Page 105 of Absinthe Minded

Evelyn’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked her age. “I pray we will all live to see the day.”

“I have faith in your son.”

33

Maggie

Daliaand I sat at Shanna’s kitchen table, which had been turned into a makeshift salon. Piles of makeup, hair accessories and styling tools lay in disarray on every level surface in the small space.

“Let me get this straight. He hired a wait staff, took you to a private courtyard, wined and dined you, then you went home alone?” Dahlia shook her head.

“Pretty much.” I sighed, trying to be still while Stephen pinned a curl in place.

“Forget that. I’m pissed Papa Joe killed your article. What ever happened to free speech?” Shanna’s mouth moved, but the rest of her remained still as her stylist glued a thick row of false lashes in place.

I had mixed feelings about the violation of my constitutional rights. In truth, I’d written the article for an audience of two, Evelyn and Joe Marchionni. “I don’t care about the article. I need to set things right with Gabe.”

Dahlia sighed. “I still don’t understand what happened. What did you argue about?”

I couldn’t exactly tell them the details of the conversation, and I had to give them something or Shanna would keep digging. I went with the next obvious explanation. “I told him I had Chantal investigated.”

“This Chantal woman had a husband who killed himself because the Marchionni Corporation took his business out from under him?” Stephen made a clucking sound with his tongue, as he wound a chunk of my hair around the curling iron.

“Pretty much, though we don’t know for sure why he killed himself.” I turned my head a fraction, and Stephen yanked my hair. “Ouch.”

“Beauty is pain. Be still.” He jabbed a bobby pin into my scalp.

“So what? He slept with a married woman?” Stephen took a step back admiring his work.

“Not unless the relationship lasted longer than he says.” Shanna sprayed enough hair spray to mortar a brick wall.

“I don’t care if he slept with a married woman. I mean, he isn’t the one who broke a vow, right?” I glanced between them.

“Right.” Stephen grinned and moved in front of me to put the finishing touches on my makeup. “Spoken like a woman in love defending her man.”

“Wrong,” Shanna added.

“You’re actually going to marry him?” Shanna asked, incredulously.

“Of course she is,” Dalia said, opening her eyes wide to free her natural lashes from the glue.

“If he’ll have me.” I glanced at the diamond on my finger.

“Honey, stop worrying about it. You’re going to kiss and have hot, make up sex.” Stephen grinned.

“Easier said than done.” I surveyed my reflection, hardly recognizing myself. The new shade of blonde and a heavy amount of makeup made my eyes look bluer. Stephen had darkened my eyebrows and used a pale pink shimmer on my lips. I held the silver mask in place, surprised that it didn’t get in the way of my mile-long lashes.

Looking rather proud of himself, he folded his arms. “Time to get dressed, princess. We can’t have you late to the ball.”

* * *

The limo inchedup the street leading to the Marchionni’s mansion. Unlike the last time I’d visited, this time I had an invitation.

I’d spoken to Evelyn several times since our chat in the limo. While she still insisted the old-world ways were best, she conceded on several points, including allowing her sons to handle their finances.

I wasn’t naïve enough to believe she could talk Papa Joe into renouncing his ties to the mafia, but I trusted her to do what was right for family—and that gave me hope.

I peeked out the window at the costumed people milling about the portico. It reminded me of a scene straight out of Venice, minus the canals, of course.

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