Key of Knowledge - SG - Chaps 12&13 - 18/7/10 - Page 5

Chapter Fifteen

There was very little that Gunjan dragged herself out of bed for. Work, of course, was the primary incentive. But when she had the morning off, her main choice for entertainment was sleep. Giving that up at Mayank's request demonstrated, in her opinion, extreme sisterly affection. And should earn her major points, to be redeemed in any future necessity. She knocked on Nupur's door at seven-thirty, wearing a Groucho Marx T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of Oakleys. Because he knew his sister, Mayank opened the door and shoved a steaming cup of coffee into her hands.

M -"You're a peach. You're a jewel. You are my personal treasure chest."

G -"Stuff it." She strode in, sat on the couch, and began to inhale the coffee. "Where's Nups?"

M-"Still sleeping."

G-"Got bagels?"

M-"I don't know. I didn't look. I should've looked," he said instantly. "I'm a selfish bas***d, thinking only of myself."

G-"Excuse me, but I'd have liked to say that."

M-"Just saving you the time and energy. I've got to go. I need to be at the paper in… shit, twenty-six minutes," he said when he looked at his watch.

G-"Just tell me why I'm in Nupur's apartment, drinking coffee and hoping there are bagels, when she's asleep."

M-"I don't have time to get into it. She had a rough one, and I don't want her to be alone. At all, Gunjan." And added assertedly "AT ALL."

M-"Jesus, Mayank, what? Did somebody beat her up?"

G-"You could say that. Emotionally speaking. And it wasn't me," he added as he headed for the door. "Just stick with her, will you? I'll shake loose as soon as I can, but I've got a full slate today. Let her sleep, then, I don't know, keep her busy. I'll call." He was out the patio door and loping away while Gunjan scowled after him.

G-"For a reporter, you're sure stingy with the deets." Deciding to make the best of it, she got up to raid Nupur's kitchen. She was taking the first enthusiastic bite of a poppy-seed bagel when Nupur came in. Heavy-eyed, Gunjan noted. A little pale. Considerably rumpled. She imagined the rumpled part was on Mayank.

G-"Hi. Want the other half?" Obviously groggy, Nupur just blinked.

N-"Hi, yourself. Where's Mayank?"

G-"He had to run. Go stand for journalism and all that. Want some coffee instead?"

N-"Yes." She rubbed her eyes and tried to think. "What're you doing here, Gunji?"

G-"Don't have a clue. Mayank called me, at the ungodly hour of about forty minutes ago, and asked me to come over. He was short on details but long on pleading, so I hauled my ass over here. What's up?"

N-"I guess he's worried about me." She considered it, then decided she didn't mind very much. "That's sort of sweet."

G -"Yeah, he's sugar. Why is he worried about you?"

N-"I think we'd better sit down." She told Gunjan everything.

G -"What did he look like?" demanded.

N-"Well… strong face, leaning toward the ascetic side. Wait a minute—I think I can sketch it." She got up to take a pad and pencil from a drawer, then sat down again. "He had very well-defined features, so it won't be too hard. But more than how he looked was the way he felt. Compelling. Even charismatic."

G -"What about the house you were in?" pressed while Nupur worked.

N-"I just got impressions. It seemed so familiar in the dream, the way your home does. So you don't notice a lot of details. Two-story with a lawn in the back, a pretty garden. Sunny kitchen."

G-"It wasn't Mayank's house?" Nupur looked up then.

N- "No," she said slowly. "No, it wasn't. I didn't think of that. Wouldn't you assume it would be? If it's my fantasy, why weren't we living in his house? It's a great house, it's already in my head."

G-"Maybe he couldn't use Mayank's house because it's already occupied, and… I don't know. It's probably not important."

N-"I think everything's important. Everything I saw and felt and heard. I just don't know how yet. Here…" She turned the pad around. "It's rough, but that's the best I can do. It's a pretty decent impression of him anyway."

G-"Wow!" pursed her lips, whistled. "So Kane the sorcerer's a hottie."

N-"He scares me, Gunjan."

G-"He couldn't hurt you, not really. Not when it came right down to it."

N-"Not this time. But he was in my head. It was like an invasion." She pressed her lips together. "A kind of rape. He knows what I feel, and what I wish for."

G-"I'll tell you what he didn't know. He didn't know you'd tell him to kiss your ass." Nupur sat back.

N-"You're right. He didn't know I'd refuse, or that I'd understand—even in the

With considerable reluctance, Gunjan tagged along when Nupur decided to work at Mayank's house. It made sense, as the two paintings were there. But so was Samrat Shergill. Her hopes that he would be out somewhere were quashed when she saw the vintage Thunderbird in Mayank's driveway.

G -"Always had a thing about cars," she muttered, and though she sniffed at the T-Bird, she secretly admired its lines, the sweep of tail fins and the sparkle of chrome.

She'd have paid money to get behind the wheel and open that engine up on a straightaway.

G-"Don't know why the jerk has to have a car when he lives in Manhattan."

Nupur recognized the tone, both the sulkiness and the bitterness, and paused at the door. N-"Is this going to be a problem for you? Maybe we can make arrangements to see the paintings again when Sam's not here."

G-"No problem for me. He doesn't exist in my reality. I long ago drowned him in a vat of ebola. It was a messy, yet oddly satisfying, task."

N -"Okay, then." Rolled her eyes and lifted a hand to knock, but Gunjan nudged her aside.

G -"I donot knock on my brother's door." She shot her key into the lock. "No matter what morons he might have staying with him."

She strode in, prepared for a confrontation. Unwilling to be so easily deflated when she didn't see him, she slammed the door.

N-"Gunjan."

G-"Oops. Slipped." Hooking her thumbs in her pockets, she strolled into the living room. "Just where we left them," she said with a nod at the paintings. "And you know what, I don't see anything different about them either. Job's done for today. Let's go shopping or something."

N-"I want to do a more thorough study of them, and I want to go through all the research notes. But there's no reason for you to hang around."

G-"I promised Mayank that I won't leave you alone."

N -"Mayank's a worrywart."

G -"Well, yeah, but I promised." Sensing movement in the doorway behind her, she stiffened. "And unlike some, I keep my promises."

S -"And hold a grudge with equal fervor," Sam commented. "Hello, ladies. What can I do for you?"

N -"I'd like to go over the paintings and my notes again, I hope you don't mind."

G -"Who's he to mind? It's not his house."

S -"True enough." looking tough in black jeans and black T-shirt, leaned against the doorjamb. "Help yourself."

G- "Haven't you got something better to do than lurk? A book to pretend to write, a publisher to skin."

S -"You know us commercial fiction hacks. We just knock 'em out in a couple weeks, then lounge around on our royalties."

N -"I don't mind if the two of you want to fight, really, I don't." Nupur dumped her briefcase, fat with notes, on the crate. "But maybe you could take it to another room."

S -"We're not fighting. This is fore-play."

G -"In your dreams."

S -"Sweetie, in my dreams you're usually wearing a lot less. Let me know if I can help you out with anything, Nupur." He straightened, then strolled away.

G -"Be right back." Gunjan was after him like a rocket. "In the kitchen, hotshot." She streamed by, then gritted her teeth while she waited for him to catch up. He moved at his own pace, she thought, and always had. Her temper sparked as he wandered in. She was readying the first salvo when he stepped right up, gripped her hips, and covered her shocked mouth with his. The blast of heat blew straight through her. That had always been, as well. Fire and flash and promise all balled together in some sort of molten comet that exploded in the brain and left the system wrecked. Not this time, not this time. Not ever again. With considerable force she shoved him back a step. She wouldn't slap. Too predictable and female. But she very nearly punched.

S -"Sorry. I thought that was what you called me out here for."

G -"Try that again, and you'll be bleeding from various fatal wounds." He shrugged, sauntered over to the coffeepot.

S -"My mistake."

G -"Damn right. Any rights you had to touch me expired a long time ago. You may be part of this thing because you happened to buy that damn painting, and I'll tolerate you because of that. And because you're Mayank's friend. But as long as you're here, you'll abide by the rules."

He poured two mugs of coffee, set hers on the counter.

S -"Spell them out for me."

G -"You don't ever touch me. If I'm about to step in front of a damn bus, you don't so much as reach out to pull me back to the curb."

S -"Okay. You'd rather be run over by a bus than have me touch you. Check. Next?"

G -"You're a son of a bitch." Something that might have been regret flashed across his face.

S - "I know it. Look, let's step back a minute. Mayank's important to both of us, and this is important to Mayank. That woman out there's important to him, and she's important to you. We're all connected here, whether we want to be or not. So let's try to figure it out. He was in and out of here in about three minutes flat this morning. I didn't get much more out of him then, or when he called last night, than that Nupur's in trouble. Fill me in."

N -"If Nupur wants you to know, she'll tell you." Hand her an olive branch, he thought, and she rams it down your throat.

S -"Still a hard-ass."

N -"It's private stuff," she snapped. "Intimate stuff. She doesn't know you." Despite a thousand vows, she felt her eyes fill. "Neither do I." That single tearful look punched a hole in his heart.

S -"Gunjan." When he stepped toward her, she snatched a bread knife off the counter.

G -"Put your hands on me again, I'll hack them off at the wrist."

He stayed where he was, slid his hands into his pockets.

S -"Why don't you just stick it in my heart and get it over with?"

G -"Just stay away from me. Mayank doesn't want Nupur left alone. You can consider this your shift, because I'm leaving."

S -"If I'm going to be guard dog, it would help to know what I'm guarding against."

G -"Big, bad sorcerers." She yanked open the back door. "Anything happens to her, I'll not only jam that knife in your heart, I'll cut it out and feed it to the dog and for a change I don't think Mayank would mind."

S -"Always were good with imagery," he drawled after she'd slammed out.

He rubbed a hand over his stomach. She'd tied it in knots—something else she was damn good at. He looked at the coffee she hadn't touched. Though he knew it was foolishly symbolic, he picked up the cup and poured the coffee down the sink.

Nupur studied the paintings until her vision blurred. She made more notes, then stretched out on the floor to stare at the ceiling. She jumbled what she knew in her head, hoping it would form a new, clearer pattern. A singing goddess, shadows and light, what was within herself and outside herself. To look and see what she hadn't seen. Love forged the key. Hell. Three paintings, three keys. Did that mean there was a clue, a sign, a direction in each painting for each key? Or was there a compilation in the three paintings for the first key? For hers? Either way, she was missing it. There were common elements in each portrait. The legendary subject matter, of course. The use of forest and shadows. The figure cloaked by them. That would be Kane. Why was Kane in the portrait of Arthur? Had he actually been there at the event, or was his inclusion, and Rowena's and Pitte's, symbolic? But still, even with those common elements, the Arthurian portrait didn't seem part of what she was certain was a set. Was there another painting, to complete the triad, of the Daughters of Glass? Where would she find it, and what would it tell her when she did? She rolled over, examined the portrait of young Arthur once more. The white dove at the right top. A symbol for Guinevere? The beginning of the end of that shining moment? Betrayal by love. The consequences of love. Wasn't she dealing with consequences of love now, within herself? The soul was as much a symbol of love and beauty as the heart was. Emotions, poetry, art, music. Magic. Soulful elements. Without a soul, there were no consequences, and no beauty. If the goddess could sing, didn't that mean she still had her soul? The key might be in a place where there was art, or love. Beauty or music. Or where the choice to keep them or discard them was made. A museum, then? A gallery? The Gallery, she thought and bolted to her feet.

N -"Gunjan!" She dashed toward the kitchen, pulling up short when she saw Sam sitting at the scarred table working on a small, sleek laptop.

N-"Sorry. I thought Gunjan was in here."

S -"She took off hours ago."

N -"Hours?" Nupur passed a hand over her face as if coming out of a dream. "I lost track of time."

S -"Happens to me regularly. Want some coffee?" He glanced toward the empty pot on the counter. "All you have to do is make it."

N -"No, I really need to… You're working. I'm sorry to interrupt."

S -"No problem. I'm having one of those days where I fantasize about having an alternate profession. Like being a lumberjack in the Yukon or a bartender at a tropical resort."

N -"Pretty disparate choices."

S -"Either of which seems like more fun than what I'm doing."

She noted the empty coffee cup, the half-full ashtray set beside the jazzy laptop on a secondhand picnic table in a stupendously ugly kitchen.

N -"Could be the ambience isn't particularly conducive to creativity."

S -"When things are going well, you can be in a sewer with a notebook and a Ticonderoga."

N -"I suppose that's true, but I'm wondering if you're set up in this… unfortunate room because you're watching out for me."

S- "Depends." He eased back, fiddled with his dwindling pack of cigarettes. "If that's okay with you, sure. If it's going to piss you off, then I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." She cocked her head.

N -"And if I said I had to leave now, that there's something I want to check out?"

He gave her an easy smile, one she thought might pass for innocent on a less wicked face.

S -"I'd say, is it okay if I tag along? It might do me good to get out of the house for a while. Where are we going?"

N -"The Gallery. It occurred to me that the key must be attached to art, to beauty, to the paintings. It's the most logical place in the area to look."

S -"Uh-huh. So, you're going to walk into a public place of business, during business hours, and nobody's going to mind if you go on a scavenger hunt through the stock and/or office areas."

N -"Well, when you put it that way." Deflated, she sat across from him. "Do you think this whole thing is just some kind of lunacy?"

Sam recalled watching several thousand dollars appear and disappear.

S -"Not necessarily."

N -"And if I said I might have a way to get into The Gallery after business hours?"

S-"I'd say you wouldn't have been picked to be a part of this unless you were a creative woman with a flexible mind who's willing to take some chances."

Nupur took the keys from Benji and gave him a huge hug in return.

N -"I owe you big."

B -"I'll say, but I'll settle for any sort of an explanation."

N -"As soon as I can. I promise."

B -"Nups, this is all getting really weird. You get fired, then you hack into Sheena's files. You turn down the invitation to come back to home and hearth with a substantial raise. And now you're going to skulk around the place after closing."

N -"You know what?" She jingled the keys in her hand. "That's not the really weird part. All I can tell you is I'm doing something important, and with the best intentions. I'm not going to do The Gallery or Rahul, or most especially you, any harm."

B -"I'd never think you would."

N -"I'll have these back to you tonight. First thing in the morning at the latest."

Benji glanced out the window to see Mayank loitering on the sidewalk. "This doesn't have anything to do with sexual fetishes or fantasies?"

N -"No."

B -"Well, that's a shame. I'm walking away. I'm going to have a beer, maybe two, and put all this completely out of my mind."

N -"Do just that." He started out, then stopped and looked back at her.

B -"Whatever you're doing, Nupur, be careful."

N -"I will. Promise."

She waited, watched Benji stop to speak to Mayank before sauntering off. She opened the door, gestured Mayank in, then locked it, set the security code.

N- "What did Benji say to you?"

M -"That if I got you into any sort of trouble he'd hang me up by my balls and then snip off various other body parts with a pair of craft scissors."

N-"Ouch. Good one."

M -"You bet." He peered out the window to make sure Benji was gone. "And let me tell you, if I was thinking about getting you into any sort of trouble, that image would be a very strong deterrent."

N -"I guess, when it comes down to it, I'm the one who could be getting you in trouble. There's the legal angle, the criminal angle, and your reputation as publisher and editor in chief of the Dispatch on the line here. You don't have to do this."

M-"I'm in. Craft scissors are those little pointy ones that have zigzag teeth , right?"

N -"That's right." He hissed out a breath…while she looked on amused.

M- "Yeah, I was afraid of that. Where do we start?"

N -"Upstairs, I think. We can work our way down. Assuming the keys in the painting are in proportion, it'll be about three inches long."

M -"Little key."

N -"Yes, a fairly little key. The business end is a single, simple drop," she continued and handed him a small sketch. "The other end is decorative, this complex pattern. It's a Celtic design, a triple spiral called a triskeles . Ridz found the pattern in one of Gunji's books."

M-"You three make a good team."

N-"It feels like it. It's gold, probably solid gold. I can't imagine we won't recognize it when we see it."

He glanced toward the main showroom with its vaulted ceilings and generous space. There were the paintings, of course, and the sculpture and other artworks. Display cases and tables. Drawers and chests and counters with infinite cubbyholes.

M -"A lot of places a key might hide in here."

N -"Wait until we get into the storage and shipping areas."

They started in the offices. Nupur set aside her guilt at going through drawers, riffling through personal items. This wasn't any time for delicacy, she told herself. She crawled around Rahul's desk, searching under it.

M -"Do you really think people like Rowena and Pitte, or whatever god's in charge of hiding the keys, would tape the secret key to the bottom of a desk drawer?"

She sent him a sulky look as she slid the drawer back in place.

N-"I don't think we can afford to overlook any possibility."

She looked so cute, he thought, sitting on the floor with her hair tied back from her face and her mouth all pouty. He wondered if she'd worn black because she felt it suited the circumstances. It would be just like her.

M -"Fair enough, but we'd get through those possibilities faster if we called the whole team in."

N -"I can't have a pack of people running around here. It's just not right." And the guilt of what she was doing scraped her conscience like ragged fingernails. "It's bad enough you're here. You can't use anything you see here in a story."

He crouched down with her, stared into her face with eyes that had gone winter cool.

M -"Is that what you think?"

N -"It doesn't seem unreasonable that the thought crossed my mind." She rose to take a painting off the wall. "You're a journalist," she continued as she checked the frame, tested the backing. "I owe something to this place, to Rahul. I'm just saying that I don't Want him involved." She rehung the painting, chose another.

M -"Maybe you should write up a list of what is and isn't appropriate for me to write about. In your opinion."

N -"There's no need to get testy."

M -"Oh, yeah, there is. I've invested a lot of my time and energy in this, and I haven't printed a word. Don't question my ethics, Nupur, just because you're questioning your own. And don't ever tell me what I can or can't write."

N-"It's just a matter of saying this is off the record."

M-"No, it's not. It's a matter of you trusting and respecting someone you claim to love. I'm going to start in the next room. I think we'll do better separately."

Just how, she wondered, had she managed to screw that one up so completely? She took the last painting off the wall, ordered herself to concentrate. Obviously Mayank was oversensitive. She'd made a perfectly reasonable request, and if he wanted to get huffy about it, it was his problem. She spent the next twenty minutes going over every inch of the room, and comforting herself with her conviction that he'd overreacted. They didn't speak for the next hour, and though they were two people performing the same task in the same space, they managed to avoid contact. By the time they started on the main level, they'd developed a rhythm, but they still weren't speaking. It was tedious, frustrating work. Checking every painting, every sculpture, every pedestal and objet d'art. Going over the stairs tread by tread, crawling along the trim. Nupur took herself off to the storeroom. It was both painful and thrilling to come across newly acquired pieces, or to see others that had been sold since she'd left The Gallery and were waiting to be crated and shipped. Once she'd been privy to every step and stage, and had been granted the right to acquire items and negotiate a price. In her heart The Gallery had been hers. She couldn't count the times she'd been inside it after hours like this. No one would have questioned her presence then. There would have been no need to beg the keys from a friend, or to feel guilt. To question her ethics, she admitted. She wouldn't have felt this awful grief, she realized. Grief that this part of her life had been taken away

from her. Maybe she was crazy for refusing the offer to take it back. Maybe she was making a huge mistake by deviating from the sensible, the tangible . She could go back and speak to Rahul, tell him she'd changed her mind. She could slide back into routine again, have what she'd always had. And it would never be the same. That was the grief. Her life was changed, irrevocably. And she hadn't taken the time to mourn the loss.

She did so now, with every piece she touched, every minute she spent in the space that had once been the most important part of her life. She revisited a thousand memories, so many of them part of the day-to-day routine that had meant nothing at the time. And everything once it had been taken away.

Mayank pulled open the door.

M -"Where do you want to—" He broke off when she turned toward him. Her

eyes were dry, but devastated. She held a rough stone sculpture in her arms as she might a child. "Whats wrong?" concern immediately springing in his eyes.

N -"I miss this place so much. It's like something's died." Very gently, she replaced the sculpture on a shelf. "I acquired this piece, about four months ago. It's a new artist. He's young, with all the fire and temperament you'd expect from the feel of his work. He's from a small town in Maryland, and he's had a little local luck, but no major gallery showed any interest. It felt good to give him his first real break, and to think of what he might do, what we might do in the future." She ran a fingertip over the stone. "Someone bought this. I didn't have anything to do with that part, don't even recognize the name on the invoice. It's not mine anymore."

M -"It wouldn't have been here or have been sold if it wasn't for you."

N -"Maybe, but those days are over. I don't have a place here anymore. I'm sorry for what I said before. Very sorry I hurt your feelings."

M -"Forget it."

N -"No." She drew a breath. "I'm not going to say I didn't have some concerns about how you might handle this whole thing eventually. I can't claim that I have absolute trust in you. That conflicts with loving you, and I can't explain it. No more than I can explain how I know the key's not here. How I knew that the minute I walked in to get the keys from Benji. I still have to look, have to finish what I started. But it's not here, Mayank. There's nothing here for me now."

Chapter Sixteen

Mayank closed the door of his office, a signal that he was writing and was not to be disturbed. Not that anybody paid a great deal of attention to the signal, but it was the principle of the thing. He let the idea for the column simply flow out initially, a kind of serpentine river of thought that he would channel into a more disciplined form on the second pass. What defined the artist? Were artists only those who created what was perceived as the beautiful or the shocking, those who formed some piece of work that delivered a visceral punch? In painting, in music, in literature or theater? If so, did that make the rest of the world nothing more than the audience? Passive observers whose only contribution was applause or criticism? What became of the artist without the audience? Not his usual sort of column, Mayank mused, but it had been kicking around in his head since the night he and Nupur had searched The Gallery. It was time to let it out. He could still see the way she'd looked in that storeroom. A stone figure in her arms and grief swimming in her eyes. In the three days since, she'd kept him and everyone else at arm's length. Oh, she paid lip service to being busy, to following different angles on her quest, to putting her life back in order. Though from his point of view there'd never been any real disorder to it. Still, she refused to come out. And she wouldn't let him in. Maybe the column was a kind of message to her. He rolled his shoulders, tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk until his mind shifted back and found the words. But his day didn't get any better and he had another power fight with Rhonda.

He escaped for an hour in the afternoon to meet Arman and Sam at the Main Street Diner. It hadn't changed much since the three of them had gathered there regularly after football games or for late-night bullshit sessions that had revolved around girls and life plans. The air was still ripe with the smell of the diner's signature chicken-fried steak, and the counter still held a four-tiered display rack of that day's pies. As Mayank looked down at the burger he'd ordered out of habit, he wondered if it was the diner that had gotten stuck in the past, or himself. He frowned at Armi's club sandwich.

M- "Trade me."

A-"You want my sandwich?"

M -"I want your sandwich. Trade me." To solve the matter, he switched the plates himself.

A -"If you didn't want a burger, why'd you order one?"

M -"Because. I'm a victim of habit and tradition."

A-"And eating my sandwich is going to solve that?"

M -"It's a start. I also started breaking habit by reaming Rhoda out at the paper this morning. Once she comes out of shock, I'm pretty sure she'll start planning my demise."

S -How come you wanted his sandwich instead of mine?" Sam asked.

M"I don't like Eggplant." Sam considered, then switched his plate with Armi's.

A -"Jesus, are we finished playing musical plates now?" Arman scowled at the Eggplant, then decided it actually looked pretty good. Though he was already wishing he had his burger back, Mayank picked at the club sandwich.

M-"Do you think staying in your hometown all your life keeps you too attached to the past, too resistant to change and growth, and thereby inhibits your ability to function as a mature adult?"

S-"I didn't know this was going to be a philosophical discussion." But willing to play, Sam considered the question as he squeezed ketchup on the burger. "It could be said that staying in your hometown means you're comfortable there and have created strong roots and ties. Or that you're just too lazy and complacent to get your ass out."

M-"I like it here. Took me a while to come to that. Up until recently I'd been pretty complacent about how things were going. Complacency's taken a backseat since around the first of the month."

A -"Because of the keys? Or Nupur?"

M -"One goes with the other. The keys, that's an adventure, right? Sir Galahad and the Holy Grail, Indiana Jones and the Lost Ark."

S- "Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny,"

M -"Right, same deal." You could always count on Sam to get your drift, Mayank thought. "None of our lives are going to suffer if we don't find them. Not really."

A -"One year, That's a pretty stiff penalty clause to my way of thinking."

M -"Okay, yeah." plucked a potato chip from the little mound beside his sandwich. "But I'm having a hard time seeing either Rowena or Pitte punishing these women."

S -"They may not be the ones who do the messing, They may simply be the conduit, so to speak, to reward or punishment. Why do we assume they have a choice either?" Though that thought had Mayank sweating he curbed it immediately.

M -"Trying to think positive here, And the idea that we will find the keys, and what happens then, is compelling."

A- "Besides the fact that it's a puzzle, and it's damn hard to walk away from a puzzle."

M- "Then there's the magic. The acceptance that magic, some kinds of magic, are real. Not an illusion, but an actual kick in the ass of the natural order. I mean, how cool is that? That's the kind of thing we give up when we become adults. The casual belief in magic. This has given it back."

S -"You want to look at it as a gift or a burden? Could go either way."

M -"Thanks again, Mr. Bright Side. But yes, I know that too. We're coming up on deadline here. A little more than a week. If we don't find it, maybe we'll pay, maybe we won't. But we'll never know ."

A -"You can't dismiss the potential consequences of failure,"

M -"I'm trying to believe that nobody's going to screw up the lives of three innocent women because they tried and failed."

S -"You go back to the beginning of this, and the lives of three innocent women—demigoddesses or not—were screwed up simply because they existed. Sorry, pal."

A -"Add in that the women in the portrait look like the women we know. There's a reason for that, and the reason puts them at the core of it all."

M -"I'm not letting anything happen to Nupur."

S - "Just how stuck on her are you?"

M -"That's another question. I haven't figured it out."

S -"Well, we'll help you there." Sam winked at Armi. "What're friends for? How's the sex?"

M -"Why's that always first with you? That's a lifelong pattern."

S -"Because I'm a guy. And if you don't think women rate sex high on the list, you're a sad and pitiful fool."

M -"It's great. You only wish you were having this level of sex with a beautiful woman. But it's not like that's the only thing going on between us. We have actual conversations, with and without clothes on."

A -"Including phone conversations? That last over five minutes?"

M -"Yeah, so?"

A -"Just making the list. Have you cooked her anything? Not just nuking something, but using an actual stove."

M -"I just made her some soup when—"

A -"That counts. Take her to any chick flicks?"

Frowning, Mayank picked up a triangle of sandwich.

M -"I don't know that it qualified as a chick flick." He set it down again. "Okay, yes. Once, but it was—"

S -"No explanations, this part of the quiz is true or false. We can move on to our essay section, Picture your life in, let's say five years. That work?" he asked Armi.

A -"Some require ten, but I think we can be more lenient. Five works for me."

S -"Okay, picture your life in five years. Can you structure the visual without her being in it?"

M -"I don't know how I'm supposed to picture five years from now when I'm not sure what I'll be doing in five days."

But he could, he could see his house, with some of the long-term plans he had for it in place. He could see himself at the paper, walking Moe, hanging out with Gunjan. And he could see Nupur at every angle. Walking down the stairs in the house, coming by the paper to meet him, chasing Moe out of the kitchen. He went a little pale.

M-"Oh, man."

S -"She's in there, isn't she?"

M -"She's in there all right."

S -"Congratulations, son." Sam slapped him on the shoulder. "You're in love."

M -"Wait a minute. What if I'm not ready?"

Arman knew all about luck and decided his was in when he stepped out of the diner and spotted Ridz stopped at the traffic light. She was wearing dark wraparound sunglasses and moving her lips in a way that made him assume she was singing along with the car stereo. It wasn't stalking, exactly, if he just happened to hop in his car, zip out into traffic and follow. The fact that he cut off a pickup truck was completely incidental.

It was reasonable, even important, that they get to know each other better. He could hardly help Mayank if he didn't know the women Mayank was connected to. That made sense. It had nothing to do with obsession. Just because he'd bought a painting with her face in it, just because he couldn't get that face out of his mind, all that didn't mean he was obsessed. He was merely interested. And if he was practicing various opening lines under his breath, it was only because he understood the value of communication. He certainly wasn't nervous about speaking to a woman. He spoke to women all the time. Women spoke to him all the time, if it came to that. He was considered one of the top eligible bachelors—and God, did he hate that term—in the country. Women went out of their way to talk to him. If Ridhima Gupta couldn't spare five minutes for some polite conversation, well, that was her loss. By the time she pulled into a driveway, he'd worked himself into a mass of nerves and irritation. The vaguely annoyed glance she sent him when he pulled up behind her put a cap on it. Feeling foolish and insulted, he climbed out.

R -"Are you following me?" she demanded.

A -"Excuse me?" In defense, his voice was flat and cold. "I think you're overestimating your charms. Mayank's worried about Nupur. I saw you and thought you'd be able to tell me how she's doing."

Ridz continued to observe him warily as she unlocked her trunk. Her jeans were tight enough to afford him an intriguing view of firm female butt. She wore a short, snug red jacket with an equally snug striped top that stopped a full inch above the waistband of the jeans. He noted, with some fascination that her belly button was pierced and sported a tiny silver bar. He actually felt his fingertips grow warm with the urge to touch it.

R -"I stopped by to see her before."

A -"Huh? Who? Oh, Nupur." Now the back of his neck grew warm and he cursed himself. "How is she?"

R -"She looks tired, and a little down on herself."

A -"I'm sorry." He stepped forward as she began to unload the trunk. "Let me give you a hand."

R -"I can get it."

A -"I'm sure you can." He solved the matter by taking the two heavy sample books of wallpaper from her. "But I don't see any reason you should. Redecorating?"

She took out a paint sample book, a small toolbox— which he pulled away from her—a notebook, and some tile chips.

R -"We contracted for this house. We're going to open the business here. It needs work." He walked ahead, leaving her to slam the trunk. Yes, it did need work, but it had a sturdy look, and the lot was nicely established. Solid location, decent parking.

A -"Looks like it has good bones, You have the foundation checked out?"

R -"Yes."

A -"Wiring up to code?" She dug out the keys she'd picked up from the realtor.

R -"Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I don't know how to buy a house. I looked at a number of properties, and this was the best value, with the best location. Most of the work it needs is cosmetic." She shoved open the door. "You can just dump them on the floor. Thanks. I'll tell Nupur you asked about her."

Armi just kept walking so that she had to step back. Though it took some effort, he refused to let his gaze drift down to her navel again.

A -"Are you always irritated when someone tries to help you?"

R -"I'm irritated when someone thinks I can't handle myself. Look, I don't have that much time to do what I'm here to do. I need to get started."

A -"Then I'll stay out of your way." He studied the ceiling, the floor, the walls as he wandered through the entrance area. "Nice space." He didn't detect any damp, but there was a definite chill. He wasn't sure if it was a faulty furnace or the woman who was blowing cold. "Which part are you taking?"

R -"Upstairs."

A -"Okay." He started up, nearly amused now by her impatient indrawn breath. "Nice stairs. Can't go wrong with white pine." Some of the trim needed to be replaced, he noted. And the double-hung window at the top of the steps had yet to be upgraded. She'd need to see to that, get herself a double-glazed for insulation. The walls had gone dingy, and there were a few cracks from settling. But that was easily seen to. He liked the way the rooms split off and ran together, and wondered if she would remove some of the

hollow-core doors altogether or replace them with something more solid and in tune with the feel of the house. And what was she going to do about lighting? He didn't know anything about salons, but it seemed logical that good, strong lighting would be essential.

R -"Excuse me. I need my toolbox."

A -"What? Oh, sorry." He handed it to her, then ran his fingers over the chipped and peeling window trim.

A -"You know, you could go with cherry for contrast here. Different woods, leaving the natural grain, going with warm tones. You're not going to cover these floors, are you?"

She took out her measuring tape.

R -"No." Why didn't he go away? She had work to do, thinking to do. And most of all she'd wanted to be alone in her wonderful building, planning and deciding and dreaming about how it was all going to be when she'd finished. The colors, the textures, the tones, the smells. Everything. And here he was, in her way, wandering around. All male and gorgeous and distracting in his perfect suit and his expensive shoes. He smelled, oh so subtly, of high-end soap and aftershave. He probably paid more for a cake of soap then she had for the jeans and shirt she was wearing. And he thought he could just mill around, wafting inher air, making her feel clumsy and inferior.

A -"What are your plans for this room?" She wrote down her measurements and kept her back to him.

R - "This is the main salon. It's for hair, manicures, and makeup." When he didn't respond, she was compelled to look over her shoulder. He was staring contemplatively at her ceiling. "What?"

A -"We have these mini track lights. Very practical, but with a fun look. They have the advantage of being able to be set in a number of directions. You going for fun or elegant in here?"

R -"I don't see why it can't be both."

A -"Good point. Soft colors or bold?"

R -"Bold here, soft in the treatment rooms. Look, Mr.Mallik—"

A -"Ouch. That sounded like my college prof." He'd already crouched down to flip through a sample book, and cast her a quick grin. "Do you guys have like a training center where you learn how to develop that withering tone?"

R -"Men aren't allowed to have that information. If I told you, I'd have to kill you. And I just don't have the time. We're going to close on the property in a month, and I want to have my plans outlined so I can start on them the minute we do."

A -"I can help you."

R-"I know what I'm doing and how I want to do it. I don't know why you assume.."

A -"Hold on. Boy, are you touchy. I'm in the business, remember?" He tapped the

HomeMakers logo on the sample book. "Not only that, but I like helping a building meet its potential. I can give you a hand with some labor and material."

R -"I'm not looking for a handout."

He set the book aside, slowly got to his feet.

A -"I said a hand, not a handout. What is it about me that puts your back up?"

R -"Everything. That's unfair. But it's true. I don't understand people like you, so I tend to distrust them."

A -"People like me?"

R -"Rich, privileged people who run American empires. I'm sorry, I'm sure you have some very nice qualities or you wouldn't be Mayank's friend. But you and I have nothing in common. Plus, I have a lot on my plate right now and no time to play games. So let's clear this up, then we can move on. I'm not going to have sex with you."

A -"Okay, well, obviously my life is no longer worth living."

She wanted to smile at that, nearly did. But she had reason to know his sort was very tricky.

R - "Are you going to tell me that you're not hoping to sleep with me?"

He took a careful breath before speaking. She'd hooked the earpiece of her sunglasses in the V of her shirt, and those long eyes were staring very directly into his.

A -"You and I both know there's no way for me to answer that question correctly. It's the mother of trick questions. Others in this category are, Do I look fat in this? Do you think she's pretty? And if you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you." Now she had to bite the inside of her lip to hold back the laughter.

R -"The last isn't a question."

A-"It's still a mystery and a trap. So why don't I just say I find you very attractive. And we have more in common than you seem to think, starting with a circle of friends. I'm willing to help you, Nupur, and Gunjan with this place. None of you has to have sex with me in return. Meanwhile, I'll let you get back to work." He started out, then said casually as he walked down the stairs, "By the way, HomeMakers is having a sale on wall treatments—paper and paint—next month. Fifteen to thirty percent off all stock." Ridz hurried to the top of the steps.

R -"When next month?"

A -"I'll let you know."

So, she wasn't going to have sex with him. Armi shook his head as he walked to his car. That had been an unfortunate statement on her part. Obviously, she wasn't aware that the one thing no Mallik could resist was a direct challenge. His only plan had been to ask her out to dinner. Now, he decided as he studied the windows on the second level, he'd have to take a little time and work out a strategy. Ridhima Gupta was about to go under siege.

Ridz had other things on her mind. She was running late, but that was nothing new. There always seemed to be another flood of things to do or remember or fix right before she walked out the door.

R -"You give those cookies to Chuck's mother. She'll divvy them up." Ridz turned the car into the driveway two blocks from her own house, then sent her son a stern look. "I mean it, Sahil. I don't have time to take them in myself. If I go to the door she'll keep me there for twenty minutes, and I'm already late."

S -"Okay, okay. I coulda walked."

R -"Yeah, but then I wouldn't've been able to do this." She grabbed him, dug her fingers into his ribs to make him squeal.

S -"Mom!"

R -"Sahil!" she said in the same exasperated tone.

He was laughing as he got out and dragged his duffel from the backseat.

R -"You mind Chuck's mother, and don't keep everybody up all night. You've got Nupur's number?"

S -"Yes, I've got Nupur's number. And I know how to dial nine-one-one, and to run out of the house if I set it on fire when I play with matches."

R -"Smart guy. Come over here and give me a kiss."

He made a show of dragging his feet, keeping his head dipped to hide his grin as he approached her car window.

S -"Make it quick. Somebody might see us."

R -"Just tell them I wasn't kissing you. I was yelling at you." She gave him a kiss, resisted hugging him. "See you tomorrow. Have a good time, baby."

S -"You, too, baby." He snickered, then raced for the house.

With a mother's skill, she backed out of the drive while watching her boy until he was safely inside. Then she headed off to Nupur's, and her first grownup sleepover.

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Chapter Seventeen

Nupur knew what was going on. Nobody wanted her to be alone, and her new friends were worried about her. Ridz had been so enthusiastic about the brainstorm of an all-girl sleepover that Nupur hadn't been able to refuse. The very fact that she'd wanted to refuse, had wanted to burrow into her cave alone, forced her to admit she needed a change. She'd never been a loner, nor had she been much of a brooder in the past. When she was troubled, she went out, saw people. Bought things, gave a party. Ridz's request for an all-nighter gave Nupur the push to do all of that. She bought food and pretty new candles with citrusy scents. And fragrant soaps and fussy new guest towels, then some good wine. She cleaned the apartment she'd been neglecting, spilled spicy potpourri into bowls. And groomed herself in the meticulous way that women groomed for other women. By the time Gunji arrived, she had cheese and fruit and fancy crackers set out, the candles lit and music set on low.

G -"Wow, pretty elegant around here. I should've dressed up some."

N -"You look great." Determined to be cheerful, Nupur leaned in to kiss Gunji's cheek. "I appreciate you guys doing this."

G -"Doing what?"

N -"Hanging out with me, giving me a boost. I've been feeling down the last couple of days."

G -"None of us figured on the energy drain this deal would be." She passed Nupur a grocery bag, then set down her overnight case. "I bought extra supplies. Wine, Cheez-Its, chocolate truffles, and popcorn. You know, the four basic food groups." Gunjan flipped through the movie selection next to the entertainment center. "Did you rent every chick flick ever made?"

N -"Every one currently available on DVD. How about some wine?'

G -"You don't have to twist my arm. New perfume?"

N -"No, must be the candles."

G -"Nice. That's Ridz. Better pour another glass."

Ridz came in through the patio doors, loaded down with bags.

R -"Cookies," she said a little breathlessly."Videos, aromatherapy, and coffee cake for the morning."

G -"Nice job." Gunji took one of the bags from her and handed her a glass of wine. Then she leaned closer and said, "How do you get your lashes to look like that? All sooty and spiky?"

R -"I'll show you. This is fun. I went by the house today to do some measuring and to look at some samples there in the space and light. I've got wallpaper books and paint chips in the car if we want to look later. Arman Mallik caught me while I was there. What's his story?"

G -"Golden boy with a social conscience. Star athlete, high school and college.

Track a specialty. Honor student but not a nerd. Semi-engaged a couple of times, but always managed to wiggle out before it stuck. Been friends with Mayank just about from birth. Excellent body, which I've been fortunate enough to see through various stages. Interested in seeing it yourself?"

R -"Not that way. I haven't had much luck with men, so the only one who's going to be in my life for the time being is Sahil. Oh, I love this song." She slipped out of her shoes to dance. "So, Nups, how's it going with Mayank?"

N -"Well, I love him, so it's pretty irritating. I wish I could dance like that."

R -"Like what?"

N -"All legs and loose hips."

R -"Come on, then." set her wine down, held out her hands. "We'll work on it. You do one of two things. Pretend nobody's watching or pretend that this guy, this incredibly sexy guy, is watching. Either way, depending on your mood, you just let go."

N -"How come girls always end up dancing with girls?" Nupur wondered as she tried to get her hips to move independent of the rest of her body, as Ridz's seemed to do.

R -"Because we're better at it."

G -"Actually," Dana said, helping herself to a little tree of green grapes, "it's a kind of social, sexual ritual. The female performs, tempts, and teases, the male observes, fantasizes, and selects. Or is selected. Jungle drums or the Dave Matthews Band, it comes down to the same thing."

N -"Are you going to dance?" asked her.

G -"Sure." Popping one more grape, she got up. Hips and shoulders went into a sinuous rhythm as she moved toward Ridz. They slithered into a dance that was, to Nupur's mind, both sexy and free.

N -"Now I'm totally outclassed."

R -"You're doing fine. Loosen your knees. And speaking of rituals, I have some ideas. But…" Ridz grabbed her wine again. "I think we should have some more wine before I bring it up."

G -"You can't do that," complained. "I hate that. What's the idea?" She took Ridz's glass, had a hurried sip. "Look, I drank more. Tell me."

R -"Okay. Let's sit down."

Remembering her role as hostess, Nupur brought the wine and the tray of food to the coffee table.

N -"If this ritual has anything to do with leg waxing, I need much more wine first."

R -"No." Ridz laughed. "But I have an almost painless technique with hot wax. I can give you a Brazilian without anyone shedding a tear."

N -"A Brazilian?"

R -"ah huh."

N -"Oh." Instinctively Nupur folded her hands over her crotch. "Not even if you use morphine and shackles."

R –"Well, so… back to what I was saying, I know we've all been reading and researching and trying to come up with theories and ideas to help Nupur find the first key."

N -"And you've both been great. Really. I just feel like I'm missing something, some little thing that could open it all up."

R -"Maybe we've all missed something, The legend itself. Mortal woman mates with Celtic god and becomes queen. Female power. She has three daughters. Female again. One of their guardians is a female."

G -"Well, it is a fifty-fifty shot, Even for gods."

R -"Wait. So when their souls are stolen and trapped by a man , it's said that three mortals, mortal women , have to find and turn the keys."

N -"Sorry, Ridz, I'm not following you. We already know all this." reached halfheartedly for a grape.

R -"Let's take it a little further. Gods, in Celtic lore, are, well, earthier than say the Greek or Roman ones. They're more like wizards and sorcerers than… what's the word? Um, omniscient beings. Is that right?" she asked Gunjan.

G -"Yeah."

R -"They have ties to the earth, to nature. Like, well, witches. There's black magic and white, but they both use natural elements and forces. And here's where you sort of have to step out of the box."

G -"We haven't been in the box since September the fourth,"

R -"What if we were chosen because we're… well, because we're witches?"

Nupur frowned at the level of wine in Ridz's glass.

N -"How much did you have to drink before you got here?"

R -"No, just think about it. We look like them. Maybe we're somehow related to that… bloodline or something. Maybe we have power, but we just never knew it."

N -"The legend says mortal women," reminded her.

R -"Witches aren't necessarily immortal. They're just people with more. I've been reading up. In Wicca the female witch has three stages. The maiden, the mother, the crone. And they pay homage to the goddess.

N -They—"

G -"Wicca is a young religion, Ridz,"

R -"But its roots are old. And three, that's a magic number. There are three of us."

N -"I really think I'd know if I were a witch." considered it as she sipped her wine. "And if this has somehow escaped my notice for nearly thirty years, what am I supposed to do about it now? Conjure something, cast a spell?"

G -"Turn Sam into a horse's ass. Sorry," She shrugged when Nupur stared at her. "Just daydreaming."

R -"We could try it. Together. I bought some things." jumped up, pulled open her bag. "Ritual candles," she said, digging through. "Incense. Table salt."

N -"Table salt?" Baffled, Nupur picked up the dark blue box of Morton's and studied the cheerful girl with her umbrella.

R -"You can make a protective circle with it. It wards off evil spirits. Ash wands. Sort of wands. I bought a baseball bat and cut it up to make them."

G -"Martha Stewart meets Glenda the Good Witch." picked up the thin wooden wand, waved it.

N -"Shouldn't it sprinkle fairy dust?"

R -"Drink more wine," ordered. "Crystals. Amethyst and rose quartz and this really great ball." She held up the globe.

N -"Where'd you get all this loot?"

R -"New Age shop at the mall. Tarot cards—Celtic ones because it seemed right. And—"

G -"A Ouija board!" pounced on it. "Man, oh, man, I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid."

R-"I found it at the toy store. They don't carry them in the New Age place."

G -"We had this pj party when I was a kid. Got all toked up on Pepsi and M&Ms and lit candles. Everybody asked the name of the guy they'd marry. Mine came up PTZBAH." she gave a sentimental sigh. "It was really sweet. Let's do the Ouija first, For old times' sake."

R -"Okay, but we've got to do it right. Take it seriously." she rose to turn off the lights and music.

G -"I wonder if Ptzbah is still out there." Said as she slid to the floor, opened the box.

R -"Wait. We have to set up the ritual. I got a book." They sat in a circle on the floor.

"We have to cleanse our minds, Visualize opening our chakras."

G -"I never open my chakras in public." giggled, unrepentant, until Nups slapped her knee.

R -"And we light the ritual candles. White for purity. Yellow for memory. Purple for power." bit her lip as she carefully ignited the tapers. "Place the crystals. Amethyst for… shoot." She reached for her book, flipped pages. "Here. Amethyst for intuition. And the incense. Rose quartz for psychic power and divination."

N -"It's pretty, Soothing."

R -"I think we should all take turns with the Tarot cards, and maybe try some chants, but let's make Gunjan happy and do this first." Ridz set the board between them and placed the pointer in its center. "We have to concentrate, Focus our minds and our powers on one question."

G -"Can it be about the love of my life? I pine for Ptzbah."

R -"No." ridz swallowed a laugh and tried to look stern. "This is serious business. We want the location of the first key. Nupur should do the asking, but you and I need to think it."

N -"We should close our eyes." rubbed her fingers on her pants, took a deep breath. "Ready?" They laid fingertips on the pointer, sat in silence. "Should we call on the Otherworld or something?" whispered. "Pay our respects, ask for guidance? What?" Ridz opened one eye.

R - "Maybe you should call on the ones behind the Curtain of Dreams."

G -"Denizens, That's a good word. Call on the denizens behind the Curtain of Dreams for guidance."

N -"Okay, here goes. Everybody quiet, everyone be calm. Concentrate." waited ten seconds in silence. "We call on the denizens behind the Curtain of Dreams, to aid and to guide us in our, um, in our quest."

R -"Tell them you're one of the chosen ones," said out of the corner of her mouth and was shushed by Gunjan.

N -"I am one of the chosen, one of the seekers of the keys. Time is short. I ask you to show me the way to the key so that we can free the souls of… Gunjan, no pushing the pointer."

G -"I'm not. Really." Mouth dry, Nupur opened her eyes and watched the pointer shudder under their fingertips.

R -"The candles," whispered. "Oh, jeez, look at the candles."

The flames shot up, a trio of slim gold edged with red. Light began to throb, like a pulse. Something blew cold through the room and set those flames dancing.

G -"This is wild!" exclaimed. "I mean seriously wild."

N -"It's moving." The pointer jerked, with Nups's fingers trembling on it. She heard nothing but the roar of blood in her own head as she watched it slide from letter to letter. YOUR DEATH Her gasp was still strangled in her throat when the room suddenly burst with light and wind. She heard someone scream, threw up an arm to shield her eyes as a form coalesced out of a whirlpool of air. The board shattered as if made of glass.

Ro -"What are you playing at?" Rowena stood in the center of them, the sharp heel of her shoe digging into a shard of the board. "Have you no more sense than to open a door to such things as you cannot understand or defend against?" With an annoyed sigh, she stepped gracefully out of the circle and picked up the wine. "I'd like a glass,

please."

N -"How did you get here? How did you know?" she pushed herself up on rubbery legs.

Ro -"It's fortunate for you that I did both." She picked up the salt, and upended the box over the remains of the board.

N -"Oh, now, just a damn minute."

Ro -"Sweep it up together," Rowena ordered Ridz. "Then burn it. I'd very much appreciate a glass of wine." She handed the bottle to Nupur, then sat on the sofa.

Outraged, Nupur stalked into the kitchen, yanked a wineglass from the cupboard. She marched back and shoved the glass into Rowena's hand.

N -"I didn't invite you into my home."

Ro-"On the contrary, you invited me and whoever else chose to come through the opening."

Ri-"Then we are witches." Rowena's expression changed as she looked over at Ridz's rapt face.

Ro-"No, not the way you mean." Her tone was more gentle now, patient teacher to eager student. "Though every woman has some magic. Still, together your powers are trebled, and you had just enough skill, just enough desire to issue an invitation.

I'm not the only one who answered it. You felt him," she said to Nupur. "You've felt him before."

N -"Kane." She cupped her elbows and shuddered as the memory of the cold seeped into her. "He moved the pointer, not us. He was playing with us."

Ri -"He threatened Nupur." The thrill forgotten, Ridz was on her feet now. "What are you going to do about it?"

Ro-"All I can."

G -"Maybe that's not good enough." reached up to link her hand with Nupur's. "I heard you scream. I saw your face when you did. You felt something Ridz and I didn't, and it was real terror. It was real pain."

N -"It's the cold. It's… I can't describe it."

Ro-"The absence of all warmth," murmured. "All hope, all life. But he can't touch you unless you allow it."

Ri-"Allow it? How the hell did she…" broke off, looked down at the broken board at her feet. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry. Nups, I'm so sorry."

N -"It's not your fault. It's not." She took Ridz's hand, so for a moment the three of them were linked. Seeing them, Rowena smiled into her wine.

N -"We were looking for answers, and you had an idea. Which is more than I've had the last couple of days. We tried something. Maybe it was the wrong something," she added as she whipped back to Rowena, "but that doesn't give you the right to slap at us for it."

Ro-"You're absolutely right. I apologize." She leaned forward to spread Brie on a cracker, then tapped a finger against the Tarot deck. Light flickered over them, then was gone. "These will do you no harm. You may develop a skill for readings, or even find you have a gift for them."

Ri -"You…" pressed her lips together. "If you hadn't come when you did…"

Ro-"It's my duty, and my wish, to keep you from harm. When and how I can. Now I should go, leave you to your evening." Rowena rose, looked around the room. "You have a pretty home, Nupur. It suits you."

Feeling ungracious and childish, Nups huffed out a breath.

N -"Why don't you stay, finish your wine?" Surprise ran across Rowena's face.

Ro-"That's very kind of you. I'd like that. It's been a very long time since I've sat in the company of women. I've missed it." It wasn't very strange, after the initial awkwardness, to have a woman who'd lived for thousands of years sitting in her living room drinking her wine. And it became apparent by the time they started on the truffles that women—goddess or mortal—were the same under the skin.

Ro-"I rarely fuss with it," Rowena said while Ridz worked her mane of hair into an elegant upsweep. "It's not one of my talents, so I tend to wear it down. I've cut it occasionally, but I always regret it."

Ri-"Not everyone can wear it simply as you do, and still look regal."

Rowena studied herself in the hand mirror as Ridz worked, then tilted the glass to study her stylist.

G -"What about Pitte? What's his deal?"

Ro-"He's a warrior, full of pride and arrogance and will. He's maddening and exciting." She lowered the mirror.

"Ridz, you're an artist."

"Oh, I just like playing with hair." She stepped in front of Rowena and released a few tendrils around her face. "A great look for that important board meeting or the after-Oscars bash. Sexy, female, and powerful. Well, you give that off no matter what the do."

G -"Excuse me, but I just have to ask, what's it like to be with the same guy for, well, basically forever?"

Ro-"He's the only man I want," Rowena answered.

G -"Oh, come on, come, on. You've got to have had a few hundred fantasies about other men in the last couple of millennia."

Ro-"Of course." Rowena set the mirror down, and her lips bowed into a dreamy smile. "There was a young waiter once, in Rome. Such a face and form. With eyes so dark it seemed I could see worlds drowning in them. And he served me coffee and a bun. He called mebella donna with such a knowing smile."

She pressed her own together, then laughed. "I painted him in my studio, and let him flirt with me outrageously. And when I nudged him along after a session, I would drag Pitte away from whatever he might be doing and seduce him."

G -"You never cheated."

Ro-"I love my man," Rowena said simply. "We're bound, body, heart, soul. There's magic in that, more potent than any spell, more wicked than any curse." She reached up, laid a hand over Ridz's. "You loved a boy, and he gave you a son. For that, you'll always love him, even though he was weak and betrayed you."

Ri -"Sahil's my world."

Ro-"And you've made it a bright and loving world. I so envy you your child. You." She rose, stepped closer to trail her fingers over Gunji's hair. "You loved one who was no longer a boy, yet not quite a man. For that, you've never forgiven him."

G -"Why should I?"

Ro-"There's a question," Rowena replied.

N -"What about me?" Nupur asked, and Rowena sat on the arm of the sofa, touched a hand to her shoulder.

Ro-"You love the man so much, so fast and fierce, it makes you doubt your own heart. For that, you can't trust him."

N -"How can I trust what doesn't make sense?"

Ro-"As long as you need to ask, you won't have the answer." She leaned down, pressed her lips to Nupur's brow. "Thank you for having me in your home, for sharing yourselves with me. Here, take this." She held out her hand, offered Nupur the pale blue stone in the palm.

N -"What is it?"

Ro-"A small charm. Put it under your pillow tonight. You'll sleep well. I must go." She smiled a little, lifting her hand to her hair as she rose and crossed to the glass door. "I wonder what Pitte will think pf my hair. Good night." She opened the door and slipped into the night. Ridz waited three seconds, then scurried to the door. Framing her face with her hands, she pressed it close to the glass.

Ri-"Shoot. I thought she'd go poof or something, but she's just walking. Like a normal person."

G -"She seems pretty normal." shifted around to reach the popcorn. "You know, for a goddess with a few thousand years under her belt."

N -"But sad." turned the blue stone over in her hand. "There's all that sophistication and cool amusement on the surface, but there's this terrible sadness under it. She meant it when she said she was envious of you for having Sahil, Ridz."

Ri-"It's funny to think about." wandered back, chose a brush, a rat-tail comb, and pins, then moved behind the sofa. "She lives in that big, well, castle, really, with all those beautiful things." She began to brush Gunji's hair. "And she's beautiful, even wise, I think. She's rich and has a man she loves. She's traveled and she can paint those wonderful pictures." she began to braid. "But she envies someone like me because I have a kid. Do you think she can't have children? I didn't want to ask, it's so personal. But I wonder why she couldn't. If she can do all the things she can do, why couldn't she have a baby?"

G -"Maybe Pitte doesn't want to have kids." shrugged her shoulders. "Some people don't. What're you doing back there, Ridz?"

Ri-"New do. I'm mixing some skinny braids in. It should be young and kicky. Do you?"

G -"Do I what?"

Ri-"Want to have kids?" Gunji munched popcorn and considered.

G - "Yeah. I'd like to have a couple. I figure if I don't find a guy I can stand being with for the long term in the next few years, I'll just do it on my own. You know, make love with medical science."

N -"You'd do that?" Fascinated, reached into the bowl. "Raise a child on your own. I mean, on purpose," she added, looking up at Ridz. "You know what I mean."

G -"Sure, I would." settled the bowl between them. "Why not? I'm healthy. I think I'd be good at the parenting thing, that I have a lot to offer a kid. I'd want to make sure I had solid financial security first, but if I'm cruising toward say, thirty-five and there's no guy in the picture, I'd do the deed."

N -"Sort of takes the romance out of it,"

G -"Maybe, but it gets results. You've got to look at the big picture. If there's something you want, deep down want, you can't let anything stop you from getting it."

Nupur thought of her dream, of the child she'd held in her arms. Of the light filling her world, her heart.

N -"Even if you really, really want something, there are lines."

G -"Well, murder and a certain amount of mayhem are discouraged. I'm talking about making important choices, then going the distance and dealing with the results. What about you, Ridz ? Would you do it again? The raise-a-kid-on-your-own part?"

Ri-"I don't think I'd set out to do it again. It's hard. There's nobody to share the load with, and sometimes the load seems impossible for one person. But more, there's nobody who looks at the child and feels what you feel. Nobody to share that love and pride and, I don't know, surprise with."

N -"Were you scared?".

Ri-"Yeah. Oh, yeah. I still get scared. I think it's supposed to be scary because it's so important. Do you want babies, Nups?"

N -"I do." She rubbed the stone gently between her fingers. "More than I realized."

By three, Gunjan and Ridz were sleeping in her bed, and Nupur was picking up the worst of the debris, too restless to settle in on the sofa. There were too many thoughts, too many images flitting around in her mind. She studied the little blue stone again. Maybe it would work. She'd accepted bigger things than having a piece of rock under her pillow as the cure for the insomnia that was plaguing her. Or maybe she hadn't. Maybe she really hadn't accepted any of it, not in that deep-down way Gunjan spoke of. She was exhausted, yet she wasn't putting the stone under her pillow and letting herself try. She claimed to love Mayank, yet she was waiting, tucking a small part of herself safely away and waiting for the feeling to pass. And at the same time, she was annoyed and hurt that he didn't simply fall over in love with her and even things out. After all, how could she keep her balance, outline plans, and keep it all tidy if everything between them wasn't equal? Everything belongs in its place, doesn't it? Everything has its slot. And if it doesn't fit just right, well, you're not the one who's going to change. That's up to the other guy. With a sigh, she dropped down on the couch. She'd pursued a career in art like a demon because while fate hadn't cooperated by giving her talent, she wasn't about to admit that all those years of study and work had been wasted. She made it fit. She'd stayed at The Gallery because it was comfortable, because it was sensible and convenient. She'd made noise about striking out on her own one day. But she hadn't meant it. Too big a risk, too messy. If Sheena hadn't come along, she would still be at The Gallery. And why did she resent Sheena with every fiber of her being? All right, the woman was pushy and had all the taste of overcooked trout, but a more flexible woman than Nupur Bhushan would've found a way around that. She resented Sheena primarily because she'd shifted the balance, she'd changed the lines. She just hadn't fit. Now there was the business she and Gunjan and Ridz were starting. She'd been the one to drag her feet on that. Oh, she'd come through in the end, but how many times had she questioned that decision since? How many times had she considered backing out because it was too hard to see how it could all be neatly done? And she hadn't moved forward on it. Hadn't gone back to the property or made any plans, put out any feelers for artists and craftspeople. Hell, she hadn't even mailed off the application for her business license. Because once she did, she was committed. She was using the key as an excuse not to take the final step. Oh, she was looking for it, giving the quest her time and her energy. One thing she took seriously was responsibility. But here and now, alone and awake at three in the morning, it was time to admit one undeniable fact. Her life may have changed in a dozen strange and fascinating ways in three weeks' time, but she hadn't changed at all. She put the stone under her pillow.

N -"There's still time," she murmured, and curled up to sleep. When she woke, the apartment was silent as a tomb. She lay still a moment, studying the lance of light

that sneaked through the chink in the patio drapes and onto her floor. Morning, she thought. Full morning. She didn't remember falling asleep. Better, much, much better, she didn't remember tossing and turning and worrying about sleep. Slowly, she slid a hand under her pillow, feeling for the stone. She frowned, groping now, then sat up to

Chapter Eighteen

She stretched out her arms, took a deep breath. And drew in the unmistakable scent of coffee. Unless the gift included morning coffee, someone else was up. She walked into the kitchen and found a pleasant surprise. Coffee cake was on the counter, set on a pretty plate and protected with Saran Wrap. The coffeepot was on warm and was three-quarters full, and the morning paper was neatly folded and placed between. Nupur picked up the note tucked under the cake plate and read Ridz's somewhat exotic mix of cursive and printing.

Good morning! Had to get going—have a teacher's conference at ten.

Ten, Nupur thought with an absent glance at the kitchen clock. Her mouth fell open when she saw that it was nearly eleven.

N -"That can't be right. Can it?" Didn't want to wake either of you, tried to be quiet.

N -"You must move like a ghost,"

Gunjan's got to be at work at two. Just in case, I set the alarm clock in your room for her. Set it for noon so she wouldn't have to rush and would have time for breakfast.

I had the best time. Just wanted to tell you, both of you, that whatever happens I'm so glad I found you. Or we found each other. However it worked, I'm just really grateful you're my friends .

Maybe next time we can get together at my place.

Love, Ridz.

N -"Looks like it's a day for gifts." Smiling, Nupur set the note down where Gunjan would find it, too. Hoping to extend her good mood, she cut a sliver of cake, poured the coffee. She arranged them on a tray, added the paper and a small glass of juice, then carried it all out to her patio. Fall was teasing the air. She'd always enjoyed the faint, smoky scent that autumn brought with it when the leaves began to take on hints of the vibrant colors to come. She needed to pick up some potted mums, she noted as she broke off a piece of coffee cake. She was behind schedule on that. And some pumpkins and gourds for festive arrangements. She would gather some leaves, the maple ones once they'd turned scarlet. She could pick up some extra things and do something fun for Mayank's front porch. She sipped coffee while she skimmed the front page. Reading the morning paper was a different experience now that she'd met Mayank. She liked wondering how he decided what went where and how he juggled it all— stories, ads, pictures, typeface, tone—and made it one cohesive whole. She nibbled and sipped her way through, then felt her heart give a quick jolt when she came to his column.

Odd, wasn't it, that she'd seen it before. Week after week. What had she thought? she wondered. Cute guy, nice eyes, or something just that casual and forgettable. She'd read his column, had either agreed or disagreed. She hadn't taken any notice of the work and effort he put into it, what turned his mind to whatever subject he wrote about that week. It was different now that she knew him, now that she could hear his voice speaking the words she read. She could envision his face, its expressions. And have some insight into the workings of his very flexible mind. What defines the artist? she read. By the time she'd finished the column and was going back to read it through a second time, she'd fallen in love with him all over again.

Mayank sat on the corner of a desk and listened while one of his reporters pitched him an idea for an article about a local man who collected clowns. He gave the reporter instructions on how to go about it and as he finished he looked over to see Nupur standing between the desks holding an enormous pot of rust-colored mums. Something about the sparkle in her eye made the rest of the room fade away.

M -"Hi. Doing some gardening?"

N -"Maybe. Is this a bad time?"

M -"No. Come on back. How do you feel about clowns?"

N -"Wrathful when they're painted on black velvet."

M -"Good one. Tim?" he called back. "Get some shots of any clown paintings on black velvet. Sublime to ridiculous and back again, It could be good."

She stepped into the office ahead of him, continuing on to set the flowers on his window ledge.

N -"I wanted to—"

M-"Wait." He held up a finger while he tuned in to the call coming out of his police scanner. "Hold that thought," he told her, and poked his head back out the door. "Shelly, there's a TA, five hundred block of Crescent. Local PD and EMTs responding. Take Mark."

N -"TA?" repeated when he turned back to her.

M -"Traffic accident."

N -"Oh. I was thinking just this morning how much you have to juggle and weigh and shape to put out the paper every day." She bent down to pat the snoring Moe. "And you manage to have a life at the same time."

M -"In a manner of speaking."

N -"No, you have a very good life. Friends, family, work that satisfies you, a house, a silly dog. I admire that." She straightened. "I admire you."

M -"Wow. You must've had a really good time last night."

N -"I did. I'll tell you about that, but I don't want to— what is it—smother my lead."

M -"Bury the lead."

N -"Right." She stepped over the dog, laid her hands on Mayank's shoulders. And leaning in, kissed him. Long, long and warm. "Thank you." His skin had started to hum. M -"What for? Because if it was really good, maybe you should thank me again."

N -"Okay." This time she linked her hands behind his head and added a bit of heat to the warmth. Outside the office, applause broke out.

M -"Jesus, I've got to get blinds for this place." He tried the psychological angle of shutting the door. "I don't mind being the hero, but maybe you should tell me what dragon I slayed."

N -"I read your column this morning."

M -"Yeah? Usually if somebody likes my column they just say 'Nice job, Sharma.' I like your way better."

N -" 'It isn't only the artist holding brush and vision who paints the picture,' " she quoted. " 'It's those who look and see the power and the beauty, the strength and the passion, who bring brushstroke and color to life.' Thank you."

M -"You're welcome."

N -"Every time I start feeling sorry for myself because I'm not living in Paris and setting the art world on its ear, I'm going to take out your column and remind myself what I've got. What I am."

M -"I think you're extraordinary."

N -"Today, so do I. I woke up feeling better than I have in days. Amazing what a good night's sleep will do—or a little blue stone under the pillow."

M -"You lost me."

N -"It's not important. Just something Rowena gave me. She joined our little sleepover last night."

M -"Yeah? What was she wearing?" Laughing, she sat on the edge of his desk.

N -"She didn't stay long enough for the pajama section of the night's entertainment, but you could say she arrived in the nick. The three of us were fooling around with a Ouija board."

M -"You've got to be kidding."

N -"No. Ridz had this theory that maybe the three of us were witches but didn't know it. Which is why we were chosen… and really, it made some sense at the time. In any case, things got very strange. Candle flames rising, wind blowing. And Kane, he got in. Rowena said we'd opened a door, like an invitation."

M -"Damn it, Nupur. Goddamn it! What're you doing playing around with—with mystical forces? He's already had a shot at you. You could've been hurt."

He had such a face, she thought. Such a great face. It could change from interested to amused to furious in a split second.

N -"That's something Rowena made very clear last night. There's no point in being angry with me about it now."

M -"I didn't have the option of being angry with you before now."

N -"True enough." She grunted when Moe, awakened by the temper in Flynn's voice, tried to jump in her lap. "You're absolutely right that we shouldn't have played with something we didn't understand. I'm sorry, believe me, and it isn't something I plan on trying again." He reached over to give her hair a quick tug.

M - "I'm trying to have an argument here. The least you could do is cooperate."

N -"I'm too happy with you to argue today. Let's pencil something in for next week. Besides, I just came by to bring you the flowers. I've interrupted your day long enough."

He glanced at the mums—the second bunch of flowers she'd brought to him.

M -"You're sure cheerful today."

N -"Why shouldn't I be? I'm a woman in love, who's made what I feel are very good decisions about…"

M -"About?" he prompted when her eyes went blank.

N -"Choices," she mumbled. "Moments of decision, moments of truth. Why didn't I think of that before? Maybe it was your house, but my dream perception of perfection turned it around. Made it all fit. More mine than yours. Or maybe that has nothing to do with it. And it's just you."

M -"What is?"

N -"The key. I need to search your house. Is that going to be a problem?"

M -"Ah…" Impatient now, she waved away his hesitation.

N -"Look, if you have anything personal or embarrassing tucked away like skin magazines, I'll give you a chance to get them out. Or promise to ignore them."

M-"The skin mags are all locked in the vault. I'm afraid I can't give you the

combination." She moved into him, trailed her hands up his chest.

N -"I know it's a lot to ask. I wouldn't like anyone poking through my place when I wasn't there."

M -"Not that much to poke through. But I don't want any grief about how I should spring for new underwear and use what I've got as dustrags."

N -"I'm not your mother. Will you let Sam know I'm coming?"

M -"He's off somewhere today." pulled his keys out of his pocket, worked the house key off the chain. "You think you'll still be there when I get home?"

N -"Why don't I make sure I'm there when you get home?"

M -"Why don't you? Then I'll call Sam, tell him to stay away. He can bunk with Armi tonight, and I can have you all to myself." She took the key, bumped her lips lightly on his.

N -"I'll look forward to being had."

Nupur jogged up the steps to Mayank's front door. She was going to be systematic, slow and thorough, she told herself. She should have thought of this before. It was like connecting the dots. The paintings reflected moments of change, of destiny. Certainly her life had changed when she'd fallen for Mayank. And this was Mayank's house, she thought as she stepped inside. Hadn't he said he'd bought it when he'd accepted his destiny? Looking within and without, she remembered as she merely stood and tried to absorb the feel of the place. Inside the house, outside in the yard? Or was it more metaphorical, in that she'd begun to see herself inside this space? Light and shadows. The house was full of both. She could only be grateful it wasn't full of things. Mayank's spartan style was going to make the search simpler. She started in the living room, automatically wincing at the couch. She looked under the cushions, found eighty-nine cents in loose change, a Bic lighter, a paperback edition of a Robert Parker novel, and

cookie crumbs. Unable to stand it, she hunted up the vacuum cleaner and a dustrag and began to clean as she went. This two-for-one process kept her in the kitchen for more than an hour. At the end of it she was sweaty and the kitchen sparkled, but she hadn't turned up anything resembling a key. She switched gears and headed upstairs. She'd begun and ended her dream upstairs, she recalled. Maybe that was symbolic. And certainly there couldn't be anything up here in as deplorable shape as the kitchen.

One glance at the bathroom disabused her of that notion. Even love—of a man and of order—had its limits, she decided, and shut the door without going inside. She stepped into his office and was immediately charmed. All the dark thoughts that had damned him for a pig vanished. It wasn't neat. God knew, it needed a good dusting, and there was enough dog hair balled in the corners to knit an afghan. But the walls were sunny, the desk was a beauty, and the framed posters showed an eye for art and style that she hadn't given him credit for.

N -"You've got all these wonderful sides to you, don't you?" She trailed her fingers over the desk, impressed by the stack of files, amused by the action figures. It was a good work space. A good thinking space, she imagined. He didn't give a damn about the state of his kitchen. His sofa was just a place to take a nap or stretch out and read a book. But he took care with his surroundings when it was important to him. Beauty, knowledge, courage. She'd been told she would need all three. In the dream there had been beauty—love, home, art. Then the knowledge that it was illusion. And finally the courage to break that illusion. Maybe that was a part of it. And love would forge the key. Well, she loved Mayank. She accepted that she loved Mayank. So where was the damn key? She turned a circle, then wandered over to take a closer look at his art collection. Pinup girls. He was such a… guy, she decided. A very clever guy. There was a sexual punch to the photographs, but an innocence underlying that. Betty Grable's legs, Rita Hay-worth's mane of hair, Monroe's unforgettable face. Legends, as much for their beauty as their talent. Goddesses of the screen. Goddesses. Her fingers shook as she took the first print from the wall. She had to be right. This had to be it. But she examined every print, every frame, then every inch of the room, and found nothing. Refusing to be discouraged, she sat at his desk. She was close. A step off, one way or the other, but close. The pieces were all there, she was certain of it now. She just needed to find the right pattern and make them fit. She needed to get out in the air for a while, let it turn over in her mind. She would do something ordinary while it brewed in there. No, not something ordinary. Something inspired. Something artful.

Mayank decided it was time to reverse the roles back to where they had started, and so he stopped off on the way home to buy her flowers. There was a bite of fall in the air, and its nip had already teased color into the trees. The surrounding hills were hazed with reds and golds and umbers over the green. Over those hills, a three-quarter moon would rise tonight. Did she think of that, he wondered, and worry? Of course she did. It would be impossible for a woman like Nupur to do otherwise. Still, she'd been happy when she came to his office. He meant to keep her that way. He would take her out to dinner. Maybe drive into the city for a change of scene. A long drive, a fancy dinner—that would appeal to her, keep her mind off… The minute he stepped in the front door, he knew something was off.

It smelled… good.

A little lemony, he thought as he approached the living room. A little spicy. With female undertones. Did women just sort of exude scent when they'd been in a place for a few hours?

M -"Nups?"

N -"Back here! In the kitchen!"

The dog beat him by a mile and was already being given a biscuit, a stroke, and a firm nudge out the back door. Mayank wasn't sure what made his mouth water, the scents pumping out of the stove or the woman wearing a white bib apron. God, who knew an apron could be sexy?

M -"Hi. What're you doing?"

N -"Cooking." She shut the back door. "I know it's an eccentric use for a kitchen, but call me crazy. Flowers?" Her eyes went soft, almost dewy. "They're pretty."

M -"You are too. Cooking?" He tossed his embryonic plans for the evening aside without a qualm. "Would that involve anything resembling dinner?"

N -"It would." She took the flowers, kissed him over them. "I decided to dazzle you with my culinary talents, so I went to the grocery store. You didn't have anything in here that qualified as actual food."

M -"Cereal. I have a lot of cereal."

N -"I noticed." Because he didn't own a vase, she filled a plastic pitcher with water for the flowers. The fact that she didn't cringe while doing so made her very proud of herself. "You also didn't appear to own any of the usual implements used in preparing actual food. Not a single wooden spoon."

M -"I don't understand why they make spoons out of wood. Haven't we progressed beyond carving tools out of trees?" He picked one up off the counter, then frowned. "Something's different in here. Something changed."

N -"It's clean."

Shock registered on his face as he stared around the room.

M -"It is clean. What did you do, hire a brigade of elves? What do they charge by the hour?"

N -"They work for flowers." She sniffed at them, and decided they looked very sweet in the plastic pitcher after all. "You're paid in full."

M - "You cleaned. That's so… weird."

N -"Presumptuous, but I got carried away."

M -"No, 'presumptuous' isn't the word that springs to mind." He took her hand, kissed her fingers. "The word's 'wow.' Should I be really embarrassed?"

N -"I won't if you won't."

M - "Deal." He drew her close, rubbed his cheek against hers. "And you're cooking. In the oven."

N -"I wanted to take my mind off things for a while."

M -"So did I. I was going to play the let's-go-out-to-a-fancy-dinner card, but you trumped my ace."

N -"You can tuck the ace up your sleeve and play it anytime. Putting things in order helps clear my mind, and there was a lot to put in order around here. I didn't find the key."

M -"Yeah, I got that. I'm sorry."

N -"I'm close." She stared at the steam puffing out of a pot as if the answer might appear in it. "I feel like I'm just missing a step somewhere. Well, we'll talk about that. Dinner's about ready. Why don't you pour the wine. I think it'll complement the Food."

M - "Sure." He picked up the wine she had breathing on the counter, then set it down again. "What did you make?."

N -"Chicken Curry, Rajma Chawal" as she set up the mixer she'd brought over from her own kitchen. "And Potato Salad shortly. It seemed harmonious, considering your column. And I assumed that since you used the meal, you must like a home cooked meal."

M -"I'm a guy. We live for a home cooked meal, speacially since I can't cook." Ridiculously moved, he caressed her cheek. "I should've brought you more flowers." She laughed and got to work on the potatoes she had kept to boil.

N -"Those will do nicely, thanks. This is actually my first attempt to cook Indian. I'm more a toss-some-pasta-together or a saut-some-chicken girl. But I got the recipe from Ridz, who swears it's foolproof and guy-friendly. She claims Sahil inhales it."

M- "I'll try to remember to chew." Then he took her arm to turn her toward him and moved in, slowly, ran his hands up her body until his fingers skimmed her jaw. He laid his lips on hers, softly, sliding her into the kiss the way he might slide her into a feather bed. Her heart did one long, lazy roll even as the mists shimmered over her brain. The rubber spatula she held slipped out of limp fingers as everything inside her melted against him, into him. He felt it, that shudder and give, that surrender to self as much as to him. When he eased her back, her eyes were blue and blurry. It was woman, he realized, who had the power to make man feel like a god.

N -"Mayank." His lips curved as he brushed them over her forehead.

M -"Nupur."

N -"I… I forgot what I was doing." He bent down to retrieve the spatula.

M -"I think you were mashing potatoes."

N -"Oh. Right. Potatoes." Feeling a bit drunk, she walked to the sink to wash the spatula.

M -"This has to be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

N -"I love you." She pressed her lips together, stared out the window. "Don't say anything. I don't want to make things uncomfortable for either of us. I've been thinking about this a lot. I know I've rushed and I've pushed. Neither of which is much like me." She spoke briskly now as she went back to the mixer.

M -"Nupur—"

N -"Really, you don't need to say anything. It'd be enough, more than enough for now, if you just accepted it, maybe enjoyed it a little. It seems to me love shouldn't be a weapon or a device or a weight. Its beauty is that it be a gift, with no strings attached to it. Just like this meal."

She smiled, though the steady way he watched her was unnerving.

N -"So, why don't you pour the wine, then wash up? And we'll both just enjoy it."

M -"Okay."

It could wait, Mayank thought. Maybe it was meant to wait. In any case, the words in his head sounded off-key when compared with the simplicity of hers. So they would enjoy each other, and the meal she'd prepared in the awkward, homely kitchen with fresh flowers arranged in a plastic pitcher. As beginnings went, this one had elements of both of them. Wasn't it interesting how one managed to complement the other?

M -"You know, if you made me a list of stuff I should have in here, I could pick it up."

She arched her brows, took the wine he offered, then pulled a little notepad out of her apron pocket.

N -"This is already half full. I was planning to wait until you were lulled into complacency by the food."

He flipped through the notebook and noted that items were listed under specific headings. Foodstuffs, Cleaning Supplies—with subheadings Kitchen, Bathroom, Laundry—Household Necessities. Jesus, the woman was irresistible.

M -"Am I going to need to take out a loan?"

N -"Think of it as an investment." Taking the notebook from him, she tucked it into his shirt pocket, then concentrated on the potatoes.

N-"Oh, by the way, I really like the art in your office upstairs."

M -"Art?" It took him a minute. "Oh, my girls. Really?"

N -"Clever, nostalgic, sexy, stylish. It's a great room altogether, which I admit was something of a relief to me, considering the rest of the house. Enough that I wasn't flattened by disappointment when my brainstorm about the key didn't pan out. Monroe, Grable, Hayworth, and so on. Screen goddesses. Goddess, key."

M -"Good segue."

N -"Yeah, it seemed so, but no luck. Still, I think I'm on the right track, and it gave me the chance to see your thinking space." She sat, scanned the table.

N -"Hope you're hungry." They dished up the meal. At the first bite, Mayank sighed.

M -"Good thing you put Moe out. I'd hate to torment him with this, since he won't be getting much of it. My compliments to the artist." There was pleasure, Nupur discovered, in watching someone you loved eat what you'd prepared. Pleasure in sharing a simple meal at the kitchen table at the end of the day. She'd never felt deprived eating dinner alone, or in the company of a friend. But now it was easy to see herself sharing this hour with him, night after night, year after year.

N -"Mayank, you said that when you accepted that you were meant to stay in the Valley, you bought this house. Did you—do you—have a vision for it? How you want it to look and feel?"

M -"I don't know if you'd call it a vision. I liked the look of it, the lines of it, and the big yard. Something about a big yard makes me feel prosperous and safe."

He went back for seconds. "I figure I'll have to gut this room sooner or later, rip it into the new millennium. Buy stuff for the rest of the place, eventually. But I never seem to get around to it. I guess because it's just me and Moe." He poured more wine for both of them. "If you've got some ideas, I'm open to suggestions."

N -"I've always got ideas, and you should be careful before you get me started. But that wasn't why I asked. I had a vision for the property we bought—Ridz and Gunji and I. As soon as I walked into that house I could see how it would work, what it needed from me, what I could bring to it. And I haven't been back since."

M -"You've been pretty busy."

N -"That's not it. I deliberately haven't been back. That's not like me. Usually when I have a project, I can't wait to get started, to start fiddling with things, lining them up, making lists. I took the step. I signed on the dotted line, but I haven't taken the next step."

M -"It's a big commitment, sweetie."

N -"I'm not afraid of commitment. Hell, I thrive on it. But I've been a little afraid of this. I'm going to go over tomorrow, take a look at the place. Apparently the previous owners left a lot of stuff they didn't want in the attic. Ridz asked me to go through it before she started hauling things out."

M -"What kind of attic? A dark, spooky attic or a big, fun, Grandma's attic?"

N -"I have no idea. I haven't been up there." It shamed her to admit that. "I haven't been off the ground floor, which is ridiculous, as I own a third of the property. Or will. I'm going to change that. Change isn't my best thing."

M -"Want me to go with you? I'd like to see the place anyway."

N -"I was hoping you'd say that." She reached over to give his hand a squeeze. "Thanks. Now, since you asked about ideas on this house, I'd suggest you start in the living room, which by my definition is an area where you're supposed to live."

M -"You're going to insult my sofa again, aren't you?"

N -"I don't believe I have the skills to form the insult that sofa merits. But you might want to think about actual tables, lamps, area rugs, curtains."

M -"I was thinking I could just order a bunch of stuff out of a catalogue."

She sent him a very long, very dry stare.

N -"You're trying to scare me, but it won't work. And since you've generously offered to help me out tomorrow, I'll return the favor. I'd be glad to give you a hand with turning that space into a room."

Since he'd all but licked his plate clean a second time, he resisted going for thirds.

M -"Was that a trick, some clever ploy to drag me off to a furniture store?"

N -"It wasn't, but it sure circled around to it well, didn't it? I can give you some of my thoughts while we do the dishes." She rose to stack dishes, but he put a hand over hers.

M -"Let's just go in there now, and you can show me what's so wrong with my simple, minimalist approach."

N -"After the dishes."

M -"Uh-uh. Now." He began to pull her out of the room, amused at the struggle on her face as she glanced back at the table. "They'll still be there when we get back. Trust me. It's not going to hurt to do them out of the logical order."

N -"Yes, it does. A little. Five minutes, then. The condensed consultation. First, you did a good job with the walls. It's a good-sized room, and the strong color's a complement, which you could enhance with touches of other strong colors in curtains and… What're you doing?" she demanded when he began pulling her closer.

M -"Thought we can fool around "

N -"Excuse me." She tapped his fingers away. "I charge extra for decorating consults while necking."

M -"Bill me." He swept her off her feet.

N -"This was just a trick, wasn't it? A ploy to get my clothes off and have your way with me."

Nice update