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papers.” Claire turned back toward her guest. “Andrew, this is my son, Nicholas. He just finished his junior year at Andover and is home for the summer.”
    “Good to meet you, Nicholas.” Andrew moved to shake his hand. “It must feel good to have a few months off from the grind.”
    “Yeah.” Nicholas glanced down at Andrew’s hand, then at the outline of Claire’s in her pocket. He pulled away. “My dad won’t be back from Europe for a week. You could’ve just dropped that off with his assistant downtown.”
    “Actually, your mom wanted to take a look at the prospectus. She was at our first dinner meeting and was very interested in the business.”
    Nicholas shot Claire one of his trademark sarcastic looks. “When did you get so into biomedical stuff?”
    Claire walked over to Nicholas and sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the antique radio console Michael’s parents had given them when Nick was born. “I’m interested in some of the applications, honey. There could be a diabetes connection,” she said, guilt choking her words into a whisper.
    Nick glanced at his Medic Alert bracelet, and then squinted back at her, and at Andrew. “Yeah, well. Cool, I guess.” He splayed his fingers around the doorknob. “I’ve gotta go. Reese is picking me up and we’re heading out.”
    “You’re leaving?”
    He nodded.
    “O-kaay.” She wasn’t certain if what she felt was gratitude or dread, but she kept her gaze trained on Nicholas, trying to assure him he was the only person in the room who mattered. “Whose parents are out of town tonight?”
    “Catherine Miller’s,” he said. “Just her dad. Don’t stress.”
    Claire arranged her face into composure. “You know the rules, Nicky. And I don’t want you getting into a car with anyone who’s been drinking.” She stood. “If you need a ride, you call me.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’d like you home by midnight.”
    “I’m staying at Reese’s tonight. He got the new Call of Duty. ”
    She wrapped her arm around her son’s torso, squeezing him close to her. He smelled of soap and Axe spray. “Why don’t you just call when you’re leaving the party?”
    “Sure.” He twisted out from Claire’s embrace. “I gotta roll. I’ll see you in the morning.” As he turned to leave he looked back over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dicker.”
    “It’s Bricker. But Andrew’s fine.”
    Nicholas pulled the door shut behind him. A horn honked in the distance and the front door slammed.
    Claire felt her stomach churn, and collapsed into the fringed toile pillows of her chaise. “Oh my God. I hope he didn’t get the wrong idea.” She reflected on the irony of her statement.
    “Aw, he’s just a kid dying to get to a party.” Andrew sat down next to her. “The Dicker comment was clever, though.” He placed his hand on Claire’s clenched fist. “You okay?”
    “No,” she blurted out. Acid inched up her throat. “What must he be thinking? What if he—”
    “Hey,” Andrew said reassuringly, “we were just two people standing at a desk. It was nothing. He won’t even remember this in an hour.”
    “But it was—”
    “He’ll be with his friends, flirting with all the girls. And between that and the new video game at his buddy’s, he’ll be very busy. Trust me. You know how teenage boys are. The goings-on in adult world don’t hold much interest.” He studied her intently. “How about a drink? You look a little pale.”
    Claire eyed the decanter on the shelf and moistened her dry lips, wanting to believe his logic. “I don’t know.” What would it matter now, she wondered? This whole thing, it was as if she was folding origami and none of the corners were matching up. She looked back at him, took him in, concerned expression and comforting hands. “Okay,” she whispered. “Sure,” she exhaled, as she struggled to bring her nerves under control.
    Andrew poured two glasses of scotch and set them on the cocktail