nervously examining her mother’s expression.
It suggested she’d gotten the general story from Cole and Cameron. Margrit twisted the towel in her hands. 'I hadn’t decided when I talked to you yesterday, Mom, I really hadn’t.'
'You hadn’t mentioned the possibility, either. Really, Margrit, how much of that conversation was about Russell and how much of it was about Eliseo? Why didn’t you tell me?'
Cameron and Cole exchanged wary glances, but Margrit shook her head at them. 'Might as well stay. This is a huge change and you all deserve to know why I’m making it.'
Rebecca’s expression altered, as if her daughter had said something unexpected. 'Well, you do,' Margrit said, half-offended. 'It’s a hell of a thing to spring on everyone, and I’m sorry for that. I really was there to talk about Russell yesterday, which is why I didn’t tell you then.' That only began to touch on the truth, and she struggled to find an explanation that was honest without being impossible to believe.
'I didn’t think I was going to take the job. Then when I went over to Daisani’s offices after talking to you, I ended up sitting in on a meeting and handling some contract work, and I enjoyed it, Mom. I really did. I wished you were there, because what I don’t know about financial securities would fill libraries, but it was fun. And then there’s…' Margrit searched for words again. 'I chose Legal Aid because I wanted to make a difference. I knew it meant defending bad guys, but the positive side was being able to help people who didn’t have anywhere else to go. People like Luka. But Russell was killed for doing just that, and that’s scary. It probably wouldn’t be enough to drive me away on my own.' She gave Cole a faint smile. 'Because I’m the world’s most stereotypical Taurus, right?'
'Well, you are.' He made bull horns with his fingers and mocked charging her. Margrit’s smile grew wider before she turned her attention back to her mother, as if Rebecca were judge and jury.
'But working for Daisani, I’ll be able to help direct where his company’s charitable contributions go, and oversee how that money’s used by those charities. I’ll be able to do pro bono work on my own.' Neither of those details had been discussed, but Margrit was confident Daisani would agree. He wanted her working for him badly enough to pull out extraordinary stops among the Old Races. By comparison, what she’d outlined to her family was trivial. 'It’s a different kind of making a difference, but I think I can do a good job.' She sighed. 'And I guess an Upper East Side apartment wouldn’t be awful, either.'
'Well,' Rebecca said after a long, startled silence. 'I suppose Tony will be glad you’re not working for Legal Aid anymore. You two fight about that all the time.'
'Yeah.' Margrit jutted her chin out and looked toward the ceiling, hoping she might find escape there. Not in daylight hours, though; Alban couldn’t rescue her until nightfall. 'Tony and I broke up yesterday. For good.'
Later, Margrit had the impression her mother had caught her by the ear and dragged her outside to talk. She hadn’t; Rebecca would never stoop to such crass behavior. Regardless, there’d been an astounded silence that Cole had abruptly filled with banging pans and popping grease on the stove, and then Margrit had found herself on the street with her mother and no clear idea of how they’d gotten there. 'Mom?'
Rebecca marched toward the cathedral, heels clicking on the sidewalk. Margrit ran to catch up. 'Mom?'
She didn’t stop until she reached the corner. Then she took a breath and faced Margrit with a calm that utterly belied her swift departure from the apartment. 'All right, Margrit. This isn’t a topic I care to discuss, and I won’t in front of your father, but I feel I have to ask. Does your breakup have anything to do with Eliseo Daisani?'
'With-what, like am I dating him? Mom! God, you’re as bad as Cole! I’m going to work for him, that’s all. Tony and I have nothing to do with that.' On the surface it was true. For one sharp, aching moment Margrit searched for a way to tell her more. But what little Rebecca knew about Daisani went nowhere near allowing Margrit to explain the circumstances that had driven Tony to break up with her. Miserable, she said, 'Tony and I just didn’t trust each other enough in the end, Mom. It wasn’t going to work.'
Nothing was going to work without trust. Exhausting loneliness rose up in Margrit and she swallowed against the desire to share all of Daisani’s secrets, just so she wouldn’t be alone. Heat burned her cheeks and tears stung her eyes as she gazed at the sky, wishing again that the one person she could talk to wasn’t out of reach during daylight.
Rebecca touched her arm. When Margrit looked back at her, her expression was gentle. 'I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s been a very hard week for you.'
'You can say that again.'
A hint of a smile played around Rebecca’s eyes. 'I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s been a very hard week for you.'
Margrit snorted a soft laugh and stepped closer to hug her. 'Thanks, Mom. I really am sorry I didn’t talk to you earlier about going to work for Daisani. I honestly didn’t think it was going to be an issue.'
'I believe you.' Rebecca’s assurance sounded like a deliberate choice more than inherent confidence. 'And I suppose if we’re celebrating, your father and I will attend the gala tonight. If you really want us to.'
Surprise lit Margrit’s smile. 'I really do. You’ll look amazing. Really?' She hugged her again impulsively, and caught her hand. 'Come on, let’s have breakfast, then go see what kind of costumes he’s got lined up for us.'
'Oh my God. We are so far out of our league.' Cameron clutched Cole’s arm, whispering her assessment. Margrit, fingertips on a silver-lined glass railing, could only nod in silent agreement.
'Don’t be silly.' Rebecca Knight sounded amused, her voice entirely at odds with the elegant linen-and-gold costume she wore. Margrit thought Egyptian queens would envy her mother, and that pharaohs would find themselves lacking next to her broad-shouldered father, whose skin gleamed with gold dust. 'No one here is the least bit superior to you.'
'Maybe not superior, but they’re all a lot richer! I mean, just look down there!' Cameron gestured, laughing at both the excess and her own awe of it.
The Daisani ballroom spread out below them, a broad oval between two sweeping staircases. Their little group stood on a landing, with glitter and crystalline light bouncing all around them. Beyond the dance floor itself lay secondary rooms, walls peeled back to make one enormous functional area lined with buffet tables, bars, and scattered seating. Between shards of crystal-born rainbows the lighting was golden, radiating from globes whose brightness mimicked the sun without hurting the eyes. Marble dance floors were covered with hundreds of guests, most in formal wear and wearing simple masks, but with a weighty contingent in costume, or bearing masks of delicate and exquisite creation.
'I can’t believe who’s here,' Cole admitted. 'I see these people in tabloids.'
'I see them in entertainment magazines.' Cam nodded toward a young Marie Antoinette whose powdered wig added two feet to her height. 'I think that’s actually one of the costumes from the movie she starred in. Come on, let’s go down.'
'Go on, all of you,' Margrit said. 'I want to watch you make your entrance. You all look incredible.'
'So do you, sweetheart.' Rebecca kissed her cheek, then went down the stairs, arm in arm with her husband.
Cameron beamed at Margrit. 'You’re going to have to introduce us to Mr. Daisani, so we can thank him.'
'I will.' Margrit smiled and waved her friends off, watching them with pride and pleasure. They made a desperately striking couple on the stairs. Cameron, taller than Cole in any case, wore heels that put her several inches above him in height, which seemed to bother him not at all. Her blond hair fell in thick, styled waves over a crimson satin gown, folds of fabric creating a low scoop neck and falling beyond the dimple of her back. The skirt’s train was long enough to require carrying on the steps, and had a delicate loop fashioned into it for just such occasions. Long gloves played up the strong lean muscles in her arms as she clung to Cole’s elbow. He wore a charcoal-gray zoot suit, pinstripes and shirt the same scarlet as Cameron’s dress. Their masks were painted on, an idea Cole had objected to until he’d seen the effect beneath the long-feathered fedora the tailor had set on his head, and then he’d acquiesced so quickly Cameron had teased him.
'They’re quite extraordinary.' Daisani spoke from Margrit’s side before she realized he’d joined her. She turned and he took her in with a glance, putting a hand over his heart before he bowed. 'As are you, my dear. Would you care to join me on the dance floor?' He offered an arm, but Margrit hesitated, still looking over his outfit.
'I expected you to come as the Phantom,' she confessed. 'This is better. You look like Professor
