Three Fates

bought.”
    “Were you in love with him?”
    “Yeah, you’re a bone-deep romantic.” She tossed her hair back, walked to the wall. Dark hair streaming back, eyes shielded by sunglasses, lips curled in a cynical twist. “He was great to look at, and he had a real smooth line. Lines always sound just a little smoother with an accent. I was gone over him, which is different from being in love. And I was all wrapped up in the idea of someone giving me a shot at choreography.”
    A shot at something, she thought now, she could be good at. “So I lived the high life in Prague for a few days, then woke up one morning to find he’d cleaned me out. Took my money, my credit cards, left me with a whopping hotel bill I couldn’t pay until I pawned the watch and couple rings I was wearing.”
    “Did you go to the police? The embassy?”
    “Jesus, Gideon. What color is the sky in your world? He was gone, long gone. I reported the credit cards stolen, packed up and got a job. And I learned a lesson. When something sounds too good to be true, it’s because it’s a big, fat lie. Lesson number two? Look out for number one. First, last, always.”
    “Maybe you should learn one more.” He turned the Fate so its face shone like the sunlight. “If you don’t believe in something, in someone, what’s the fucking point?”
     
     
    DOWNSTAIRS IN THE apartment, Tia snuggled up against Malachi and thought about taking a nap. Just a short one, a catnap, as she felt very like a cat at the moment. One with a bellyful of cream.
    “You have the loveliest shoulders,” he told her. “They should always be naked. You never want to cover these up with clothes or hair.”
    “Anita said men like long hair on a woman.”
    The name spoiled his dreamy mood and had his mouth tightening. “Don’t think about her just now. We’d best get up and see if Gideon and Cleo are back.”
    “Back?” She sighed, started to stretch. “Back from where? Oh my God!” She sat up straight, too shocked to think about snatching sheets to cover herself. “It’s eleven o’clock! Something must have happened to them. What were we thinking!”
    She scrambled out of bed, picked up her hopelessly wrinkled blouse and stared at it, mildly horrified.
    “If you come back here a minute, I’ll show you what we were thinking.”
    “This is completely irresponsible.” She pressed the blouse to her breasts and backed toward her closet for a fresh one. “What if something’s happened to them? We should go out and look for them, or—”
    She broke off when her bell rang. “That must be them now.” Relief was so huge, she grabbed a robe rather than her blouse and bundled hurriedly into it as she dashed for the door.
    “Thank God. I was so worried . . . Mother.”
    “Tia, how many times have I told you, even when you look through the peephole, you should always, always ask who’s there.” She aimed a kiss an inch above Tia’s cheek as she sailed in. “You’re ill. I knew it.”
    “No, I’m not ill.”
    “Don’t tell me.” She pressed a hand to Tia’s forehead. “Flushed, and in your robe in the middle of the day. Your eyes are heavy, too. Well, I’m on my way to the doctor, so you can come with me. You take my appointment, dear. I’d never forgive myself otherwise.”
    “I’m not sick. I don’t need to see the doctor. I was just . . .” Lord, good Lord, what could she say?
    “We’ll just get you dressed. I have no doubt, none whatsoever, that you picked up some strange foreign virus while you were traveling. I told your father as much this very morning.”
    “Mother.” Tia hurdled over a footstool and, with the skill of a tight end, did a fast lateral rush in front of the bedroom door. “I feel absolutely, perfectly well. You don’t want to miss your appointment, do you? You look a little pale. Have you been sleeping well?”
    “When have I ever?” Alma smiled her martyr’s smile. “I don’t think I’ve had more than an hour’s rest at a time since you were born. Why, it took all my reserves just to get dressed this morning. I’m sure my platelets are low. I’m just sure of it.”
    “You tell the doctor to test them,” Tia urged as she pulled her mother to the door.
    “What’s the point? They won’t tell you when you’re really sick, you know. I need to sit down awhile. I’m getting palpitations.”
    “Oh . . . Then I think you should hurry to the doctor. I think you need to—” She broke off, sagged, when the