“It’s fine,” says Quint. “Mom—”

“I’ve been wondering where you ran off to.” Rosa is still beaming. “I was just telling this gentleman all about your interest in photography and how you want to get your diving certification after…” Her attention lands on me and her smile falls. Surprise and confusion war across her features. “Oh. Hello, Prudence,” she says, her politeness tinged with frost. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I’m glad she’s here,” Quint says forcefully. “Actually, Mom, I’d like to talk to you and Shauna, if I could.” He glances at Shauna. “In private.”

Bewildered, Rosa looks around at all of us. The man she was speaking with clears his throat and excuses himself to get a refill on his drink.

Shauna looks bewildered, but a second later I see the wheels turning as she looks between me and Quint.

“This seems like a rather inconvenient time,” says Shauna, chuckling, though her smile has an edge. “We are in the middle of throwing a party. Why don’t the three of you kids grab some food and go relax. Quint, I know how hard you worked to pull this off. And, I suppose, so did you, Prudence. Despite … everything.” Derision coats her words, and I glare at her.

“Shauna is right,” Rosa says. “I need to keep mingling with our guests—”

“This will only take a minute,” says Quint. “And it can’t wait.”

“It will have to,” says Shauna. “Rosa, I see Grace Livingstone’s family over at table nine. I think you should probably offer your condolences.”

I turn around and spy not just Maya’s parents, but Maya herself, wearing a royal-blue shift dress and looking beyond bored.

“Oh, you’re right.” Rosa puts a hand over her heart. “Grace was such a good supporter.” Then she pauses, her tone going cold again. “But I suppose you already know that, don’t you?” She gives me a look, and I bristle.

She goes to walk past us, Shauna on her heels, but Quint blocks their path. “I don’t want to make a scene,” he says. “But this is important. Please.”

Shauna’s cheeks take on a reddish hue, and her eyes spark. Suddenly, she looks like a different person. An angry person. A defensive person. A person suddenly, unexpectedly backed into a corner.

“You don’t want to make a scene?” she says, and unlike Quint’s, her voice goes higher. We’re beginning to draw attention, which I suspect is exactly what she wants. She tosses her arm in my direction. “Then what is she doing here, Quint? And why are you with her? She is a liar and a thief. She has no business being here and I think she should leave.”

“Shauna,” Rosa hisses, even while trying to smile at the nearest guests. “Okay, Quint. Fine. Let’s step back into the auditorium and you can say what you need to say.”

“No,” says Shauna. “This is typical adolescent peer pressure, Rosa. And while I know he is your son, you do not need to tolerate this. For him to bring in this drama on our big night—the center’s big night. You should know better, Quint.” She clucks her tongue in a way that vaguely reminds me of my grandmother. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She tries to step around Quint, but this time I step forward, my arms crossed. I’m shaking with adrenaline and anger. And unlike Quint, I’m not so worried about making a scene.

After all, I know there are reporters here, planning to do a big write-up about the event in this week’s papers. Quint may not agree with this, but as far as I’m concerned, no publicity is bad publicity. Make a big enough scene and we might even make the front page.

“I’m not the one causing all the drama,” I say, my voice loud enough that all the people who are pretending not to eavesdrop can hear me plainly. “You are, Shauna. You stole that money, just like you stole money from your last job, just like you’ve stolen the donations from tonight’s ticket sales.” I look at Rosa, who looks appalled and embarrassed, but also the tiniest bit curious. “That’s why there’s never as much money in the account as you think there should be. Shauna has been embezzling it. She’s done it before.”

Rosa is shaking her head. “What are you … okay. That’s enough. Let’s go. Into the theater. Come on.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” says Shauna. “And I will not stand here and listen to these unfounded accusations!”

“I checked tonight’s ticket sales,” says Quint. “I know you’re having funds routed directly to your own bank account.”

There’s a gasp around us, and I realize we’ve become the center of attention. Everyone has gone silent. Everyone is watching. Even the music has stopped.

“But … Shauna has been with us for more than a decade,” says Rosa. “I would have…” She trails off, and I know she’s wondering whether she would have noticed if Shauna was stealing from her. She’s always so busy, but her roles at the center are managing the people and caring for the animals, not the finances. When it comes to money, all she does is sign where she’s told to sign.

Where Shauna tells her to sign.

She looks at Shauna, dismayed. “Is this true?”

“Of course not,” Shauna spits, and it’s easily the worst lie she’s ever told. Her face has gone red, her breathing short, her eyes ablaze. “This girl”—she points a finger at me—“this girl has been nothing but trouble since day one.” She takes a step closer. I hold my ground, relatively certain that she wouldn’t try to hit me, not surrounded by this many people. Even so, I see Quint tense out of the corner of my eye, and I brace myself for whatever horrible thing she’ll say next, knowing that this time, at least, I’m in the right. I haven’t done anything wrong, but she has, and her lies are piling up, mounting by the second. She deserves to be punished. “And now she’s spreading these awful rumors, trying to turn you against me to save her own—”

I clench my fist.

Her heel hits the puddle of spilled wine and she yelps. Her arms flail. One of her hands catches my arm, yanking me forward.

Then we’re both falling.

She doesn’t let go.

I can’t brace for the fall.

My head strikes the corner of the auction table and, for the second time this summer, my world goes black.

FORTY-SEVEN

I open my eyes to twinkling lights and yellow streamers. Quint is hovering over me, one hand cradling my head. His lips curl in relief when my eyes meet his.

“Déjà vu,” he mutters.

I respond with a groan. The throbbing in my head is every bit as terrible as it was when I fell at Encanto, and the worried chatter around me isn’t helping.

“Give her space,” says Quint, gesturing for everyone to move back.

I slowly sit up, pressing my fingers to my temple in an effort to stop the pounding.

“There, see?” says a shrill voice. Shauna is sitting in a chair nearby, holding a bottle of cold water to her shoulder. “She’s fine. And for the record, I did not assault her. It was an accident. You all saw.”

“That’s enough, Shauna,” says Rosa, her voice sharp. “Besides, this isn’t the lawsuit you should be worried about.”

Shauna gapes at her, astounded. “You wouldn’t … after all I’ve done for this organization?”

Rosa’s chest puffs out and I know it’s taking all her willpower not to scream some mighty harsh things at Shauna right now, but she manages to hold her tongue in front of so many guests. “I’m not making any decisions tonight, but I will be meeting with an attorney. In the meantime, just in case there was any confusion … you’re fired.”

Shauna holds her glare for a heartbeat, before snorting. She drops the water bottle on the counter and grabs one of the champagne glasses that’s been left there, half-drunk. “Fine. See how long your precious charity stays open without me.”

“Oh, I think we’ll do okay,” says Rosa. “We might finally be able to flourish, without you draining the funds every chance you get.”

Shauna ignores her, downs the champagne, then stands up and storms off through the crowd.

I try one more time before she goes, squeezing my fist.

Nothing happens.

Not only does nothing happen, but my grip feels weak. My chest feels strangely hollow.

I look down at my hand, dread whirling through my thoughts. Could it be…?

“Here,” says Morgan, throwing a white linen napkin onto the spilled drink and mopping it up. “Don’t need anyone else getting hurt.”

It’s a simple act, but a selfless one. A good deed.

Please, oh please …

I snap my finger and hold my breath.

“Either you’re really clumsy,” Morgan says, picking up the napkin, “or really unlucky.” She drops it onto a serving tray cluttered with empty dishes and abandoned wineglasses.

And … that’s it.

No kismet befalls her. No unexpected windfall. No reward.

Maybe cleaning up a spill isn’t a big-enough deed to warrant the universe’s attention. I peer around the room and spy a man dropping some cash into the donation box on the stage.

I try again. Snap. Snap. Snap.

The man returns to his table. If he’s received good karma as a result of his donation, there’s no sight of it.

“No,” I whisper. “Please.”

“Pru?” Quint is frowning at me. His hand is still supporting me, pressed between my shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?”

I pout at him. I can’t help it. “I think it’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

I sniff, even though I know I’m being melodramatic. I don’t care. There were times when I thought my karmic ability was a curse, but … for the most part, it was a fun curse.

“The universe,” I mutter.