"How did you know about Sheffield?" Gifford's eyes narrowed. "Did Trent use his talent to spy on him?"
"I learned about Senator Sheffield's talent quite by accident." She could be cool and obscure, too, Amaryllis thought. "He's strong, isn't he? A class ten?"
"Who knows? He refuses to be tested." Gifford's smile came and went. "Claims it's an invasion of privacy. Says the founders would never have tolerated such a blatant intrusion on the rights of the individual."
"So, it was one of your people holding the focus for him that night. That explains a few things."
"What are you talking about?"
"I knew I recognized the prism's style and technique," Amaryllis said. "I thought at first that it must have been someone Professor Landreth had trained, but it could just as well have been someone you trained. Your techniques would have a signature very similar to Landreth's because Landreth trained you."
"You know, Amaryllis, you really should consider my offer of a job. We run a very exclusive service here at Unique Prisms. We're highly selective when it comes to our clients."
"Selective?" Amaryllis asked coldly. "Or unethical?"
Gifford gave her an inquiring look. "Are you accusing me of not upholding the code, my dear Amaryllis? I'm deeply wounded."
"One of your prisms helped Sheffield focus charisma the other night."
"Everyone knows that charisma is not a psychic talent. Just a personality trait." Gifford spread his hands. "What can I say? Sheffield has terrific voter appeal."
"You can call it anything you like. All I know is that Sheffield is a powerful talent. He may very well have been using that talent to get campaign contributions."
"So? That's what politicians do."
"He burned out his prism, Gifford. Doesn't that bother you at all?"
"There are risks in every business. Prism burnout is a short-term problem."
"Focusing a talent with the intent to defraud is not just unethical, it's illegal."
Gifford's smile did not reach his eyes. "I repeat, charisma is not a talent. It's not listed in any professional directory of talents. It has never been documented as a psychic ability. It's just a personality trait. Rather like your prissy views on sex and prism ethics."
Amaryllis flushed. "I think I understand why you and Professor Landreth never got along very well, Gifford. Professor Landreth, after all, was a gentleman."
"Such a gentleman that he kept a weekly standing appointment with a syn-sex stripper?"
Amaryllis went out the door and closed it quietly behind herself.
Chapter 10
"Well, dear," Hannah said on the other end of the phone, "I think that wraps up the personal characteristics section of the questionnaire. I must say, you've become terribly specific about what you want in a husband."
Amaryllis fiddled with her desk pen and studied the notes she had made on a sheet of paper. "The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had some definite preferences, Aunt Hannah."
"Let me see if I've got it all right. Dark hair, gray eyes, mid-thirties, successful entrepreneur, small-town or rural background, university degree. You want a man with some knowledge of hand-to-hand fighting skills. Someone who is not afraid to take a few chances." Hannah paused. "Oh, yes, one who is a conservative dresser."
"I think that about sums it up. Aunt Hannah."
"Picky, picky, picky," Hannah muttered. "Very well, I've filled out the rest of the questionnaire for you, so we're finished with the initial phase of the process. Your great- aunt Sophy gave me a hand with some of it."
A small degree of relief went through Amaryllis at that news. "Great-aunt Sophy knows me well."
"She's the one who told me not to worry too much about how choosy you've suddenly become," Hannah said dryly. "She said it was a positive sign. She thinks it means that you're starting to take a more active interest in this whole process."
Amaryllis smiled in spite of her mood. Great-aunt Sophy could always be counted upon to throw a different light on the subject. A memory flickered in the back of her mind. It dated from her seventh year.
It had been a hot summer day. Lower Bellevue had been baking in relentless sunshine for nearly a month. Sophy had taken Amaryllis and a young companion named Linda into town. The girls had gone into the ice cream parlor to purchase cones while Sophy had done some banking next door.
When the two children had emerged, dripping cones in their hands, Linda had pointed to a striking woman who was getting out of an expensive car.
"Know who that is?" Linda gave Amaryllis a sly look. "That's your grandma."
Amaryllis studied the elegant, dark-haired woman. "She's not my grandmother. My grandmother has blond hair and she's not as tall."
"Everyone has two grandmothers, dummy. That lady was your daddy's mother. Her name is Mrs. Bailey. That makes her your other grandmother. My morn told me so."
"Don't believe you."
"Go ask her," Linda urged.
"Okay, I will." Amaryllis went forward with determination. A question had been raised. It would be answered. She would prove Linda was dumb, and that would be the end of the matter.
The closer Amaryllis got to the stranger, the more impressed she was. With her expensive clothes, imperious stature, and aristocratic air, Elizabeth Bailey was a vision on the streets of Lower Bellevue.
Elizabeth did not see Amaryllis until she felt the tug on her skirt. She turned her head and glanced down. A strange look appeared in her green eyes.
"Let go of my skirt," Elizabeth said very quietly. "Do not touch me."
"Excuse me," Amaryllis said. "You're beautiful. My friend says you're my grandmother. Are you my grandmother?"
Elizabeth's face tightened." Of course I'm not your grand- mother. You have no grandmother. You're a bastard." She turned and walked away without another word.
Amaryllis stood staring after her, ice cream dripping on the sidewalk, until Sophy emerged from the bank. Other children had called Amaryllis a bastard. But this was the first time an adult had done so to her face. When an adult said something, you had to take it seriously.
Sophy had taken one look at the car parked at the curb and another at Amaryllis's face. She had put two and two together instantly. Heedless of the melting ice cream, she had pulled Amaryllis into her arms.
"Don't take any notice of Elizabeth Bailey, dear."
"Is she really my grandmother?"
"Yes, but she doesn't want to admit it because she feels guilty."
"Why?"
"It's a long story, sweetie, and this is neither the time nor the place to tell it."
"She hates me. And I hate her."
"Someday you'll understand."
"What will I understand?" Amaryllis demanded with the stubborn determination to learn the answers that was to become a lifelong trait.
"Someday you'll know why Elizabeth did what she did," Sophy said, "and why she can't forgive herself or anyone else."
"But what did she do?"
Sophy sighed. "She's the one who forced your daddy to marry the wrong woman. Elizabeth knew from the beginning that it was a bad match, but all she could see was money and land and status. She thought those things would make your father happy, but they didn't. All he wanted was your mother, but he was too young to fight Elizabeth."