Frederika grumbled to herself as she paced through the Mansion, barking orders at the help as they dusted, scrubbed, and set the house to order. Guests would begin arriving tomorrow evening at sunset--earlier, if the weather refused to let up. Days of clear skies and bone-chilling cold had frozen the lakeshore into an oversized jigsaw puzzle of ice. Then the temperature rose enough for a thaw, followed by another cold snap coating the city in a layer of ice and a half-foot of snow. Walking the perimeter of the Mansion proved difficult enough for the guards; she couldn't imagine traveling as far as the Rock or Whitefish. But for this grant event, she thought acidly, they would travel.

Thanksgiving. The Four Families' annual get together, ostensibly for renewing their bonds of friendship. Frederika snorted at the thought. Beneath a thin veneer of cordiality lay a yawning chasm of treachery. Worse, she had to host the whole scheming lot of them and watch the gluttons devour the most rarified delicacies from their ever-declining food stores. The whole charade made Frederika sick.

And the games began earlier with each passing year. There used to be a gentleman's agreement that the shop talk would wait for the digestifs and cigars but then, two years ago, upon entering the Mansion Carlo Reyes took Auggie by the elbow and led him to the reading room for a private word. A showy and forceful display, his action broke that thin unspoken truce. This year, Katrina had shown Frederika that she hadreceived a text message on her phone; if her daughter hadn't noticed, Frederika would have missed it entirely and looked a fool.

Need your ear. Import info. Shhh. BL

Is this what her life had become? Barrett Lukowski passing her electronic notes in the back of the classroom? She disliked the man with a passion. She always had the impression that he was manipulating her, even during the most seemingly innocuous small talk. He could shift from wheedling to threatening and back over the course of a sentence. She always left their discussions feeling shaken and off-kilter. That, along with the fact that if Augustus had whispered a secret to her under their bed sheets, Barrett Lukowski would somehow know about it by sunrise. Everyone from the lowest dish washer to the guards posted to the Mansion had a connection to a Lukowski brother, sister, husband, wife, son or daughter. And oh, did their mouths run.

Worse than Lukowski though was that Carlo Reyes. He went from constantly sniping at her to giving her the silent treatment. That made her nervous. Should she call him and hold a brief, clear-the-air talk? That might prevent him from poisoning the rest against her. Her conciliatory attitude, even if feigned, might weaken his position, especially if Frederika made a public show of bearing no ill will. After all, the Four Families were supposed to symbolize unity in the face of chaos.

That thought splintered her attention into a thousand nagging questions. Should she step down? Hand the reins to Katrina? She was better suited to conniving anyway, and perhaps had a relationship of some sort with one of the Reyes boys, the only one who bothered earning his MPD badges. Was that an avenue to pursue?

Frederika sighed. Too many questions, too few answers. Auggie had projected his vision of a bold new era where his family would take fate by the throat and dictate how the future would be written under the banner of the MPD; to her, the families acted more like they were frightened, bickering children playing make-believe under the tatters of some washed out flag. They were bound together by chance, and their success--whatever that meant--was in no way preordained. Chaos, it seemed, was winning.

What would she say to Carlo? Should she get Marshall's input first? Ask Katrina her opinion?

No, she thought and slapped her palm lightly on the desktop. Then aloud she said, "I am capable of making a decision myself." She flipped open the phone and squinted at the menus. She spoke Carlo's name into the phone like she had seen Katrina do, but nothing happened. After another ten minutes of cursing and pecking at the device, she finally found his name and pressed the icon of a green phone. After a period of audible clicking, mercifully, she heard it ring on the other line.

She sat alone in the shadows of her room listening to the phone ring and pause, ring and pause. If and when he picked up, she hoped she had the wisdom to find the right words to make everything okay.