I turned to see Rose striding down the hall, kids zooming out of her path. Spotting me, she nodded and smiled.
"Olivia," she said. "I didn't know you were taking karate."
"Actually, I was just leaving."
She took off her jacket, showing her uniform underneath, complete with a brown belt. "Stay. I would love an opponent over four feet tall."
Gordon pressed, too, and there wasn't a graceful way to refuse. So I got my lesson. More than my money's worth, given the time Gordon devoted to me, which had a few of the watching parents grumbling.
Afterward, Rose caught up and walked beside me.
"I'm glad to see you taking my advice on self-defense," she said. "Particularly now that you're working alone."
"I know what it might look like, me showing up at your karate lesson, but I'm not trying to get you to play go-between with Gabriel."
"I know."
"You knew what he'd done," I said as we began our walk to Rowan Street. "That's why you told me to make him cookies. You thought it might make him feel guilty."
"It was worth a try. My nephew is a manipulative, scheming, unscrupulous son of a bitch. And those are his good qualities."
I snorted.
"Oh, I'm quite serious," she said. "What Gabriel has accomplished in his life is phenomenal, given the circumstances. The problem is that he knows it. Arrogance is blinding, particularly in the young. When he does make a mistake, he's slow to see it. But he made one with you. He knows that now."
"Good. Maybe he'll think twice before setting up paid interviews with other clients."
Her laugh was so sharp it made me jump.
"Oh, no," she said. "He won't. He shouldn't. He accepts payment for ensuring his clients get a fair shake from the media. There's nothing wrong with that. His mistake was that you are not a normal client. The balance of power in your relationship skews in your favor. You didn't want the interview. He should have retreated or, at the very least, apologized."
"Maybe, but if you expect me to change my mind--"
"I don't. I'm just offering some friendly advice. If you do decide you want to work with him, don't wait until you need him."
"Or he'll know I'm desperate and the power shifts."
"Exactly. He wants this case. Badly. He'll try again and when he does, consider whether you truly mean for this rift to be permanent." She waved for me to cross Main Street. "Now the subject of Gabriel ends. Come over for tea."
"I'd rather not--"
"Did you know that my Internet provider recommends changing my wireless access password every month?"
I glowered at her.
"You'll have tea," she said.
Similitude
Veronica watched Rose Walsh walking with the Larsen girl. That was good to see. The tighter the girl was woven into the fabric of Cainsville, the more likely she was to stay.
It was also comforting to see the old families of Cainsville supporting each other. The bonds used to be so much stronger, in the early days, when families found a pleasant hometown and stayed for generations.
When the elders founded Cainsville, they had actively sought to weave themselves into its fabric. That was the goal, of course. A lofty one, founded on the very principles of America itself. The great melting pot. Of course, they were not quite the sort of old-world immigrants the founding fathers had envisioned, but the principle still held. They would make a new life here, and they would eschew the old tradition of separating themselves from the boinne-fala. They would live together in harmony ... or at least symbiosis.
Part of weaving themselves into that fabric was quite literal. Within the oldest families--the Walshes, the Bowens, and a few others--the old blood was strong enough to produce true powers, as with Rose Walsh and, it seemed, the Larsen girl. Yet it had also had the adverse effect of bringing these gifted individuals to the attention of ... others.
On thinking that, Veronica instinctively glanced up, but there was no sign of the ravens. They'd retreated. For now. The trick would be keeping them away, convincing the outsiders that the Larsen girl was not her parents--not vulnerable, not unprotected, not weak.