Mae frowned at that and looked like she was about to speak when Johansson returned and said they had a call for her in their makeshift command station. Mae straightened up as though her general were right in front of her and hurried off.
Meanwhile, the sketch was complete. The image compiled by their witness and the police certainly gave credence to the idea of a desirable lover. The guy was close to the victim’s age, with blond hair and flawless skin that the victim’s coworker was obsessed with. “It was perfect, I tell you. Not a mark,” the witness told Justin. “Just like that woman you were with.”
Identifying the man was in the hands of the police now. Justin glanced at the time and saw it was later than he’d expected. They’d have to find Tessa soon and get dinner. Seeing as she hadn’t called, he could only hope she hadn’t committed any other acts against national security.
One of the officers directed Justin to the office they’d set up their equipment in. There, he found Mae engaged in conversation with someone on a screen—but not the stern general he’d expected from her stories.
“Because I’m here on business!” Mae exclaimed.
“And that doesn’t warrant a call?” The speaker was one of those older women who were described as “handsome.” Her dark blond hair was wound up into a high bun that showed a face with taut, smoothed skin that suggested a recent face-lift. She had a heavier brow than Mae and lacked the high cheekbones, but the woman’s eyes were the same shade of greenish blue that he’d come to admire.
“I’m just busy, that’s all. This isn’t a good time.”
“It’s never a good time, Maj.” The name sounded like “my” to Justin’s ears. “It hasn’t been for three years apparently.”
“Mother, please. Now isn’t the time.” Justin knew Mae well enough now to recognize the signs of when she was fighting to keep control.
“Are you working all night?” her mother asked insistently. “Surely you have to eat. Come over tonight, and I’ll gather your brother and sister. Bring your associates.” The woman’s eyes suddenly flicked to Justin, and he flinched. He thought he’d been standing out of the camera’s range. “Is that one of them?”
Mae spun around in surprise, exasperation crossing her features. “Yes. Mother, this is Dr. Justin March. Justin, this is Astrid Koskinen.”
With nowhere to escape, Justin stepped forward and went into action. “Mrs. Koskinen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I can see where Mae gets her stunning looks.”
Astrid didn’t even blink. “Dr. March, do you and my daughter have dinner plans?”
He faltered. “Well, I…” A glance at Mae told him what the correct answer to give was, but he was too slow.
“That’s what I thought,” said Astrid triumphantly. “Both of you come over at seven.”
“He’s a plebeian,” Mae said bluntly.
“Yes, I can see that, Maj.”
“And we have someone else with us.” Mae paused for what had to be dramatic impact. “A provincial.”
Her mother wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Bring whoever you want, if that’s what it takes to get you here. Besides, you know how open-minded we are.”
“No, I didn’t know that, actually.”
“See you soon.” Astrid’s face disappeared, and Mae kicked the desk.
“Goddamn it,” she growled.
“I’m sorry,” said Justin. “I didn’t think fast enough to—”
“No, no.” Mae waved off his protests. “It’s not you. It’s all her. And whatever friend she has around here who recognized me and tattled that I was in town. My ego’s set to automatically send her calls to voice mail, but she tricked me by going through the police.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He actually meant it. Sure, there was some perverse part of him that wanted to see where she’d grown up, but after hearing her stories on Saturday, he didn’t want to subject Mae to a return to that place. “Maybe we can get out of it. Say something came up.”
She sighed. “No. That’ll make things worse. I’m just going to have to suck this up.” She walked out of the office with a forlorn look on her face, though she paused to give Justin a humorless smile. “On the bright side, if there’s anything about me you don’t know yet, it’ll probably come out tonight.”
He gave her a small smile in return, little knowing how true her words would be.
CHAPTER 27
KOSKINEN DECORUM
They had to hire a car. Her mother lived outside of the city, and no public transportation ran out to it. Mae looked like she was going to her own funeral as they sped by the wheat and corn fields, which were green and growing now that spring had moved in. The castes had been founded by families who already had personal fortunes that could help the fledgling republic, fortunes they used to buy themselves out of the mandates. Over time, those families had ended up turning to enterprises that were suited to their land, such as the expansive growing of crops that fed the RUNA. Dark clouds gathering above the fields threatened a storm, which Mae remarked was fitting.
At first glance, the Koskinen house seemed as though it had ridden the success of Nordic farming. The estate—because there was no other word for it—was like something out of a movie. A huge pillared porch with etched-glass double doors welcomed guests with grandeur and intimidation. Identical wings extended from each side of the entrance, beautiful in their symmetry. The house had two floors, and the second one had balconies extending from many of its rooms. There were even a couple of turrets. It was set on sprawling grounds, some of which were obviously just for show and not practical use. Looking beyond the house, Justin could see vast fields dedicated to farming. There the symmetry ended. Half the land showed that green haze of new growth. The other half was bare and neglected.
Walking toward the house told more tales. The tan paint was worn and chipped. Bushes and hedges were messy and overgrown, while weeds poked through the flower beds. It was all subtle. The house wasn’t in ruins, but it definitely showed signs of disrepair.
A plebeian woman wearing a black uniform let them in, murmuring a deferential, “Miss Mae.”
Mae smiled and gave her a small hug as they entered, something that seemed to embarrass the other woman. “Hello, Phyllis.”
The central part of the house was the tallest, and the foyer took full advantage of that. A huge chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, and Justin counted seven tiers of crystals. He also noticed that some of the lights had burned out. Dusty art displaying Norse knot work adorned the walls. To the side of the room, a spiral staircase with a wrought-iron railing stretched up to the second floor. Within moments of their entry, Astrid Koskinen descended the stairs with a showy, measured stride that made him think she’d been hovering at the top, waiting to make this grand entrance.
“Maj,” she said, pausing to kiss Mae on each cheek. “How lovely to see you.”
There was no warmth in the greeting or in Mae’s answering one. “Mother, this is Dr. Justin March and Tessa Cruz.”
At a glance, Justin knew this was no time for, “Mother? Really? I would’ve guessed sister.” He opted for pleasant—but not too pleasant—formality. “Mrs. Koskinen, thank you for your hospitality.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Tessa, a bit cowed by this introduction to the castal aristocracy.
Astrid frowned. “Could you repeat that?”
“I said ‘thank you,’” repeated Tessa more loudly.
“Ah. Well, I could hardly turn down the opportunity to host Maj.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble,” said Mae.
“Come,” said Astrid, ignoring her. “Everyone’s seated for dinner. Normally we eat at seven.” There was an accusatory note in her voice. An old-fashioned grandfather clock proclaimed that it was 7:10. “Thank you for dressing up, Dr. March, Miss Cruz.”
She was absolutely serious, the unspoken message being that Mae had not dressed up. He’d worn a navy suit and silk tie, typical for official visits, and Tessa had impulsively put on a dress purchased on her outing today. Meanwhile, Mae was in black slacks and a green tank top. It was elegant and refined, like everything else she wore, but he supposed it might have been considered casual next to Astrid’s calf-length taffeta dress. Though he scoffed at Cynthia’s “label whore” accusations, Justin had made a quick study of the fashion trends he’d missed in exile. It was a leftover habit from when he was younger and had tried to hide his lower-class background. Mae was at the height of style, as always, even when casual. Her mother’s dress was from last year. A small detail, but notable among castals.
He wasn’t entirely sure who “everyone” was. Astrid led them to a dining room with heavy wainscoting and wallpaper adorned with a swirling blue design. Two women and two men sat at a long table, along with a boy a little older than Quentin. All had the blond hair and blue or green eyes typical of their caste. Erratic signs of Cain marked the group, and Mae stood out from them like some star in a cloudy sky. If not for scattered shared features, Justin wouldn’t have guessed they were related.
Introductions named the other guests as Mae’s siblings and their spouses. The boy, Mae’s nephew, went by his Nordic name, Niklis. Aside from Mae’s mother, everyone else used a Latin or Greek name from the National Registry, which was telling. It suggested they were more progressive. Maybe they were, but one thing soon became clear: They hated Mae.
Maybe “hated” was too strong. “Resented” might have been more accurate.
It wasn’t so obvious at first. Everyone was so, so polite. A written transcript would have shown nothing untoward, but listening to it in person was a different matter. Every comment contained a barb for Mae and occasionally Justin and Tessa as well.
“Well, Mae,” said her sister, Claudia. “It was nice of you to come by. I know Mom appreciates it. I know she especially appreciates you bringing your friends.” She peered over at Tessa as the housekeeper set down chipped bowls of yellow pea soup. “Do you guys use silverware in the provinces?”