He was firm as he talked to people and he was polite…except in the few instances where someone attempted to pull social rank. Then his eyes developed a hardness and his voice a certain edge, and he became downright intimidating. In a matter of minutes everyone was gathered exactly where he wanted them. Commandeering an antique cherrywood secretaire, he looked from it to the windows and peremptorily picked up a fragile chair and plunked it down several feet behind and to the right of the desk. He gently settled Juliet. Then he turned to a husky man. “You,” he said. “Give me a hand moving this.” The man promptly moved to obey, but an outraged matron protested, “You can’t simply rearrange the furniture in here! These pieces are priceless.” He and his recruit positioned the secretaire to blockade Juliet, leaving only enough room for Beau to fit in a chair for himself. Then he turned to the crowd. “This,” he told them, thumping his knuckles on the desktop, “is a very nice desk, which I will return to its proper place when I’m finished here.
