Misplaced (97 page)

Microphon
e
i
n
he
r
face
,
Maggie’
s
e
y
e
s
flashed
.
Sh
e
commented,
“
W
ith
municipal
and
state
elections
not
far
a
w
ay,
allegation
s
lik
e
thi
s
ar
e
commonplace
.
Thi
s
one
,
ho
w
e
v
er,
i
s
ludicrou
s
an
d
unfounded
.
Bu
t
a
t
leas
t
,
”
Ma
gg
i
e
smile
d
innocently
,
“th
e
perpetrato
r
sho
w
e
d
som
e
imagination
.
The
Cente
r
fo
r
Hel
p
ha
s
a
n
excellen
t
reputation
.
I
hop
e
Customs
an
d
Immigratio
n
Service
s
wil
l
thoroughl
y
in
v
estigat
e
the
person
who
supplied
this
information.
I
understand
that
it
w
as
reported anonymously.”

Maggi
e
ha
d
handle
d
th
e
situatio
n
lik
e
a
pro
,
bu
t
i
t
w
as
obviou
s
tha
t
Arla
n
Miele
y
w
a
s
makin
g
goo
d
o
n
hi
s
threats.
Nothin
g
w
a
s
goin
g
t
o
sto
p
hi
m
unti
l
th
e
las
t
bracele
t
w
a
s
in
hi
s
filth
y
hands
.
She
’
d
underestimate
d
him again
.
A
s
sh
e
stare
d
at
the
television,
a
far
more
insidious
thought
took
shape.
What if
Mieley
had
realized
that
the
real
treasure,
a
thousand
times
mor
e
v
aluabl
e
tha
n a
piec
e
o
f
je
w
elry
,
w
a
s
th
e
Egyptian
princes
s
wh
o
wor
e
it
?
V
ictori
a
w
en
t
t
o
th
e
kitchen
,
an
d
Celeste’s
expression told her that she already knew.

“He’
s
tryin
g
t
o
flus
h
u
s
out,
”
V
ictori
a
admitte
d
a
s
she
collapsed into a chair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why
don’t
you
try
letting
Khara
do
some
of
the
thinking?”
Celeste asked. “She’s risking e
v
ery bit as—”

“Seriously
?
S
o
far
,
he
r
bes
t
ide
a
i
s
t
o
cras
h
a
Mescalero
celebratio
n
s
o
sh
e
ca
n
as
k
th
e
shama
n
fo
r
som
e
hocus-pocus
word
s
o
f
wisdom
.
No
t
exactl
y
wha
t
I
’
d
cal
l
o
f
pla
n
o
f
substance,”
V
ic
t
or
i
a
r
e
pl
i
e
d
i
n
di
gn
a
nt
l
y
.
H
e
r
t
o
n
e
so
ft
e
n
e
d
w
h
e
n
s
h
e
add
e
d
,
“I’
m
sorry
,
bu
t
thi
s
i
s
th
e
moder
n
worl
d
w
e
’
r
e
dealin
g
with.”

“Say
s
you
.
An
d
fo
r
you
r
information
,
I
thin
k
it’
s
a
good
idea
.
I’
v
e
li
v
e
d
her
e
thirt
y
y
ears
;
th
e
Mescaler
o
ar
e
m
y
friends
.
I don’t take it personally, but I’
v
e ne
v
er been invited.”

“Because of who
w
e are?”

O
f
Celeste’
s
galler
y
o
f
smiles
,
he
r
crooke
d
on
e
w
a
s
V
ictoria’
s favorite. “Not at all, my girl. It’s because of who
w
e are not.”

Strange, isn’t it?” Victoria mused. “How easily discrimination can swi
v
el in any direction.”

Squeezing her e
y
es shut, she took one of those meaningful
breathe-from-the-cor
e
stretche
s
she
’
d
learne
d
i
n
yoga;
concentratin
g
o
n
th
e
lo
w
hu
m
o
f
th
e
refrigerator
,
th
e
ticking
clock, but
mostly to Celeste’s hoarse breathing. It
w
as not the
mos
t
pleasan
t
sound
,
stil
l
sh
e
foun
d
unexpecte
d
comfort
in it.
Try to separate what you know from what you feel
, she told herself
, and the ans
w
ers will come
. When at last she opened her e
y
es and
found Celeste
staring
at
her
strangely,
it
took
se
v
eral
momen
t
s
t
o
pu
t
in
t
o
order
,
t
h
e
e
v
en
t
s
t
ha
t
ha
d
b
rou
g
h
t
her
here.

On the counter
w
as a bo
w
l of Granny Smiths for a pie Lila had promised to show her how to bake.
V
ictoria scooped it up
alon
g
wit
h a
v
egetabl
e
peele
r
an
d
w
en
t
outside
.
Sh
e
placed
the earthen
w
are bo
w
l next to her on the bench quietly, lest she
w
ake the geese dozing in the grass nearby.

I
n
th
e
South
w
est
,
th
e w
eathe
r
ca
n
tur
n
i
n
a
n
hour
,
the
season
s
i
n
a
day
.
V
ictori
a
notice
d
a
subtl
e
deepenin
g
o
f
th
e
sky’
s blue. And
the
wind
didn’t
begin
whistling
late
that afternoon
an
d
the
n
sto
p
aroun
d
th
e
tim
e
Lil
a
cam
e
t
o
star
t
dinne
r
a
s
it
usuall
y
did
;
i
t
ble
w
dispiritedl
y
fo
r
th
e
res
t
o
f
th
e
day
,
strippin
g the trees of their lea
v
es.