CHAPTER 9: Silver Gowns Tarnish Quickly

Isadora's gown still glittered, but the room no longer admired it.
Wealthy people were experts at moving without appearing to flee. A donor's wife stepped back first. Then a museum chairwoman turned her shoulder. Then two men who had laughed at Isadora's jokes during dinner became suddenly fascinated by the program cards beside their plates.
Power left her by inches.
"This is absurd," Isadora said. "Elliot, you are humiliating our family over a child's tantrum and a servant's ambition."
The word servant landed badly.
Mira felt it strike old places in her, places trained to bruise quietly. Before she could answer, Leo did.
"Mira doesn't make me scared."
It was not a dramatic sentence. It was worse. It was true in a voice too young to decorate truth for adults.
Elliot looked at Isadora then, really looked, as if seeing not his wife but the person his son's fear had been pointing to for years.
"You will stop speaking about him as if he is a public relations problem," he said.