Angel's Rest

chapter TWELVE





Nic blinked. “Disney World? You want to go to Disney World? On a honeymoon?”

“Yeah. It’ll be great.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Warm weather, plenty to do. It’ll be fun.”

Nic opened her mouth, then shut it. Opened it again, then shut it again. Disney World.

“I’ll book us into one of the hotels on the resort property. Do you have a favorite?”

“Actually, no,” she said, her tone wry. “I don’t have a favorite Disney hotel. Or park. Or movie. Or character. Or song.”

“Oh,” he said, darting her a look. “You’re not a Disney fan?”

“I was an undergraduate double major in college. Biomedical science and business. I did an internship at Disney one summer. For two interminable weeks, I worked the It’s a Small World ride. A guy I worked with told me he’d been assigned to that ride for three years straight. Can you imagine listening to that music all day, every day? I’m telling you, it’s places like that where serial killers are made. Someday we’re going to read about that guy burying people under his house.”

Gabe’s lips twitched. “Let me guess. You’d rather not go to Disney World on our honeymoon.”

“Give the guy a set of mouse ears.”

“Okay, then, you pick a place.”

Against her will, traditional honeymoon destinations spun through her mind: Mexico, the Caribbean, Paris, London, Rome. She gave her head a shake. “Gabe, I appreciate the thought, but we don’t need to go on a wedding trip.” Then, deciding the moment needed honesty, she added, “It would be awkward.”

“Beginning this marriage beneath the watchful eyes of Eternity Springs is what would be awkward. The more I think about it, the more I believe this is the right thing to do. C’mon, Nicole. Let’s pick a place neither one of us has ever visited. We’ll be tourists together.”

He was trying, trying hard, and Nic appreciated the effort. She decided she should do the same. Besides, the thought of discovering a new place along with Gabe had a definite appeal, as did the idea of a break from winter weather. Unfortunately, finding such a place new to them both proved harder than she’d expected. “This isn’t going to work,” she said after naming a dozen possibilities. “You’ve been everywhere.”

“Not everywhere. Let’s do this differently. What activities do we both like? Scuba?”

She shook her head.

He scowled. “Sailing?”

She thought of the delicate state of her stomach and knew she didn’t want to spend hours on a boat. “Sightseeing.”

“Sightseeing works. What else?”

Another s-word came to mind, but she knew better than to mention sex. She changed letters. “Tennis.”

He shrugged. “Tennis is fine, too. Golf?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve played a few rounds, not often enough to be any good. My ex was a scratch golfer, but he didn’t play with me. We’d go to golf resorts and I’d do the spa while he golfed. I love pampering as much as the next woman, but … wait.” An idea occurred and she rolled it around in her head for a moment before voicing it. Would this be something she truly wanted to do? Thinking about it did give her a devilish bit of pleasure. “Do you play golf, Gabe?”

“I’m not a scratch player and I haven’t picked up a club in over a year, but I don’t embarrass myself.”

“Have you ever played Pebble Beach?”

“No. Have you?”

“Nope.” She gave her first spontaneous smile in days. “But playing it was Greg’s number one golf goal. The Monterey peninsula is supposed to be gorgeous. There’s the aquarium, Carmel … the weather might not be as warm as Florida, but it won’t be twelve degrees.” Glancing at the dashboard thermometer, she corrected, “Ten degrees.”

Gabe gave her a sidelong look. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that particular wicked glint of delight in your eyes before, Mrs. Callahan.”

“I admit I wouldn’t mind exorcising an old ghost.”

His mouth twisted, and she wished she’d chosen a different metaphor, but then he nodded once, forced a smile, and said, “Go pack your bag, Nic. California, here we come.”


They arrived in Monterey shortly before sunset. He’d booked them into an ocean-view suite at one of the famous Pebble Beach properties. She’d tried to act cool during the obsequious welcome by the staff upon their arrival, but she’d abandoned all pretense of sophistication when she walked into the spectacular sitting room. The furnishings, fabrics, and finishes were like nothing she’d ever seen.

At Gabe’s instruction, the bellman placed her bags in the bedroom, where a king-size bed was dressed in sumptuous linens. Gabe carried his own bag into an adjoining room. Nic stifled the urge to go bounce on the mattress. Next she peeked into the adjoining bathroom and spied a huge whirlpool tub. This place was a palace. For the first time she didn’t look forward to her “wedding night” with dread.

Actually, she was almost tired enough to start it right now.

Gabe came to stand in her doorway and must have read her mind—or the exhaustion on her face—because he said, “It’s been a long day. How about we order room service rather than try the restaurant tonight? We can watch the sunset from the balcony and turn in.”

“That sounds perfect.” She beamed a grateful smile his way.

He smiled softly in return. “I’ll call room service. How about we meet on the balcony in twenty?”

“It’s a date,” she replied, then immediately wanted to bite her tongue. They’d been easier together the last few hours. With all the fun stuff taking place, she hadn’t dwelled on the bad stuff. She didn’t want this slip of the tongue to ruin that. “I didn’t mean … it’s just an expression. I say it all the time to Sarah and … well …”

“Nicole, I get it. See you in twenty.” He reached to shut the door to her bedroom, then stuck his head back in and added, “No need to parse your words around me. It’s a date.”

She relaxed. Good—she was tired of living in a minefield. She emptied her suitcase and cosmetics bag, then gave in to the urge to test the mattress. She stacked the pillows against the headboard, then kicked off her shoes and curled up atop the coverlet. The pillow case smelled of lavender and sunshine, she thought. It was pure heaven.

Heaven brought to her by her very own angel, Gabriel.

She snickered at her own nonsense and closed her eyes. Except for being exhausted, she felt better than she had in weeks. Her problems were far from solved. Yet she no longer wanted to either cry or commit murder every time she looked at Gabe—a huge improvement.

She’d had a long talk with herself during the flight to California and she’d made some decisions. She was determined to forgive and forget all the past hurts, both real and imagined. She was prepared to do her part to see that this trip accomplished its purpose, and they could return to Eternity Springs having established a comfortable, compatible relationship going forward. As long as she kept her emotions and expectations under control, they should be able to make this work.

Nic stretched like a cat, then snuggled back into her pillows. She awoke ten hours later to find the down comforter spread over her, a plate of cookies, and a small carton of milk chilling in an ice bucket beside the bed.

“Well, shoot,” she grumbled. She’d missed both the sunset and the bath she’d craved. But on the positive side, she hadn’t spent a single second sulking over the circumstances of her wedding night. All in all, she’d come out ahead.

For the next five days, they played. The weather cooperated, giving them blue skies, sunshine, and unseasonably warm temperatures. He rented a Ferrari and they drove Highway 1 along the Big Sur coast. They played golf, making sure to have their picture taken together at the famous eighteenth hole at Pebble Beach, then she made an e-postcard with the photo and sent it to old friends in Colorado Springs by way of a wedding announcement. She felt a shameful bit of glee in knowing the news would get back to Greg. They toured the famous aquarium in Monterey and wandered through the quaint shops in Carmel. Gabe played more golf while she indulged in some serious pampering at the spa.

It was a lovely trip, and Nic told herself to be happy. She was a guest in a gorgeous hotel in a part of the country whose beauty rivaled the Colorado Rockies. She’d been pampered and spoiled, her every whim indulged.

Well, not every whim. He’d said no sex, so of course all she thought about was sex.

It was hard not to think about it. She was on her honeymoon, after all, and her husband was drop-dead gorgeous. But he’d gone out of his way to avoid any hint of romance on the trip: no candlelit dinners, no dancing cheek to cheek to soft music, no moonlight walks on the beach. Nevertheless, she couldn’t seem to look at him without imagining him naked.

Her hormones were obviously running amok.

When he downshifted the Ferrari and shot her a grin, or sank a six-foot putt and gave her a cocky wink, or threw a stick for a sandy dog on the beach and laughed, Gabe Callahan exuded sex appeal. She found herself wanting to touch him, to sink her fingers into his hair. To fit her mouth to his, her body against his heat.

Gabe, on the other hand, showed no sign of suffering a similar desire. He was casual with her, relaxed. Friendly. She told herself to be happy for it, to be glad that the awkwardness and tension between them lessened every day. She warned herself not to expect too much too soon. The goal had been for them to return to Colorado at ease with each other and their situation, and in that respect the honeymoon had been a success.

She just wished he didn’t turn her on with a glance.

Pesky hormones.


Gabe needed to run. Or swim. Or run and swim. And lift weights. And do sit-ups. Or take a cold shower. Or jump in the very cold ocean. Or do all of the above.

Something, anything to distract him.

Well, except for the obvious anything.

This honeymoon had been a disaster. Oh, he and Nic got along better. Their conversation never got much beyond small talk, but the awkward moments weren’t happening as often. Over the past few days they’d learned to get along more like friends than like enemies. She didn’t seem as angry at him, didn’t appear to be so sad. Their time together this week had made Gabe feel better, too. His heart was lighter, his outlook more positive.

But he had to quit noticing her jiggle and swish. The object of this trip was to create friendship, not destroy it again. Bringing sex into the situation now would do just that.

Now being the operative word.

Someday, he knew, he’d be ready to resume that part of human existence. The day would come when having sex wouldn’t make him wallow in guilt, but that day wasn’t here yet. He had already damaged Nic because of it. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t hurt her again that way.

He couldn’t give her his heart, but he could give her his respect. He wouldn’t take her to a bed where another woman’s ghost still lingered.

Nevertheless, as he waited for her to join him on the balcony of their suite so they could watch the sun set on this, the final night of their trip, he was acutely aware of the nearness of a bed. Actually, of two beds.

It would be so easy to fall into a physical relationship with her. However, he’d promised her he wouldn’t use her, and having sex tonight would be nothing more than that. Unless he could give her more, he couldn’t take more from her.

When she stepped out onto the balcony, however, he took one look at her and smothered a groan. She wore the filmy, flirty strapless sundress she’d purchased this morning at a shop in Carmel. It complemented her curves, showed off her legs, and made him want to grind his teeth in sexual frustration.

This was going to be a very, very long night.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” he said, referring to that afternoon’s bout of nausea.

“It’s amazing what a bath in a whirlpool tub will do for a girl.”

Oh, great. Just great. That’s exactly the picture I didn’t need in my mind. He attempted to counter it by saying, “I’m glad you made it to the bathroom before tossing your Cobb salad.”

She grinned. “The stomach-settling smoothie you ordered for me from room service almost made it worth losing my lunch. I don’t know what they put in it, but I swear I licked the glass clean.”

He almost leaned over and banged his head on the balcony at the visual image of that.

She stood at the balcony railing and stared out at the ocean. “Mother Nature is glorious. So much beauty in the world. So many different kinds, too. Here and at home it slaps you in the face.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off her.

As she glanced back at him, her hair spilled like a waterfall of gold over shoulders tanned by five days in the sun. “You’ve been a lot of places. What’s the prettiest ugly place you’ve ever been?”

So glad was he of the distraction that he spoke without filtering his words. “Far west Texas in July. You have to look for the beauty, but it’s there. The land is as flat as a pancake and dry. Brown. In July, all the vegetation is brown. Heat rises from the ground in visible waves. But the sky is so big. The sunset we’re watching is spectacular, true, but it doesn’t have anything on the desert plain of far west Texas. Because it has the sunrise, too. As pretty a sunrise as I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that where your home was?”

“No.” His lips twisted in a wistful smile. “Our home was at the northern edge of the Texas hill country. It was pretty. In its own way, just as pretty as here or even Eternity Springs.”

“Because it’s home?” Nic asked, displaying an insight that caused him to think.

He shrugged. He’d lived dozens of places since leaving Brazos Bend, Texas. He’d made a life for himself in a few of them. Was Brazos Bend still home after all these years?

While he considered that question, Nic said, “You seldom talk about your family, Gabe. How many brothers do you have?”

After a moment’s pause, he answered, “Three.”

“Are you a close family?”

“Not anymore.” He studied her over his coffee cup and realized that by asking about his family, she’d helped him step back from the edge of doing something stupid. “I need to tell you about my family, but it’s not a subject for today.”

Then, prodded to flee thoughts of the Callahans, he said, “Want to walk down to the beach?”

Her smile was as pretty as the western sky. “Sure.”

As they walked through the hotel lobby to reach the beach-access boardwalk, Gabe watched three different men give Nic the once-over. Whether it was the clichéd pregnancy glow or the easing of her fears of the future or simply the effect of a good vacation, his new wife glowed. She was as relaxed and carefree as he had ever seen her—beautiful, vivacious, and sparkling.

He could just imagine how she’d look after an orgasm.

Gabe grimaced and stepped gratefully out into the fading light of day. The sooner it got dark, the better.

A boardwalk led across the delicate grassy dunes to the beach where a gentle surf lapped against the sand. Gabe took Nic’s hand for balance as she stepped down from the boardwalk and then paused to remove her sandals, and he didn’t let it go.

They walked without speaking, hand in hand, the haunting notes of a bagpipe drifting on a salt-scented breeze as the inn’s piper saluted the end of day. As the golden sphere of the sun dipped into the sapphire ocean, Nic halted and faced the sea, where streaks of mauve and purple and pink painted the sky. Gabe watched his new wife’s face as she smiled with gentle delight. Softly she said, “Thank you, Gabe. This trip has been lovely.”

“Lovely,” he repeated as something new flickered to life in his heart. Guided by instinct and a freeing sense that this much, at least, was right and good, he tugged her into his arms and kissed her.

A real kiss. Not a chaste peck or a friendship kiss or an alcohol-blurred assault. It was their first real kiss—a second-date sort of kiss. A kiss with no ghosts between them.

This was Nic. She tasted both sweet and sultry, and Gabe allowed himself to become lost in the sensual pleasure of the moment. He explored her mouth with his tongue, nipped her lips with his teeth, and encouraged her response with a low-throated groan. He held her tight, wishing to pull her even closer. He stroked his hand down the curve of her waist and across her hip, resisting the more intimate embrace his instincts urged.

He drew back, ending the kiss, and held her for a long moment as he soaked in the sensation of having a woman in his arms. It felt so good. Nic felt so good. He had been alone for so long.

As the shadows deepened around them, time hung suspended. She waited for him to speak. He waited, wanting her, wondering just how far to take this. Was this the right time?

But even as the question formed, he heard the whisper of ghosts on the soft ocean breeze and knew he couldn’t do it. He leaned forward, rested his forehead against hers, and spoke from his heart. “I’m sorry, Nic. I wish … I just … I’m sorry.”

“Me, too, Callahan,” she said with a sigh. “Me, too.”


Nic awoke the next morning to a gray sky and a blue mood. The evening had ended abruptly last night. Right after the kiss on the beach, right after she’d realized that she’d fallen in love with Gabe Callahan, he’d gone into full retreat.

True, she’d been cold in her sundress after the sun went down, but she knew that Gabe’s insistence they return to their suite had more to do with his comfort than with hers. Claiming tiredness, he’d turned in early, but she’d heard him leave his room an hour later and watched him return to the beach for a solitary walk.

She’d gone to bed alone and lonely once again, grateful that at least she had her pride to keep her warm. Thank goodness she hadn’t confessed what she’d realized was in her heart.

As she packed to return to the real world and Eternity Springs, Nic admitted that as much as she’d loved the trip, she was ready to go home. She missed her work, fretted about how Tiger was doing at Sarah’s with her goldens, Daisy and Duke. He’d been with Nic since Christmas, and she’d given up finding a permanent home for him with someone else in town, at least until the seasonal residents began arriving in May. Technically, he was still on the adoption list, but since he slept in her living room every night, everyone considered him hers.

She believed he still considered himself to be Gabe’s pet. She wondered where he would end up once Gabe returned to Eagle’s Way.

That’s where her husband intended to live upon their return to Colorado. They’d talked about their living arrangements over breakfast this morning. That is, he’d talked and she’d listened. Apparently the separate-bedrooms arrangement was off. Now he wanted separate houses. He’d offered up a list of reasons why they’d both be better off living apart, but Nic saw past them to the heart of the matter. Gabe was pulling back. He had spent this time in California working on their friendship, not their marriage. Sharing a home in Eternity Springs, even if they didn’t share a bed, would take it too close to a real marriage for his comfort.

She was adding the last of her clothes to her suitcase when he rapped on her door. “Nic?”

“Come in.” She took one look at him and saw his worry and concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Jack called. My—um, Jen’s husband is in the hospital. Heart attack.” He ran his hands through his hair and frowned. “I have to go … Pam has been through way too much. She was there for me, especially with Matty. I’m sorry, Nic. I’m gonna have to send you back to Eternity Springs by yourself. I’ll catch a flight to D.C. I hope you understand. They’re my family.”

And I’m not. “Of course I understand,” she replied, ignoring the pang of hurt. Now was the time to be his friend. “Don’t think twice about it.”

“Thanks. We can catch the shuttle from here to San Jose. It leaves in twenty minutes. If we hurry, we should be able to make it.”

“Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you at the door.”

“Thanks, Nic. You’re the best.”

His words rang in her ears as she gathered up the rest of her belongings. “You’re the best.” Yeah, right. She wondered if the day would ever come when the man didn’t make her feel like second best.


At the Mocha Moose coffeehouse and Internet café in Eternity Springs, Sage Anderson responded to an email from a gallery in Savannah, then sent off an e-card birthday greeting to an old friend from college. Finished with email, she checked the ESPN site for updates on March Madness standings, then sighed to see that the number twelve seed had whipped the number five seed and busted her East Region bracket. “Shoot, Sarah is going to kick my butt again this year,” she muttered.

Rising from her corner table, she wandered toward the bakery case, where a selection of cookies tempted her. The shop’s owner, Wendy Davis, was the only woman in town who could hold her own against Sarah when it came to baked goods. Her raspberry jam pinwheel cookies were as much works of art as Sage’s watercolors.

“Change your mind?” Wendy asked. “I have a batch of pinwheels hot from the oven.”

“You are a wicked woman.”

Sage took the warm cookie and her second cup of herbal tea back to the table and the computer. She clicked away from ESPN, and then her fingers settled on the keyboard as, from out of nowhere, the urge struck her to check up on the organization that had once meant so much to her. She even went so far as to type “www.doc” before good sense prevailed and she jerked her hands away from the keyboard as if they’d been burned.

What was that all about? Rattled, she brought her hands up to her face and massaged her temples. She could almost hear the monkeys chatter right now.

The lack of sleep must be getting to her. Nightmares woke her often, and in the small hours of the night she would try to exorcise the demons by painting, in the grip of a dark creative energy.

The work she produced those nights differed substantially from the bright, fanciful paintings that were attracting attention in the art world. That the midnight paintings frightened her was no great shock, since the scenes came right out of her nightmares. That she never wished them to see the light of day held no surprise, either, due to the personal nature of the subjects. Almost always, she painted over the images in daylight.

She had kept a couple whose images were impressionistic rather than detailed. Those she kept facing the wall and covered with a tarp. She knew they were the best work she’d ever done, but they were, and would remain, her dirty little secret.

Bells rattled as the café’s door opened, distracting her from her dark thoughts. Sage looked up to see Celeste arrive for their strategy session regarding Eternity Springs’ local arts and crafts show, held each June in Davenport Park. As part of her Angel Plan, Celeste wanted to elevate the status of the event by holding a juried show of Colorado artists in conjunction with it. The idea was meeting some resistence from a few locals who preferred the flea market crowd to gallery patrons, so Celeste had appealed to Sage to help win them over.

“Hello, hello,” Celeste said, tugging off her gloves and earmuffs. After placing her order with Wendy, she joined Sage at the table and set a large shopping bag on the floor. “I am so glad you suggested meeting here. I needed to stop by and place a cookie order for next week. I’m having a special visitor.”

“Oh? An old friend?”

“No, I’ve only spoken to her on the phone, but she seems like a lovely person. Her name is Alison Timberlake.” Celeste paused, preened, then announced, “Alison Cavanaugh Timberlake.”

“Of the Eternity Springs Cavanaughs?”

“If one goes back far enough, yes. Her branch of the family was a distant cousin to the Eternity Springs Cavanaughs. Our library has tremendous historical archives of the area, and our librarian, Margaret Rhodes, knows them forward and backward. Once I discovered that Cavanaughs settled in Denver, it was easy to track down Mrs. Timberlake. She lives there, is married to an attorney, and they have three children. I have a few ideas I’d like to discuss with her regarding family heirlooms. She jumped at the chance to come for a visit.”

Sage tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and frowned at Celeste. “You are still trying to solve the Lost Angel murder, aren’t you?”

“Not really, no. I admit that I have an interest in seeing that historical records reflect the truth, but in this instance I’m more concerned about the proper dispersal of Cavanaugh family treasures.”

“Hmm,” Sage said, her tone noncommital. Their inventory of the contents of the old Victorian mansion had turned up a number of valuable items, and the fact that this Mrs. Timberlake’s husband was associated with the legal profession sent up a red flag, or twelve. She’d hate to see anyone take advantage of Celeste or draw her into a lawsuit. Concerned, she asked, “Your sales contract for the house was specific in regard to the contents of the house, right? You do own them.”

“I do. Nevertheless, some things should remain in the family, and after speaking with Alison, I think she would welcome the opportunity to reconnect with her roots. Her visit ties into one of the reasons I’ve asked to meet with you today. Sage, I’d like to commission the design of a piece of jewelry.”

She sat back in her chair, surprised. “That’s flattering, but I’m not a jewelry designer, Celeste. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Just hear me out. I want a symbol that represents the healing energy of Eternity Springs. I’d like it to be adaptable for use as a small item of jewelry for both men and women—a charm or cuff link or pendant. These items will be made from the silver found in my cellar, and I will give them as gifts when time and circumstances are appropriate.”

“You mean the thirty pieces of silver?” Sage said, her brow furrowing. “That’s … symbolic.”

“I think so.”

Sage’s creative mind engaged. Treachery and betrayal transformed. Hmm. Okay, so maybe she did know where to start. A variation of the angel’s wings on Winifred Smith’s locket formed an image in her mind, and her fingers itched for a pencil and sketch pad.

“Please say you’ll do it, Sage. You must do it. You are meant to do it. I know this at the bottom of my heart.”

In that moment, Sage knew it, too. “All right. On one condition, though. No commission. This will be my personal contribution to the effort.”

“Excellent.” Celeste sat back in her chair, her weathered face wearing a satisfied smile. “Mark my words, dear. I have a feeling this particular work will effect a wondrous change in your life.”

Before Sage could pursue that curious statement, Wendy Davis approached the table carrying Celeste’s coffee and two huge soft ginger cookies. “I hear work is progressing well at Angel’s Rest,” she said.

“We are ahead of schedule, believe it or not.”

“The contractors who come in here say they’ve never seen anything like it. They’ve not had a single weather delay.”

Celeste smiled beatifically. “The weather has been a gift from God. We have an excellent shot at holding our grand opening by the Fourth of July.”

“You’re kidding.” Sage gaped at her friend. “That fast? I don’t believe it. No building project gets done that fast in this part of the world.”

“My contractors are motivated. Gabe helped me build premiums into the contracts for speed of completion, and so far my plan A is working out splendidly.”

The mention of Gabe Callahan tugged Sage’s thoughts in another direction. “Speaking of Gabe, do you know if Nic has heard from him or not? Any idea when he’s coming home?”

“I don’t know about Nic, but I heard from him yesterday. He called to update me on the building plan for the springs. He told me he’ll be returning later today.”

“Finally!”

Celeste nibbled at a cookie. “He said his brother-in-law is doing better, thank the Lord. I guess it was touch and go for a time.”

“I’ve felt bad for Nic,” Sage said after glancing over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “She’s put forth a brave face, but I know the gossip has been brutal. First the hasty wedding and then coming home alone from her honeymoon. I hope Gabe sets the record straight about why he’s been away.”

“Nic isn’t much for gossip, is she? Especially in regard to anything dealing with Gabe. It’s an admirable trait.”

“A frustrating trait,” Sage responded with a grin. “Now, since I’m not opposed to gossip, what’s up with the summer theater? I heard the Historical Society is pitching a fit after the theater group decided to produce The Lost Angel Murder.”

“As well they should.” Celeste sipped her coffee, then said, “The script is pure conjecture. Margaret and I have pored over every book, journal, and letter in the library. We’ve found nothing to support the charge that Daniel Murphy murdered that poor woman. He went to his grave declaring his innocence, and I think it’s wrong for the theater group to take creative license in a way that disparages a man’s reputation. I have to say, Sage, that in my experience with creative personalities, you are the exception to the rule. The scriptwriter is—oh, look. There’s Nic coming out of the library across the street.”

“She looks happy,” Sage observed. “Considering that Gabe is coming home, that’s a good sign, don’t you think? I sure wish she’d been more forthcoming about the honeymoon. I worry that—oh, no!”

Sage surged to her feet, watching in horror as out on the sidewalk, Nic slipped on a patch of ice. She slid into a bench, then tumbled over it and the bicycle chained to it. She fell, the bike coming down on top of her.

Her head hit the cement curb, and she lay still.