publish a single word about me and I'll have you killed,” she said, and turned to Carter. “And let me warn
you,”
she added, “that my ‘limited social skills’ are connected to a limited tolerance for this project.”
    “Oh, all right,” Elaine interrupted. “Fine. I won't put you in the book, although it does seem like a waste, considering the size of my investment. If I'd known that I couldn't use the material…”
    “What investment?” Molly asked.
    “Never mind,” Carter said quickly. “We'll all be putting our time and effort into this, and I am deeply grateful for your collective generosity, in all of its incarnations—”
    “Shut up, Carter,” Molly said, and turned to Elaine. “Is that what you meant? Investment of your time?”
    “Yes,” Elaine said. “My time, and my money. You don't think that Carter can afford a week for three at a Berenger resort on his salary at the
Tribune,
do you? My dear, this is not a Holiday Inn. Gold Bay is
the
most important spot in the Caribbean, and one of the top resorts in the world. And let me add that getting a reservation there, at the last minute, in the height of the holiday season, was just about impossible. I had to call the Princess Von Faxon Westenburg, my ex-sister-in-law, whose daughter Chantal works at Sotheby's with the son of a Berenger senior VP of marketing.”
    Carter looked pained. “It's a loan,” he explained to Molly. “Against eventual royalties. My sister was more forthcoming than my publisher, who is sadly lacking in optimism.”
    “I couldn't possibly turn down such a fascinating project,” Elaine added. “It was made for me. I am the sort of person who needs to be needed.”
    “Good for you,” Molly said. “But I'll be paying my own way.” She had no intention of taking charity from Elaine, and it was a pleasure to be able to refuse it. On the more practical side, covering her own expenses also meant that she had no obligation to anyone but herself. She still had her doubts about Carter's scheme, and this meeting was doing nothing to allay them.
    Elaine looked surprised. “Rooms at Gold Bay are
extremely
expensive.”
    “Then I suppose that