**Like Lisa's little hats, it must be difficult to earn a decent wage."
Neill thought of his last advance, which could
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have bought this house and its contents two or three times over, and gave his hostess a friendly smile. *'It's not easy, but Fve been pretty lucky. I don't go hungry more than three, maybe four weeks out of the year," he said cheerfully. "And I can always move back in with my parents if things get really ugly.''
Olivia's mouth tightened with disapproval, her pale blue eyes freezing over. '*I hope you'll forgive me for saying so, but it seems odd that a man of your age should be less than self-supporting."
Briefly, Neill considered the possibility of telling her that he thought it was damned ballsy of her to criticize his supposed lifestyle, but he couldn't resist the wicked little voice that prompted him to play the scene out.
**My older brother thinks the same thing," he said, wid^iing his eyes a litde at this seeming coincidence.
**He's more settled then?"
**Like he was cast in concrete. Wife, couple of kids, a mortgage. Like having anvils tied around his neck." He shuddered, throwing his sister-in-law, niece and nephew to the wolves without a second's hesitation. He felt Anne twitch but kept his attention on the woman at the end of the table. She
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was looking at him as if she'd just discovered a slug in her salad
**Not everyone considers a family a burden, Mr. Devlin/'
**I guess not." His slightly puzzled tone carried the suggestion that there was no accounting for taste.
**Your brother sounds like a responsible adult,*' she added, apparently in an attempt to bring him to a sense of his own unworthiness.
**That's Tony, all right/' Neill shook his head regretfully. **He's responsible, but he doesn't have much time for fun. You know, throwing back a few brewskis with the guys and watching football on Sunday, cruising for chicks on Friday night."
Across the table. Jack seemed to choke on his wine. Ignoring him, Neill continued in the same cheerful tone.
* Tony's always after me to get a real job. But the way I look at it, you're only young once, and you might as well play while you can. I figure another four, five years and I'll start thinking about settling down, get myself a cheap little apartment somewhere, maybe find myself a wife with a nice steady job. Not that I'd expect her to support me," he said earnestly. *'But, like you said, it's tough
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for a writer to earn a living, and we'll need a dependable incx)me, especially when the kids start coming."
Ignoring his hostess's outraged expression, he forked up the last bite of peach cobbler.
For the space of several heartbeats, no one said a word. Glancing across the table, Neill caught a gleam of something that might have been amusement in Jack's eyes and barely suppressed laughter in Lisa's. Beside him, Anne seemed to be hardly breathing, and he felt a twinge of regret that he'd let his temper get the better of him. But Olivia Moore's silk-gloved tyranny flicked him on the raw.
It didn't bother him for himself. The older woman's opinion of him and his profession meant less than nothing. As near as he could tell, her husband had managed to divorce himself from his wife's petty tyranny, if not from the woman herself, and, if tonight was anything to go by, her son drowned her out with whiskey. Lisa seemed more amused than offended by the delicately sharpened barbs that came her way. But Anne was neither amused nor drunk, nor did she share her father's abiUty to absent herself from what was going on around her.
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She hadn't said anything, but he could feel the tension in her and was irritated with himself for letting her mother's acid-dipped tongue prod him into playing her game. Any satisfaction he might have gained from the older woman's horrified expression was hardly worth the distress it so clearly caused Anne.
Seeking something to break the sudden silence before it could become uncomfortable, Neill's eyes fell on the cluster of pictures that sat on the buffet. The largest of the group was of a very pretty blonde who looked to be in her late teens. There was a picture of the same girl in the living room. The one in the living room was a formal portrait, showing just her head and shoulders, and he'd thought it was a picture of Anne's mother in her youth. But this was a candid photo, with the girl in jeans and a tank top, laughing into the camera, and, while the resemblance between her and Olivia was marked, it was obvious that they were not one and the same.
**Who is that?" he asked, nodding to the picture.
Anne's eyes followed his, and she felt her heart stop for a moment when she realized who he was asking about. Though her sister's portrait was always there, no one ever mentioned her. Her mother
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might allude to her, usually when speaking of how much she'd lost, but no one ever said her name or openly acknowledged that she'd ever existed. The pattern had been set in the first terrible months after Brooke's death and had simply never been broken.
But Neill couldn't know that, and he'd asked who the girl in the photo was. Anne couldn't bring herself to look at her mother—couldn't, in fact, look away from the laughing girl in the photo. The silence had already stretched too long. She couldn't just sit there like a lump, as if Neill hadn't spoken.
**That's Brooke," her father said calmly, speaking for the first time since the meal had begun. Anne was nearly as shocked by the fact that he'd responded to something that hadn't been addressed directly to him as she had been by Neill's unexpected question. He was looking at Neill, a small, sad smile curving his mouth. **Our older daughter. She...died some years ago, just a short time after that picture was taken, in fact."
*T'm sorry," Neill said sincerely and wondered what was behind the sudden, painful tension his question had evoked.
**I should probably apologize for baiting your mother," Neill said, sliding his hand down Anne's
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arm until he could link his fingers with hers. *'I let my temper get the better of me."
It had been twilight when they walked up the long drive between Anne's cottage and the main house. Now it was full dark, with only the lamps that lined the driveway to light their way. The day's heat lingered to warai the night air, and crickets scratched out a ragged concerto somewhere in the darkness.
**My mother can be...difficult," Anne said, choosing her words carefully to tread the fine line between honesty and loyalty. **She's just...protective of me, I guess. Worried that Fll..."
*Tall in with bad company?" he finished so dryly that she laughed a Uttle.
**I guess." She didn't want to talk about her mother, not when it felt so pleasant to be alone with him like this. The darkness fell like a cloak around them, blocking out the real world, leaving only the two of them to listen to the cricket song and breathe the rose-scented air.
**What happened to your sister?" Neill asked, and Anne felt the peaceful illusion tremble, as if reality were a hanmier, tapping to get inside.
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**She died," she said, after a long moment. *'That's aU."
Neill hesitated and then decided not to push, though instinct told him there was a great deal more to be said. There was something there— something about Brooke or about her death, so that, years later, even the mention of her could fill a room with tension.
But, for now, he was more interested in the fact that he was alone with a pretty girl who fit in his arms as if made to be there.
Chapter Eight
C 4
You know, after spending ten years in L.A., rain in the summer still seems a little miraculous," Lisa conmiented as she held open the shop door for Anne to come in. '*Since I grew up here, you'd think all this would seem normal, but what sticks is those ten yea
rs in the middle."
**I think I read somewhere that a person's weather imprint is established in their twenties," Anne said. She slipped off her jacket and hung it over die back of a chair, then combed her fingers through her damp hair.
''Weather imprint?" Lisa arched a disbelieving brow. "There is no such thing."
"If there isn't now, I bet I could get a govem-ment grant to prove it exists."
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*'Probably. As near as I can tell, the stupider the idea, the more money they're likely to cough up." Lisa locked the front door and threaded her way past several laundry baskets heaped with ribbons, a box fiill of fabric renmants and a giant pretzel can with lace spiUing over the top, until she reached her work counter, where the beginnings of a new hat were spread out.
**I got this idea last night. Fm designing a hat forTitania."
Anne settled on a stool across from her friend and reached absently for a jelly bean. *Titania? You're making a hat for a sunken ship? What's the theme—flippers and a scuba tank?"
**That was the Titanic," Lisa said, grinning. *'Fm talking about Titania—^you know, queen of the fairies. Married to Oberon. I went to the library yesterday and looked them up."
Anne nibbled a jelly bean and considered the array of silk flowers and ribbons heaped together on the counter. **Do fairy queens wear hats? I have this vague idea that they run around naked a lot. Isn't she going to look kind of odd wearing nothing but a hat?"
**I should have said I was making a hat inspired
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by Titania," Lisa said oppressively. **I don't actually expect her to show up to wear it/'
Anne considered this while she ate another jelly bean. '1 like the scuba theme better. You could maybe have an iceberg in the center and a miniature replica of the ship sailing along the brim, or maybe just half the ship dangling off the brim—to represent the sinking."
*Tearls before swine," Lisa muttered in disgust.
Anne frowned a little. *'Were there pigs onboard, too?"
They grinned at each other, well pleased by the absurdity of the exchange.
One of the things Anne enjoyed most about her friendship with Lisa was that they shared a sense of humor. It wasn't until Lisa had moved back to Loving and they'd become friends that she'd realized how seldom anyone in her family laughed. Brooke had laughed a lot, she thought, caught off guard by the sudden memory of it.
*'So, tell me about your Neill," Lisa said, and Anne pushed Brooke's image away.
**He's not my Neill," she protested halfheartedly. *'He's just... We've only gone out together a few times. That's all. There's nothing... I mean, as soon as his bike is fixed, he'll probably
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leave. Certainly leave. It's not as if there's anything between us.... Nothing serious, anyway." She realized she was babbling and drew a slow, shallow breath before finishing with what she hoped was a plausible note of amusement. "I've only known him a week, for heaven's sake."
*'And that's relevant because...?" Lisa glanced at her, her thin brows arched in question.
*'Because no one falls in... I mean, gets serious about someone else in a week."
**There's a law prohibiting it?"
*'Conmion sense prohibits it." Emotions churning, Anne slid off the stool. She might have paced, but boxes and baskets turned the shop into an obstacle course, so she settled for sifting restlessly through the weird assortment of items on one of the shelves. Shells, plastic hula dancers and tiny wooden clogs jostled for space with a slightly balding flocked reindeer, a miniature Easter basket and a ceramic bowl full of fake grapes.
When Lisa didn't say anything, Anne turned to look at her. "Well? Aren't you going to tell me I'm wrong?"
"Do you want me to tell you you're wrong?" Lisa asked mildly.
"Of course not. Because I'm not. I'm right."
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She picked up a plastic windup penguin and turned the knob absently. '*He's only been here a week. He could leave any minute. I'd be crazy to let myself forget that.''
*'No one said you should forget it. I'm just wondering how relevant it is." Lisa's long fingers moved among the flowers and ribbons, pairing, separating, pairing them again. '*Not every relationship has to lead to something permanent, you know."
Anne did know, but she was starting to think that there was nothing she wanted more than for Neill Devlin to be a permanent part of her life. She set the penguin on the counter and watched him waddle along for a few inches until one foot landed on a piece of red velvet ribbon. Off balance, he tilted, seemed to almost right himself, and then fell nose-first onto the table. His legs chumed uselessly until he wound down.
Anne thought she knew just how he felt. She'd been waddling along, feeling as if she had her Ufe fairly well in order. Maybe she'd had a few doubts, wondered where she was heading, but still, she'd been steady on her feet. Then Neill Devlin walked into her life and—^bam!—she was suddenly in danger of falling flat on her face. Just like that penguin.
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**So, are you seeing Neill tonight?" Lisa asked casually.
*'We're having dinner at Luanne's/' Anne disentangled the little toy from the lace and set him back on the shelf, next to a life-sized stuffed chicken.
*'If it makes you feel any better, I liked him,*' Lisa said.
*'It's not a question of liking him. It's just that...I don't know." Anne groped for the words to explain what she was feeling. 'Tor a long time, my life has been pretty smooth. And now, suddenly, things are changing—or I feel like they are."
"And it scares you," Lisa finished for her.
*lt scares the hell out of me," Anne admitted with a sigh. "I don't know how he feels about me. I don't know how I feel about him. I don't know what's going to h^pen tomorrow or next week. It's scary."
Lisa let her hands fall idle amid the flowers and ribbon as she looked at Anne seriously. "Nobody knows what's going to happen tomorrow or next week. No matter how safe and settled your life seems, everything can change in the blink of an eye. You should know that better than most." She
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didn't wait for a response but continued, one comer of her wide mouth tilting in a half smile. **Let me give you the benefit of my eight extra years on the planet and tell you that I think Neill Devlin is the best thing that could possibly have happened to you, even if he ends up breaking your heart.''
Anne gave her a startled look. "Thanks!"
'*You're twenty-five," Lisa said, ignoring the interruption. **And you've been settled in the same rut for the last six years. Nineteen to twenty-five, Anne. Those are the crazy years. That's when you're supposed to have mad affairs and stay up all night talking with a man who might be—^but probably isn't—^the love of your life. That's when you try weird clothes and change your hairstyle half a dozen times a month, and you go to keg parties and drink too much, then throw up on your shoes."
''Sounds lovely," Anne said dryly.
"Not all of it. You get hurt, and you think your life is over, and then you figure out it isn't and you move on." Lisa reached out and set her hand over Anne's. "This last week, you've done more hving than you have in the two years since I came home. Maybe Neill DevUn's going to ride out of town like Shane the minute his bike is fixed. Or maybe the
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two of you will fall madly in love and live happily ever after. Either way, you're finally waking up a Uttle/'
**What if I fall madly in love with him and he still rides away like Shane?" Anne asked slowly,
**Then you'll pick up the pieces of your heart, glue them back together and move on. But at least you'll have known what it's like to love someone/*
The problem, Anne thought, was that she was more than a litde afraid that she already did know what it was like. It was a terrifying thought
Half an hour later, when she left Lisa's shop, the rain had
turned to a sullen drizzle. The sidewalks were empty, traffic at a minimum. On a night like this, not even Luanne's *'guaranteed fine home cooking" could draw many people out. Since the restaurant was only a few doors down from Lisa's studio and across the street, it hardly seemed worth driving, so Anne left Lucy where she was and started walking, her thoughts wavering between her conversation with Lisa and anticipation about seeing Neill.
And the fact that she was feeling such a bubbling sense of anticipation should be a warning, she told herself sternly. It was easy for Lisa to talk about
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putting the pieces of her heart back together again, but she wasn't the one who would have to find the glue with which to do it. If she had any sense, she would tell him she couldn't see him anymore. But it was hard to think sensibly when her heart was beating double time. Maybe Lisa was right. Maybe it was time for her to do something crazy.
Head down, shoulders hunched against the rain, Anne didn't notice when she crossed in front of a narrow alley, didn't see the thin figure dart from its mouth, so she was completely unprepared when something slanmied into her shoulder, nearly knocking her off her feet. Startled and off balance, her hands tightened automatically on her purse when her assailant grabbed for it. Instinct had her hanging on when he jerked at it.
**Give me the fucking purse, lady." The words were spat out at her.
Anne wanted nothing more than to comply. There was nothing in her purse that couldn't be replaced, nothing worth risking her life over. But her fingers were locked in a death grip over the soft leather and didn't respond to her mental orders to let go.
Cursing, her assailant used his hold on the purse as leverage and spun her around. Anne cried out in
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pain as her shoulder slammed into the brick face of the building. And still she couldn't get her fingers to loosen their hold on the purse.
**Goddanm bitch. Give me the bag.'' She had a flashing impression of a narrow face, red-rinmied, colorless eyes and lank brown hair. And then the thin light caught on a blade and everything else vanished.
Fear clawed at her throat and blurred her vision. She was going to die. Right here, on the sidewalk, in plain sight of anyone who happened to drive by. Only it was past eight and no one was driving by, and, if they were, their attention would be focused on the wet road, on getting home in time to catch their favorite sitcom or tuck the kids in bed. And even if they glanced this way, they might not see what was happening. The light was poor, and the rain made it worse.
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