Нора Робертс - Key of Knowledge

“Yeah.” Grinning, Flynn poured a glass of milk, then sat down, stretched out his legs. “I do. Of course, shes up there reading instead of offering me intriguing and varied sexual favors, but I can bide my time.”

Jordan sat. Flynn, he knew from long experience, would get to his point eventually. “So, you want to talk about your sex life? Is this going to be a bragging session, or are you looking for advice?”

“Id rather do it than brag about it, and Im doing just fine on my own. But thanks for the offer.” He dunked a cookie. “So, hows Dana?”

And there would be the point, Jordan thought. “A little anxious about the task at hand, Id say, but diving in headfirst. You must have seen the mountain range of books shes hiking through when you dropped off Moe.”

“Yeah, I got eyestrain just thinking about reading half of them. And otherwise?”

“It looks like shes steadied herself after what happened to her the other night. She may be spooked by it, but shes just as curious. You know how she is.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Why dont you just ask me how things are with us?”

“And pry into your private and personal lives? Me?”

“Up yours, Hennessy.” “Wow, that was so creative, so succinct. I immediately see why youre a successful novelist.”

“Sideways.” And though he had absolutely no desire for one, Jordan pulled a cookie from the bag. “I screwed up with her, all those years ago. „Im going, its been fun, see you around.”

It caused a low burn in his gut to remember it now.

“Maybe not that cut and dried, but close enough.” He bit into the cookie as he studied his friends face. “Did I screw up with you, too?”

“Maybe some.” Flynn nudged Malorys pretty candle aside so he could move the cookie bag between them. “I cant say I didnt feel a little deserted when you took off, but I got why you had to leave. Hell, I was planning on doing the same myself.”

“The business exec, the struggling writer, and the dedicated reporter. Hell of a trio.”

“Yeah, we all got there, too, didnt we? One way or the other. I never left the Valley to do it, but I thought I was going to, so I could look at you, and Brad, as sort of the advance guard. But then again, I wasnt sleeping with you.”

“She was in love with me.”

Flynn waited a beat, absorbed the baffled frustration on Jordans face. “What, did thatlightbulb just go off? Youve got some faulty wiring in there, pal.”

“I knew she loved me.” Disgusted, Jordan shoved up to get a glass of milk after all. “Hell, Flynn, we all loved each other. We were as much family as any who share blood. I didnt know it was the big L for her. How the hell is a guy supposed to know that sort of thing unless the woman looks him in the eye and says, „Im in love with you, you asshole. Which would,” he continued, working up to fury, “have been something youd expect from Dana. Thats just how she does things. But she didnt, so I didnt know. And Im the slug because of it.”

Because hed been concerned by Jordans steady cool, the spike of temper relieved him. “Yeah, but youre a slug for a lot of reasons. I could write up a list.”

“The one Id write up on you would be longer,” Jordan muttered.

“Great, a contest.” Not just angry, Flynn noted as he studied Jordans face, but unhappy. Still, it had to be finished out, had to be said.

“Look, when Lily dumped me and took off for fame and fortune in the big bad city, it hurt. And I wasnt in love with her. You and Brad had that one right. But I thought I was, I was ready to be, and her brushing me off messed me up. Dana was in love with you. Youve got to expect that your going, whatever your reasons, messed her up.”

Jordan sat again, thoughtfully broke a cookie in two. “Youre telling me not to mess her up again.”

“Yeah, thats what Im telling you.”

DANA tried working off her sexual and emotional frustration with the books. She focused on the goal, and spent half the night sifting through data, words, notes, and her own speculations about the location of the key.

Her primary reward was a massive headache.

What little sleep she managed to get was restless and unsatisfying. When even Moe failed to perk up her morning mood, she decided to give physical labor a try.

She dropped Moe back at Flynns by simply opening the front door with her key and letting him bullet inside. Since it was still short of nine of a Sunday morning, she imagined the household was sleeping.

In her current mood, the machine-gun barking that sprayed through the quiet as Moe charged up the stairs made her lips curve in a dark, wicked smile.

“You go, Moe,” she cheered, shut the door, and strolled back to her car.

She drove directly to the building. Indulgence, she corrected herself as she parked. It was going to be Indulgence, so she needed to start thinking of it that way instead of as “the house” or “the building.”

When she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the strong smell of fresh paint hit her. It was a good smell, she decided. The smell of progress, of newness, of accomplishment.

Maybe the white primer wasnt pretty, but it was sure as hell bright, and looking at it, she could see just how far theyd come already.

“So lets keep going.”

She pushed up her sleeves and headed to the supplies and tools.

It occurred to her that this was the first time, the only time, shed been alone here. On the heels of that came the thought that maybe she was asking for trouble being alone in a place where Kane had already wielded his sorcery.

She glanced uneasily up the steps. And thought of cold blue mist. As if the chill of it crept over her skin, she shuddered.

“I cant be afraid to be here.” The way her voice echoed made her wish shed brought along a radio. Anything to fill the silence with normal sound.

Wont be afraid to be here, she corrected herself as she opened a can of paint. How could she, or any of them, make this place their own if they were afraid to come into it alone?

There were bound to be times when one of them came in early or stayed late. The three of them couldnt be attached at the hip. She—all of them—would have to get used to the quiet of the place, and the settling noises. Normal quiet, normal noises, she assured herself. Hell, she liked being alone and having a big, empty house all to herself. It was tailor-made Dana time.

The memory of Kanes nasty games wasnt going to scare her off.

And since she was alone, she didnt have to compete for the super paint machine.

Still, as she began to work she wished she could hear Malorys andZoes voices, as she had before, turning all those empty rooms into something bright and cheerful.

She comforted herself that theyd finished priming Malorys section and had a good start on hers. It would be a kick to finish her own space with her own hands.

She could begin to play with different setups in her head. Should she shelve mysteries here, or was this a better spot for nonfiction? Local interest?

Wouldnt it be fun to display coffee-table books on, haha , a coffee table?

Maybe she could find an old breakfront somewhere for the cafй section. She could display tins of tea, mugs, books. Should she go with those cute round tables that reminded her of an ice cream parlor, or the more substantial square ones? Wouldnt this room be the perfect place to set up a cozy reading corner, or would it be smarter to use that space for a small childrens play area?

It was therapeutic to watch the clean white paint cover the dull beige, stroke by stroke marking the room as her own. No one could push her out of here as shed been pushed out of the library. She was working for herself this time, and setting the rules herself.

No one could cut her off from this dream, from this love, as shed been cut off from other dreams. From other loves.

“Do you think it matters? A little shop in a little town? Will you work, struggle, worry, pour your mind and your heart into something so meaningless? And why? Because you have nothing else.

“But you could.”

She felt the cold shiver over her skin. It made her breath come too fast, tightened the muscles of her stomach toward pain. She continued to paint, guiding the roller over the wall, listening to the faint hum of the motor. She couldnt seem to stop.

“It matters to me. I know what I want.”

“Do you?”

He was there, somehow there. She could sense him in the chill. Perhaps he was the chill.

“A place of your own. You thought you had one before, all those years of work, of serving others. Yet does anyone care that youre gone?”

It was a well-aimed arrow. Had anyone even noticed she was no longer at the library? All the people shed worked with, worked for? All the patrons shed helped? Had she been so replaceable that her absence hadnt caused a single ripple?

Hadnt she mattered at all?

“You gave the man your heart, your loyalty, but he cast you off without a thought. How much did you matter to him?”

Not enough, she thought.

“I can change that. I can give him to you. I could give you a great many things. Success?”

The shop was full of people. The shelves were filled with books. The pretty tables were crowded with customers sipping tea, having conversations. She saw a little boy sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner with a copy of Where the Wild Things Are open in his lap.

Everything about the scene spoke of pleasure—the combination of relaxation and brisk business.

The walls were exactly the right shade, she thought. Malory had been on the money there. The light was good, made everything friendly, and all those wonderful books temptingly arranged, on shelves, on displays.