Nora Roberts - Dance Upon the Air

If, by some chance, Helen was alive and here, the less attention paid to him, the better.

If she were, what would she do? She had no skills. How could she earn a living without him to provide for her? Unless, of course, she'd used her body to entice yet another man. Women were, at the center, whores.

He had to sit back and wait for the fury to pass. It was difficult to think in logical steps through anger. However justified.

He would find her, he reassured himself. If she was alive, he would find her. He would simply know. And that took him to what would be done when and if he did.

There was no question that she would have to be punished. For distressing him, for deceiving him, for attempting to break free of the promises she'd made to him. The inconvenience, the embarrassment of it all couldn't be calculated.

He would take her back to California, of course, but not right away. They would need to go somewhere quiet, somewhere private first, so he could remind her of those promises. So he could remind her who was in charge.

They would say she'd been thrown from the car. That she'd struck her head or some such thing. She'd had amnesia and had wandered away from the scene of the accident.

The press would love it, Evan decided. They would eat it up.

They would work out the details of the story once they were settled in that private, quiet place.

If none of that was possible, if she tried to refuse him, to run again, to go crying to the police as she'd done before, he would have to kill her.

He made the decision as coolly as he had decided what to have for breakfast.

Her choices were just as simple, in his opinion. Live-or die.

At the knock on his door, Evan folded the paper precisely, walked over to answer.

"Good morning, sir," the young maid said cheerfully. "You requested housekeeping service between nine and ten."

"That's right." He checked his watch, noted it was nine-thirty. He had lingered over his thoughts longer than he'd planned.

"I hope you're enjoying your stay. Would you like me to start in the bedroom?"

"Yes."

He sat with his last cup of coffee, watched a report on a fresh hot spot in Eastern Europe that couldn't have interested him less. It was too early to call the coast and see if there was anything he needed to know. But he could call New York. He had a deal cooking there, and it wouldn't hurt to stir the pot.

He went into the bedroom to retrieve his memo book and found the maid, her arms full of fresh linen, staring at the framed photograph of Helen.

"Is there a problem?"

"What?" She flushed. "No, sir. I'm sorry."

She moved quickly to make the bed.

"You were looking at this photograph very intently. Why is that?"

"She's a lovely woman." His voice was sending skitters up her spine. She wanted to get the suite clean and get out.

"Yes, she is. My wife, Helen. The way you looked at the photograph, I thought perhaps you might have met her at some time or other."

"Oh, no, sir, I doubt it. It's just that she reminded me of someone."

He had to consciously stop his teeth from grinding. "Oh?"

"She really looks a lot like Nell-except Nell doesn't have all that beautiful hair or that look of… I don't know, polish, I guess you'd say."

"Really?" His blood began to sizzle, but he kept his voice mild now, almost friendly. "That's interesting. My wife would be fascinated to know there's a woman who looks that much like her."

Nell. Helen's mother had called her Nell. A simple, inelegant name. He had always disliked it.

"Does she live on the island, this Nell?"

"Oh, sure. She's lived here since early summer, in the yellow cottage. Runs the café at the bookstore-does catering, too. Cooks like a dream. You should try the café for lunch. There's a soup-and-sandwich special every day, and you can't beat it."

"I might do that," he said, very softly.

Nell strolled through the back door of Café Book, called out a casual greeting to Lulu, then continued upstairs.

Once she was there, she moved like lightning.

Just under two minutes later, she called down in a voice she tried to infuse with frustrated apology. "Mia, I'm sorry, but could you come up here a minute?"

"Ought to be able to set up on her own by now," Lulu mumbled and earned a slanted look from the boss.

"You ought to be able to give her a break by now," Mia returned and started upstairs.

Nell stood by one of the café tables, where a pretty frosted cake glittered under the lighted birthday candles. Also on the table were a small wrapped box and three flutes frothy with mimosas.

"Happy birthday."

The sweetness of the gesture made up for being caught off guard, as she rarely was. Mia's smile bloomed-absolute delight. "Thank you. Cake?" She lifted a brow as she picked up a flute. "Mimosas, and presents. It almost makes it worth turning thirty."

"Thirty." Coming up behind her, Lulu snorted. "Still a baby. When you hit fifty, we'll talk." She held out another wrapped box, a larger one. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. Well, what first?"

"Wish first," Nell ordered, "and blow out the candles."

It had been a long time since she'd made anything as simple as a wish, but she did so now, then swept her breath over the candles.

"You have to cut the first piece." Nell handed her a cake knife.

"All right. Then I want my presents." Mia cut, then picked up the large box and tore in.

The throw was soft as water, the color of midnight sky. Scattered over it were the symbols of the zodiac. "Oh, Lu, it's fabulous!"

"Keep you warm."

"It's beautiful." Nell stroked the throw. "I tried to imagine it when Lulu described it, but it's so much more."

"Thank you." Mia turned, rubbed her cheek over Lulu's before kissing it.

Though pleased color pinched Lulu's cheeks, she waved Mia away. "Go on, open Nell's before she bursts."

"It's just that they made me think of you," Nell began as Mia set the throw aside to open the little box. Inside were earrings, a dangle of silver stars twinkling against tiny globes of moonstone.

"They're wonderful." Mia held them up to the light before she kissed Nell. "And perfect, particularly today," she added, holding out her arms.

She was wearing black again, but the sleek sweep of the dress was picked out in tiny silver stars and moons. "I couldn't resist it for Halloween, and now these…" She made quick work of slipping off the earrings she'd put on that morning and replacing them with Nell's. "Just top it off."

"Okay, then." Lulu raised her glass. "To hitting the big three-oh."

"Oh, Lulu, don't spoil it." But Mia laughed as she clicked glasses. "I want cake." She lifted her little silver watch that dangled from one of her chains. "We're going to open just a few minutes late today."

It wasn't difficult to find the yellow cottage. Evan drove past it, slowing his car to study the small house tucked among the trees. Little better than a shack, was his opinion, and the insult of it nearly choked him.

She would live in that hovel rather than in the beautiful homes he'd provided for her.

He had to fight the urge to go to the café, to drag her out and into the street. Public scenes, he reminded himself, were not the way to deal with a deceitful wife.

Such things required privacy.

He drove back to the village, parked his car, then went back on foot. His blood was already bubbling. Careful study showed him that none of the neighboring houses were close enough to worry him. Still, he strolled into the trees first, circled around. Stood in their shadows watching the house.

When nothing moved, nothing stirred, he crossed to the back door.

There was a wave of something-something strong and fretful. It seemed to push against him, as if to bar him from the door. For a moment it laid what might have been fear over his skin, and he actually found himself stepping back, off the stoop.