Daisy stopped, too, and as she saw the girl's reaction, she touched her arm in concern. "Alex and I were married yesterday morning, Heather."

She jerked away. "I don't believe you. You're lying! You're just saying that because you don't like me."

"I'm not lying."

"Alex didn't marry you. He wouldn't do that! Sheba told me he won't ever marry anybody!"

"Sometimes things change."

To Daisy's astonishment, Heather's eyes filled with tears. "You bitch! I hate you! Why didn't you tell me? I hate you for making fun of me like this!" She whirled away and ran toward the trailers.

Daisy stared after her, trying to understand the reason for Heather's hostility. Only one explanation sprang to mind. The girl must have a crush on Alex. Daisy experienced an unexpected pang of sympathy. She remembered too well what it had felt like to be a teenager with no control over the actions of the adults around her. With a sigh, she set off for the red wagon.

Despite its name, the business office was white, with a splatter of colorful stars and the Quest Brothers legend. In contrast to the cheerful exterior, the interior was dreary and cluttered. A battered steel desk sat opposite a small couch covered with stacks of paper. There were mismatched chairs, an old file cabinet, and a green gooseneck lamp with a dented shade. Alex sat behind the desk, a cellular phone in one hand, a clipboard in the other. A single glance at that stormy face told Daisy that Heather had been right about one thing. Alex was royally pissed.

He abruptly ended his conversation and stood, speaking to her in that ominously quiet voice she was growing to dread. "When I tell you to be someplace at a certain time, I want you there."

"But I'm barely half an hour late."

His voice grew even quieter. "You don't have a clue about real life, do you, Daisy? This is a job, not a hair appointment, and from now on, for every minute you're late, I'm docking five dollars from your pay."

Her face brightened. "I get paid?"

He sighed. "Of course, you get paid. That is, once you start doing some work. And don't expect to buy diamonds with the money. Circus wages are about as low as they come."

She didn't care. The idea that she would actually have some money of her own was thrilling. "Just show me what to do. And I promise, I won't be late again."

Alex took her over to the ticket window set into the side of the trailer and explained the procedure in a terse voice. It was simple, and she caught on immediately.

"I'll be checking receipts to the penny," he said, "so don't plan on borrowing any cigarette money."

"I wouldn't do that."

He didn't look convinced. "Make sure you don't leave the cash drawer unattended for even a second. This circus operates on a shoestring, and we can't afford any losses."

"Of course I won't. I'm not stupid."

She had the sinking feeling he was getting ready to argue the point, but instead he unlocked the hinged window. He stayed with her as she took care of the first few customers to make certain she had the hang of it, and when he saw that she wasn't having any trouble, he told her he was leaving.

"You're not going to the trailer are you?" she asked.

"Not until I have to get into costume. Why?"

"There are a few things I still need to do in there." She had to get back to the trailer before he saw the mess she'd made. When she'd started to clean up, she should have left the cupboards and storage closet until last, but she'd wanted to be thorough, so she'd unloaded everything to scrub the shelves and start fresh. Now the cupboards were clean, but she hadn't had time to put anything away, and there wasn't a single surface of the trailer not covered by clothing, bedding, tools, and an alarmingly large collecting of bullwhips.

"I'm sure I can get the job finished when I'm done here," she said hastily, "so don't worry if you see some things lying around."

He nodded and left her alone.

The next few hours passed without incident. She enjoyed chatting with the people who came to buy tickets, and in several instances when the families were obviously poor, she invented wonderful reasons why they had just won free passes.

Word had spread that she was Alex's wife, and a number of the circus people made excuses to stop by the office to satisfy their curiosity. Their friendliness to a stranger warmed her. She met the men who ran the "joints," as the concessions were called, as well as a few of the clowns and several members of the Lipscomb family, who performed the equestrian act. She could tell that some of the showgirls had to work hard to hide their jealousy over the fact that she'd managed to snare Alex Markov, and she appreciated their generosity of spirit. For the first time since her arrival, she felt a sprig of hope. Maybe this would work out after all.

Perhaps the most interesting person to appear was Brady Pepper, Heather's father. He walked in wearing his costume, a white body suit cinched at the waist with a wide gold belt. Bands of gold edged the scooped neck and circled his ankles.

A showgirl named Charlene had already told her that Brady was the most attractive man in the circus next to Alex, and she found herself agreeing with them. Brady Pepper reminded her of a more rough-cut version of Sylvester Stallone, complete with muscles, a cocky walk, and a New York street accent. His tough-guy looks were appealing, although the manner in which he appraised her told her he was a dedicated womanizer. He sat down on the corner of the desk, legs splayed, a man very much at home in his body.

"So you come from circus?"

He asked the question in the aggressive, almost accusatory tone many native New Yorkers seemed to adopt for even the most mundane of inquiries, and it took her a moment to figure out what he meant.

"Me? Oh, no. My family hasn't been at all involved with the circus."

"That'll make it tough on you around here. At Quest Brothers, you don't really count unless you can trace your bloodline back at least three generations. Just ask Sheba."

"Sheba?"

"She owns the circus. Bathsheba Cardoza Quest. She used to be one of the most famous flyers in the world. Trapeze," he said, when he saw her confused expression. "Now she's training the Tolea brothers, who are flying for us. They're Rumanians. She also choreographs some of the other acts, supervises costumes, that sort of thing."

"Since it's her circus, why doesn't she manage it instead of Alex?"

"It's a man's job. The manager has to deal with drunks, knife fights, heavy equipment Sheba doesn't like that kind of thing."

"I haven't met her yet."

"That's because she took off for a few days. She does that sometimes when the pickings aren't good enough around here."

It must have been obvious she didn't understand what he meant, because he went on to explain. "Sheba likes men. She doesn't stay with any of them for long, though. She's what you call a snob. No man counts in her book if he's not from an old circus family."

The impression she'd had of the circus owner as an elderly widow faded, and the way his mouth tightened made Daisy wonder if Sheba Quest was more to him than a boss.

"Me, my old man was a Brooklyn butcher. I hooked up with a traveling circus the day I graduated high school, and I never looked back." He regarded her almost angrily, as if he expected her to argue with him. "My kids got circus blood though, through my wife."

"I don't believe I've met her."

"Cassie died two years ago, but we're divorced twelve years, which means I'm not exactly in mourning. She hated the circus, even though she grew up with it, so she moved to Wichita and got her real estate license, but I liked performing and stayed with it."

So she and Heather had both lost their mothers. She found herself wanting to know more. "I understand you have children."

"Heather was raised in Wichita with her mother, but Cassie had trouble handling the boys, so they started to travel with me when they were youngsters. I put together an act with them, and we've been doing it ever since. Matt and Rob are twenty and twenty-one now. They're hell-raisers, too, but what can you expect with me as their old man?"

Daisy wasn't interested in his hell-raising sons, and she ignored the unmistakable note of pride in his voice. "Then Heather's just recently come to live with you?"

"Last month, but she used to stay with me a couple of weeks every season. Still, it's not the same as having her around full-time."

His dark frown told her the situation wasn't working out as he'd planned, and she had enough difficulties with her own father to feel another pang for Heather. No wonder she was sneaking cigarettes and getting crushes on older men. While Brady Pepper was undeniably attractive, he didn't strike her as the most patient of fathers.

"I've met Heather. She seems quite sensitive."

"Too sensitive. This is a hard life, and she's too soft for it." Abruptly, he got up. "I'd better get out of here before the crowd starts leaving. Nice meeting you, Daisy."

"You, too."

As he reached the door, he once again gave her the assessing look of a man who enjoys women. "Alex is a lucky guy."

She smiled politely and wished Alex felt that way.

Only after the second show was well under way could she close the ticket window and watch Alex's act. She hoped that seeing it again would dilute the impact of last night, but his skill seemed even more impressive. Where had he learned how to do such things?

It wasn't until the show had ended that she remembered the mess she had left behind in the trailer. She hurried back and had just opened the door when Jill came up to her with a conspiratorial smile on her face. Frankie was once again perched on her shoulders, and at the sight of Daisy, he immediately began to shriek and cover his eyes.

"Hush, you stinker. Come on, Daisy, I have something to show you."

Daisy hastily closed the trailer door before her new acquaintance could see the mess inside and discover what a terrible housekeeper she was. Jill took her arm and began leading her along the line of trailers. Off to her left, she could see Jack Daily, the ringmaster, talking with Alex as the workmen began stacking the bleachers.

"Ouch!" Daisy gave a shriek as something yanked hard on a lock of her hair.

Frankie cackled.

"Naughty boy," Jill cooed, as Daisy leaped out of paw reach. "Ignore him. Once he discovers he can't get to you, he'll leave you alone."

Daisy decided not to voice her doubts about the probability of that happening.

They rounded the end trailer, and she gasped with surprise when she saw the performers, still in costume, surrounding a card table holding a rectangular sheet cake with a bride and groom in the center. Madeline, the showgirl she'd met earlier, stood nearest the cake, along with Brady Pepper and his sons, the youngest Lipscomb boy, several of the clowns, and many others she'd met earlier. Only Heather remained off to the side.

Smiling widely, Jack Daily drew Alex forward while Madeline lifted her hands like a choir director. "All right everybody. Congratulations to you! Congratulations to you!" Congratulations to you! Congratulations to you!"

As the group sang, Daisy's eyes grew misty. These people barely knew her, but they were extending the hand of friendship. After the coldness of the wedding ceremony, the intimacy of this moment touched her. In this gathering of Alex's friends, she felt as if she were attending a real celebration, an acknowledgment that something intensely personal had happened, something that wasn't a punishment meted out by her father but a cause for happiness.

"Thank you," she whispered when the singing came to an end. She fought back tears. "Thank you all so much."

She turned to Alex, and her happiness evaporated as she saw his face, rigid with displeasure.

The crowd gradually grew silent. They took in his reaction and knew something was wrong. Please don't do this, Please don't do this, she thought. she thought. I want these people to be my friends. Please pretend to be happy. I want these people to be my friends. Please pretend to be happy.

A few of the women looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. The assumption that Alex was a happy bridegroom rapidly faded, and she watched several sets of eyes drop to her waistline to see if she was pregnant.

She forced herself to speak. "I don't know when I've had a nicer surprise. Do you, Alex?"

There was a long silence before he gave a terse shake of his head.

She lifted her chin and fixed a smile on her face. "The cake looks delicious. I'll bet everyone would like a piece." She gazed directly into Alex's eyes, beseeching him. "Let's cut it together."

The silence seemed to drag on forever. "My hands are dirty. You go ahead."

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she stepped behind the card table, picked up the knife, and began cutting the cake into squares. As the silence grew more pronounced, she tried to pretend nothing was wrong. "I can't believe you put all this together so quickly. How on earth did you manage it?"

Madeline shuffled uncomfortably. "It-uh-wasn't hard."

"Well, I'm impressed." Cheeks aching with the effort of smiling, Daisy extracted the first piece, set it on a paper plate, and handed it to Alex.

He took it from her without a word.

The silence grew more deafening. Finally, Jill broke in, her eyes darting nervously between the bride and groom. "I'm sorry it's chocolate. We did this on short notice, and the bakery was out of white cake."

Daisy regarded her with gratitude for trying to ease the awkwardness. "Chocolate's my favorite."

Alex set his paper plate down on the table so abruptly the untouched piece of cake flipped off and landed icing side down. "Excuse me. I have to get back to work. Thank you all."

Daisy's hand trembled on the plate she was passing to Madeline. Someone snickered. Daisy lifted her head and saw that it was Heather.

The teenager shot her a triumphant smirk and ran after Alex. "Do you need some help?"

"Sure, sweetheart." His voice, warm and full of affection, carried over the night air. "We're having some trouble with the winch on the spool truck. You can help me check it out."

Daisy blinked her eyes hard. She was an easy crier, but if she cried now, she'd never be able to face these people again. "Let me get you some cake." She pushed a piece toward a man with shaggy blond hair and aging California surfer looks. She remembered he'd introduced himself as Neeco Martin, the elephant trainer, when he'd stopped by the red wagon.

He took it without a word and turned his back on her to say something to one of the clowns. Madeline stepped forward to help Daisy, apparently deciding it was best to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. The performers picked up their cake and, one by one, drifted away.

Before long, only Jill was left. "I'm sorry, Daisy. I thought this was a good idea, but I should have known Alex wouldn't like it. He's very private."

So private he hadn't bothered to mention to any of these people that he'd gotten married.

Daisy forced another stiff smile. "Marriage is an adjustment for anybody."

Jill picked up the remains of the cake on its cardboard tray and pushed it into Daisy's hands. "Here. Why don't you take this?"

Daisy could feel the bile rise in her throat as she accepted the cake, even though she didn't ever want to see it again. "Gracious, it's getting late, and I have a million things to do before bedtime."

She fled.

For the next few hours while the big top was being packed up for its move to the next town, she dragged herself through the motions of putting everything back in the cupboards and storage closet. She was overcome with a sense of despair and so weary with exhaustion she could barely hold her head up, but she kept working.

Dirt streaked her expensive slacks, and her blouse stuck to her skin, but she didn't care. She had wanted these people to be her friends, but that would never happen now that they knew how little regard Alex had for her. And how little regard he had for their marriage. The cake ceremony had been a small sacrament, and he had treated it with contempt.

Alex entered the trailer shortly after midnight. The place still looked as bad as it had when she'd first arrived. Although she'd finally gotten everything put away, she hadn't had either the time or the energy to clean anything other than the cupboards. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and the same crusty pan sat on the stove.

He slammed his hands on his hips and surveyed the messy counters, the dusty table top, and the crumbling remains of their wedding cake.

"I thought you were going to get this place cleaned up. It's still filthy."

She clenched her jaw. "The cupboards are clean."

"Who cares about the cupboards? Can't you do anything right?"

She didn't think. She'd worked for hours, her marriage was a mockery, and she'd been publicly humiliated by a man who'd sworn before God to cherish her. With one sweep of her arm, she picked up the decimated wedding cake and flung it at him.