Nora Roberts - Dance Upon the Air

"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.

Independence Day, she thought. She was going to make it hers.

For the first time in nine months, she began to plan for a future that included bank accounts, mail delivery, and personal possessions that couldn't be stuffed into a duffel or backpack at a moment's notice.

A normal, functioning life, she thought as she paused by the display window of Beach Where. The mannequin was wearing breezy summer slacks with bold blue and white stripes and a gauzy white top that scooped low at the breasts. Strappy white sandals as fun as they were impractical adorned its feet.

Nell bit her lip. Her pay was burning a hole in the pocket of her ancient jeans. That had always been her problem, she reminded herself. If she had ten dollars, she could find a way to spend nine of it.

She'd learned how to save and scrimp and resist. How to make five dollars stretch like elastic.

But she hadn't had anything new, anything pretty, in so long. And Mia had been hinting, not quite so gently of late, that she should spruce up a bit on the job.

Plus, she had to make some sort of a showing of herself for the catering sideline. If she was going to be a businesswoman, she should dress the part. On the island that meant casual. Still, casual could mean attractive.

On the other hand, it would be more practical, more sensible, to save the money and invest it in kitchen tools. She needed a food processor more than she needed sandals.

"Are you going to listen to the good angel or the bad angel?"

"Mia." Vaguely embarrassed at being caught daydreaming over a pair of shoes, Nell laughed. "You startled me."

"Great sandals. On sale, too."

"They are?"

Mia tapped the glass just below the Sale sign. "My favorite four-letter word. I smell possibilities, Nell. Let's shop."

"Oh, but I really shouldn't. I don't need anything."

"You really do need work." Mia tossed back her hair, took Nell's elbow in a firm grip, much like a mother with a stubborn child. "Shopping for shoes has nothing to do with need, and everything to do with lust. Do you know how many pair of shoes I own?"

"No."

"Neither do I," she said as she strong-armed Nell into the shop. "Isn't that wonderful? They have those slacks in a candy-cane pink. They'd look fabulous on you. Size six?"

"Yes. But I really need to save for a good food processor." Despite herself she reached out to finger the material of the slacks that Mia pulled off the rack. "They're so soft."

"Try them with this." A brief hunt turned up what Mia considered the perfect top, a clingy white halter. "Don't forget to lose the bra. You've got little feet. Six there, too?"

"Yes, actually." Nell took a discreet peek at the price tags. Even with the sale it was more than she'd spent on herself in months. She was stuttering protests as Mia shoved her behind a dressing room curtain.

"Trying doesn't mean buying," she whispered to herself over and over as she stripped down to her practical cotton panties.

Mia was right about the pink, she thought as she slipped into the slacks. The bright color was an instant mood lifter. But the halter, well, that was another matter. It felt… decadent to wear something so close-fitting without a bra. And the back-she turned to look over her shoulder. There basically wasn't a back.

Evan would never have allowed her to wear something so revealing and casually suggestive.

Even as the thought popped into her mind, Nell cursed herself.

"Okay, back up and erase," she ordered herself.

"How you doing in there?"

"Fine. Mia, it's an adorable outfit, but I don't think…"

Before she could finish, Mia whisked open the curtain and stood, the sandals in one hand while she tapped her lip with the finger of her free hand. "Perfect. Girl-next-door sexy, casual, chic. Add the shoes. I saw this little bag. Just the thing. Be right back."

It was like being marched through a campaign by a veteran general, Nell thought. And she, a mere foot soldier, couldn't seem to do anything but follow orders.

Twenty minutes later, her habitual jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers were tucked into a shopping bag. What was left of her cash was stuffed into a palm-size purse that she wore cross-body and at the hip of her new slacks, which flapped softly around her legs in the frisky breeze.

"How do you feel?"

"Guilty. Great." Unable to resist, Nell wiggled her toes in her new sandals.

"That'll do. Now, let's buy some earrings to go with it."

Nell abandoned all resistance. Independence Day, she reminded herself. She fell for the rose quartz drops the minute she saw them.

"What is it about earrings that makes you feel so confident?"

"Body adornments show that we're aware of our bodies and expect others to be aware as well. Now, let's take a walk on the beach and get some reaction."

Nell fingered the pale pink stones swinging from her ears. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"I've been here a month now, and in all that time I haven't seen you with anyone. A date, I mean. A male companion."

"I'm not interested in anyone at the moment." Mia held the flat of her hand above her brow to skim the beach. "Yes, there was someone. Once. But that was another phase of my life."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes, I did. Very much."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."

"It's no secret," Mia said lightly. "And the wound's long healed. I like being on my own, in control of my destiny, and all the little day-to-day decisions and choices. Coupling requires a certain amount of unselfishness. I'm a selfish creature by nature."

"That's not true."

"Generosity has levels." Mia began to walk, lifting her face to the breeze. "And it's not synonymous with altruism. I do what suits me, which stems from self-interest. I don't find that something to apologize for."

"I've had personal acquaintance with the selfish. You may do what suits you, Mia, but you'd never deliberately hurt anyone. I've watched you with people. They trust you because they know they can."