Chapter 23: Pride and Surrogacy

"Your coats, ladies?"

Daria put the brakes on her current thought train (Did we leave anything embarrassing in the car for the valet to find?) and shrugged off her gray pea-coat, reluctantly handing it to a tall and Oscar-statuesque servant as the Sloanes' foyer chandelier bounced beams of light off his smooth head. Suddenly, she recognized him. "Hi, Steve." Jane cocked an eyebrow at her and Daria explained, with just a touch of awkwardness, "Steve started working for the Sloanes when Tom and I were…dating."

The tall man smiled graciously and gave Jane a nod. She immediately extended her hand and noted, mid-shake, "We just missed each other then—back when I was dating Tom, I had to hang up my own coat. I guess there have been a lot of changes."

Ever the professional, Steve merely graced her with a knowing smile and said, "You are correct, miss." Then he led the way to a high-ceilinged hall where the fanciest Christmas Eve party Daria had ever seen was well underway. Waitstaff in black tie floated among groups of twittering socialites, braying businessmen, and the occasional pocket of Standard Issue Humanity as silver tapers burned and stick trees twinkled white. A string quartet was playing seasonal classics on a low platform in the corner, leading Daria to ask her girlfriend if she thought these people kept a portable stage on hand in case they suddenly and urgently needed a string quartet. Jane cackled and asked if she thought they'd play that donkey-focused Christmas ditty with the exuberant animal sounds.

"Girls!" Daria turned to see a gleeful Jake advancing with a heaping plate of shrimp. He raised an eyebrow and said conspiratorially, "Quite the spread."

Daria felt a smile starting and deadpanned, "Look out, Dad. I think Poseidon is on to you." She gestured toward the magnificent ice sculpture of the sea god brooding amidst platters of shrimp on the long buffet table.

Seeming unsure how to handle her humor but determined to make an effort, Jake belted out a "Ha!" followed by, "He sure does, kiddo. I wonder why they invited us to this fancy soiree, anyway."

Daria furrowed her brow as she sought out the familiar comfort of Jane's hand. She had been wondering the same thing. Suddenly, she felt a bird-like tap on her shoulder and then a smirking, twinkly-eyed Quinn was peering down at her from skyscraper heels. She took in Daria's all-black ensemble and asked, "You do know it's a Christmas party and not a funeral for a sad poet, right?"

"Just preparing for mass casualties when the string lights hit all of your sequins at once and we burn to death."

Jane squeezed Daria's hand and added, "Unfortunately, the quartet won't be able to play us to our doom because their instruments will be musical napalm by then."

Quinn did an exaggerated eye roll that didn't conceal her amusement and gave her sister an uncharacteristically warm side hug, then turned to Jane. "How's school going? Daria said you're doing an art and business thingy."

"Yeah, it's a year-long certificate program. I've picked up a few things I can use on our website."

Daria nudged her with her shoulder. "And?"

"And maybe it'll help me sell my artwork someday. Who knows."

Quinn nodded. "You could totally do it, Jane." She giggled. "I bet everyone at that school has a little bit of paint on them all the time, just like you do!"

As Quinn walked off to hug a posh person she apparently knew, Daria noticed her girlfriend stealthily checking herself for paint splotches. She leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Not a drop. You look stunning."

Suddenly, the tinkling of forks on champagne flutes was everywhere. By the time it had died down, Helen was rushing to join her family as she struggled with the belt on one of the crisp trench coats she favored for work, and Kay Sloane was raising a microphone across the sea of murmurs. Tom's thin, elegant mother smoothed her burgundy gown and put on a controlled smile. "Angier and I are so grateful all of you could join us on this beautiful Christmas Eve." She paused for the mild applause that followed. "Deirdre Brown managed to tear herself away from planning her spring charity gala. What is your benefit for this year, Didi?"

"Fielding Prep needs a new stable for Equestrian Club."

"Oh my, Deirdre, you do give of yourself." Kay initiated another round of anemic clapping as Jane shot Daria a look that suggested they may be surrounded by pod people. The hostess continued, "We also have the good fortune to host Mr. Sherman Danbury, president of our local yacht club." As the final, slightly-more-enthusiastic claps rang out, Daria noticed Kay's expression growing more serious. "Any Sloane venturing out into the wide world is blessed indeed to have such friends. And tonight"—she smiled with what seemed a touch of nerves— "we look to the future. We only wish Trent's mother and father could have joined us, but unfortunately they're out of the country for...business."

Right, thought Daria, if "business" is what you call a tantric pottery workshop led by someone on the most wanted list in three countries.

Kay went on, "Angier? Tom, Trent? Please join me."

Daria heard Jane whisper, "Oh, god," and felt her cold fingers tighten to a vise-like grip.

Trent and Tom took their places next to Kay as Angier adjusted his cufflinks and tentatively reached for the microphone. "I am a fortunate man to have such a loving family. Elsie, my intelligent and beautiful daughter"—he gestured toward a preppy young woman in her early twenties—"and my beloved son Tom. I am pleased to announce that my son and his husband Trent are ready to start a family of their own."

He seemed to falter and looked to his wife, perhaps seeking encouragement. She gave a small nod. "And a wonderful young lady has offered to help make that dream come true as their surrogate." Daria and Jane locked gazes, eyes wide. Neither of them had expected an announcement so soon (or so publicly, for that matter).

Angier held his champagne flute aloft and proclaimed, "It is with an abundance of gratitude that I ask you to raise your glasses to Quinn Morgendorffer!" Suddenly Quinn was beside him in all her sequined glory, radiant and smiling. "To Quinn!"

As the crowd echoed this sentiment, Daria tore her gaze away from Jane's to see her parents were too shocked to join in just yet. Apparently, Quinn had thought this would make for a good surprise.

The hugging and congratulating began before Daria had a chance to discuss the news with anyone. When she felt she'd reached her limit and Jane was stuck on the receiving end of Quinn's animated monologue, Daria slipped away to the nearest guest bathroom.

She was waiting in a short line, focused on keeping her head from exploding, when she overheard two well-dressed women discussing the night's events in hushed tones. "Well, naturally the Sloanes will want their line extended."

"It only makes sense. For god's sake, half the conference halls in Boston are named after Angier's great-grandfather."

"Like Kay says, anyone who thinks bloodlines don't matter is a peasant or a fool."

Daria's breath caught in her throat. She stepped into the bathroom, gently closed the door, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe I can make this bathroom into a tiny condo and stay here forever, she thought, or at least barricade the door with that lion statue until I've figured out how to tell Jane about the hallway harpies. She exhaled and bowed her head, eyes closed. As happy as she was for Trent, Tom and Quinn, she lacked the naivete required to skip blindly into a potentially stormy future.