“I did it! It worked. Oh! Oh!” In one leap Nell was at the table, her nose buried in blooms. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I wanted to believe it, but I didn’t really think I could manage it. Not by myself. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

She knew what it was like, the rush of power, that bright thrill. The pleasures, both small and huge. Ripley felt an echo of it now as Nell lifted the pot high and circled.

“It’s not all flowers and moonbeams, Nell.”

“What happened?” Nell lowered the pot, cradled it like a baby. “What happened to make you resent what you have?”

“I don’t resent it. I just don’t want it.”

“I’ve been powerless. This is better.”

“What’s better isn’t being able to make flowers bloom. It’s being able to take care of yourself. You didn’t need a spell book to figure out how to do that.”

“One doesn’t have to be exclusive of the other.”

“Maybe not. But life’s a hell of a lot easier when they are.” She walked to the door, opened it. “Don’t leave your candles unattended.”

By the time Zack arrived, Nell had the table cleared and set. The kitchen was fragrant with her roast and the aftermath of her candles.

She liked hearing him come to the kitchen door, those long strides. The way he stopped and wiped his feet on the mat. The rush of brisk air he let in when he opened the door. And the easy smile he gave her as he kept on walking until his mouth covered hers.

“Later than I expected.”

“It’s all right. Ripley stopped by and told me you would be.”

“Then I guess I don’t need these.” He took the bouquet of carnations from behind his back.

“No, but I do.” She gathered them up. “Thanks. I thought we’d try this Australian wine I read about, if you want to open it.”

“Fine.” He turned to shrug out of his jacket and hang it on the kitchen peg. His gaze hit the pot of geraniums she’d set on the side counter. It gave him a little jolt, but after the briefest hesitation, he went on and pegged his jacket. “I don’t guess you did that with fertilizer.”

“No.” She linked her fingers together around the carnation stems. “I didn’t. Does it bother you?”

“Not bother. But talking about it, even knowing about it’s different than seeing it.” At home in her kitchen, he pulled open a drawer for a corkscrew. “In any case, you don’t have to smooth out every ripple with me.”

“I love you, Zack.”

He stood, the corkscrew in one hand, the bottle of wine in the other. And suddenly couldn’t move. Emotions overwhelmed him.

“It’s been hard waiting for you to say that to me.”