Julian stood by the balcony, stopwatch warm in his pocket, as champagne swilled and chandeliers glittered like frozen constellations. He paused the room and walked through it like a ghost. He repositioned a journalist’s tape recorder, moved a misplaced speech note into better lighting, unzipped a dress in a way that shifted the attention of a married man away from the crowd toward a waitress whose laugh had been nearly invisible. Mara left a folded compliment in the pocket of the patron, placed a hand on the elbow of a nervous organizer.