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

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Key Of Knowledge

Chapter 1 (The beginning, Its also a kind of Pre-cap from Gunjan's POV)

Gunjan Mehra considered herself a flexible, open-minded woman, with no less than her fair share of patience, tolerance, and humor. A number of people might have disagreed with this self-portrait. But what did they know? In one month's time, her life had, through no fault of her own, taken a sharp turn off its course and into territory so strange and uncharted she couldn't explain the route or the reason even to herself. But wasn't she going with the flow? She'd taken it on the chin when Joan, the malicious library director, had promoted her own niece by marriage over other, more qualified, more dependable, more astute, and certainly more attractive candidates. She'd sucked it up, hadn't she, and done her job? And when that completely undeserved promotion had caused a squeeze resulting in a certain more qualified employee's hours and paycheck being cut to the bone, had she pummeled the despicable Joan and the incessantly pert Sandi to bloody pulps? No, she had not. Which in Gunjan's mind illustrated her exquisite restraint. When her greedy bloodsucker of a landlord raised her rent to coincide with her pay cut, had she clamped her hands around his scrawny neck and squeezed until his beady eyes popped? Again, she had demonstrated control of heroic proportions. Those virtues might've been their own reward, but Gunjan enjoyed more tangible benefits. Whoever had come up with that business about a door opening when a window closes hadn't known much about Celtic gods. Gunjan's door hadn't opened. It had been blown clean off its hinges. Even with all she'd seen and done, with all she'd been a part of over the last four weeks, it was hard to believe that she was now stretched out in the backseat of her brother's car, once again heading up the steep, winding road to the great stone house of Warrior's Peak. And what waited for her there. It wasn't storming, as it had been on her first trip to the Peak and this time, she thought, she knew exactly what she was in for. Idly, she opened the notebook she'd brought along and read the summary she'd written of the story she'd heard on her first visit to Warrior's Peak. The young Celtic god who would be king falls for a human girl during his traditional sojourn in the mortal dimension. (Which I relate to spring break.) Young stud's parents indulge him, break the rules and allow him to bring the maid behind what's called either Curtain of Dreams or Curtain of Power, and into the realm of the gods. This is cool with some of the gods, but pisses others off. War, strife, politics, intrigue follow. Young god becomes king, makes human wife queen. They have three daughters. Each daughter-demigoddess-has a specific talent or gift. One is an, or beauty, the second is knowledge or truth, the third is courage or valor. Sisters are close and happy and grow to young womanhood, tra-la-la, under the watchful eye of the female teacher and the male warrior guardian given the task by god-king. Teacher and warrior fall in love, which blinds the eye enough that it isn't kept sharp on the daughters. Meanwhile, bad guys are plotting away. They don't take to human or half-human types in their rarefied world, especially in positions of power. Dark forces go to work. A particularly evil-minded sorcerer (probably related to Library Joan) takes charge. A spell is cast on the daughters while teacher and warrior are starry-eyed. The daughters' souls are stolen, locked in a glass box, known as the Box of Souls, which can only be opened by three keys turned by human hands. Although the gods know where to find the keys, none of them can break the spell or free the souls. Teacher and warrior are cast out, sent through the Curtain of Dreams into the mortal world. There, in each generation three human women are born who have the means to find the keys and end the curse. Teacher and warrior must find the women, and these women must be given the choice of accepting the quest or rejecting it. Each, in turn, has one moon phase to find a key. If the first fails, game over. And not without penalty-each would lose an undisclosed year of her life. If she succeeds, the second woman takes up the quest, and so on. An annoyingly cryptic clue-the only help teacher and warrior are allowed to give the three lucky women-is revealed at the start of the four-week cycle.

If the quest is completed, the Box of Souls will be opened and the Daughters of Glass freed. And the three women will each be awarded a cool one million dollars. A pretty story, Gunjan mused, until you understood it wasn't a story but fact. Until you understood you were one of the three women who had the means to unlock the Box of Souls. Then it just got weird. Add in some dark, powerful sorcerer god named Kane who really wanted you to fail and could make you see things that weren't there-and not see things that were- and the whole business took on a real edge. But there were good parts too. That first night she'd met two women who had turned out to be really interesting people, and soon she felt as though she'd known them all her life. Well enough, Gunjan reminded herself, that the three of them were going into business together. And one of them had turned out to be the love of her brother's life.

Nupur Bhushan, the organized soul with the artist's heart, not only had outwitted a sorcerer with a few thousand years under his belt but had found the key, opened the lock, and bagged the guy. All in less than four weeks. It was going to be hard for Gunjan and their pal Ridz to top that one. Then again, she reminded herself, she and Ridz didn't have the distraction of romance to clog the works. And she didn't have a kid to worry about, as Ridz did. Nope, She was footloose and fancy-free, with nothing to pull her focus away from the prize. If she was next at bat, Kane had better set for the long ball. Not that she had anything against romance, she mused, letting the notebook close as she watched the blaze and blur of trees through the window. She liked men. Well, most men. She'd even been in love with one, a million years ago. Of course, that had been a result of youthful stupidity. She was much wiser now. Samrat Shergill might have come back to Pleasant Valley, temporarily, a few weeks ago and he might have wheedled his way into being part of the quest. But he wasn't a part of Gunjan's world any longer. In her world he didn't exist. Except when he was writhing in pain and agony from some horrible freak accident or a debilitating and disfiguring illness. It was too bad that her brother, Mayank, had the bad taste to be his friend. But she could forgive him for it, and even give him points for loyalty, since he and Sam and Armi had been pals since childhood. And somehow or other, both Sam and Armi were connected to the quest. It was something she would have to tolerate for the duration. She shifted as Mayank turned to drive through the open iron gates, angled her head so that she could look up at one of the two stone warriors that guarded the entrance to the house.

Big, handsome, and dangerous, Gunji thought. She combed her fingers through her long swing of brown hair. Since Ridz, the currently unemployed hairdresser and her new best friend, had styled it and added highlights, it fell into that casual bell shape with little or no help from her. It saved her time in the morning, which she appreciated, as morning wasn't her best time of day. And the cut was flattering, which suited her vanity.

Her eyes, a deep, dark brown, locked on the elegant sprawl of black stone that was the house at Warrior's Peak. Part castle, part fortress, part fantasy, it spread over the rise, speared up into a sky as clear as black glass. Lights shimmered against its many windows, and still, Gunjan imagined, there were so many secrets in the shadows. She'd lived in the valley below for all the twenty-seven years of her life. And for all of them, the Peak had been a fascination. Its shape and shadow on the rise above her pretty little town had always struck her as something out of a faerie tale-and not the tidied-up, bloodless versions either. She'd often wondered what it would be like to live there, to wander through all the rooms, to walk out on the parapet or gaze down from a tower. To live so high, in such magnificent solitude, with the majesty of the hills all around and the charm of the woods only steps beyond the door. She stirred herself now, shifting around so her head was between Mayank's and Nupur's. They were so damn cute together, she thought. Mayank with his deceptively easygoing nature, Nupur with her need for order. Maynak with his lazy eyes, Nupur with her bright ones. There was Nups, with her stylish coordinated outfits, and Mayank, who was lucky if he could put his hands on a pair of matching socks. Yes, Gunji decided, they were perfect for one another. She thought of Nups as her sister now, through circumstance and fate. And really, wasn't that how Mayank had become her brother all those years ago when her father and his mother had married and merged families? When her dad had gotten sick, she'd leaned hard on Mayank. She supposed they'd leaned hard on each other more than once. When the doctors had recommended that her father move to a warmer climate, when Mayank's mother had shoved the responsibility of running the Valley Dispatch into Mayu's hands and he'd found himself the publisher of a small-town paper instead of living his dream of honing his reporting skills in New York. When the boy she'd loved had left her. When the woman he'd intended to marry had left him. Yeah, they'd had each other-through thick and thin. And now, in their own ways, they each had Nupur. It was a nice way to round things out.

G -"Well." laid her hands on their shoulders. "Here we go again."

Nupur turned, gave her a quick smile.

N -"Nervous?"

G -"Not so much."

N -"It's either you or Ridz tonight. Do you want to be picked?"

Ignoring the little flutter in her stomach, she shrugged.

G - "I just want to get going on it. I don't know why we have to go through all this ceremony. We already know what the deal is."

M -"Hey, free food,"

G -"There is that. Wonder if Ridz's here yet. We can dive into whatever our hosts, Rowena and Pitte, picked up in the land of milk and honey, then get this show on the road."

She climbed out the minute Mayank stopped the car, then Gunji stood with her hands on her hips, studying the house while the ancient man with a shock of white hair hurried up to take the keys.

N -"Maybe you're not nervous." came to stand beside her "But I am."

G -"Why? You dunked your shot."

N -"It's still up to all of us." She looked up at the white flag with its key emblem that flew atop the tower.

G -"Just think positive." drew in a long breath. "Ready?"

N -"If you are." Nupur held out a hand for Mayank.

They walked toward the huge entrance doors, which swung open at their approach.

Rowena stood in the flood of light, her hair a firestorm falling over the bodice of a sapphire velvet dress. Her lips were curved in welcome, her exotic green eyes bright with it. Gems sparkled at her ears, her wrists, her fingers. On a long braided chain that hung nearly to her waist was a crystal as clear as water and as fat as a baby's fist.

Ro -"Welcome." Her voice was low and musical and seemed to hold hints of forests and caves where faeries might dwell. "I'm so pleased to see you." She held out her hands to Nupur, then leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks in turn. "You look wonderful, and well."

N -"So do you, always."

With a light laugh, Rowena reached for Gunji's hand.

Ro -"And you. Mmm, what a wonderful jacket." She skimmed her fingers along the sleeve of the butter-soft leather. But even as she spoke, she was looking beyond them and out the door. "You didn't bring Moe?"

M -"It didn't seem like quite the occasion for a big, clumsy dog,"

Ro-"It's always the occasion for Moe." rose on her toes to peck Mayank's cheek. "You must promise to bring him next time. Come, we'll be comfortable in the parlor."

They crossed the great hall with its mosaic floor, moved through the wide arch to the spacious room glowing from the flames in the massive hearth and the light of dozens of white candles. Pitte stood at the mantel, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. The warrior at the gate, Gunji thought. He was tall, dark, dangerously handsome, with a muscular and ready build that his elegant black suit couldn't disguise. It was easy to imagine him wearing light armor and carrying a sword. Or sitting astride a huge black horse and wearing a cape that billowed at the gallop. He gave a slight and courtly bow as they entered. she started to speak, then a movement caught the corner of her eye. The friendly smile vanished from her face, her brows beetled, and her eyes flashed pure annoyance.

G -"What's he doing here?"

S -"He," Samrat said dryly as he lifted a glass, "was invited."

Ro -"Of course." Smoothly, Rowena pressed a flute of champagne into Gunji's hand. "Pitte and I are delighted to have all of you here tonight. Please, be at home. Nupur, you must tell me how plans are progressing on your gallery."

With another flute of champagne and a gentle nudge, Rowena had Nupur moving toward a chair. After one look at his sister's face, Mayank chose the better part of valor and followed them. Refusing to retreat, Gunjan sipped her champagne and scowled at Sam over the crystal rim of her glass.

G -"Your part in this is finished."

S -"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Either way I get an invitation to dinner from a beautiful woman, especially if she happens to be a goddess, I accept. Nice threads," he commented and fingered the cuff of her jacket.

G -"Hands off." She jerked her arm out of reach, then plucked a canap from a tray. "And stay out of my way."

S -"I'm not in your way." His voice remained mild, and he took a lazy sip of his drink.

Like Pitte, he could have posed for one of the stone warriors. His dark hair could've used a trim, but that slightly curly, slightly unkempt, slightly too long style suited the power of his face. He was, always had been, lustily handsome, with blazing eyes under black brows, the long nose, the wide mouth, the strong bones combining in a look that could be charming or intimidating depending on his purpose. Worse, Dana thought, he had an agile and clever mind inside that rock-hard skull. And an innate talent that had made him a wildly successful novelist before he'd hit thirty. Once, she'd believed they would build a life side by side. But to her mind he'd chosen his fame and his fortune over her. And in her heart she had never forgiven him for it.

S -"There are two more keys," he reminded her. "If finding them is important to you, you should be grateful for help. Whatever the source."

G -"I don't need your help. So feel free to head back to New York anytime."

S -"I'm going to see this through. Better get used to it."

G-"What's in it for you?"

S-"You really want to know?" She shrugged.

G -"I couldn't care less. But I'd think even someone with your limited sensitivity would be aware that you bunking at Mayank's is putting a crimp in the works for the turtledoves there."

Sam followed her direction, noted Mayank sitting with Nupur, and the way his friend absently played with her hair.

S -"I know how to keep out of their way, too. She's good for him,"

Whatever else she could say about Sam-and there was plenty-she couldn't deny that he loved Mayank. So she swallowed some of the bitterness, and washed the taste of it away with champagne.

G -"Yeah, she is. They're good for each other."

S -"She won't move in with him."

G - "He asked her to move hi? To live with him? And she said no?" surprised.

S -"Not exactly. But the lady has conditions."

G -"Which are?"

S -"Actual furniture in the living room and he has to redo the kitchen."

G -"No kidding?" The idea had Gunji feeling both amused and sentimental at once. "That's our Nups. Before Mayank knows it, he'll be living in a real house instead of a building with doors and windows and packing boxes."

S -"He bought dishes. The kind you wash, not the land you chuck in the trash."

The amusement peaked.

G -"He did not."

S -"And knives and forks that aren't plastic."

G -"Oh, my God, stemware could be next."

S -"I'm afraid so." , She let out a roll of laughter, toasted to her brother's back.

G -"Hook, line, and sinker."

S -"That's something I've missed, That's the first time I've heard you laugh and mean it since I've been back." She sobered instantly.

G-"It didn't have anything to do with you."

S -"Don't I know it."

Before she could speak again, Ridz rushed into the room, steps ahead of Armi. She looked flustered, irritated, and embarrassed. Like a sexy wood sprite, who'd had a particularly bad day.

Ri-"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I'm late."

She wore a short, clingy black dress with long, snug sleeves and an abbreviated hem that showcased her slim and sinuous curves. Her hair, black and glossy, straight with a long fringe of bangs accenting long-lidded eyes. Behind her, Armi looked like some faerie-tale prince in an Italian suit. Seeing them together made Gunji think what a stunning couple they made-if you didn't count the frustration emanating from Ridz, or the uncharacteristic stiffness in Armi's stance.

Ro-"Don't be silly. You're not at all late."

Ri-"I am. My car. I had trouble with my car. They were supposed to fix it, but… Well, I'm very grateful Arman was driving by and stopped."

She didn't sound grateful, Gunji noted. She sounded pissed, with that hint of the West Virginia hills in her voice giving the temper a nice little edge.

Rowena made sympathetic noises as she led Ridz to a chair, served her champagne.

Ri-"I think I could've fixed it," muttered.

A -"That may be." With obvious gratitude, Arman accepted a drink. "But you'd have ended up with grease all over your dress. Then you'd have needed to go home and change and you'd've been even later. It's hardly a slap in the face to accept a ride from someone you know who's going to exactly the same place at the same time."

Ri-"I said I was grateful," shot back, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said to the room in general. "It's been one of those days. And I'm nervous on top of it. I hope I haven't held anything up."

Ro -"Not at all." Rowena brushed a hand over her shoulder as a servant came to the archway and announced dinner. "There, you see? Right on time."

The atmosphere should have been intimidating and formal, yet it was welcoming. Not the sort of place you'd chow down on pepperoni pizza, Gunji reflected, but a nice ambience for sharing an exquisitely prepared meal with interesting people. Conversation flowed-travel, books, business. It showed her the power of their hosts. It wasn't the norm for a librarian from a small valley town to sit around and break bread with a couple of Celtic gods, but Rowena and Pitte made it seem normal. And what was to come, the next step in the quest, was a subject no one broached.

Because she was seated between Sam and Armi, Dana angled herself toward Armi and spent as much of the meal as possible ignoring her other dinner partner.

G-"What did you do to make Ridz mad?" he flicked a glance across the table.

A -"Apparently, I breathed."

G -"Come on." gave him a little elbow poke. "she's not like that. What did you do? Did you hit on her?"

A -"I did not hit on her." Years of training kept his voice low, but the acid in it was still evident. "Maybe it annoyed her that I refused to muck around in her engine, and wouldn't let her muck around in it either, as we were both dressed for dinner and were already running late." Gunji's eyebrows rose.

G- "Well, well. Seems she got your back up, too."

A -"I don't care to be called high-handed and bossy just because I point out the obvious."

Now she smiled, leaned over and pinched his cheek.

G-"But, honey, you are high-handed and bossy. That's why I love you."

A -"Yeah, yeah, yeah." But his lips twitched. "Then how come we've never gone out?"

G -"I don't know. Let me get back to you on that. Guess you've been to a lot of snazzy dinners like this, in snazzy places like this."

A -"There is no other place like this."

It was easy for her to forget that her buddy Armi was Arman Mallik IV, heir apparent to a lumber empire that had built one of the country's largest and most accessible home improvement and supply chains, HomeMakers. But seeing how smoothly he slid into this sort of sophisticated atmosphere reminded her that he was a great deal more than just the hometown boy.

G -"Didn't your dad buy some big castle place in Scotland a few years back?"

A -"Manor house, Cornwall. And, yeah, it's pretty incredible. She's not eating much," he murmured and gave a little nod toward Ridz.

G -"She's just nervous. Me too, But nothing kills my appetite." She heard Sam laugh, and the deep male sound of it cruised along her skin. "Absolutely nothing."

SHE was spending most of her time ignoring him, and taking swipes with whatever time she had left over. That, Sam thought, was Gunji's usual pattern when it came to him. He should be used to it. So the fact that it bothered him so much was his problem. Just as finding a way to make them friends again was his mission. They'd once been friends. And a great deal more. The fact that they weren't now was his fault, and he would take the rap for it. But just how long was a man supposed to pay for ending a relationship? Wasn't there a statute of limitations? She looked incredible, he decided as they gathered back in the parlor for coffee and brandy. But then, he'd always liked her looks, even when she'd been a kid, too tall for her age and with that pudge of baby fat still in her cheeks. There was no baby fat in evidence now. Anywhere. Just curves, a lot of gorgeous curves. She'd done something to her hair, he realized, some girl thing that added mysterious light to that dense brown. It made her eyes seem darker, deeper. God, how many times had he felt himself drowning in those rich chocolate eyes? Hadn't he been entitled to come up for air? In any case, he'd meant what he'd said to her before. He was back now, and she was just going to have to get used to it. Just as she would have to get used to the fact that he was part of this tangle she'd gotten herself into. She was going to have to deal with him. And it would be his pleasure to make sure she had to deal with him as often as possible. Rowena rose. There was something in the movement, in the look of her, that tickled something at the edge of Sam's memory. Then she stepped forward, smiled, and the moment passed.

Ro-"If you're ready, we should begin. I think it's more suitable if we continue this in the other parlor."

G -"I'm ready. You?" asked Ridz

R -"Yeah." Though she paled a bit, Ridz clasped hands with Gunji. "The first time, all I could think was don't let me be first. Now I just don't know."

G -"Me either."

They moved down the great hall to the next parlor. It didn't help to brace himself, Sam knew. The portrait swamped him, as it had the first time he'd seen it. He knew Rowena had painted if from memory-and that her memory was long. And he knew from what Nupur had discovered and experienced, that moments after this slice of time, the souls of the daughters had been stolen and locked away in a box of glass. Pitte lifted a carved box, opened the lid.

P -"Inside are two disks, one with the emblem of the key. Whoever chooses the scribed disk is charged to find the second key."

Ri -"Like last time, okay? We look together."

G -"Okay." she took a slow breath as Nupur stepped up, laid a hand on her shoulder, then Ridz's. "Want to go first?"

Ri -"Gosh. I guess." Closing her eyes,Ridz reached into the box, closed her hand over a disk.

With her eyes open and on the portrait, Gunji took the one that remained. Then each held her disk out.

Ri-"Well. Looks like I'm running the anchor lap."

Gunji ran her thumb over the key carved in her disk. It was a small thing, that key, a straight bar with a spiral design on one end. It looked simple, but she'd seen the real thing-she'd seen the first key in Nupur's hand, burning with gold, and knew it wasn't simple at all.

G -"Okay, I'm up." She wanted to sit, but locked her shaky knees instead. Four weeks, she thought. She had four weeks from new moon to new moon to do if not the impossible at least the fantastic. "I get a clue, right?"

Ro-"You do." Rowena took up a sheet of parchment and read:

"You know the past and seek the future. What was, what is, what will be are woven into the tapestry of all life. With beauty there is blight, with knowledge, ignorance, and with valor there is cowardice. One is lessened without its opposite. To know the key, the mind must recognize the heart, and the heart celebrate the mind. Find your truth in his lies, and what is real within the fantasy. Where one goddess walks, another waits, and dreams are only memories yet to come." Gunji with knots in her belly replied

G - "Piece of cake,"

Chapter Two

She'd started her job at the Pleasant Valley Library with her college degree still crisp in her hand. The daily ritual was something she would miss when she turned in her resignation. Then Sandi breezed by with her bouncy blond ponytail and permanent beauty-contestant smile, and she thought there were certain things she would definitely not miss. The fact was, She should have given her two weeks' notice already. Her hours at the library were down to a stingy twenty-five a week. But that time could be put to good use elsewhere. She'd be opening her bookstore, her part of Indulgence, the communal business she was starting with the girls, in just a couple of months. Not only did she have to finish organizing and decorating her space in the building they'd bought, but she had to deal with ordering stock. She'd applied for all the necessary licenses, had already combed through publishers' catalogues, fantasized about her sidelines. She would serve tea in the afternoon, wine in the evening. Eventually she would hold elegant little events. Readings, signings, appearances. It was something she'd always wanted to do but had never really believed she could accomplish. She supposed Rowena and Pitte had made it possible. Not only because of the twenty-five thousand in cold, hard cash they'd given her and the others as an incentive to agree to the quest, but also by putting her together with Nupur and Ridz. Each of them had been at a crossroads of sorts the first night they'd met at Warrior's Peak. And they'd made the turn, chosen the path to follow together. It wasn't nearly as scary thinking of starting her own business when she had two friends-two partners-doing the same thing. Then there was the key. Of course, she couldn't forget the key. It had taken Nupur nearly all of the four weeks allowed to find the first. And it hadn't been all fun and games. Far from it. Still, they knew more now, more about what they were up against, more about what was at stake. That had to be an advantage for this round. Unless you considered that knowing where the keys came from, what they did, and who didn't want them found had absolutely nothing to do with finding one. She sat back, closed her eyes, and pondered the clue Rowena had given her. It had to do with the past, the present, and the future. Big help. Knowledge, naturally. Lies and truths. Heart and mind. Where one goddess walks. There'd been a goddess, a singing goddess, in Nupur's clue. And Nupur-the art lover who'd dreamed of being an artist-had found her key in a painting. If the other two followed the same theme, logic dictated that she, the book lover, might find hers in or around books.

J -"Catching up on your sleep, Gunjan?"

Ginji's eyes snapped open, stared directly into Joan's disapproving ones.

G -"No. Concentrating."

J -"If you've nothing better to do, you can help Marilyn in the stacks."

pasted a sunny smile on her face.

G -"I'd be happy to. Should I ask Sandi to take over the resource desk? You don't seem overrun with questions and requests." And you don't seem overrun with paperwork and administrative duties, Gunjan thought, since you've got so much time to crawl up my butt. "I've just completed one involving private enterprise and capitalism. But if you'd rather I-"

"Excuse me." A woman stopped at the desk, with her hand on the arm of a boy of about twelve. The grip made Gunji think of the way Mayank held Moe's leash. With the hope that she could keep him under control and the certain knowledge that he would bolt at the first opportunity.

W -"I wonder if you could help us. My son has a paper due …tomorrow" she added with heated emphasis that had the boy hunching his shoulders. "On the Continental Congress. Can you tell us which books might be the most helpful at this stage of the game?"

J-"Of course." Like a chameleon, Joan's cold fish of a face warmed into smiles. "I'd be happy to show you several sources hi our U.S. history section."

G -"Excuse me." Unable to help herself, Gunji tapped the sulky boy on the shoulder. "Seventh grade? Mrs. Janesburg, U.S. history?"

His already pouty bottom lip drooped even further.

B -"Yeah."

G-"I know just what she looks for. You put in a couple of solid hours on this, you can ace it."

W -"Really?" The mother laid a hand on Gunji's, gripped it like a lifeline. "That would be a miracle."

G -"I had Mrs. Janesburg for U.S. and world history." she winked at the boy. "I've got her number."

J -"I'll leave you in Ms. Mehra's capable hands." Though her smile remained in place, Joan spoke through gritted teeth.

Fifteen minutes later, while her son checked out his books with his brand-new library card, the mother stopped back by Gunji's desk.

W -"I just wanted to thank you again. I'm Joanne Reardon, and you've just saved my firstborn's life."

G -"Oh, Mrs. Janesburg's tough, but she wouldn't have killed him."

W -"No. I would have. You got Matt excited about doing this paper, if for no other reason than making him think he'd be pulling one over on his teacher."

G -"Whatever works."

W -"My sentiments exactly. Anyway, I appreciate it. You're wonderful at your job."

G -"Thanks. Good luck."

She was wonderful at her job, Gunji concurred. Goddamn it, she was. The evil Joan and her toothy niece were going to be sorry when they didn't have her to kick around anymore.

AT the end of her shift she tidied her area, gathered up a few books she'd checked out, then hefted her briefcase. Another thing she would miss, she thought, was this end-of-the-day routine, The putting everything in order, taking a last look around the stacks, the tables, the sweet little cathedral to books before the walk home.

She would also miss being just a short, pleasant walk from work to her apartment. It was only one of the reasons she had refused to move in with Mayank when he'd bought his house. She could still walk to Indulgence, she reminded herself . If she felt like a two-mile hike. Since that was unlikely to happen, she decided she should appreciate what she had now, while she still had it. She liked the predictability of her habitual route home, the things she saw season by season, year by year. Now, with fall in full swing, the streets were full of golden lights that streamed through the blaze of trees. And the surrounding mountains rose up like some fabulous tapestry woven by the gods.

She could hear kids, freed from school and not yet locked into the homework hour, shouting as they raced around the little park between the library and her apartment building. The air was just brisk enough to carry along that spicy scent from the bed of mums planted outside the town hall. The big round clock on the square announced it was 4:05. She struggled against a wave of resentment when she remembered that, pre-Joan, it would have read 6:35 on her way home. Screw it. Just appreciate the extra time, the lovely walk on a sunny afternoon. Pumpkins on the porches, goblins hanging from branches though it was weeks before Halloween. Small towns, she mused, prized their holidays. The days were getting shorter, cooler, but were still warm enough, still long enough to bask in. The Valley was at its best in autumn, she decided. As close to picture-perfect as Anywhere, America, could get.

S -"Hey, Sweets. Carry those for you?"

Her pretty bubble of contentment burst. Before she could snarl, Sam snatched the load of books away, tucked them under his own arm.

G -"Give me those."

S -"I've got them. Terrific afternoon, huh? Nothing like the Valley in October"

She hated that his words mirrored the ones that had played through her mind.

G -"I thought the name of the tune was 'Autumn in New York.'" "

S -"And it's a good one." He tipped up the books to read the spines. She had one on Celtic lore, one on yoga, and the latest Stephen King novel. "Yoga?"

It was like him, just exactly like him, to home in on the one thing that she found moderately embarrassing.

G - "So?"

S -"Nothing. Just can't see you assuming the dragonfly position or whatever." He narrowed his eyes, and something appealingly wicked. "On second thought…"

G -"Haven't you got anything better to do than skulking around the library waiting to accost and annoy me?"

S -"I wasn't skulking, and hauling your books isn't accosting." He matched his stride to hers with the ease of long familiarity. "It's not the first time I've walked you home."

G -"Somehow I've managed to find my way without you the last several years."

S -"You've managed a lot of things. How's your dad doing?" She bit back a vicious remark because she knew, for all his many flaws, that Sam asked the question out of a sincere concern. Pa and Sam had gotten on like white on rice.

G -"He's good. He's doing good. The move to Arizona was what he needed. He and ma have a nice place, a nice life. He's taken up baking."

S -"Baking? Like cakes? Uncle bakes cakes?"

G -"And scones and fancy bread." She couldn't stop the smile. The thought of her father, big, macho Joe, in an apron whipping up cake batter got her every time. "I get a care package every couple of months. First few contributions made excellent doorstops, but in the last year or so he's found his rhythm. He makes good stuff."

S -"Give him my best next time you talk to him." She shrugged. She didn't intend to mention Sam's name, unless it was in a curse.

G - "End of the road," she said when they reached the door of her apartment building.

S -"I want to come in."

G -"Not in this or any other lifetime." She reached for the books, he swung them out of reach. "Cut it out, Sam. We're not ten."

S -"We have things to talk about."

G -"No, we don't."

S -"Yes, we do. And stop making me feel like I'm ten." He hissed out a breath, prayed for patience. "Look, Gunji, we've got a history. Let's deal with it like grown-ups."

Damn if he would so much as hint that she was being immature. The pinhead.

G - "Okay, here's how we'll deal with it. Give me my books and go away."

S -"Did you listen to what Rowena said last night?" There was an edge in the tone now, one that warned her a good, sweaty argument was brewing. "Did you pay any attention? Your past, present, and future. I'm part of your past. I'm part of this."

G -"In my past is just where you're going to stay. I wasted two years of my life on you. But that's done. Can't you stand it, Sam? Can't your enormous ego handle the fact that I got over you? Way over you."

S-"This isn't about my ego," He handed her back her books. "But it sure as hell seems to be about yours. You know where to find me when you're ready."

G -"I don't want to find you," she murmured when he strode away.

Damn it, it wasn't like him to walk away from a fight. She'd seen the temper on his face, heard it in his voice. Since when had he yanked the snarling beast back and hauled it off? She had been primed for the argument, and now she had nowhere to vent her spleen. That was very, very nasty. Inside her apartment, she dumped her books on the table and headed straight for the Ben and Jerry's. Soon she was soothing her ruffled feathers with a pint of cookie dough straight out of the carton.

G -"bas***d. Sneaky bas***d, getting me all riled up and skulking off. These calories are his fault." She licked the spoon, dug for more. "But, damn, they're really good."

Refreshed, she changed into sweats, brewed a pot of coffee, then settled into her favorite chair with the new book on Celtic lore. She couldn't count the number of books on the subject she'd read in the last month. But then again, to Gunji, reading was every bit as pleasurable as Ben and Jerry's and as essential to life as the next breath of air. She surrounded herself with books at work and at home. Her living space was a testament to her first and abiding love, with shelves jammed with books, tables crowded with them. She saw them not only as knowledge, entertainment, comfort, even sanity, but as a kind of artful decoration. To the casual eye, the books that streamed and flowed over shelves in nooks, on tabletops, might look like a haphazard, even disordered, jumble. But the Librarian in Gunjan insisted on a system. She could, on her whim or on request, put her hand on any title in any room in the apartment. She couldn't live without books, without the stories, the information, the worlds that lived inside them. Even now, with the task ahead of her and the clock already ticking, she fell into the words on the pages in her hands, and into the lives, the loves, the wars, the petty grievances of the gods. Absorbed, she jumped at the knock on her door. Blinking, she came back to reality, noted that the sun had set while she'd been visiting with Dagda, Epona, and Lug.

Book in hand, she went to answer, then lifted her eyebrows at Nupur.

G -"What's up?"

N -"I thought I'd swing by and see what you were up to before I headed home. I've spent the day talking to some local artists and craftspeople. I think I've got a good start on pieces for my gallery."

G -"Cool. Got any food on you? I'm starved."

N -"A tin of Altoids and half a roll of Life Savers."

G -"That's not going to work, I'm going to forage. You hungry?"

N-"No, go ahead. Any brilliant ideas? Anything you want Ridz and me to do?" asked as she followed Gunji into the kitchen.

G -"I don't know how brilliant. Spaghetti! Hot damn." came out of the refrigerator with a bowl of leftover pasta. "You want?"

N -"Nope."

G -"Got some Cabernet to go with it."

N -"That I'll have. One glass." At home in Gunji's kitchen, Nups got out wineglasses. "What's the idea, brilliant or not?"

G -"Books. You know, the whole knowledge thing. And the past, present, future. If we're talking about mine, it's all about the books."- She dug out a fork and began to eat the pasta straight out of the bowl. "The trick is which book, or what kind of book."

N -"Don't you want to heat that up?"

G -"What?" Baffled, looked down at the spaghetti in the bowl. "Why?"

N -"No reason." handed her a glass of wine, then took her own and wandered out to sit at the table. "A book or books makes sense, at least in part. And it gives you a path to take. But…" She scanned Gunji's apartment. "What you yourself personally own would take weeks to get through. Then there's what everyone else in the Valley owns, the library, the bookstore at the mall, and so on."

G -"And the fact that even if I'm right, it doesn't mean the key's literally in a book. Could be figuratively. Or it could mean something in a book points the way to the key." shrugged and shoveled in more cold spaghetti. "I said it fell short of brilliant."

N -"It's a good starting point. Past, present, future." pursed her lips. "Covers a lot of ground."

G -"Historical, contemporary, futuristic. And that's just novels."

N -"What if it's more personal?" leaned forward, kept her attention on Gunji's face. "It was with me. My path to the key included Mayank, my feelings for him-and my feelings about myself, where I would end up, where I wanted to go. The experiences I had-we can't call them dreams-were very personal. And scary." Briefly, she laid a hand over Nupur's.

G -"I know. But you got through it. So will I. Maybe it is personal. A book that has some specific and personal meaning for me." Thoughtfully she scanned the room as she picked up her fork again. "That's something else that covers a lot of ground."

N -"I was thinking of something else. I was thinking of Sam."

G -"I don't see how he's in the mix. Look," she continued even as Nupur opened her mouth, "he was part of the first round, sure. The paintings by Rowena that both he and Armi bought. He came back to town with that painting because Mayank asked him to. That played into it, although his part should have ended with your quest. And his connection to Mayank, which connected him to you."

N -"And you, Dana." She twirled her fork in the pasta, but her enthusiasm for it was waning.

G -"Not anymore." Recognizing the stubborn look, Nupur nodded.

N -"Okay. How about the first book you ever read? The first that grabbed you and made you a reader."

G -"I don't think the magic key to the Box of Souls is going to be found in Green Eggs and Ham" Smirking, lifted her glass. "But I'll give it a look."

N -"What about your first grown-up book?"

G -"Obviously the steely wit and keen satire of Sam I Am escaped you." She grinned, but drummed her fingers, thinking. "Anyway, I don't remember a first. It was always books with me. I don't remember not reading." She studied her wine a moment, then took a quick gulp.

"He dumped me. I moved on."

Back to Sam, Nupur thought and nodded.

N - "All right."

G -"That doesn't mean I don't hate him with a rare and beautiful passion, but it doesn't drive my life. I've only seen him a handful of times in the past seven years." She shrugged, but it came across as a hesitant jerk. "I've got my life, he's got his, and they no longer intersect. He just happens to be buds with Mayank."

N-"Did you love him?"

G -"Yeah. Big time. bas***d."

N -"I'm sorry."

G -"Hey, it happens." She had to remind herself of that. It wasn't life or death, it didn't send her falling headlong into a vale of tears. If a heart couldn't be broken, it wasn't a heart to begin with.

"We were friends. When my dad married Mayank's mom, Mayank and I hit it off. Good thing, I guess. Mayank had Sam and Armi-they were like one body with three heads half the time. So I got them, too."

You've still got them, Nupur nearly said, but managed to keep silent.

"Sam and I were friends, and we both really dug reading, so that was another click. Then we got older, and things changed. You want another hit of this?" she asked, holding up her empty glass.

N -"No."

G -"Well, I'm having one." rose, got the bottle from the kitchen. "He went off to college. He got a partial scholarship to Penn State, and both he and his mom worked like dogs to put together the rest of the tuition and expense money. His mom, well, she was just terrific. Ridz sort of reminds me of her."

N -"Really?"

G -"Not in the looks department, though Mrs.Shergill was really pretty, but she was taller, and willowy-made you think of a dancer."

N-"She was young when she died."

G -"Yeah, only in her forties." It still brought a little pang to her heart. "It was horrible what she went through, what Sam went through. At the end, we were all practically camped out at the hospital, and even then…" She gave herself a hard shake, blew out a breath. "That's not where I was going. I meant Ridz reminds me of how Mrs.Shergill was. It's that good-mother vibe Ridz has. The kind of woman who knows what to do and how to do it and doesn't whine about getting it done, and still manages to love it and the kid. She and Sam were tight, the way Ridz and Sahil are. It was just the two of them. His father wasn't in the picture, not as far back as I can remember, anyway."

N-"That must've been difficult for him."

G -"It would've been, I think, if his mother hadn't been who she was. She'd grab a bat and join in a pickup Softball game as quickly as she would whip up some cookie batter. She filled the gaps."

N -"You loved her too, did. We all did." Gunji sat down, sipped at her second glass of wine.

G -"So anyway, the sam goes off to college, gets two part-time jobs up there to help pay his expenses. We didn't see much of him the first year. He came back for summers, worked at Tony's Garage. He's a pretty decent mechanic. Palled around with the guys when he had the chance. Four years later, he's got his degree. He did a year and a half postgrad and was already getting some short stories published. Then he came home." She let out a long breath. "Oh God we took one look at each other, and it was like bombs exploding. I thought, What the hell is this? This my buddy Sam. I'm not supposed to want to kiss my good buddy Sam." She laughed, drank. "Later on, he told me he'd had the same sort of reaction. Whoa, hold on, this is Mayank's little sister. Hands off. So we danced around those bombs and each other for a couple of months. We were either bitchy with each other or very, very polite,"

N -"And then?" prompted when Gunji fell silent.

G -"Then one night he dropped by to see Mayank, but Mayank was out on a date. And my parents weren't home. I picked a fight with him. I had to do something with all that heat. The next thing you know the two of us are rolling around on the living room rug. We couldn't get enough of each other. I've never had that before or since, that… desperation. It was incredible. Imagine our chagrin when the smoke cleared and the two of us were lying on my parents pretty Oriental carpet."

N -"How did you handle it?"

G -"Well, as I recall we lay there like the dead for a minute, then just stared at each other. A couple of survivors of a very intense war. Then we laughed our butts off and went at each other again." She lifted her glass in a mock toast. "So. We started dating, belatedly. Sam and Gunji, Gunji and Sam. It got to be like one word, whichever way you said it."

Oh, God, she missed that, she realized. Missed that very ultimate link. "Nobody ever made me laugh the way he could make me laugh. And he's the only man in my life who's ever made me cry. So, yeah, Christ, yes, I loved that son of a bitch."

N -"What happened?"

G -"Little things, huge things. His mother died. God, nothing's ever been as, well, monstrous as that. Even when my dad got sick, it wasn't as bad. Ovarian cancer, and they found it too late. The operations, the treatments, the prayers, nothing worked. She just kept slipping away. Having someone die is hard," she said softly. "Watching them die by inches is impossible."

N -"I can't imagine it." Nups's eyes filled with tears. "I've never lost anyone."

G -"I don't remember losing my mother; I was too young. But I remember every day of losing Mrs.Shergill. Maybe it broke something in Sam. I don't know-he wouldn't let me know. After she died, he sold their little house, all the furniture, just about every damn thing. And he cut me loose and moved to New York to get rich and famous."

N -"It wasn't as cut and dried as that," commented.

G-"Maybe not. But it felt like it. He said he had to go. That he needed something, and it wasn't here. If he was going to write-and he had to write-he had to do it his way. He had to get out of the Valley. So that's what he did, like the two years we were together was just a little interlude in his life." She downed the rest of the wine in her glass.

G -"So f**k him, and the bestsellers he rode in on."

N -"You may not want to hear this, at least not now. But part of the solution might be to resolve this with him."

G -"Resolve what?"

N -"Gunji." laid both of her hands on Gunji's. "You're still in love with him." Her hands jerked.

G - "I am not. I made a life for myself. I've had Boyfriends. I have a career-which, okay, is in the toilet right now, but I've got a phoenix about to rise from the ashes is the bookstore."

She stopped, hearing the way her words tumbled out. "No more wine for me if I mix metaphors that pitifully. Sam's old news," she said more calmly. "Just because he was the first man I loved doesn't mean he has to be the last. I'd rather poke my eye with a burning stick than give him the satisfaction."

N -"I know." laughed a little, gave Gunji's hands a squeeze before she released them. "That's how I know you're still in love with him. That, and what I just saw on your face, heard in your voice when you took me through what you had together."

It was appalling. How had she looked? How had she sounded?

G - "So the wine made me sentimental. It doesn't mean-"

N -"It means whatever it means, It's something you're going to have to think about, Honey, something you're going to have to weigh carefully if you really mean to do this thing. Because one way or the other, he's part of your life, and he's part of this."

G -"I don't want him to be, But if he is, I'll deal with it. There's too much at stake for me to wimp out before I even get started."

N -"That's the spirit. I've got to get home."

She rose, then ran a comforting hand over Gunji's hair.

N -"Whatever you're feeling or thinking, you can tell me. And Ridz. And if there's something you need to say, if you just need someone to be here when you have nothing to say, all you have to do is call."

Gunji nodded, waited until Nupur was at the door.

G -"Nups? It was like having a hole punched in my heart when he left. One hole ought to be enough for anybody's lifetime."

N -"You'd think. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lovely part loved it continue soon

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sanjana 😊 😊

awesome SG prts..........plz cont soon nd add me to ur pm list!

Chapter Three

THE odds of finding a magic key tucked in one of the thousands of books at the Pleasant Valley Library were long and daunting. But that didn't mean she couldn't look. In any case, she liked being in the stacks, surrounded by books. She could, if she let her mind open to it, hear the words murmuring from them. All those voices from people who lived in worlds both fantastic and ordinary. She could, simply by slipping a book off the shelf, slide right into one of those worlds and become anyone who lived inside it. Magic keys and soul-sucking sorcerers, Gunjan thought. Incredible as they might be, they paled for her against the power of words on a page. But she wasn't here to play, she reminded herself as she began dutifully tidying the stacks while keeping an eye on the resource desk a few feet away. This was an experiment. Maybe she would put her fingers on a book and feel something-a tingle, a hint of heat. Who knew? But she worked her way through the mythology stacks without experiencing any tingles.

Undaunted, she wandered to the section of books on ancient civilizations. The past, she told herself. The Daughters of Glass had sprung from the ancients. Well, who hadn't?

She worked diligently for a time, reordering books that had been misplaced. She knew better, really she did, than to actually open the volume on ancient Britain, but it was suddenly in her hand, and there was this section on stone circles that swept her onto windy moors at moonrise. Druids and chanting, balefires and the hum that was the breath of gods. "Oh, gee, Gunj. I didn't know you were off today." With her teeth going to auto-grind, Gunjan shifted her gaze from the book hi her hand to Sandi's overly cheerful face.

G -"I'm not off. I'm working the stacks."

San-"Really?" The big blue eyes widened. Long golden lashes fluttered. "It looked Like you were reading. I thought maybe you were on your own time, doing more research. You've been doing a lot of research lately, haven't you? Finally starting on your doctorate?" With a bad-tempered little shove, she put the book back in place. Wouldn't it be fun? she thought, to get the big silver scissors out of the drawer in her desk and whack off that detestable bouncing ponytail? She'd just bet that would wipe that bright, toothy grin off Sandi's face.

G -"You got the promotion, the pay raise, so what's your problem, Sandi?"

San-"Problem? I don't have a problem. We all know the policy about reading on the clock. So I'm sure it just looked like you were reading instead of manning the desk."

G -"The desk is covered. You spend a lot of your time worrying about what I'm doing, slinking around in the stacks behind me, eavesdropping when I'm speaking with a patron."

Sandi's perky smile turned into a perky sneer.

San-"I certainly do not eavesdrop."

G -"Bullshit," said in a quiet, pleasant tone that had Sandi's dollbaby eyes going bright with shock. "You've been stepping on my heels for weeks. You got the promotion, I got the cut. But you're not my supervisor, you're not my boss. So you can kiss my ass." Though it wasn't quite as rewarding as hacking off the ponytail might have been, it felt fabulous to just walk away, leaving Sandi sputtering. When Sandi joined her she asked.

G -"Something I can do for you?"

San-"Joan wants to see you upstairs." Thrusting her chin in the air, Sandi looked down her tiny, perfect nose. "Immediately."

G -"Sure." tucked her hair behind her ear as she studied Sandi. "I bet you only had one friend in elementary school, and she was just as obnoxious as you are." She slid off the stool and headed to meet Joan. At the door, she knocked, briskly, then opened the door without waiting for a response. "You wanted to see me?"

At her desk, Joan leaned back. Since Joan's mouth was already set in disapproval, Gunji didn't expect the meeting to be a cheerful one.

J -"Shut the door, please. It appears, Gunjan, that you continue to have difficulty adjusting to the new policies and protocol I've implemented here."

G -"So, Sandi raced right up to tattle that I was actually reading a book. Of all the horrors to commit in a public library."

J -"Your combative attitude is only one of the problems we have to deal with."

G -"I'm not going to stand here and defend myself for skimming a couple pages of a book while I was working in the stacks. Part of my function is to be informed about books, not just to point the patrons toward an area and wish them Godspeed. I do my job, Joan, and my evaluations from the previous director were never less than exemplary."

J -"I'm not the previous director."

G-"Damn straight. Less than six weeks after you took over, you cut my, and two other long-term employees', hours and paychecks nearly in half. And your niece gets a promotion and a raise."

J -"I was hired to pull this institution out of financial decline, and that's what I'm doing. I'm not required to explain my administrative decisions to you."

G -"No, you don't have to. I get it. You don't like me, I don't like you. But I don't have to like everyone I work with or for. I can still do my job."

J -"It's your job to follow the rules. Not to make and receive personal phone calls. Not to use library equipment for personal business. Not to spend twenty minutes gossiping with a patron while your duties are neglected."

G -"Hold it." Baffled rage spewed into her throat like a geyser. "Just hold it one minute. What's she doing, making daily reports on me?" Joan flipped the file shut.

J -"You think too much of yourself."

G -"Oh, I see. Not just on me. She's your personal mole, burrowing around the place digging up infractions." Oh, yes, Gunji thought, when enough was enough you definitely finished it.

G - "Maybe the budget here has had its ups and downs, but this was always a friendly place, familial. Now it's just a drag run by the gestapo commandant and her personal weasel. So I'll do us both a favor. I quit. I've got a week's sick leave and a week's vacation coming. We'll just consider that my two weeks' notice."

J -"Very well. You can have your resignation on my desk by the end of your shift."

G -"Screw that. This is my resignation." She took a deep breath. "I'm smarter than you are, and I'm younger, stronger, and better-looking. The regular patrons know and like me- most of them don't know you, and the ones who've gotten to know you don't like you. Those are some of the reasons you've been on my ass since you took over. I'm out of here, Joan, but I'm walking out of my own accord. I lay odds that you'll be on your way out before much longer, too-only you'll be booted out by the board."

J -"If you expect any sort of reference or referral-" She stopped at the door.

G -"Joan, Joan, do you want to end our relationship with me telling you what you can do with your reference?"

Her anger carried her straight down to the employee lounge, where she gathered her jacket and a handful of personal belongings. She didn't stop to speak to any of her coworkers. If she didn't get out, and get out fast, she feared she would either burst into hysterical sobs or punch her fist through the wall. Either option would give Joan too much power. So she walked out without a backward glance. And kept walking. She refused to let herself think that this was the last time she would make this trip from work to home. ,It wasn't the end of her life; it was just a corner turned.

When she felt the angry tears stinging her eyes, she dug out her sunglasses. She wasn't about to humiliate herself by crying on the damn sidewalk. But her breath was hitching by the time she reached her apartment door. She fumbled out her keys, stumbled inside, then simply sank down on the floor.

G -"Oh, God, oh, God, what have I done?"

She'd cut her ties. She had no job. And it would be 40 weeks before she could reasonably open the bookstore. And why did she think she could run a bookstore? Knowing and loving books didn't make her a merchant. She'd never worked in retail in her life, and suddenly she was going to run a retail business? She'd thought she was prepared for the step. Now, faced with stark reality, Dana realized she wasn't even close to prepared. Panicked, she leaped up, all but fell onto the phone.

G – "Ridz? Ridz … I just-I've got to … Christ. Can you meet me at the place, the house?"

R -"Okay. Gunjan, what's wrong? What's the matter?"

G -"I just-I quit my job. I think I'm having an anxiety attack. I need … Can you get the keys? Can you get Nups and meet me there?"

R -"All right, honey. Take a deep breath. Come on, suck one in. Breathe easy. That's it. Twenty minutes. We'll be there in twenty minutes."

G -"Thanks. Okay, thanks. Ridz-"

R -"You just keep breathing. Want me to swing by and get you?"

G- "No." She rubbed the temper tears away. "No, I'll meet you."

R -"Twenty minutes."

SHE was calmer, at least on the surface, when she pulled into the double drive in front of the pretty frame house she'd bought with her friends. In a matter of weeks, they'd be signing papers at settlement. Then they would begin, well, whatever it was that they were going to begin. It was Ridz and Nups who had the big ideas as far as ambience, color schemes, paints, and posies. They'd already had their heads together over paint chips for the color of the porch, the entrance hall. And she knew Ridz had been scouring flea markets and yard sales for the trash that she miraculously turned into treasure. It wasn't that she didn't have ideas herself. She did. She could envision in general how her section of the main floor would look when it had been transformed into a little bookstore/cafe. Comfortable and cozy. Maybe some good sink-into-me chairs, a few tables. But she couldn't see the details. What should the chairs look like? What kind of tables should she use? And there were dozens of other things she hadn't considered when she'd jumped into that dream of having her own bookstore. Just as, she was forced to admit, there were things she hadn't considered when she'd, basically, told Joan to stuff it. Impulse, pride, and temper, she thought with a sigh. A dangerous combination. Now she was going to have to live with the results of surrendering to it. She stepped but of the car. Her stomach was still jumpy, so she rubbed a hand over it as she studied the house. It was a good place. It was important to remember that. She'd liked it the minute she'd stepped inside the door with Ridz. Even the downright terrifying experience they'd had inside it-courtesy of their nemesis, Kane-barely a week before, when Nupur had found her key, didn't spoil the feel of the place.

She'd never owned a house, or any other property. She should concentrate on the very adult sensation of owning a third of an actual building, and the land it stood on. She wasn't afraid of the responsibility-it was good to know that. She wasn't afraid of work, mental or physical.

But she was, she realized, very afraid of failing. She walked to the porch, sat on the step, and indulged in a good wallow. She was too mired in it to do more than sit there when Nups pulled up with Ridz in the passenger seat. Nupur angled her head as she climbed out.

N -"Crappy day, huh?"

G -"Don't come much crappier. Thanks for coming. Really."

N-"We did better than that." She gestured toward Ridz, and the white bakery box Ridz carried.

Overcome, Gunji sniffed. "Is it chocolate?"

N -"We're girls, aren't we?" Sitting beside her, Ridz gave her a hard, one-armed hug, then opened the box.

R -"Chocolate clairs. A big fat one for each of us."

This time, it was sentimental tears threatening to fall.

G -"You guys are the best."

N -"Take a few bites, wait for the kick, then tell us about it." sat on the other side, handed out napkins. Gunji soothed herself with chocolate, pastry, and cream, and-the story tumbled out between bites.

G -"She wanted me to quit." Scowling, she flicked her tongue at the corner of her mouth and licked off a bit of Bavarian cream. "It was some visceral animosity going on between us the minute we laid eyes on each other. Like, I dunno, maybe we were mortal enemies in a past life. Or, Jesus, married or something. It's not just that she ran the library like it was boot camp-that's bad enough-but she had it in for me, personally. And so did her little yappy dog, Sandi."

N -"I know it's tough, sweetie. Boy, do I." rubbed a sympathetic hand over her shoulder. "But you were planning to resign in a few weeks anyway."

G -"I know, I know. But I wanted to sort of ease out. Cop the little going-away party with the staff, so it all ended on a high note. And the fact is, even with the pay cut, the salary did come in handy. More than. I could've used the extra paychecks before I walked."

R -"Telling her to cram it should be worth the paychecks. She's a bitch and we hate her," said loyally. "And when Indulgence is up and running, and the bookstore's the talk of the Valley, she'll stew in her own envious juices." Considering, Gunji pursed her lips.

G -"That's a good one. I just panicked, I guess. I've always worked in a library. High school library, college library, then this one. And it suddenly hit me that that's done, and I'm going to be the owner of a retail business." She rubbed her damp hands on her knees. "I don't even know how to work a cash register."

R -"I'll teach you, We're in this together."

G -"I don't want to mess it up. I don't want to mess up the key deal either. It's just that all this hit me at once." Nups offered her the last third of her 6clair.

N -"Have a little more sugar. Then we'll go in and start making some serious plans."

R -"I've got two hours before I have to be home, When we picked up the keys, I asked the real estate agent. She said we could start on some of the basic cosmetic work if we want to risk the time and money. We could paint the porch, say, unless we're worried the deal won't go through." Gunji polished off the clair.

G -"Okay. Okay," she said with more enthusiasm. "Let's go in and look at paint chips."

AFTER some debate, they settled on a deep ocean blue. The color, they agreed, would make the house stand out among its neighbors and would add a touch of class.

Since they were in the mode, they headed back to the kitchen to talk about decor and space.

R - "Nothing too country," decided as she tapped her fingers on her hips. "We want it comfortable and homey, but, well, indulgent, right? So it shouldn't be sleek or anything, but it shouldn't be homespun either."

N -"Your upscale country kitchen." Nodding, turned in a circle, trying to envision it. "Maybe that minty green for the walls. Nice, friendly color. A creamy white for the cabinets. Gunji, you'll be using this space the most."

G -"That's okay, keep going." She waved them on. "You guys are better at this than I am."

R -"Well, what if we had the counters done in rose? Not pink, but stronger, then we punch things up with art. That would flow in from the gallery section. Then we'd set up some of the sidelines Ridz's talked about having up in the salon. The aromatherapy products, candles. And we do something like Dana's got in the kitchen in her apartment."

G -"We fill it with junk food?" Nupur glanced at Her and laughed.

N -"No. Books. We do like a baker's rack or kitchen tagre over there, and we put out books and some of the craft pieces from my gallery, some of the products from the salon. Fancy hand creams and soaps. It unifies this communal space."

G -"That's good. It's starting to feel good again."

R -"It's going to be great." she slid an arm around Gunji's waist. "You could have those tins and stuff of fancy teas and coffees on the counter."

G -"Maybe we could put in a table, One of those little round ones, with a couple of chairs. Okay. Let's write down the paints we've got so far, see if we can decide on any others. I'll head out to HomeMakers and pick it all up."

R -"I think paint's going on sale next week,"

G -"Oh, yeah? Well, I happen to have an in at HomeMakers. I'll call Armi and get us a discount today."

IT helped to have a focus, a goal. Even if it was only several gallons of paint. If, Gunjan thought, the library and her life there were now her past, weren't Indulgence and the building of it her present? As far as the future went, how the hell was she supposed to know? But she intended to think about it and try to find a connection to the location of the key. It hadn't been difficult to wheedle a thirty percent discount out of Armi. As she wandered the wide aisles of the cavernous HomeMakers, she considered what else she might be able to pick up while she had her old friend's go-ahead. Paintbrushes, of course, and rollers. Or maybe they should try out one of those paint sprayers. She studied one, crouching down to ponder the workings of it. How hard could it be? And it would certainly be faster and less labor-intensive than slopping it on the old-fashioned way.

S -"Unless you're thinking about becoming a house painter, that one's a little much for you." Samrat, she thought as a muscle in her jaw twitched. And she'd thought the day couldn't get any crap-pier.

G -"So, Armi took pity on you and gave you a job?" she said without looking up. "Are you going to get to wear one of the blue denim shirts with the little house on the breast pocket?"

S -"I was in his office when you called kissing up to him for a price break. He asked me to come down and give you a hand because he got caught by a phone call before he could come himself." Her hackles rose.

G -"I don't need help to buy paint."

S -"You do if you're seriously considering buying that sprayer."

G -"I was just looking." Her mouth moved into a pout as she poked a finger at the machine. "Besides, what do you know about it?"

S -"Enough to know if I say too much more about it, you'll buy it just to spite me."

G -"That's tempting, but I'll resist," she shot back. He reached down, cupped a hand under her elbow to lift her to her feet.

S -"Seems like you've had enough to deal with for one day. Heard you quit your job."

There was sympathy in his eyes. Not the smug and sticky kind, but a quiet understanding that soothed.

G -"What, does Sandi report to you too?"

S -"Sorry, that name's not on my list." He gave her arm a careless little rub, an old gesture that both of them remembered as soon as he did it. And both of them took a half-step back. "Word travels, Sweets. You know how it is in the Valley."

G -"Yeah, I know how it is. I'm surprised you remember."

S -"I remember a lot of things. One of them is how much you loved working there."

G -"I don't want you to be nice to me." She turned away to stare hard at the paint sprayer. "It's screwing up my mood." Because he knew she would work through it better if she was angry or occupied, he nodded.

S - "Okay. Why don't I help you take advantage of your friend-of-the-owner discount? It's always fun to scalp Armi. Then you can verbally abuse me. That always cheers you up."

G -"Yeah, it does." She frowned a little, bumped the sprayer with the toe of her shoe. "This thing doesn't look so tough."

S -"Let me show you some of your other options."

G -"Why aren't you back at Mayank's hacking out a stale plot with cardboard characters?"

S -"There, see, you're feeling better already."

G -"Have to admit."

S -"What we have here is an automatic paint roller system," he began, steering her toward the machine Armi had recommended to him. "It's small, user-friendly, and efficient."

G -"How do you know?"

S -"Because when Armi told me to show you this one he used those specific adjectives. Personally, I've only painted a room the old-fashioned way, and that's been…" He trailed off. "A long time ago." She remembered. He'd painted his mother's bedroom when she was in the hospital the first time. She had helped him, cutting around the trim, keeping his spirits up.

They'd painted the walls a soft, warm blue so that the room would be fresh and peaceful.

And less than three months later she was dead.

G -"She loved it," said gently. "She loved that you did that for her."

S -"Yeah." As the memory was painful on too many levels, he flipped the topic back. "Well, Armi's got a list here of handy products and tools to make your home improvement project more enjoyable."

G -"Okay, let's clean him out."

She had to admit that it added to the fun and interest of the expedition to have him along. And it was easy, a little too easy, to remember why they'd once been friends, once been lovers.

They had a way of slipping into a rhythm, of understanding short-speak and expressions that came from a lifetime of knowing each other every bit as much as from the two years of physical intimacy they'd shared.

S -"This is the color?" rubbed his chin as he studied her list. "Island? What kind of color is Island?"

G -"Greeny blue. Sort of." She handed over the paint chip. "See? What's wrong with it?"

S -"I didn't say anything was wrong with it. It's just not something that makes me think bookstore."

G -"It's not just a bookstore, it's … Damn it." She held the sample up, she held it down. She crossed her eyes and still couldn't envision it on the walls of her space. "Nups picked it out. I was going to go with this off-white, and she and Ridz jumped all over me."

S -"White always works." She hissed out a breath.

G - "See, they said I was thinking like a guy. Guys won't pick color. They're scared of color."

S -"We are not."

G -"What color's your living room in New York?" He shot her a bland look.

S -"That's entirely beside the point."

G -"I don't think so. I don't know why, but I don't think so. I'm going with this sort of greeny blue. It's just paint. It's not a lifetime commitment. And she said I should think Bryce Canyon and Spaghetti for accents."

S -"Brown and yellow? Honey, that's got tol)e ugly."

G -"No, the canyon deal's sort of deep rose. A kind of pinky, browny red-"

S -"Pinky, browny red," he repeated, grinning. "Very descriptive."

G -"Shut up. And the other's sort of cream." She fanned out the samples the girls had marked. "Hell, I don't know. I think I'm a little scared of color myself."

S -"You're sure as hell not a man."

G -"Thank God for that. Nups's going with this deal called Honeycomb. Ridz's is called Begonia, which I don't get because begonias are pink or white, and this is more like purple." She pressed her fingers just over her right eye. "I think all this color's making my head hurt. Anyway, Ridz's already figured the square footage and the gallons per. Where's my list?" He handed it back to her.

S -"Armi was wondering why Ridz didn't come with you."

G -"Hmm? Oh, she had to get home to Sahil." She studied the list, began to calculate, then glanced up. "Why?"

S -"What?"

G -"Why was he wondering?"

S -"Why do you think?" He looked over her shoulder at the list, surprised when she turned it over and he saw that it continued on the back of the sheet.

G -"Jesus, you're going to need a flatbed. Then Armi took a trip back to high school and asked me to ask you if Ridz had said anything about him."

S -"No, she didn't, but I'd be happy to pass her a note for him in study hall tomorrow."

G -"I'll let him know." They loaded up the paint, the supplies, the equipment. Gunji blessed Armi at checkout when even with the discount the total made her gulp. But it wasn't until she was outside that she realized the real dilemma.

G -"How the hell am I going to fit all this in my car?"

S -"You're not. We're going to fit it into your car and mine."

"Why didn't you say something about me buying more than I could handle when I was loading up in there?"

S -"Because you were having fun. Where do you want to store all this stuff?"

G -"Jeez." Baffled with herself, she scooped a hand through her hair. "I didn't think about it. I got caught up." And, he thought, it had been a pleasure to watch her get caught up-and forget she hated him."I can't store all this at my place, and I didn't think to see if we could keep the keys and store it at the building. What the hell am I going to do with it?"

S -"Mayank's got plenty of room at his place."

G -"Yeah." She sighed. "Yeah, he does. I guess that's the way it'll have to be. He can't get pissed, because Nups will just bat her eyelashes and turn him into putty." They divvied up, loaded up. The drive back to Mayank's gave her time to wonder how they'd managed to be in each other's company for the best part of an hour without a fight. He hadn't been a jerk, which, she decided, was a rare thing. And, she was forced to admit, she hadn't been one either. Equally rare when Sam was involved. Maybe, just maybe, they could manage to coexist, even cooperate, for the short term. If, as everyone else insisted, he was part of the quest, she needed him around.

Added to that, he had a good brain and a fluid imagination. He could be more than an annoyance through this. He could be an actual asset. When they arrived at Mayank's, she had to concede that it helped to have a man around who was willing to play pack mule with a dozen gallons of paint and the supplies that went with it.

G -"Dining room," she said, straining a little under the load she carried. "He never uses it."

S -"He's going to." wound his way through the house, veered off into the dining room. "Nups has major plans."

G -"She always does. She makes him happy."

S -"No question about that." He headed back out for the next load. "Dia put some serious holes in his ego," he added

G-"It wasn't just his ego." She pulled out a bag loaded with extra paint rollers, brushes, shiny metal pans. "She hurt him. When somebody dumps you and runs off, it hurts."

S -"Best thing that could've happened to him."

G -"That isn't the issue." She could feel the resentment, the hurt, the anger starting to brew in her belly. Struggling to ignore it, she hauled out more cans. "The issue is pain, betrayal, and loss." He said nothing as they carried the rest of the supplies to the dining room. Nothing until they set them down, and he turned to face her.

S -"I didn't dump you." She could actually feel the hair on the back of her neck rise.

G - "Not every statement I make involves you."

S -"I had to go," he continued. "You had to stay. You were still in college, for Christ's sake."

G -"That didn't stop you from getting me into bed."

S -"No, it didn't. Nothing could have." She stepped back, gave him an up-and-down study.

G -"Looks like you've been doing well enough the last few years."

S -"Doesn't mean I stopped thinking about you. You meant something to me."

G -"Oh, go to hell." It didn't explode out of her, but was said flatly, which gave it more power. "Meant something to you? A goddamn pair of shoes can mean something to you. I loved you." If she'd delivered a bare-knuckled punch to his face, he'd have been no less shocked.

S -"You … you never said that. You never once said the L word to me."

G -"Because you were supposed to say it first. The guy's supposed to say it first."

S -"Hold on just a minute. Is that a rule?" Panic was trickling down the back of his throat like acid. "Where's it written down?"

G -"It just is, you stupid jerk. I loved you, and I'd have waited, or I'd've gone with you. But you just said, Listen, Sweets, I'm pulling up stakes and going to New York. It's been fun, see you around."

S -"That's not true. It wasn't like that."

G -"Close enough. Nobody's ever hurt me like that. You'll never get the chance to do it again-and you know what, Shergill? I'd've made a man out of you."

She turned on her heel and walked out.

Chapter Four

BEING alone was something Sam did very well, under most circumstances. When he was working, thinking about working, thinking about not working, he liked to fold himself into the isolation of his SoHo loft: Then, the life, the noise, the movement and color on the street outside his windows were a kind of film he could watch or ignore depending on his mood. He liked seeing it all through the glass, more, very often more, than he liked being a part of it. New York had saved him, in a very real way. It had forced him to survive, to become, to live like a man-not someone's son, someone's friend, another student, but a man who had only himself to rely on. It had pushed and prodded him with its impatient and sharp fingers, reminding him on a daily basis during that jittery first year that it didn't really give a goddamn whether he sank or swam. He'd learned to swim. He'd learned to appreciate the noise, the action, the press of humanity. He liked its selfishness and its generosity and its propensity for flipping the bird to the rest of the world. And the more he'd learned, the more he'd observed and adjusted, the more he'd realized that at the core he was just a small-town boy. He would forever be grateful to New York. When work was upon him, he could drop into that world. Not the one outside his window, but the one inside his own head. Then it wasn't like a film at all, but more like life than life itself for however many hours it gripped him. He'd learned the difference between those worlds, had come to appreciate the subtleties and scopes of them in a way he knew he might never have done if he hadn't stripped away the safety nets of the .old and thrown himself headlong into the new. Writing had never become routine for him, but remained a constant surprise. He was always surprised at how much fun it was, once it all got moving. And never failed to be surprised at how bloody hard it was. It was tike having an intense, frustrating love affair with a capricious, gorgeous, and often mean-spirited woman. He loved every moment of it. Writing had carried him through the worst of his grief when he'd lost his mother. It had given him direction, purpose, and enough aggravation to pull himself out of the mire. It had given him joy and bitterness, and great personal satisfaction. Beyond that, it had provided him with a kind of financial security he'd never known or really expected to know. Anyone who said money didn't matter had never had to count the coins that fell between the cushions of the couch. He was alone now, with the afterburn of Gunji's words still singeing the air. He couldn't enjoy the solitude, couldn't fold himself into it or into his work. A man was never so lonely, he thought, as when he was surrounded by the past. There was no point in going out for a walk. Too many people who knew him would stop and speak, have questions, make comments. He couldn't lose himself in the Valley as he could in New York. Which was one of the reasons he'd bolted when and how he had. And one of the reasons he'd come back. So, he would go for a drive, get away from,the echoes still bouncing off the walls. I loved you. Jesus! Jesus, how could he not have known? Had he been that clueless-or had she been that self-contained? He walked out and climbed into his Thunderbird, gunned the engine. He felt like speed. A long, fast ride to no particular destination. He punched in the CD player, cranked it up. He didn't care what pumped out, as long as it was loud. Clapton's blistering guitar rode with him out of town. He had known he'd hurt Gunji all those years ago. But he'd assumed the nip had been to her ego, exactly where he thought he'd aimed; He'd known he pissed her off-she made that crystal-clear-but he assumed that was pride. If he had known she loved him, he'd have found a way to break things off more gently. Wouldn't he? Christ, he hoped so. They'd been friends. Even when they had been consumed with and by each other, they'd been friends. He would never deliberately wound a friend. He'd been no good for her, that's what it came down to. He'd been no good for anybody at that time in his life. She was better off that he had ended it.

He headed for the mountains and began the steep, twisty climb. But she'd loved him. There was little to nothing he could do about that now. He wasn't at all sure there was anything he could have done at the time. He wasn't ready for the Big Love then. He wouldn't have known how to define it, what to think about it. Hell, he hadn't been able to think at all when it came to Gunji. After one look at her when he'd come home from college, and he was a goner. It had terrified him. He could smile over that now. His initial shock at his own reaction to her, his overwhelming guilt that he was fantasizing about the sister of his closest friend. He'd been horrified, and fascinated, and ultimately obsessed. Tall, curvy, sharp-tongued Gunjan Mehra, with her big, full bodied laugh, her questing mind, her punch-first temper. Everything about her had pulled at him.

Damn if it still didn't. When he'd seen her again on this trip back, when she yanked open the door of Mayank's house and stood there snarling at him, the sheer want for her had blown straight through him. Just as her sheer dislike for him had all but taken off his head. If they could work their way around to being friends again, to finding that connection, that affection that had always been between them, maybe they could work their way forward to something more. To what, he couldn't say. But he wanted her back in his life. And, there was no point in denying it. They'd made progress toward friendship during that shopping stint. They'd been easy with each other for a while, as if the years between hadn't happened. But, of course, they had. And as soon as he and Gunji had remembered those years, the progress had taken an abrupt turn and stomped away hi a huff. So now he had a mission, Sam decided. He had to find a way to win her back. Friend and lover-in whatever order suited them both best. The search for the key had, among other things, given him an opening. He intended to use it. When he realized that he'd driven to Warrior's Peak, he stopped, pulled to the side of the road. He remembered climbing that high stone wall as a teenager with Armi and Mayank. They had camped in the woods, with a hijacked six-pack that none of them was old enough to drink. The Peak was untenanted then, a big, fanciful, spooky place. The perfect place to fascinate a trio of boys with a couple of beers hi them. A high, full moon, he recalled as he climbed out of the car. A black-glass sky and just enough wind, just a hint of wind, to stir the leaves and whisper. He could see it all now, as clearly as he'd seen it then. Maybe more clearly, he thought, amused at himself. He was older, and stone-cold sober, and he had-admittedly- added a few flourishes to the memory. He liked to think of the scene with a layer of fog drifting over the ground, and a moon so round and white it looked carved into the glass of the sky. Stars sharp as the points of darts. The low, haunting call of an owl, and the rustle of night prey in the high grass. In the distance, with an echo that rolled through the night, the baying of a dog.

He'd added those beats when he used that house and that night hi his first major book.

But for Phantom Watch there'd been one element of that night he hadn't had to imagine. Because it had happened. Because he'd seen it. Even now, as a man past thirty with none of the navet" of the boy left in him, he believed it. She'd walked along the parapet, under the hard, white moon, sliding in and out of shadows like a ghost, with her hair flying, her cape-surely it had been a cape-billowing. She'd owned the night. He'd thought that then and he thought it now. She had been the night. She'd looked at him, Sam remembered as he wandered to the iron gates, as he stared through them at the great stone house on the rise. He hadn't been able to see her face, but he'd known she looked down, straight into his eyes. He'd felt the punch of it, the power, like a blow meant to awaken rather than to harm. His mind had sizzled from it, and nothing-not the beer, not his youth, not even the shock-had been able to dull the thrill. She'd looked at him, Sam remembered again as he scanned the parapet. And she'd known him. Mayank and Armi hadn't seen her. By the time his mind had clicked back into gear and he shouted them over, she was gone. It had spooked them, of course. Deliciously. The way sightings of ghosts and fanciful creatures are meant to. Though years later, when he wrote of her, he made her a ghost, he'd known then-he knew now-that she was as alive as he.

"Whoever you were," he murmured, "you helped me make my mark. So, thanks."

He stood there, hands in his pockets, peering through the bars. The house was part of his past, and oddly, he'd considered making it part of his future. He'd been toying with calling to see if it was available just days before Mayank had contacted him about the portrait of the young Arthur of Britain. He'd bought that painting on impulse five years ago at the gallery where Nups used to work, though he hadn't met her then. Not only had it been a major element of Nups's quest, but they'd discovered the painting, along with The Daughters of Glass and one Armi had bought separately had all been painted by Rowena, Sam thought, centuries ago. New York, his present, had served its purpose for him. He'd been ready for a change. Ready to come home. Then Mayank had made it so very easy. It gave him the opportunity to come back, test the waters, and his feelings. He'd known, this time he'd known, as soon as he saw the majestic run of the Appalachians, that he wanted them back. This time-surprise-he was back to stay: He wanted those hills. The riot of them in fall, the lush green of them in summer. He wanted to stand and see them frozen in white, so still and regal, or hazed with the tender touch of spring. He wanted the Valley, with its tidy streets and tourists. The familiarity of faces that had known him since his youth, the smell of backyard barbecues and the snippets of local gossip. He wanted his friends, the comfort and the joy of them. Pizza out of the box, a beer on the porch, old jokes that no one laughed at the same way a childhood friend did. And he still wanted that damn house, Sam realized with a slow, dawning smile. He wanted it now every bit as much as he had when he was a sixteen-year-old dreamer with whole worlds yet to be explored. So, he would bide his time there-he was cagier than he'd been at sixteen. And he would find out what Rowena and Pitte planned to do with the place when they moved on. To wherever they moved on. So, maybe the house was both his past and his future. He ran bits of Rowena's clue through his head. He was part of Dana's past, and like it or not, he was part of her present. Very probably he would be part-one way or another-of her future. So what did he, and the Peak, have to do with her quest for the key? And wasn't it incredibly self-serving to assume that he had anything to do with it.

"Maybe," he said quietly to himself. "But right at the moment, I don't see a damn thing wrong with that." With one last look at the house, he turned and walked back to his ear. He would go back to Mayank's and spend some time thinking it through, working out the angles.

Then he would present them to Gunjan, whether she wanted to hear them or not.

Arman Mallik had some plans and plots of his own. Ridz was a puzzlement to him. Prickly and argumentative one minute, scrupulously polite the next. He would knock, and the door to her would crack open. He could detect glimmers of humor and sweetness, then the door would slam shut in his face with a blast of cold air. He'd never had a woman take an aversion to him on sight. It was especially galling that the first one who did happened to be the one he was so outrageously attracted to. He hadn't been able to get her face out of his mind for three years, since he'd first seen After the Spell, the painting he'd bought-the second one Rowena had painted of the Daughters of Glass. Ridz's face on the goddess who slept, three thousand years, in a coffin of glass.

However ridiculous it was, Armi had fallen in love at first sight with the woman in the portrait. The woman in reality was a much tougher nut. But Malliks were known for their tenacity. And their determination to win. If she'd come into the store that afternoon, he could and would have rearranged his schedule and taken her through. It would've given him the opportunity to spend some time with her, while keeping it all practical and friendly. Of course, you'd think that when her car broke down and he happened by and offered her a lift, that interlude would have been practical and friendly. Instead she'd gotten her back up because he pointed out the flaws in her plan to try to fix the car while wearing a dinner dress, and he, understandably, had refused to mess with the engine himself. He'd offered to call a mechanic for her, hadn't he? Armi thought, getting riled up again at the memory. He'd stood there debating with her for ten minutes, thus ensuring that whatever she did they would both be late to the Peak. And when she grudgingly accepted the ride finally, she spent every minute of it in an ice-cold funk. He was absolutely crazy about her. "Sick," he muttered as he turned the corner to her street. "You're a sick man, Mallik." Her little house sat tidily back from the road on a neat stamp of lawn. She'd planted fall flowers along the sunny left side. The house itself was a cheerful yellow with bright white trim. A boy's red bike lay on its side in the front yard, reminding him that she had a son he'd yet to catch sight of. Armi pulled his new Mercedes behind her decade-old hatchback. He walked back to the cargo area and hauled out the gift he hoped would turn the tide in his favor. He carted it to the front door, then caught himself running a nervous hand through his hair. Women never made him nervous. Annoyed with himself, he knocked briskly. It was the boy who opened it, and for the second time in his life, Brad found himself dazzled by a face. He looked like his mother-dark hair, tawny eyes, pretty, pointed features. The dark hair was mussed, the eyes cool with suspicion, but neither detracted a whit from the exotic good looks. Armi had enough young cousins, assorted nieces and nephews, to be able to peg the kid at around eight or nine. Give him another ten years, Armi thought, and this one would have to beat the coeds off with a stick.

A -"Sahil, right?" offered an I'm-harmless-you-can-trust-me grin. "I'm Arman Mallik, a friend of your mom's." Sort of. "She around?"

S -"Yeah, she's around." Though the boy gave him a very quick up-and-down glance, Armi had the certain sensation he'd been studied carefully and thoroughly, and the jury was still out. "You gotta wait out there, 'cause I'm not allowed to let anybody in if I don't know who they are."

A -"No problem."

The door shut in his face. Like mother, like son, he thought, then heard the boy shout.

S -"Mom! There's this guy at the door. He looks like a lawyer or something."

A -"Oh, Jesus," mumbled and cast his eyes to heaven.

Moments later the door opened again. Ridz's expression changed from puzzlement to surprise to mild irritation in three distinct stages.

R -"Oh. It's you. Um… is there something I can do for you?"

You could let me nibble my way up your neck to the back of your ear for a start, he thought, but kept his easy smile in place.

A -"Gunji was in the store this afternoon, picking up some supplies."

R -"Yes. I know." She tucked a dishcloth in the waistband of her jeans, let the tail hang down her hip. "Did she forget something?"

A-"Not exactly. I just thought you might be able to use this." He lifted the gift he'd leaned against the side of the house, then had the pleasure of seeing her blink in surprise an instant before she laughed. Really laughed. He loved the sound of it, the way it danced over her face, into her eyes.

R -"You brought me a stepladder?"

A -"An essential tool for any home or business improvement project."

R -"Yes, it is. I have one." Obviously realizing how ungracious that sounded, she flushed and hurried on. "But it's … old. And we can certainly use another. It was really thoughtful of you."

A -"We of HomeMakers appreciate your business. Where would you like me to put this?"

R -"Oh, well." She glanced behind her, then seemed to sigh. "Why don't you just bring it in here? I'll figure that out later." She stepped back, bumped into the boy who was hovering at her back."Sahil, this is Mr. Mallik. He's an old friend of Mayank's."

S -"He said he was a friend of yours."

A -"Working on that." carried the stepladder into the house. "Hi, Sahil. How's it going?"

S -"It's going okay. How come you're wearing a suit if you're carrying ladders around?"

R -"Sahil!"

A -"Good question." ignored Ridz and concentrated on the boy. "I had a couple of meetings earlier today. Suits are more intimidating."

S -"Wearing them sucks. Mom made me wear one to Aunt Jiya's wedding last year. With a tie. Bogus."

R -"Thanks for that fashion report." hooked an arm around Sahil's throat and made him grin.

Then they both grinned, at each other, and Armi's eyes were dazzled. "Homework?"

S -"Done. Video game time."

R -"Twenty minutes."

S -"Forty-five."

R- "Thirty."

S -"Sweet!" He wriggled free, then bolted across the room to the TV. Now that her hands were no longer full of boy, Ridz didn't know what to do with them. She laid one on the ladder.

R -"It's a really nice stepladder. The fiberglass ones are so light and easy to work with."

A -"Quality with value-HomeMakers' bywords."

The sounds of a ballpark abruptly filled the tiny living room behind her.

R- "It's his favorite, He'd rather play baseball-virtual or in real life-than breathe." She cleared her throat, wondered what the hell she was supposed to do next. "Ah … can I get you something to drink?"

A-"Sure, Whatever's handy."

R -"Okay." Damn it. "Just, um, have a seat. I'll be back in a minute."

What to do with Arman Mallik? she asked herself as she hurried back to the kitchen. In her house. Plunked down in his expensive shoes in her living room. An hour before dinner. She stopped herself, pressed her hands to her eyes. It was okay, it was perfectly all right. He'd done something very considerate, and she would reciprocate by bringing him something to drink, having a few minutes of conversation. She never knew what she was supposed to say to him. She didn't understand men like him. The kind of man who came from serious money. Who'd done things and had things and gone places to get more. And he made her so stupidly nervous and defensive. Should she take him a glass of wine? No, no, he was driving, and she didn't have any really good wine anyway. Coffee? Tea? Christ. At her wits' end, she opened the refrigerator. She had juice, she had milk. Here, Arman Mallik IV, of the really rich and important Pennsylvania Malliks, have a nice glass of cow juice, then be on your way. She blew out a breath, then dug a bottle of ginger ale out of a cupboard. She took out her nicest glass, checked for water spots, then filled it with ice. She added the ginger ale, careful to keep it a safe half inch below the rim. She tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt she'd tossed on over jeans, looked down resignedly at the thick gray socks she wore in lieu of shoes, and hoped she didn't smell of the brass cleaner she'd been using to attack the tarnish on an umbrella stand she'd picked up at the flea market. Suit or no suit, she thought as she squared her shoulders, she wouldn't be intimidated in her own home. She would take him his drink, speak politely, hopefully briefly, then show him out. No doubt he had more exciting things to do than sit in her living room drinking ginger ale and watching a nine-year-old play video baseball. She carried the glass down the hall, then stopped and stared. Arman Mallik IV wasn't watching Sahil play. He was, to her amazement, sitting on the floor in his gorgeous suit, playing with her son.

S -"Two strikes, baby. You are doomed." With a cackle, Sahil wiggled his butt and prepared for the next pitch.

A -"Dream on, kid. See my man on third? He's about to score."

She stepped farther into the room, but neither of them noticed her as the ball whistled toward the plate and the bat cracked against virtual cowhide.

S -"He's got it, he's got it, he's got it," said in a kind of whispered chant. "Yeah, yeah, shagged that sucker."

A -"And the runner tags, Watch him fly, heading for home. Here comes the throw… and he slides, and…" Safe! the home base ump decreed.

A -"Oh, yeah." he gave Sahil a quick elbow nudge. "One to zip, pal."

S-"Not bad. For an old guy." chuckled. "Now prepare to be humiliated."

R -"Excuse me. I brought you some ginger ale."

A -"Time out." twisted around to smile up at her. "Thanks. Do you mind if we play out the inning?"

R -"No. Of course not." She set the glass on the coffee table, and wondered what she should do now. "I'll just be back in the kitchen. I need to start dinner." When his eyes stayed so direct and easy on hers, she heard--with some horror-the words tumbling out of her mouth. "You're welcome to stay. It's just chicken."

A -"That'd be great." He swiveled back around to resume the game.

Mental note, Arman thought: Forget the roses and champagne. Home improvement supplies are the key to this particular lady's lock.

WHILE Ridz was standing in her kitchen wondering how the hell she was going to turn her humble chicken into something worthy of a more sophisticated palate, Gunji was soothing her ego with takeout pizza. She hadn't meant to tell him. Ever. Why give him one more thing to smirk at her about? But he hadn't smirked, she admitted, washing down the pizza with cold beer. In fact, he'd looked as though she'd put a bullet dead center of his forehead. Neither could she claim he'd looked pleased or puffed up about the knowledge that she'd been in love with him. The fact of it was, he'd looked shocked, then sorry. Oh, God, maybe that was worse. She sulked over the pizza. Though she had her evening book open on the table beside her, she hadn't read a single word. She was just going to have to deal with this, she told herself. She couldn't afford to obsess about Sam. Not only because she had other things that should occupy her time and her thoughts, but it just wasn't healthy. Since it was clear he was going to hang around for several weeks, and there was no avoiding him unless she avoided Mayu and Armi, they would be seeing each other regularly. And if she accepted all that had happened in the last month, all she'd learned, she was going to have to accept that Jordan had been meant to come back. He was a part of it all. And damn it, he could be useful. He had a good brain, one that picked up on and filed away details. It was one of the skills that made him such a strong writer. Oh, she hated to admit that one. She hoped her tongue would fall out before she spoke those words to him. But he had such talent. He'd chosen that talent over her, and that still hurt. But if he could help her find the key, she would have to put that hurt away. At least temporarily. She could always kick his ass later. Mollified, she ate some more pizza. Tomorrow she would get a fresh start. She had the whole day, the whole week, the whole month to do whatever she felt needed to be done. There'd be no need to set the alarm, dress for work. She could spend the whole day in her pajamas if she wanted to, digging into her research, outlining a plan, surfing the Net for more data. She would contact the girls and set up another summit meeting. They worked well together. Maybe they'd start to work on the building. Physical labor could spark mental acuity. The first key had been hidden, in a manner of speaking, in the building they were buying. Of course, Nups had had to paint the key into existence before she could retrieve it from the painting. Maybe the second, or at least the link to the second, was in the house as well. In any case, it was a plan. Something solid to get her teeth into. She shoved the pizza aside and rose to phone Nups first. With plans to meet for a full day's painting set, she phoned Ridz.

G-"Hey. It's Ridz. Just got off the phone with Nups. We're going to start the great transformation at the house tomorrow. Nine o'clock. Nups voted for eight, but there's no way in hell I'm getting up that early when I'm not drawing an actual paycheck."

R -"Nine's fine. Gunji." Her voice dropped to a hissing whisper. "Arman's here."

G -"Oh. Okay, I'll let you go, then. See-"

R -"No, no. What am I supposed to do with him?"

G -"Gee, Ridz, I don't know. What do you want to do with him?"

R -"Nothing." Her voice went up a notch before lowering again. "I don't know how this happened. He's out in the living room playing video baseball with Sahil, in a suit."

G -"Sahil's wearing a suit?" tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Boy, things're pretty formal at your house."

R -"Stop it." But she laughed a little. "He's wearing a suit. Arman. He came to the door with a stepladder, and before I knew-"

G -"With a what? What for? To clean out your gutters? That was not a euphemism, by the way. But, come to think of it, it'd be a pretty good one."

R -"He gave it-the stepladder-to me-to us-" she corrected quickly. "For the painting and stuff. He thought we could use it."

G -"That was nice of him. He's a nice guy."

R -"That's not the point! What am I supposed to do with this chicken?"

G -"Arman brought you a chicken?"

R- "No." There was helpless, hooting laughter over the line. "Why would anyone bring me a chicken?"

G -"I was just wondering the same thing."

R -"I have chicken breasts defrosted, for dinner. What am I going to do with them now?"

G -"I'd try cooking them. Jeez, Ridz, relax. It's just Armi. Throw the chicken in a pan, rustle up some rice or potatoes, whatever, add something green and toss it on a plate. He's not fussy."

R -"Don't tell me he's not fussy." She went back to the hissing whisper. "We don't do cordon bleu in this house. I don't even know for sure what cordon bleu means. He's wearing an Audemars Piguet. Do you think I don't know what an Audemars Piguet is?" It was fascinating, really, Gunji decided, to realize her old friend Armi turned a sensible woman like Ridz into a raving lunatic.

G - "Okay, I'll bite. What is an Audemars Piguet and is it really sexy?"

R -"It's a watch. A watch that costs more than my house. Or damn near. Never mind." There was a long, long sigh. "I'm making myself crazy, and it's just stupid."

G -"I can't argue with you about that."

R -"I'll see you tomorrow."

Shaking her head, Gunji hung up. Now she had one more thing to look forward to in the morning. And that was hearing all about how Ridz and Armi handled a chicken dinner. But for now, she was switching gears. She was going to try out her tub book and a long, hot, soaking bath.