Dance Upon the Air Page 0,13

what Mia had meant. Like recognizing like. They both belonged on the island. Maybe, in some lovely way, they belonged to it. It was as simple as that.

Still, Mia was an intuitive woman, and an oddly powerful one. She sensed secrets. Nell could only hope she was as good as her word and wouldn't pry. If anyone started digging through the layers, she would have to leave. No matter how much she belonged, she couldn't stay.

It wasn't going to happen.

Nell got to her feet, stretching up her arms to the thin sunbeams, and turned slow circles. She wouldn't let it happen. She was going to trust Mia. She was going to work for her and live in the little yellow cottage and wake each morning with a giddy, glorious sense of freedom.

In time, she thought as she began to walk back toward her house, she and Mia might become real friends. It would be fascinating to have a friend that vivid, that clever.

What was it like to be a woman like Mia Devlin? she wondered. To be someone so utterly beautiful, so sublimely confident? A woman like that would never have to question herself, to remake herself, to worry that whatever she did, or could do, would never be good enough.

What a marvelous thing.

Still, while a woman might be born beautiful, confidence could be learned. It could be won. And wasn't there amazing satisfaction from winning those small battles? Every time you did, you went back to war better armed.

Enough dawdling, enough introspection, she thought and quickened her pace. She was going to blow the last of her advance at the garden center.

If that wasn't confidence, she decided, what was?

***

They let her open an account. Another debt to Mia, Nell thought as she drove back across the island. She worked for Mia Devlin, so she was looked upon kindly, she was trusted, she was allowed to take away merchandise on the strength of her signature on a tally.

A kind of magic, she supposed, that existed only in small towns. She'd struggled not to take advantage, and had still ended up with half a dozen flats. And pots, and soil. And a silly stone gargoyle who would guard what she planted.

Eager to begin, she parked in front of the cottage and hopped out. The minute she opened the back door of the car, she was immersed in her small, fragrant jungle.

"We're going to have such fun, and I'm going to take wonderful care of all of you."

Feet planted firmly, she stretched inside to lift the first tray.

Hell of a view, Zack thought as he stopped across the street. A small, shapely female bottom in snug, faded jeans. If a man didn't spend a minute appreciating that, he was a sorry individual.

He got out of his cruiser, leaned against the door, and watched her take out a flat of pink and white petunias. "Pretty picture."

She jerked, nearly bobbled the tray. He noted that, just as he noted the alarm shoot into her eyes. But he straightened lazily, strolled across the street.

"Let me give you a hand."

"That's all right. I've got it."

"And a lot more. Gonna be busy." He reached past her, took out two more flats. "Where're you going with them?"

"Just around the back for now. I haven't decided where I'm putting everything yet. But really, you don't have to-"

"Smells good. What've you got here?"

"Herbs. Rosemary, basil, tarragon, and so on." The quickest way to be rid of him, she decided, was to let him cart the trays around. So she started across the yard. "I'm going to put in an herb bed outside the kitchen, maybe add a few vegetables when I have time."

"Planting flowers is planting roots, my mother always says."

"I intend to do both. Just on the stoop'll be fine. Thank you, Sheriff."

"You've got a couple more in the front seat."

"I can-"

"I'll fetch them. Did you think to get any soil?"

"Yes, in the trunk."

He smiled easily, held out his hand. "I need the keys."

"Oh. Well." Trapped, she dug in her pocket. "Thanks."

When he strolled off, she clasped her hands together. It was all right. He was just being helpful. Not every man, not every cop, was a danger. She knew better than that.

He came back loaded, and the sight of him, a huge bag of soil slung over one shoulder and a flat of pink geraniums and white impatiens in his big hands, made her laugh.

"I got too much." She took the flowers from him. "I only meant to