Sat, December 12, 2074 12:05 pm: Loganberry Cafe, Tolsbury, Pleasantview
"Mrs. Lothario? I'm sorry that I'm late." Addison thought it best to omit his excuses. He would have to lie if he made them, and that would taint an interpersonal dynamic that was already predisposed toward the antagonistic, whether Adelaide knew it or not. The truth was that he'd spent his entire morning straining over whether it was in his best interest to have lunch with Don Lothario's daughter. Worse, whether it was in his best interest to have lunch with Isabella Tellerman's sister. In the end, he was indebted to Don in such a way that he could only begin his repayment here, in this restaurant, where he might abide in the half-lit region that existed between friend and foe. Addison could chart that region with his eyes closed, but that didn't make the journey any more affable.
The woman sipping a bowl of soup in front of him looked up so slowly and so wearily that for a moment, he felt abashed. The thought crossed his mind that he must have had the wrong table. But the eyes were a tell, that somber green like the underside of a forest canopy. Adelaide had her father's savage good looks and her mother's statuesque poise. She could be no one else.
"Not at all. Thank you for accepting my invitation. I ordered you soup. Maybe that's a little strange, to order lunch for someone you've never met." Addison took the seat across from her. The delicate way that she patted her mouth with her napkin made him feel like a Townie, but if he was uncomfortable, he would not let it show.
"It is, but I won't hold it against you. And this is not our first meeting," he said, folding the cloth napkin in his lap.
"Oh! Isn't it?" Adelaide's stare widened as though she had been caught doing something wrong, but Addison was quick to grant her amnesty.
"It was during the final settlement of the Mortimer Goth estate." Having said that, he was instantly transported back to Dina's well appointed office at Pleasantview Motor Industries where he tried and failed to transfer ownership of Fiorello Vineyard to the crown. In the end, Ethelden wanted nothing to do with Arbormoor. To Addison's mind, those bat-eared dogmatists deserved whatever came to pass as the result of their lack of governance. Certainly, they were as much to blame for Kelly's death as Kvornan was, as much to blame as Primo Fiorello, as much to blame as Alexei Garrison, as much to blame as Addison himself.
"Good lord! I suppose I would've been in diapers." Adelaide's voice brought him back into the present. She was twirling her spoon around her fingers.
"You were a tough negotiator. And thank you for the soup. Incidentally, it's what I would have ordered anyway." Adelaide sat back, the tension having lessened somewhat. Her keen eyes sparkled.
"I don't believe you, but you still get credit for... I don't know. Graciousness, I suppose?" Addison shook his head and fiddled with the table cloth.
"No one has ever accused me of that before," he said.
"Accused? You make it sound like a fault."
"I'd prefer to think of myself as being earnest rather than gracious. Graciousness is too inorganic. It implies a certain amount of deceit. A truly stable individual has no need for such pretenses." Adelaide laughed, and it was a pretty sound. Addison could not remember the last time that he had been on the receiving end of such a look as she was giving him just then. Perhaps only Kelly had ever looked at him that way.
"Good lord, you sound like my mother. Graciousness as a sign of instability! But I confess, earnestness is not your reputation, Mr. London. Quite the contrary." Adelaide's amusement was a luminous thing to behold. He looked away, briefly. It was with some trepidation that he realized that he found this woman, this pregnant married woman whose sister he would so dearly like to see dead-- He found this woman desirable. This was the wrong decision. He should not have been here. It made his job more difficult to be here and gained him nothing.
"My reputation is built on the simple premise that most of my human interactions happen from the end of a boardroom table. I can permit myself to be earnest only if the company is suitably charming, and I mean that earnestly." He'd felt very foolish the instant that was said. These were the pitiful flirtations of a man old enough to be her father and so out of practice that she might really have been in diapers when last he seduced a woman. Such flirtations arose in a bubble of hope mingled with defeat and evaporated when they came into contact with air. "But I'm sure that you didn't ask me here for soup and graciousness." Adelaide trailed her finger along her collarbone.
"If I had, I might have been disappointed when you earnestly ordered the poached salmon salad," she said. Addison sat upright in his chair.
"Oh, they have that here? Waiter!" Adelaide folded her arms over her chest in mock disapproval.
"You know, my father never liked you."
"Not without good reason." He could sense her drifting away then. What she had said, she'd said in jest but there was a lot of history built up behind it. Addison wondered how much of it she knew. "I am very sorry for your loss." A pause. Adelaide shut her eyes briefly.
"Once, very long ago, he told me that if anything ever happened to him, I should come to you." That was news to Addison but when he thought about it, he realized that he had been waiting for Adelaide's call from the moment he found out about Don's death.
"I can't imagine why," he said.
"I think you can."
"I'm afraid I can't." His tone was gentle, coaxing. He hoped that she was intuitive enough to read it. This was a refusal, not a lie. Adelaide looked off, out of the window.
"Did you know that my dad ran five miles every other day, puffing away at as many cigarettes as he possibly could for the duration of the run? He made a game of it. I think his record was something in the environment of seventeen. I mean, can you imagine that? A man of his age?" Addison did not respond. This was not an innocuous anecdote, and he was not sure that he liked where the conversation was going. She was, after all, Isabella Tellerman's sister. He did not know what he had intended to tell her when he arrived at the restaurant, but it all suddenly seemed so unwise. In the balance of things, he would have preferred to have been asked about Bella Bachelor-Goth. Adelaide plowed on. "Dad rarely ate anything that wasn't drenched in fat and grease, and he left his doctor dumbfounded every time he went in for a physical. His health was remarkable. He never got sick, not even with a cold. Then, on a day just like any other, he just dropped dead. Is that how I'm going to go, standing on my patio in a bath robe? No warning, just poof and I'm gone?"
"I wish that we were all so lucky, Mrs. Lothario." Adelaide was crumbling. Her eyes welled with tears.
"He got into a lot of fights as a young man. He lost several adult teeth. And do you know what? They grew back. I'm not asking you to betray any state secrets, I just-- I need to know-- What are we? Some peculiar strain of partling?" God, anything but that. Addison breathed heavily through his nose. His resolve was giving way. It was better that she was properly informed rather than misinformed, especially because she was Isabella Tellerman's sister.
"No, no. Much more exceptional and beautiful and rare than that," he confessed. Adelaide pressed harder.
"What then?"
"There are so few of us that there isn't a name for it." Adelaide slumped back in her chair, and Addison leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Every living thing, everything that has lived and will live has an essential energy. For normal people-- Your husband, your mother, even for Faes that energy can be changed. It can be created and yes, it can be destroyed. But you and I are as we will be and have ever been. It isn't magic. It's much older than that. The Faes call it Ken-Creliqu--"
"The Ecstasy." Adelaide had a far away look. Addison could not know what she was thinking, but he filed her reaction away for further consideration.
"That's right. It is the energy that was made when the Ka and the Ren first sated their thirsts for one another-- their tarshna, as the holy texts say. It is the beginning of all things, a blessing if the unsated tarshna of the Ba and the Sheut is respected, a curse if it is not." Adelaide remained preoccupied with her own thoughts. "Do you know where Jorge LeCroix lives," he asked. Adelaide blinked back to life.
"Sort of. I mean, he isn't really one of us." This was a different 'us' than they had been discussing a second before. It left a sour taste in his mouth. He was attracted to a married, pregnant, full caste young girl whose sister he dearly wanted to see dead. But luckily for him, his discomfort would never show. Addison pulled his wallet and pen from his pocket. He began scribbling Jorge's address on the back of a business card.
"Arbormoor Manor, I'll give you the address. Meet me there on Monday at quarter to one," he said.
"Why?"
"I teach better by example." Addison handed over the card. Adelaide flipped it over but did not seem to be reading it.
"You know, when I asked you what we were, I was referring to my father and I. I never once thought you and I," she said. "But I think you knew that." He did. He bowed his head.
"You were right when you said that your father never liked me. It was mutual, I never liked him either. But as long as we knew that the other one was around, well, we were never alone. You are not alone, Mrs. Lothario."
Part I: Adelaide Is Weighed
Sat, November 14, 2074 7:32 pm: Lothario Hall- Rawling Hills, Pleasantview
"I don't know how you always manage to talk me into throwing these insipid little get-togethers Adelaide but I swear, there will be at least six months between now and the next time I have to share breathing room with mostof these people. And who is that girl coming in with Horace?" Dina snapped her fingers at the bartender while she spoke, never taking her eyes off of the door. Her voice undulated from high to low, marking what Adelaide knew to be her mother's first stage of inebriation.
While the bartender filled Dina's empty glass with gin and tonic, Adelaide patted her baby squarely on the back to quell her rising sobs. Adelaide then disinterestedly turned her head to see what girl her mother was blustering about and was met with the heavily painted face of Madeline Burb. Madeline locked eyes with Adelaide and waved bashfully. Adelaide refused to acknowledge the gesture.
"That'll be Madeline," Adelaide said dryly, rolling her eyes. "You know, your son-in-law's sister." Adelaide thought that Dina should have been able to guess as much considering the fact that Ian and Madeline were almost identical. Dina snorted contemptuously.
"Honestly Adelaide, you can't expect me to keep track of all Ian's siblings. Ginny Burb must have a revolving door between her legs. If age hadn't caught up with her, she'd still be popping them out. And what is that Madeline girl wearing?"
Privately, Adelaide had to agree with her mother on the subject of Madeline's choice of attire. Bright green paisley with brass rivets was not exactly the height of invention. But the rest of it had been completely uncalled for. Dina was already drunk enough to begin maligning guests and Adelaide would have to put a stop to it before it got out of hand.
"I think you've just had your last cocktail, mother."
"Nonsense. Why is she arriving with the Goths and not her own people?"
"Don't you know? Madeline and Enoch are engaged to be married." Dina gasped and grabbed her chest as though she were having a heart attack.
"Never, a Goth marry a Burb? Scandalous. But I suppose it is better than that thing Phoenix shacked-up with. Or what your sister married. This state is truly going to the dogs." Dina took a large swig of gin.
"Would it be worth the effort for me to remind you that you married me off to a Burb," Adelaide whined.
"You, my dear, are not a Goth. Besides, Ian wasn't my idea. He was you father's. I only went along with it because I was eager to finally get some full caste grandbabies."
"Isabella's boys are full caste." Dina choked on her drink.
Patting herself near the clavicle, Dina said huskily, "Jean-Luc Tellerman is a Townie." Adelaide sighed. There was really no arguing with her mother.
"We've been over this. He is a second generation Resident. His parents were both brilliant, first rate people- Not to mention disgustingly rich."
"Townies, both of them. Don't piss under my tree and try to tell me it's raining, Adelaide."
"I'm not even going to attempt to decipher that metaphor, mother." Adelaide bounced Francesca in the palm of her hand while Dina studied their closest friends and family like a white-gloved bird of prey. Perhaps it was the sweltering heat of the crowded room but Adelaide soon found herself growing nauseous. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore it. At length, Dina rose her glass in the direction of the Pleasants.
"Sabina is growing up to be a rare beauty, don't you think," Dina said wistfully. Adelaide furrowed her brow, both surprised by her mother's sudden amiability and desperate to prevent the resurrection of her dinner. "It is such a shame that the poor girl's head is as empty as a beach ball. Adelaide, are you alright?" Adelaide's vision was dancing. Her nausea was coming in waves. She had to get out of there.
"I... I don't know. I'm feeling a little flustered."
"I daresay you are. You've barely eaten for days and you don't diet. You're either newly expecting or coming down with something. And seeing as how you've never so much as sniffled a day in your life, my money is on the former."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
During a brief silence, Adelaide found herself directly beneath her mother's wide-eyed scrutiny. Dina looked her up and down, no doubt searching for signs of burgeoning pudginess- Weighing Adelaide with her eyes. Adelaide was not pregnant. She couldn't be. Francesca was barely eight months old. She didn't even want to think about the prospect of having another child so soon. Dina outstretched her arms to Adelaide.
"Here, give me the baby and go take care of yourself. I'll make your excuses." Adelaide instinctively turned away from Dina with a slight twist of her hips as if to shield the baby. Dina did not seem to notice. A burning liquid rose up in Adelaide's throat. The world was slowly churning. Her palms grew hot and sweaty under the burden of her daughter's body. Overpowered, Adelaide handed the baby to Dina for fear of dropping her.
Part II: Ian Is Found Wanting
Sat, November 14, 2074 7:39 pm: Lothario Hall- Rawling Hills, Pleasantview
"Ian!" He knew that snarl as well as he knew his own heartbeat. He did not even need to turn around to perceive the harsh contours of her mouth or the narrow squint of her eyes. Ian hastily stuffed the last hors d'oeuvre down his throat before facing his mother-in-law's soulless frown.
"Yeah, Mom? What can I do ya for?"
"First of all, you may save your maternal affectations for your actual mother. Secondly, you are meant to be hosting this party, not gorging yourself on chocolate. And lastly, your wife has taken ill and gone to bed. Ginny has Francesca." Ian's nervous grin vanished.
"Addy is sick?" Ian had never called her that aloud before. And even with as naturally as the pet name had rolled off of his tongue, he still regretted having given voice to it at all, let alone in front of Dina. Adelaide was not the sort of woman that should inspire baby talk and cutesy sobriquets. She was the sort of woman that merited long-winded poetry and vows of undying passion. But in the end, Ian was not the sort of man to write poetry or feel passion.
"Yes Ian, that is what I said. Now do you need me to repeat any or all of what I just told you? Or was once sufficient enough for me to get my message through to your gnat's brain?" Ian slowly nodded the affirmative but he secretly wished she would repeat the part about affection. Dina sniffed tartly then turned on her heals and fled across the room to chat with the Dreamers.
Ian breathed a sigh of relief at having been left alone. He hated parties. Hell, he hated his social position. As Ian turned back towards the food, he was startled to find himself face to face with a foolishly grinning Lawrence Caliente.
"Hiya!" Laurie was unusually peppy. Ian didn't know what to make of it.
"Oh, hey Laurie. How are things?"
"Oppressively dull. What about you? You enjoying yourself?" Ian glanced around the room at the sea of stiff, terrifying people. No, he was not enjoying himself.
"Same here," he said simply. Laurie's grin widened.
"Excellent," he said, then looked over his shoulder and gestured for his sister to come join them.
Ian had always liked Lydia. She was fun and spirited- The absolute antithesis of the Adelaide Lotharios of the world. She spent her days in downtown pool halls wearing tattered jeans and drinking grown men under the table. She was wild, boyish and most people agreed, irredeemably eccentric. But what Ian admired most was that she made no apologies for any of it. She beamed at him when she came to a halt just behind Laurie.
"Happy birthday, Lydia," Ian said almost shyly.
"Thanks, Ian. Wanna turn this shindig around?" Ian raised his eyebrows. He didn't know what these two had planned but he thought that it was almost worth the combined ire of his mother-in-law and his sick wife if the night could somehow be salvaged.
"Yeah," Ian said. "As a matter of fact, I do want."
"Great," Laurie exclaimed, punching Ian in the shoulder. For such a small person, he threw a shockingly painful punch. Ian resisted the urge to rub his aching shoulder in front of Lydia. Laurie leaned towards Ian, evidently for the purpose of secrecy. "If you'll kindly direct the birthday girl to your circuit breaker then we just might be able to kick this party up a notch."
Weds, October 21, 2074 7:21pm: Dewilliker Academy- Rawling Hills, Pleasantview
Enoch once told Sabina in passing that the Academy's downstairs bathroom was the most heavily ventilated room in the building. It was the only useful information that he had ever seen fit to divulge to her. Sometimes Enoch would come by with Laurie whose job it was to distract Roan while Enoch and Shane smoked pot in the bathroom. Sabina never did ascertain what Laurie got out of doing that. Enoch must have pestered him into it. Laurie would probably commit murder if Enoch asked him to.
Coughing wildly, Sabina tapped the excess ash from her cigarette into the sink. Her throat ached and her vision swam. There followed an ebbing nausea that threatened the return of her dinner. She wiped her watering eyes with the back of her hand. Only a few minutes ago, this had seemed like a good idea. She flicked the cigarette into the toilet and flushed. Never again would she try something for the sake of looking older.
Sabina stumbled into the living room, tripping on the hem of her dress. She flopped down onto the couch, struggling to keep her bile where it was. As she closed her eyes, the cushions gave way, cradling the contours of her body. A maple-scented breeze brushed against her face. Though she had not heard it open, the front door shut with a polite but firm bang. Sabina chose to ignore it. If it was a burglar, he could take whatever he wanted just so long as he did not make her get up.
A woman in ominously pointed heels neared the couch. The quick rhythm of her stride was a perfectly even staccato. Sabina's heart sank. This was ever so much worse than a burglar. Blearily, Sabina pushed herself up. Her arms shook with a newfound frailty. Was this reaction to cigarettes normal? She felt a headache coming on.
The woman halted at Sabina's feet.
"Coffee, Sabina," she chimed.
"Is it half past seven already," Sabina asked, rubbing her irritated eyes.
"Naturally," Adelaide sighed.
"I don't feel so good. Could we take a rain-"
"Nothing like a nice, hot beverage to settle your stomach." Though probably untrue, this seemed to be the final say in the matter. Sabina had not even mentioned her stomach.
Adelaide did not wait for Sabina to stand but passed by as confidently as she would have in her own home. That was Adelaide. At all times, she comported herself as though she ruled the world. Sabina followed Adelaide into the kitchen, keeping her eye on the bustle of Adelaide's dress as it swayed to and fro. Sabina had never before noticed how Adelaide moved her hips when she walked. She mimicked it, committing Adelaide's swagger to memory for future use.
Miss Dewilliker had the coffee prepared and laid out for them on the counter as she did every other Wednesday. Sabina and Adelaide began the tradition when they were children, thinking it a very civilized way for two ladies to spend an evening. Back then their "coffee" had been nothing stronger than tepid water but otherwise, the meetings had not changed.
Adelaide handed Sabina a cup. Without tasting it, Sabina knew it to contain the exact amounts of sugar and cream that she enjoyed.
"Mother wants to host an informal cocktail party on the fourteenth of next month," Adelaide announced. "You are of course invited." Sabina took an overly ambitious gulp of coffee and began to choke. The heat did not mix well with her already scorched esophagus. "Are you alright, dear?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You look a bit green."
"No really, I'm alright." Sabina blew on her coffee to cool it down. She was cured of her nausea but in its place was a sharp indigestion. She preferred to pretend that it did not exist, even when the pain shot up as high as her ribcage. Adelaide eyed her suspiciously.
"Anyway as I was saying, it'll just be the usual suspects- the Goths, the Calientes, the Dreamers, you and your parents, maybe Ian's parents as well."
Sabina almost choked for a second time when the Calientes were mentioned. She knew that she would still have to see Troy socially but she didn't think that she could bear it. The way he always put his arm around Siren in public, whispering things to her, kissing her... Sabina would need to make her excuses. But she was a poor liar and Adelaide was extraordinarily cunning. Her only hope was to tell the truth and let Adelaide lie to everyone else. She could confide in her best friend of seventeen years, couldn't she? The woman whom Troy affectionately called his niece? It wouldn't be a betrayal. Right? Sabina opened her mouth to speak but the words failed her.
"Doesn't you mother think that this is all a bit soon," Sabina asked.
"Perhaps but I believe that it will give her a sense of normalcy. And if there's one thing that my mother thrives on, it's normalcy." Adelaide looked to the clock above her head. "Well, I'd best be going. If I leave Frannie with Mom too long, she starts to like Mom better." Adelaide strolled over to the sink and deposited her cup. Sabina began to panic, her illness forgotten. She could not allow Adelaide to leave. They were alone and Sabina didn't know when she would have another opportunity like this.
"Isabella and I are going shopping on Saturday. Would you like to come along?" Adelaide was walking out of the kitchen as she spoke.
"Yes, but Adelaide-"
"Good. I'll see you then."
"Adelaide." Sabina stopped her in the living room. Adelaide stared quizzically. It would be nice to finally tell someone. Cathartic, even. Sabina's heart raced nonetheless. "I- Um, well. I have a problem. You see, about a month ago, I became romantically involved with... Laurie." Crap! Why did say that?
"Laurie?" Adelaide looked as though she were suppressing a laugh.
"Well, um, yes. But it's over now and I don't really anticipate running into him at the cocktail party."
"Why didn't you tell me about this? Or anyone, really? Your parents would have been elated. His parents probably moreso, come to think of it."
"I-" Sabina scowled as though she had been slapped across the face. There was a time not long ago when she had expected to marry Laurie. But now even if she could somehow play the role of Laurie's wife, there was no way that she could live at Caliente Manor, sending desperate glances to Troy across the dinner table, playing house with Naomi, teaching Thackery to swim, chatting with Siren over tea... It was worse than depraved. It was unnatural.
"Fine, keep your secrets," Adelaide said. "You're almost grown and I know that I am no longer the center of your universe. If you change your mind about the party, give me a call. Otherwise, I shall be happy to tell everyone that you are sick." Sabina was overcome with gratitude. She threw her arms around Adelaide's shoulders and squeezed. "You darling girl," Adelaide chortled. "It's his loss, you realize." Sabina increased her grip. Adelaide's figure was nothing at all like a man's but maybe if Sabina held her close enough, she could find some reminder of Troy's body in hers.
Sat, October 17, 2074 5:20 pm: Lothario Hall-- Rawling Hills, Pleasantview
In the corridor, Dina recognized the evenly paced clacking of her daughter's shoes as they made contact with the hard wood floors. Dina wiped her face free of tears. She could leave no sign of distress for Adelaide to pick apart, keen-eyed vulture that she was.
Adelaide drew nearer, each landing of her heels etched with purpose. That girl never took a step nor even drew a breath without careful consideration. What she wanted from Dina at the moment was beyond her.
The door swung open unexpectedly as Adelaide walked in without knocking. Dina didn't bother to glance over her shoulder at the girl. She could feel Adelaide's presence bearing down upon her back. Distances closed. The atmosphere grew thin. Gravity pulled harder when Adelaide Lothario entered a room.
"What are you doing sitting alone in the dark, Mother," she scolded. It was almost funny.
"Typical. You throw open my door on the assumption that I am elsewhere and when you discover your error, you assign some meager fault to me," Dina chuckled. Adelaide came closer to the bed where she sat.
"On the contrary, I knew that you could be no place else. I want to talk to you and preferred not to risk a refusal." Adelaide plopped down onto the bed with an impetuous disregard for feminine grace that was unworthy of her. Dina sighed.
"I don't believe you but now that you've manufactured this twaddle we might as well see it through. So what do you want to discuss?" Adelaide raised an eyebrow. Evidently, she found that last to be somewhat scathing. But considering the girl's intrusion, Dina thought that she was being rather charitable.
"I found Cassandra's letter," Adelaide said bitterly. Dina's heart hammered in her throat. She hoped that it was not reflected on her visage. This was impossible. Surely Don had rid himself of that suicide note years ago. Dina fidgeted with her dress.
"What letter?"
"The letter she sent Dad after her mother's disappearance," Adelaide hissed. Dina relaxed but only a little. It had been over a decade since she had seen that letter. All that she could remember of it was that it contained a load of melodramatic drivel. But clearly, Adelaide thought it had some significance.
"Ah," Dina said. "My what a silly little relic that was. But your father had always been particularly sentiment--"
"Were Dad and Bella Goth lovers?" The question came almost as a non-sequitur to Dina. Still, it unleashed a torrent of mental images, each more absurd than the one that preceded it. Lovers? If only Don had been there, in that room at that very moment! Dina would have buried her face in his neck, exploding in peels of laughter. Lovers! But Don was not there and never would be again. Dina's laughter lodged itself behind her ribcage along with several days' worth of repressed sobs.
"Well, what you have to understand about your father at that point in his life... How do I put this delicately? He didn't just wash windows and mow lawns for a living, if you get my drift. And he worked at all of the estate houses, Goth Manor included. So while it is possible that he had been involved with Bella in some capacity, I seriously doubt it. I would have been shocked to learn that she so much as looked Donald Lothario in the eye."
"And was he involved with you in some capacity?" Dina's smile faded. She looked away, swallowing hard.
Adelaide had tapped into a wellspring of a guilt almost a quarter century old. There was Don, standing by the pool at Bachelor Manor, his piercing green eyes following Dina from behind a sweaty and tangled mess of black hair. Scar tissue formed a complicated latticework upon his chest and back. His teeth glistened like knives. He used to unnerve her so.
Michael was dying. The business was going under. Dina spent her days battling with doctors and lawyers and Bella herself. It was inevitable that someone would deign to take advantage of her vulnerability. It had happened to be Don.
"Why are you asking me all of this?"
"Because I have to know if Dad had anything to do with Bella's death." Adelaide's voice dropped to just above a whisper. Dina nearly choked.
"Adelaide!"
"Well did he? Whether or not they were sleeping together, something was going on between them. She trusted him. It would have been easy. We both know what he was. If he thought that he could get closer to you by ridding the world of Bella he might have done it." Dina was stunned.
"Adelaide, listen to me. Your father did not murder Bella Goth. I won't vouch for his intentions but he stumbled into something much larger than either or us. "
"What could he possibly have stumbled into?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me." Dina held her breath. There was no knowing where to begin and most of it she still didn't understand herself. Adelaide stood abruptly.
"Goodnight, Mother." Adelaide left with more speed and less purpose than she had entered with. Dina knew that the girl would not rest until she learned the truth. The past was washing ashore and all that Dina could do was to wait for the approaching tide.
