TWENTY-ONE

Dream House

In the spring of the next year, Charles bought a media company and planned his takeover of the airwaves, which would include a competitor to the current twenty-four hour cable news channel, a fifth network, and multiple radio and newspaper holdings. He aimed to direct the global conversation, and influence Red Blood culture through its most insidious mech-anism for communications. He was buying himself a pulpit.

The Fifth Avenue town house was almost ready, and Allegra spent most of her time with decorators, debating wall colors, window treatments, and furniture. They planned to keep a few of their things from the mansion on Riverside. Cordelia had promised them the chesterfield and the silver as bonding gifts, but Allegra was looking forward to a fresh start. There were those who believed that buying furniture was a bourgeois practice. In certain circles, only inherited furniture was deemed appropriate, but Allegra disagreed. While tradition was well and good, she wanted everything in the new house to be light and new, with nothing that hinted of the heavy bag-gage, or held too many memories of the past.

There were some traditions she did keep, however. Since Egypt, when they had ruled as menes and meni, their union was sealed by the bride moving her possessions to her new home. The movers would take care of the heavy stuff, but Allegra planned to bring a few items on her own: her jewelry box, the little crystal vase of oil, a cup of rice, and a flagon of water, to bring luck to their new home.

That afternoon, Allegra stood in the soon-to-be finished living room.

Charles walked in. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just wanted to check on the wallpaper. I was worried it might be too bright for the room, but I think it’s fine.”

“It looks lovely,” he said.

“You like it?”

“Very much.” He nodded.

“Good,” she said.

Charles smiled at her. “I’m glad to see you happy.”

“I am happy,” Allegra said.

If she said it enough, maybe she would believe it.