“I thought I might start a trend.” When Bonnie smiled, she became abruptly and briefly stunning. “In any case, it was a small failure. Probably cost you less than three dollars in flour. Sit,” she repeated as she began to transfer the mess from the table to the counter behind her. “So, how was the camping trip?”

“Enlightening. Wouldn’t you say, Lenore?”

“Educational,” she corrected, but thought the last half hour had been the most educational of all.

“So, you work for Celebrity.” Bonnie’s long, twisted gold earrings swung when she walked, much like Sarah’s braids. “I’m a faithful reader.”

“That’s because she’s had a couple of embarrassingly flattering write-ups.”

“Write-ups?” Lee watched Bonnie dust her flour-covered hands on her cutoffs.

Hunter smiled as he watched his sister reach for a tin of tea and send others clattering to the counter. “Professionally she’s known as B. B. Smithers.”

The name rang a bell. For years, B. B. Smithers had been considered the queen of avant-garde jewelry. The elite, the wealthy and the trendy flocked to her for personal designs. They paid, and paid well, for her talent, her creativity, and the tiny Bs etched into the finished product. Lee stared at the thin, somewhat clumsy woman with something close to wonder. “I’ve admired your work.”

“But you wouldn’t wear it,” Bonnie put in with a smile as she shoved tumbled boxes and tins out of her way. “No, it’s the classics for you. What a fabulous face. Do you want lemon in your tea? Do we have any lemons, Hunter?”

“Probably not.”

Taking this in stride, Bonnie set the teapot on the table to let the tea steep. “Tell me, Lenore, how did you talk the hermit into coming out of his cave?”

“By making him furious, I believe.”

“That might work.” She sat down across from Lee as Sarah walked to her father’s side. Her eyes were softer than her brother’s, less intense, but not, Lee thought, less perceptive. “Did the two weeks playing pioneer in the canyon give you the insight to write an article on him?”

“Yes.” Lee smiled, because there was humor in Bonnie’s eyes. “Plus I gained a growing affection for box springs and mattresses.”

The quick, stunning smile flashed again. “My husband takes the children camping once a year. That’s when I go to Elizabeth Arden’s for the works. When we come home, both of us feel we’ve accomplished several small miracles.”

“Camping’s not so bad,” Sarah commented in her father’s defense.

“Is that so?” He patted her bottom as he drew her closer. “Why is it that you always have this all-consuming desire to visit Bonnie in Phoenix whenever I start packing gear?”