"That's a very great compliment."

"Are you planning on doing any modeling yourself?"

"No."

"And you recently returned from Paris, is that right?"

"Yes. I spent a year there at the Sorbonne."

"Because you burned down a building at Yale?"

Charlotte's hand wobbled, but she managed not to spill anything. f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. She had been totally lulled by the pleasant conversation and hadn't seen it coming at all. Deep breath. She had been totally lulled by the pleasant conversation and hadn't seen it coming at all. Deep breath.

She managed a rueful smile. "You heard about that? Yes, I'm afraid a broken heart led me to make a very poor decision. Fortunately, no one was hurt."

"And your father was able to rebuild the building."

"Yes, but whether or not they'll want to keep an embezzler's name on the political science building is an open question."

Surprisingly, Leila Karraby laughed. "Yes, although there's something fitting in it. It's not as if politicians are known for their honor."

Charlotte's face became grave. "Despite what you might have read, my father is an honorable man, in his own way. I would like to believe that the sudden death of my mother made him lose his way. He will pay for his crime, and I hope those who lost money will get it back."

Leila could see she had offended her. But she let it slide for the moment. "Although if they do, that will presumably leave you with very little."

Charlotte made a face. "May I be blunt, Mrs. Karraby?" The other guests went quiet.

"Of course."

"All the money I had didn't make me happy. In the last week or so, I've had more moments of true happiness and satisfaction than I can ever remember in my life before. Even despite being attacked. Maybe it's easy to say because the reality of my situation isn't clear yet, and maybe the novelty of poverty will quickly wear off once it becomes permanent, but for right now, I think I'm pretty d.a.m.n fortunate." She grinned down the table at Kat. "Just meeting your daughter has been one of the luckiest things that ever happened to me, and that came at no price at all."

Leila was impressed but not ready to show it. "Well, Miss Williams, let's hope it never does."

Charlotte raised her gla.s.s. "I'll drink to that, Mrs. Karraby."

Suddenly, her hostess smiled. "You can call me Leila."

ONCE DINNER WAS over, Leila and Charlotte circled each other cautiously. This being just a "small" affair, there was only the single dessert table, set up in a conservatory just off the dining room. It was fortunate that Charlotte didn't have a sweet tooth, or she might have burst her zipper. Profiteroles formed a perfect pyramid, vying for t.i.tle of tallest dessert with a pile of strawberries that glistened with freshness and threatened to topple into the vat of whipped cream waiting alongside them. A pecan pie, of course, and a lemon meringue pie for those who liked their sweet with a hint of tart. Jackson and Kat had both offered their congratulations on surviving dinner intact. over, Leila and Charlotte circled each other cautiously. This being just a "small" affair, there was only the single dessert table, set up in a conservatory just off the dining room. It was fortunate that Charlotte didn't have a sweet tooth, or she might have burst her zipper. Profiteroles formed a perfect pyramid, vying for t.i.tle of tallest dessert with a pile of strawberries that glistened with freshness and threatened to topple into the vat of whipped cream waiting alongside them. A pecan pie, of course, and a lemon meringue pie for those who liked their sweet with a hint of tart. Jackson and Kat had both offered their congratulations on surviving dinner intact.

"Wow, my mother really likes you." Kat looked relaxed for the first time all night. "I was terrified."

"She likes me? What would she have said if she didn't?" Charlotte was pleased that her friend was happy, but she herself was still reeling from some of Leila's comments.

"Oh, she would have been much nicer if she didn't like you." Kat sighed as she looked at the table. "You know, it's just as well women used to be slightly bigger and that I like vintage clothing so I can pull off these ten extra my mother keeps on me." She reached over to dollop some cream alongside her pecan pie.

Charlotte noticed how slender her friend was and smiled to herself. "You look perfect to me," she said, and a voice from behind agreed with her.

"A little thin, perhaps, but I understand that's the fashion these days." Leila Karraby was even more beautiful up close, and she and Charlotte looked each other over with frank appreciation. "Did my daughter find this dress for you, Charlotte, or is it one of your own?"

"This one is mine, Mrs. Karraby, but Kat has an amazing collection at her store. You must be very proud of her."

Kat snorted. "She thinks it's just a hobby."

Leila frowned. "Maybe that was true at first, Katherine, but not anymore. You've done very well for yourself, and you've stuck to what you care about. That's all a mother could ever want, to be honest. You're happy, so I'm happy." She smiled at Charlotte. "I expect your mother would be very happy to see how well you're handling what must have been a very difficult experience. I'm sorry if I seemed a little sharp at dinner. It's just my way. I'm actually very impressed with your poise in the face of all this trouble."

Charlotte was surprised to feel tears p.r.i.c.king her eyes. If Leila and Kat noticed, they were kind enough not to mention it. "Well, I hope she would be proud of me. But if she were here, I imagine things would have worked out very differently." She suddenly remembered her mother's friend speaking about Jackie's desire for more children, a dream echoed by her father that day in jail. "I'd probably not be going through it alone, anyway."

Leila squeezed her hand warmly. "If you need any help at all while you're here, a lawyer, or someone to help with the press, just let me know. There aren't many people I don't know in this town."

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Karraby. Your family have been lifesavers. Your husband's generosity alone has been amazing."

"And don't forget I introduced you to Target." Kat was pouting.

"Well, then," said her mother dryly, "that's worth a kidney just on its own."

Charlotte grinned. "If Kat needs a kidney, she knows where to come."

"I'll bear that in mind. Now, I'm going to get another drink. It might be a liver transplant I'm needing at this rate."

Charlotte felt someone watching her and looked up to see Jackson from across the room. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she made her excuses to Mrs. Karraby and went to him.

"How are you doing? Are you OK?"

Charlotte nodded and stood on her toes to give him a kiss.

He lowered his voice. "You know, there's a guy over there who owns an important radio station. I'm trying to work up the courage to go speak to him about our music." He sipped his drink. "But I'm not doing very well."

Charlotte's face lit up. "Let's do a little impromptu performance!" She wanted to help him, loving this new sensation of doing something useful. "I'm sure it would be OK with our hosts."

He grinned. "Something cla.s.sic or some of our stuff?"

"Hey, your stuff is cla.s.sic, just not yet."

They went over to the piano, a gorgeous Steinway grand, already propped open.

"Let's start with something traditional. How about 'Summertime'? Ella-style rather than Janis-style, OK? Then we'll shoot forward in time to the ever-popular Ms. Jones. Let's do 'Don't Know Why' and then the new song you taught me the other day."

He leaned closer. "OK, but let's not end up doing it on the piano."

She smiled into his eyes. "On this piano? I wouldn't dare. Maybe later at home."

And with these wicked thoughts in their heads, he played the opening bars of the Gershwin cla.s.sic.

At first, n.o.body was paying much attention, presuming it was just the evening's entertainment, but when Charlotte started to sing, the conversations died down. It wasn't just that her voice was good. Lots of people sing well. It was that her voice had an intimacy and power that made it compelling. Every person there felt she was singing just for them, but at the same time, they were glad everyone else was hearing it. Kat, watching from the garden room, smiled.

The cla.s.sic song over, Charlotte took on the more recent Norah Jones song and made that one her own, too. She had a deep voice with a growl at the ready, but for this song, she sang it straight and sweet, leaving out the pain and subtlety she employed for "Summertime." Then, once everyone was feeling dreamy and warm, she and Jackson launched into "Fire and Ice," the song he'd written, and the atmosphere heated up. Jackson joined in on the harmonies, and the s.e.xy lyrics and funky modulation had everyone swinging their hips.

Loud applause broke out when they finished, and one man came right over to Jackson and pointed a finger at him.

"That last one is a radio hit waiting to happen, young man. Do you have it recorded yet?"

Jackson grinned and shook his head. The man stuck out his hand, and Leila Karraby wandered over to make introductions.

"Ben Albrecht, this is Jackson Pearl. His band, the Pearly Kings, is quite the sensation in the city, you know."

The man smiled broadly. "Of course. I'm surprised we never met before. Your band is very popular, son."

"Thanks, Mr. Albrecht. We have a lot of fun together."

"Call me Ben, please, you're making me feel old. And this lovely young woman is ...?"

"I'm Charlotte Williams." She smiled at the older man but dropped her gaze quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was draw more attention to herself. It was funny. When she was performing, she felt safe and protected, but once the performance was over, she felt especially exposed. Fortunately, Jackson didn't seem to know what nerves were, and she was glad he was there to handle the conversation. They were standing close together next to the piano, and behind her back, he took her hand, twisting his fingers into hers. She felt herself relax.

Leila was being a gracious hostess. "Ben owns the biggest radio station in Louisiana, Jackson, although you might already know that."

"Not just in Louisiana, sugar, but in all the Gulf Coast. Get that song recorded and over to me tomorrow, and I'll have it on the radio by the time people are driving home."

"That's fantastic!" Jackson said. "We don't have a record label, though. Does that matter?"

"Not to me. It won't take long, son, with a little radio exposure. You should get it up on iTunes or something, though, for download. I'll make sure it's on our site. You'll get a good start, and I'll get to boast about it when you're taking home your first Grammy." His eyes lingered on Charlotte. "You should take some pictures, too. She's a big selling point. I guess you know that already."

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause, which Leila stepped in to fill. "Charlotte has just arrived here from New York, Ben."

"Oh, really?" His eyes were still on her, and a certain hunger had entered them. Charlotte was familiar with that look. Sometimes friends of her father's had come by the apartment and looked at her the same way. The little girl they'd ignored till then had turned into a s.e.xy young woman, and it was hard for them to shift mental gears. That was the charitable way to look at it, anyway.

Kat appeared at her elbow and smiled at the station owner. "Hi there, Mr. Albrecht. Charlotte, can I borrow you a moment?" She led her away and whispered in her ear. "Is the dirty old man making you feel icky? Come on upstairs. I want to show you my room."

Charlotte was grateful. With no mom at home, she had often played hostess for her dad's parties. Fortunately, he didn't throw them very often, but when he did, she was expected to do the honors. Sometimes recently, that had meant fending off unwelcome advances from men twice her age or pretending that the hand that lingered at her hip was avuncular rather than predatory. Since the roof had caved in on her life, she'd come to realize how difficult some of it had been, how tightly she'd kept herself wound. Since coming south, she seemed to have shed a protective layer of skin, and many things she would have shrugged off before were making her anxious. Luckily, Kat seemed to know this.

Kat's room was at the very top of the house. "That way, I could look down on everyone." She laughed. "Janey's room is much bigger and has its own bathroom, but I like this one better. I persuaded my mother to let me move up here when I was fourteen, which was not a moment too soon. I still like coming back."

"I can see why." Charlotte gazed around. As a former attic, the room had a steeply angled roof and dormer windows set at regular intervals. Each had been turned into a window seat, and the cushions were covered with vintage fabrics in shades of yellow and orange. Even in the dark of the evening, it felt sunny. Wide plank floors were polished to a deep mahogany shine, and old rag rugs were puddles of muddled color. An old iron bed was painted b.u.t.ter yellow and set at an angle in one corner, a traditional candlewick bedspread giving it a timeless appeal. Stuffed toys were clearly Kat's-trolls vied for s.p.a.ce with My Little Pony, and in general, the childhood of the early '90s was well represented.

"My G.o.d, I had one of these!" Charlotte pounced on a Beanie Baby in the shape of a unicorn. "But mine was purple."

Kat smiled. "I was more of a Barbie freak, clearly." Along one wall ran a single shelf displaying about one hundred Barbies in various outfits. Charlotte looked more closely.

"Where did those clothes come from? I don't remember any of those."

"I have the clothes they came in originally somewhere, but I was an early eBayer and spent much of my lonely teen years styling dolls with vintage clothing and trading handmade clothes with other Barbie losers." She pulled a mock sad face. "I had no real friends to dress up, so these plastic ladies were my only companions." She laughed at herself. "Mind you, I'm not sure real girls would have put up with me mixing patterns and fabrics the way Barbie did." She pointed to one of the dolls, who was sporting vinyl leggings under a tartan miniskirt and a dress shirt with a ruffled front. "That's Ken's shirt, actually."

Charlotte looked around. "I don't see Ken. What happened?"

"He kept pressuring Barbie for a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b, so she killed him."

"Wow!"

"Well, look at her. She's not one for putting up with c.r.a.p from guys, right?"

"I guess not. Where did she hide the body?"

"Under the beach house, where else?"

"But seriously, you don't have any Kens-don't you like styling guys?"

There was a pause. "Uh ... I don't really like guys in general, if you catch my drift." Kat was smiling gently at her, but Charlotte still wasn't getting it.

"How do you mean? You and Jackson are friends. And the guys in the kitchen."

Kat sighed and put her finger to her lips. "Hmmm, how can I put this more clearly? I. Am. Gay. I like men just fine as friends, but I'm only attracted to women. I find women more inspiring, and I love our clothes and the way we look in them, so I tend to style women. But I could style guys, I guess. Never thought about it."

"Oh. You're a lesbian."

Kat giggled. "Now you're getting it. Just one more reason for people not to like me at school, although now, of course, when I run into people, they pretend they were all cool and hip with it back then. But they weren't."

"People are f.u.c.kwits."

"True dat."

"Do your parents know?"

Kat nodded, then shook her head. "Yes ... and no. My dad does explicitly, and my mom does secretly, but we've never discussed it among ourselves. They worry, I think. It's easier for parents if their kids are normal, run-of-the-mill heteros.e.xuals, right? I'm their 'different' kid, but they do their best. My mom knew a lesbian back in college, I think." She laughed again. "And rumor has it that my cousin Brady is a flaming queen of the first order, but he moved to Paris after college." She sighed and looked around at her comfortable and stylish s.p.a.ce. "I love it here, but I need to move to a bigger city, I think. Somewhere where being gay is less defining, if you know what I mean."

"I think so."

"I don't find you attractive, by the way."

"Um ... thanks?"

Kat blushed a little. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant whenever I tell a girl I'm gay, she worries I'm coming on to her. You're very beautiful, of course."

"Um ... thanks again?"

"But you're not my type. I like a sporty, no-makeup kind of girl. I'm the stylish one."

"Are you saying I'm out of shape?" Charlotte was laughing at her, and Kat grinned.

"Well, your upper body is OK."

Charlotte threw a troll doll with deadly accuracy, and the two friends giggled.

Standing outside the door, Leila Karraby smiled and headed down the stairs.