Brandon was thirty and usually knew what Hamilton wanted before he asked. He kept the schedule, screened calls, and tracked the small changes in Hamilton's expressions that often preceded an outburst. When Hamilton's left foot twisted uncomfortably beneath the table, Brandon noticed before the others did. "Are you sure you're all right, Mr. Hamilton?" he asked, bending close enough to avoid alarming the guests.
"I'm celebrating a business deal, Brandon, not dying," Hamilton replied. "Bring me another glass."
Across the table sat Victoria Williams, a developer who had negotiated with Hamilton for almost fifteen years. She was forty-seven, capable of arguing over a contract for six hours without once raising her voice, and one of the few people present who did not confuse Hamilton's money with wisdom. Next to her sat Thomas Reed, an attorney whose painful right shoulder had become a familiar complaint among his friends. He was talking about how difficult it had become to reach the top shelf in his office when Hamilton interrupted with another toast.
Richard Bolton, a litigation partner who enjoyed recording important events for his professional social accounts, was already filming. Walter Price and Elaine Cross, two investors in the redevelopment deal, leaned together over a tablet displaying photographs of the proposed buildings. Peter Feld, a banker who had helped assemble the financing, checked his watch and made a joke about how many zeroes they were drinking to. They were seven guests, seven different people with seven different ideas of success, all seated around a man who paid for the evening.
"To two hundred million dollars," Hamilton announced, raising his crystal flute. "And to the biggest land deal Philadelphia's seen in a decade."
Glasses met with bright little sounds. The gas heaters glowed orange against the darkening patio, and the restaurant's speaker system began playing a slow jazz piano arrangement. Hamilton smiled for Richard's camera and held the expression until he was sure the recording had ended. Only then did his eyes drop to his left leg, where a fresh wave of pain had begun tightening through the muscles.
Miles watched from behind the shrubs. He could not hear every conversation, but the shape of what was happening interested him more than the words. Hamilton shifted toward his right side, paused, and tried to reposition the left foot without lifting it naturally. A few minutes later, he did the same thing again, gripping the armrest until his knuckles whitened.
Miles took the medical article back out of his bag. The patient described in it had suffered severe pain around the hip, made worse by a spasm of deep muscles close to the sciatic nerve. The article also warned that sudden weakness could have other, much more dangerous causes requiring emergency assessment. Miles remembered both statements, though his eyes lingered on the illustrated case where relief had come unexpectedly fast.