him, sparkling through the evergreen branches and birch trunks, spread Fischer Bay, dotted with islands glowing green in the early sun. The still-chilly morning air, spiced with the scent of pine and the sea, flowed over him with a cleansing freshness that went a long way toward instilling peace in his always-restless soul. The place definitely got under your skin, into your blood.
He took a few steps toward the south edge of the porch, running his hand along the screen, wet from last night’s rain, causing a shower of drops to fall on his bare forearm. During the year he’d spent nursing his mother, he’d begun to appreciate solitude, something he’d never thought would happen after thirty-three years jammed with people.
But not this much solitude.
He clenched his fist; muscles contracted in his forearm, rolling away the drops of water collected from the screen. Since his energies had stopped being focused on keeping his mother alive, keeping her comfortable, he’d started wanting someone around. Maybe Riley would want to visit. He missed Riley. Maybe a woman. He damn well missed women. He could see a woman here, in this idyllic place, moving around the house, reading on the porch or sitting on the rocky shore watching the water.
He laughed; the sound startled a hummingbird hovering at a nearby tree. Maybe he should pack up and go back to Boston, back to telephones and electricity and cynical city dwellers before he turned into a total sap.
Sounds that had grown unfamiliar broke the tranquil morning behind him in the woods. A rough engine, a truck or a van, crunching stones on the dirt road, pinging them out of the way of its wheels. Slate swung around, staring apprehensively through the house toward the front entrance. Who the hell would be coming at this time of morning?
The bell rang twice, impatiently. He went to the door, grimacing at the intrusion into his day.
A pimply, long-haired kid moved his head in rhythm to whatever horrible music was blaring through his headphones directly into his eardrums. “Telegram. Sign here, please.”
Slate quelled a flash of alarm, signed the form and took the telegram into the house, breathing in relief when the noise of the van engine faded away. He went back out onto the porch and opened the envelope slowly, carefully. Then stared, adrenaline making his body taut.
Just one word: Gemini.
MELISSA SAT ON THE EDGE of her bed in unfamiliar tight black pants, an olive-green tank top and chunky shoes, staring at the Brand-New Her in the mirror. Her straight bob had given way to a short cut that outlined the shape of her face and head and made her eyes look enormous. And lo and behold, freed from the weight of its former length, her hair had actually managed to wave slightly, though it did better on humid days.
After the haircut—miraculously, she’d gotten the appointment two days after she decided on her new look—she’d gone on to take a free makeup lesson at a department store counter, and emerged looking like some Bride of Dracula who had never seen the sun. Pale powdery skin, dark lips, orangey blush in places she never blushed. Layers of eye shadow in progressively lighter shades, which was supposed to make her eyes look “natural,” but which changed their shape so that she scarcely recognized herself… It had been a horror.
So she and Penny had invaded the makeup aisle at Walgreen’s and spent an extended evening with Cosmo as their guide, trying to see if their fresh-faced farm-girl features could be coaxed into exotic sensual splendor.
Okay, well, they got close enough.
Then there was the manicure, and the pedicure, and the rather painful waxing, which did leave her legs fabulously smooth after the welts died down.
Melissa smiled at herself in the dark-framed mirror on her dresser. She did look different. Older. More sophisticated. Better. Up until now, it had been easy—a fun week. But now it was going to get harder, and scary. Now she was going to go over to Rose’s apartment and ask how to meet a man she could have a wild, meaningless fling with. It was like the research was all finished, and now she had to sit down and write the term paper.
She curled her lip. So far she’d made it to the side of her bed closest to the door. The next step would be walking out into her living room. From there, it was a matter of, say, fifteen feet to the front door. Six more to cross the hall. Then the knocking, the waiting, the small talk, and finally, Getting to the Point.
She shook her head in a quick shudder of denial. Insurmountable. She couldn’t do it. Or maybe she could. But maybe tomorrow would be a better—
The phone rang next to her bed. She reached over her ivory bedspread and picked it up eagerly, hoping it was Penny, who would convince her tomorrow was a much better option. Or maybe one of her college roommates, who would talk to her until it was too close to dinner to go over there, or maybe—
“Melissa, it’s Bill.”
“Bill.” Her way-over-him heart gave a traitorous flip. Was this a sign? A sign she was barking up the wrong tree entirely? “How…how are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Fine.” He was distracted, uneasy. He had something to say. She knew without seeing him that he was puckering his mouth and drumming his fingers impossibly fast on whatever surface he was near. “How are you doing?”
“I’m great…. What’s up?” Did he miss her? Did he want to see her? Did he want to get back together?
Forget it. Ha! She’d just tell him—
“I wanted to tell you…” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Maybe this was a stupid mistake. But I thought you should know.”
“Yes?” That I’ve been dreaming of you every night, Melissa. That I miss you more than I can say.
Oh? Sorry, Bill. Life without you is just peachy. In fact, I’m about to—
“I met someone. I’m seeing someone. I…wanted you to hear it from me.”
Melissa clenched her teeth in a huge happy smile and pasted her eyes open extra super-by-gosh wide. “Oh! Bill that’s fabulous! I’m really happy for you. And thanks for telling me. That was so sweet of you!”
“Oh, man, I’m so glad you’re not upset. She’s pretty terrific.” He gave a gooey chuckle. “Hey! Maybe you could come over sometime and meet—”
“Bill, thanks so much for calling. Great to hear from you. Gotta go. Bye.”
Melissa hung up the phone, clenched her fists at her sides and punished her cool gray carpet with angry strides to the mirror, chest heaving from rage and hurt and humiliation and whatever else she could possibly be feeling. What bizarre, illogical trait made her want Bill to still want her just so she could have the luxury of disappointing him? So she could sit on her satin pillow, bejeweled and perfumed, smile indulgently and wave her silk hanky to the guards to drag him off to her castle’s Rejected Males Room?
The minute he’d made it clear he didn’t want her, her castle had turned into a scummy pond, and she was a princess reverting to frogdom, crouching on a cold slimy lily pad, lonely and hurt.
Well, to hell with him.
She turned abruptly and stalked through her apartment, swiped her keys off the hall table, banged through her door, took four furious steps down the corridor and knocked on Rose’s door before she could weaken even slightly and change her mind.
“Who…who
