Dance Upon the Air (13 page)

“The island's never been short on that commodity. Comes from being founded by witches, I suppose.”

Surprise tinged her voice. “Do you believe in that sort of thing?”

“Why wouldn't I? Things are, whether people believe in them or not. There were lights in the sky last night that weren't stars. A person could look the other way, but they'd still have been there.”

He planted his feet again, lifting her until she stood facing him with the water fuming at waist level. Night had drifted in, and the lights of the stars sprinkled over the surface of the water.

“You can turn away from something like this.” He skimmed her wet hair away from her face, left his hands resting there. “But it's still going to be there.”

She pressed a hand against his shoulder as his mouth lowered to hers. She meant to turn away, told herself to turn away, to where everything was safe and ordered and simple.

But the spark he'd spoken of snapped inside her, warm and bright. She curled her fingers into his wet shirt and let herself feel.

Alive. Cold where the air whisked over her skin. Hot in the belly where desire began to build. Testing herself, she leaned into him, parted her lips under his.

He took his time, as much for himself as for her. Sampling, savoring. She tasted of the sea. Smelled of it. For a moment, in the star-drenched surf, he let himself drown.

He eased back, let his hands run over her shoulders, down her arms before he linked his fingers with hers. “Not so complicated.” He kissed her again, lightly, though the lightness cost him. “I'll walk you home.”

“M
ia, can I
talk to you?”

With ten minutes until opening, Nell hurried down from the café. Lulu was already ringing up mail orders and shot her a typically suspicious look while Mia continued to put the finishing touches on a new display.

“Of course. What's on your mind?”

“Well, I . . .” The store was small enough, and empty enough, that Lulu would hear every word. “I thought we could go up to your office for a minute.”

“Here's fine. Don't let Lulu's sour face put you off.” Mia built a small tower out of new summer releases. “She's worried you're going to ask me for a loan, and naturally I'm such a soft touch—along with my soft head—I'll let you rob me blind so I'll die penniless and alone in some filthy gutter. Isn't that right, Lu?”

Lulu merely sniffed and jabbed keys on the cash register.

“Oh, no, it's not about money. I'd never ask for—after you've been so—damn it.” Nell fisted her hands in her hair, tugged until the pain stiffened her spine. Deliberately now, she turned to face Lulu.

“I understand you're protective of Mia, and you have no reason to trust me. I came out of nowhere, with nothing, and haven't been here a month. But I'm not a thief, and I'm not a user. I've carried my weight here, and I'm going to keep carrying it. And if Mia asked me to try serving sandwiches while standing on one foot and singing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy,' I'd give it my best shot. Because I came out of nowhere, with nothing, and she gave me a chance.”

Lulu sniffed again. “Wouldn't mind seeing that myself. Likely bring in fresh trade, too. Never said you didn't carry your weight,” she added. “But that doesn't mean I won't keep a watch on you.”

“Fine with me. I understand.”

“All this sentimental bonding.” Mia dabbed at her lashes. “It's ruining my mascara.” She stepped back from her display, nodded in approval. “Now what do you need to talk to me about, Nell?”

“Mrs. Macey is having an anniversary party next month. She'd like to have a fancy catered affair.”

“Yes, I know.” Mia turned to straighten stock on the shelves. “She'll drive you a bit crazy with changes and suggestions and questions, but you can handle it.”

“I didn't agree to . . . We just discussed it yesterday. I didn't realize you'd heard she asked already. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“It's a small island, word gets around. You don't need to talk to me about an outside catering job, Nell.”

She made a mental note to order more ritual
candles. There'd been a run on them during the solstice, and they were running unacceptably low on Passion and on Prosperity. Which just showed, she supposed, where many people's priorities lay.

“Your free time is your time,” she added.

“I just wanted to tell you that if I did the job for her, it wouldn't interfere with my work here.”

“I should hope not, particularly since I'm giving you a raise.” She glanced at her watch. “Time to open, Lu.”

“You're giving me a raise?”

“You've earned it. I hired you at a probationary salary. You're officially off probation.” She unlocked the door, walked over to turn on the music system. “How was your dinner with Zack the other night?” Mia asked with amusement. “A small island, as I said.”

“It was fine. It was just a friendly dinner.”

“Good-looking boy,” Lulu said. “Quality, too.”

“I'm not trying to lure him into temptation.”

“Something wrong with you, then.” Lulu tipped down her silver frames and peered over them. It was a look she was particularly proud of. “If I were a few years younger, I'd be setting out lures. Got a great pair of hands on him. Bet he knows how to use them.”

“No doubt,” Mia said mildly. “But you're embarrassing our Nell. Now where was I? Gladys's anniversary, check. Raise, check. Dinner with Zack, check.” She paused, tapped a fingertip against her lips. “Ah, yes. Nell, I wanted to ask. Do you have a religious or political objection to cosmetics or jewelry?”

She could find nothing more constructive to do than huff out her breath. “No.”

“That's a relief. Here.” She took off the silver
dangles on her ears, handed them to Nell. “Wear these. If anyone asks where you got them, they come from All That Glitters, two doors down. We like to promote other merchants. I'll want them back at the end of your shift. Tomorrow you might try a little blush, maybe some lipstick, eyeliner.”

“I don't have any.”

“I'm sorry.” Mia held up a hand, laid the other on her heart, and staggered to the counter for support. “I feel a little faint. Did you say you don't own
any
lipstick?”

The corner of Nell's mouth turned up and brought out a hint of dimples. “I'm afraid not.”

“Lulu, we have to help this woman. It's our duty. Emergency supplies. Hurry.”

Lips quivering with what might have been a smile, Lulu hauled a large cosmetic bag out from under the counter. “She's got good skin.”

“A blank canvas, Lu. A blank canvas. Come with me,” she ordered Nell.

“The café—the regulars will be coming in any second.”

“I'm fast, and I'm good. Let's move.” She grabbed Nell's hand, hauled her upstairs and into the rest room.

Ten minutes later, Nell was serving her first customers and wearing silver earrings, peach-toned lipstick, and expertly smudged slate eyeliner.

There was something, she decided, very comforting about feeling female again.

She took
the catering job and crossed her fingers. When Zack asked if she'd like to go for an evening sail, she said yes and felt powerful.

When a customer asked if she could bake a cake in the shape of a ballerina for a birthday party, she said absolutely. And spent her fee on a pair of earrings.

As word spread, she found herself agreeing to provide picnic-style food for a party of twenty for July Fourth and ten box lunches for a private day sailor.

At her kitchen table, Nell spread out notes, files, menus. Somehow she was becoming her own cottage industry. Which, she thought, looking around, seemed perfectly apt.

She glanced up at the brisk knock on the door, and happily welcomed Ripley in.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure. Sit down. Do you want anything?”

“I'm fine.” Ripley sat, then picked up Diego when he sniffed at her shoes. “Meal planning?”

“I've got to organize these catering jobs. If I had a computer . . . Well, eventually. I'd sell my soul for a professional blender. And both feet for a commercial-grade food processor. But for now, we make do.”

“Why don't you use the computer at the bookstore?”

“Mia's already doing enough.”

“Whatever. Listen, I've got this date for the Fourth. A date with potential,” she added. “Casual because Zack and I are more or less on duty right through the night. Fireworks and beer sometimes make people a little too festive for their own good.”

“I can't wait to see the fireworks. Everyone says they're spectacular.”

“Yeah, we do a hell of a job on them. The thing is, this guy—he's a security consultant on the mainland—he's been hitting on me, and I decided to let him land one.”

“Ripley, that's so romantic, I can barely catch my breath.”

“He's really built, too,” Ripley continued as she scratched Diego's ears, “so the after-fireworks fireworks potential is fairly high, if you get me. I've been in a downswing sexwise. Anyway, we talked about having this night picnic deal, and somehow I got stuck with doing the food. Since I think I'd like to jump this guy's bones, I don't want to poison him first.”

“A romantic picnic for two.” Nell made notes. “Vegetarian or carnivore?”

“Carnivore. Not too fancy, okay?” Ripley plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit on the table, popped it in her mouth. “I don't want him more interested in the food than me.”

“Check. Pickup or delivery?”

“This is so cool.” Cheerful, she popped another grape. “I can pick it up. Can we keep it under fifty?”

“Under fifty. Tell him to pick up a nice crisp white wine. Now if you had a picnic hamper . . .”

“We've got one somewhere.”

“Perfect. Bring that by and we'll pack it up. You'll be set, foodwise. The bone-jumping portion of the evening is up to you.”

“I can handle that. You know, if you want, I can ask around, see if anybody's got a secondhand computer they want to sell.”

“That would be great. I'm glad you came by.” She rose, got out two glasses. “I was afraid you were annoyed with me.”

“No, not with you. That particular subject annoys me. It's a bunch of bullshit, just like . . .” She scowled through the screened door. “Well, speak of the devil.”

“I try not to. Why borrow trouble?” Mia sailed in, laid a note on the counter. “Phone message for you, Nell. Gladys and her newest party brainstorm.”

“I'm sorry. You don't have time to run over here this way. I'll speak to her again and I promise I'll see about getting a phone.”

“Don't worry about it. I wanted a walk or I'd have left it for tomorrow. And I'll have a glass of that lemonade.”

“She needs a computer,” Ripley said flatly. “She won't use the one at the store because she doesn't want to hassle you.”

“Ripley. Mia, I'm perfectly fine working this way.”

“She can certainly use the computer at the store when it's free,” Mia said to Ripley. “And she doesn't need you running interference between her and me.”

“She wouldn't if you weren't trying to push your psychic hooey on her.”

“‘Psychic hooey' sounds like the name of a second-rate rock band and has nothing to do with what I am. But even that's better than blind, stubborn denial. Knowledge is always better than ignorance.”

“You want ignorance?” Ripley said, getting to her feet.

“Stop! Stop it.” Jittering inside, Nell put herself between them. “This is ridiculous. Do you two always go at each other this way?”

“Yes.” Mia picked up a glass, sipped delicately. “We enjoy it, don't we, Deputy?”

“I'd enjoy popping you one more, but then I'd have to arrest myself.”

“Try it.” Mia angled her chin. “I promise not to press charges.”

“Nobody hits anybody. Not in my house.”

Instantly contrite, Mia set down her glass, rubbed a hand down Nell's arm. It was rigid as steel. “I'm sorry, little sister. Ripley and I irritate each other, a long-standing habit. But we shouldn't put you in the middle. We shouldn't put her in the middle,” Mia said to Ripley. “It isn't fair.”

“Something we agree on. How about this? If we run into each other here, it's a neutral zone. You know, like Romulan space. No warfare.”

“Romulan Neutral Zone. I've always admired your grip on popular culture. Agreed.” She even picked up the second glass, passed it to Ripley. “There. You see, Nell, you're a good influence on us already.” She handed the third glass to Nell. “To positive influences.”

Ripley hesitated, cleared her throat. “Okay, okay, what the hell. Positive influences.”

And standing in a loose circle, they tapped glasses. They rang like a bell, one bright peal as a shower of light fountained up from that connection of secondhand kitchenware.

Mia smiled slowly as Nell let out a laughing gasp.

“Damn it,” Ripley muttered, and gulped down lemonade. “I hate that.”

Celebrants streamed
to the island for the Fourth. Red, white, and blue flags snapped from the rails of the ferries as they chugged to the mainland and back. Banners and bunting swagged the eaves of the storefronts on High Street, waving cheerfully as tourists and islanders alike jammed the streets and beaches.

For Nell it was anything but a holiday, but that didn't prevent her celebrational mood as she delivered orders. She not only had a job she loved, she had a business she could be proud of.