N THE TIME IT TOOK TO REACH HER FAMILY'S TABLE, DIANA began to feel distinctly lightheaded and a little giddy. For days, she'd faced the world at work and at home, and had hidden her private pain over Dan. On top of that, she'd had to brace herself to face the nightmare of this auction… but the auction was suddenly over, and it hadn't been a nightmare because Cole had turned it into an entertaining drama with a Hollywood happy ending.

The abrupt, unexpected release of so much pressure and stress came as a shock to her entire nervous system. She felt weightless without the heavy emotional armor she'd had to wear for nearly a week. Buoyant.

A few hours ago, she'd been Daniel Penworth's cast-off fiancée, the object of pity and ridicule. A few hours from now, the press was going to portray her in a new role with Cole Harrison—probably as his lover. That was so incredible that she felt a sudden urge to giggle.

Somehow she managed to keep her face straight and introduce Cole to her grandparents and mother, but the feeling of giddy mirth was swelling inside her as she watched them react in their own individual ways to what Cole had done:

Corey's greeting was filled with laughing approval, and she gave him a quick hug. Mrs. Foster was less effusive but very friendly. Spence and Grandpa smiled politely and shook Cole's hand. Grandma stared into his eyes as if she were trying to assess his soul. Amy Leeland actually blushed when Cole smiled at her.

Doug Hayward was not only antagonistic, he was openly insulting. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pants pockets to avoid shaking Cole's hand. Without taking his contemptuous gaze from Cole, he explained to Amy, "Harrison used to work at our stable, mucking out stalls. Now he donates artwork at charity balls." To Cole he added, "It's amazing how far a man can actually climb in America, isn't it, Harrison?"

Cole's jaw hardened and his eyes turned cold.

The inexplicable hostility between the two men was palpable, and Diana's family automatically turned to her to intercede. No matter how awkward or volatile the social situation, Diana could always be counted on to step in and defuse it with her special gifts of diplomacy, sensitivity, and humor.

This time, however, Diana seemed unwilling or unable to do that. Instead, she beamed a bright smile at the two men, who were glaring at each other like silent duelists awaiting the signal to begin pacing off, and she gaily announced, "I can see how anxious you both are to catch up on old times, but you'll just have to wait because Cole and I are leaving." With that, she swept up a plain black handbag from the table, linked her hand through Cole's arm, and turned with enough momentum to partially pull Cole with her.

Feeling that courtesy required some form of parting remark from him, Cole looked over his shoulder and saw Hayward stalking away. "Diana has agreed to take her life in her hands and dance with me," he explained to her family.

The group at the table watched with a variety of reactions as the couple departed. With the exception of Diana's grandmother, everyone seemed to think the evening was a triumph that would mark a complete turning point in Diana's unhappy personal life. "Mr. Harrison was exactly what Diana needed tonight to help her get over Dan. She has her pride back now, and she looks happy again."

"Diana is a survivor," Spencer put in.

"Diana is practical," Grandpa added. "She knows Dan wasn't the man for her, and she's putting him behind her already."

"Diana is a fighter and she's brave," Corey agreed.

"Diana," Grandma contradicted flatly, "is at the end of her rope!"

"Nonsense, Gram," Corey said, partly because she didn't want to believe that. "She's always been independent and self-sufficient. She's calm… she's grace under pressure, and…"

"And," Grandma interrupted triumphantly as she produced the ultimate proof of Diana's mental state, "she's just walked off with my black purse!"

That particular revelation caused the entire group to turn in alarmed unison and gape at the departing Diana. As all of them knew, Diana's fastidious attention to detail was unflagging; her flair for style was as legendary as her ability to be perfectly groomed and coordinated no matter how difficult the circumstances. Lying on the table was Diana's little purse—a glittering Judith Leiber evening clutch shaped like a jeweled sugarplum, with a silver stem and green leaves. The fact that she had actually walked away in a glamorous purple gown with a matronly black handbag dangling over her forearm was so completely out of character that the entire family felt deep tremors of genuine alarm.

"As you can see," Grandma sadly declared, "Diana has finally reached her limits. There's the proof."