Page 35 of Masquerade

George disappeared again.

“You had another question?”

Kate blinked, trying to unscramble her thoughts. Her gaze was drawn to Liam’s elegant fingers, laced together to nurse his single malt. Recalling those fingers on her thigh took up far too much of her brain space.

“All fixed.” George returned and settled on the second sofa.

“Corruption is about lies. Let’s digress a little. Are there any good lies?” The question was blunter than Kate had intended, but Liam’s legal assessment wasn’t her goal. She was testing whether Liam could ever understand her choices.

“Good and bad lies keep ethicists up at night,” George said.

“Pity they don’t keep more people up,” Liam muttered.

“Why don’t they?” She angled her body to include George. “Aren’t lies and trust the basis of any relationship?” Her mother’s seeming acquiescence to her father’s lies had confused her as a child.

“Feels like I’m back in a university ethics debate.” George grinned.

Liam looked from one to the other. “Politics, law and religion are all fragile civil institutions needing to be nourished for people to believe in them.”

Liam’s lanky body, manly chest and propensity to kiss her senseless was temptation enough. Sugarcoated with integrity, he spun an enchanting spell.

Goodness, I can almost contemplate the sex appeal of a suit.

Kate glanced at George, who was nursing his Benedictine while he followed the conversation.

“Institutions claim authority, but without transparency, a respect for right and wrong—you could say truth and lies.” George held his glass up to catch the light. The syrup was too dense to see more than its saffron-amber hue. “Citizens feel disgust, but also hurt and betrayal.”

“So, any lie is a betrayal?” She hadn’t intended to end up here so quickly.

“What’s our topic?” Fran set the coffee tray on the table.

“We started with corruption in politics, and then it got complicated.” Kate confessed.

“To our daughters, mining in a pristine wilderness is corrupt. A betrayal of them and future generations.” Fran poured a coffee. “Milk or sugar, Kate?”

“Milk, please.” Kate set the coffee on the table beside her. “That’s another example in the public sphere.”

Liam’s grip on his tumbler tightened. “A functioning public space is critical for any community to survive.”

“As a society, we haven’t addressed all the basic needs of our citizens.” Fran sounded troubled. “Protecting the wilderness could tip hundreds into unemployment. Mining has been a stepping stone to prosperity for millions over the centuries. The scope and scale of the problem requires negotiation built on good faith by all parties.” She doctored another coffee with milk and sugar.

“Your daughters are young enough to be purists. They can probably point out the Agrarian Revolution, the Industrial Revolution and the IT Revolution—artificial intelligence and robots are already replacing many of those mining jobs.” The conversation was veering off course when Kate’s focus had shifted to learning more about Liam’s definition of betrayal.

“Have you bugged our house?” George reached for the coffee Fran held out.

“It’s their future. They deserve a place at the table.” Fran sounded like a woman who understood the shades between black and white.

“And they’ll seize it, darling.” George smiled. “They’ll demand government and leadership that creates new jobs and supports people to make the transition from the old to the new economy.”

“Or die trying.” Fran looked rueful.

“So, we’ve covered the public sphere, what about the personal?” Liam was watching Kate as he asked the question, a challenge in his scrutiny. “Your initial question was ‘are there any good lies?’” Liam narrowed his gaze. His arms were crossed, his feet together on the ground—a defensive posture, suggesting he guarded his secrets closely.

Kate held her breath.

“I don’t think so.” The bitterness underlying Liam’s words reverberated through her. “Let’s bring it closer to home.” His husky growl alerted her to danger. “What if your lover lies?”

“A lie from someone you trust absolutely?” Kate strained to hear what he was telling her. “When you care deeply, the betrayal is worse. Emotions cloud ethics, maybe even change your choices. It’s not a single act. It’s a cause, and the effects are unpredictable.” Kate gave him her truth in the hope he’d reciprocate; in the hope that if he ever learned the extent of her subterfuge he’d listen to her explanation. “The betrayal leads to a different kind of life. You trust less, you make different choices.”

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