“I’m fast, and I’m good. Let’s move.” She grabbed Nell’s hand, hauled her upstairs and into the rest room.

Ten minutes later, Nell was serving her first customers and wearing silver earrings, peach-toned lipstick, and expertly smudged slate eyeliner.

There was something, she decided, very comforting about feeling female again.

She took the catering job and crossed her fingers. When Zack asked if she’d like to go for an evening sail, she said yes and felt powerful.

When a customer asked if she could bake a cake in the shape of a ballerina for a birthday party, she said absolutely. And spent her fee on a pair of earrings.

As word spread, she found herself agreeing to provide picnic-style food for a party of twenty for July Fourth and ten box lunches for a private day sailor.

At her kitchen table, Nell spread out notes, files, menus. Somehow she was becoming her own cottage industry. Which, she thought, looking around, seemed perfectly apt.

She glanced up at the brisk knock on the door, and happily welcomed Ripley in.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure. Sit down. Do you want anything?”

“I’m fine.” Ripley sat, then picked up Diego when he sniffed at her shoes. “Meal planning?”

“I’ve got to organize these catering jobs. If I had a computer . . . Well, eventually. I’d sell my soul for a professional blender. And both feet for a commercial-grade food processor. But for now, we make do.”

“Why don’t you use the computer at the bookstore?”

“Mia’s already doing enough.”

“Whatever. Listen, I’ve got this date for the Fourth. A date with potential,” she added. “Casual because Zack and I are more or less on duty right through the night. Fireworks and beer sometimes make people a little too festive for their own good.”

“I can’t wait to see the fireworks. Everyone says they’re spectacular.”

“Yeah, we do a hell of a job on them. The thing is, this guy—he’s a security consultant on the mainland—he’s been hitting on me, and I decided to let him land one.”

“Ripley, that’s so romantic, I can barely catch my breath.”

“He’s really built, too,” Ripley continued as she scratched Diego’s ears, “so the after-fireworks fireworks potential is fairly high, if you get me. I’ve been in a downswing sexwise. Anyway, we talked about having this night picnic deal, and somehow I got stuck with doing the food. Since I think I’d like to jump this guy’s bones, I don’t want to poison him first.”

“A romantic picnic for two.” Nell made notes. “Vegetarian or carnivore?”

“Carnivore. Not too fancy, okay?” Ripley plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit on the table, popped it in her mouth. “I don’t want him more interested in the food than me.”

“Check. Pickup or delivery?”