Three Fates

shoulders in a stylish swing. She was perhaps six full inches taller than Malory’s compact five-four, and had the lush curves to match the height. Both were set off with trim black pants and a knee-length jacket worn over a snug white top.
    She held a champagne flute in one hand and extended the other as she walked across the room. Malory saw her eyes were deep, dark-brown and direct. Her nose was narrow and straight, her mouth wide and unpainted. The faintest hint of dimples fluttered in her cheek when she smiled.
    “I’m Dana. Dana Steele.”
    “Malory Price. Nice to meet you. Great jacket.”
    “Thanks. I was pretty relieved when I saw you drive up. It’s a hell of a place, but I was getting a little spooked rattling around by myself. It’s nearly quarter after.” She tapped the face of her watch. “You’d think some of the other guests would be here by now.”
    “Where’s the woman who met me at the door? Rowena?”
    Dana pursed her lips as she glanced back toward the archway. “She glides in and out, looking gorgeous and mysterious. I’m told our host will be joining us shortly.”
    “Who is our host?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine. Haven’t I seen you?” Dana added. “In the Valley?”
    “Possibly. I manage The Gallery.” For the time being, she thought.
    “That’s it. I’ve come to a couple of showings there. And sometimes I just wander in and look around avariciously. I’m at the library. A research specialist.”
    They both turned as Rowena walked in. Though glided in, Malory thought, was a better description.
    “I see you’ve introduced yourselves. Lovely. What can I get you to drink, Miss Price?”
    “I’ll have what she’s having.”
    “Perfect.” Even as she spoke a uniformed maid came in bearing two flutes on a silver tray. “Please help yourselves to the canapés, and make yourselves at home.”
    “I hope the weather isn’t keeping your other guests away,” Dana put in.
    Rowena merely smiled. “I’m sure everyone who’s expected will be here shortly. If you’ll excuse me just another moment.”
    “Okay, this is just weird.” Dana picked a canapé at random, discovered it was a lobster puff. “Delicious, but weird.”
    “Fascinating.” Malory sipped her champagne, and trailed her fingers over a bronze sculpture of a reclining fairy.
    “I’m still trying to figure out why I got an invitation.” Since they were there, and so was she, Dana sampled another canapé. “No one else at the library got one. No one else I know got one, for that matter. I’m starting to wish I’d talked my brother into coming with me after all. He’s got a good bullshit barometer.”
    Malory found herself grinning. “You don’t sound like any librarian I’ve ever known. You don’t look like one either.”
    “I burned all my Laura Ashley ten years ago.” Dana gave a little shrug. Restless, moving toward irritated, she tapped her fingers on the crystal flute. “I’m going to give this about ten more minutes, then I’m booking.”
    “If you go, I go. I’d feel better heading back into that storm if I drove behind someone else heading back to the Valley.”
    “Same goes.” Dana frowned toward the window, watched the rain beat on the other side of the glass. “Crappy night. And it was an extremely crappy day. Driving all the way here and back in this mess, for a couple of glasses of wine and some canapés just about caps it.”
    “You, too?” Malory wandered toward a wonderful painting of a masked ball. It made her think of Paris, though she’d never been there except in her dreams. “I only came tonight hoping I could make some contacts for The Gallery. Job insurance,” she added lifting her glass in a mock toast. “As my job is currently in a very precarious state.”
    “Mine, too. Between budget cuts and nepotism, my position was adjusted, my hours trimmed back to twenty-five a week. How the hell am I supposed to live on that? And my landlord just announced my rent’s going up first of next month.”
    “There’s a rattle in my car and I spent my auto maintenance on these shoes.”
    Dana looked down, pursed her lips. “Terrific shoes. My computer crashed this morning.”
    Enjoying herself Malory turned away from the painting, cocked her brow at Dana. “I called my boss’s new wife a bimbo, then spilled her cappuccino on her designer suit.”
    “Okay, you win.” In the spirit of good-fellowship, Dana stepped over and clinked her glass to Malory’s.