“I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Mia. I just want to do my job.”

“Fair enough.” The bell dinged, signaling someone had come to the counter. “No, you’re on break,” Mia reminded her before Nell could hurry out of the kitchen. “I’ll take the counter for a while. And don’t look so sad, little sister. You’ve no one to answer to now but yourself.”

Oddly soothed, Nell stayed where she was. She could hear the low ripple of Mia’s voice as she spoke to the customers. The store music was flutes now and something fluid. She could close her eyes and imagine herself here, just here, the next day. The next year. Comfortable and comforted. Productive and happy.

There was no reason to be sad or afraid, no cause to be concerned about the sheriff. He’d have no purpose in paying attention to her, looking into her background. And if he did, what would he find? She’d been careful. She’d been thorough.

No, she was no longer running away. She’d run to. And she was staying.

She finished off her water, started out of the kitchen just as Mia turned around. The clock in the square began to bong the noon hour, in slow, ponderous tones.

The floor beneath her feet seemed to tremble, and the light went brilliant and bright. Music swelled inside her head, like a thousand harp strings plucked in unison. The wind—she could have sworn she felt a hot wind flow over her face and lift her hair. She smelled candle wax and fresh earth.

The world shuddered and spun, then righted itself in a blink of time, as if it had never moved. She shook her head to clear it and found herself staring into Mia’s deep gray eyes.

“What was that? An earthquake?” Even as she said it, Nell saw that no one else in the store looked concerned. People milled, sat, chatted, sipped. “I thought . . . I felt . . .”

“Yes, I know.” Though Mia’s voice was quiet, there was an edge to it Nell hadn’t heard before. “Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” Shaken, Nell gripped Mia’s wrist. And felt something like power rocket up her arm.

“We’ll talk about it. Later. Now the noon ferry’s in.” And Ripley was back, she thought. They, the three, were all on-island now. “We’ll be busy. Serve your soup, Nell,” she said gently, and walked away.

.

Mia wasn’t often taken by surprise, and she didn’t care for it. The strength of what she’d felt and experienced along with Nell had been more intense, more intimate, than she’d expected. And that annoyed her. She should have been prepared. She of all people knew, believed, and understood what twist fate had taken so many years before. And what twist it could take now.