He lifted his head. For the first time I got a good look at his eyes – warm, golden brown eyes the color of good whiskey. They were shining, almost as if filled with tears. “I promise you I won’t give you any reason for ever regretting that,” he said in a rush, and then he turned abruptly and fled.

“I’ll see you later, then,” I called as he headed for his pick-up truck – a shiny new red Ford. He grunted and waved. What had happened in Bill’s life, I wondered as I closed the door, that made a simple expression of trust so moving?

I was heading upstairs to get dressed when my cell phone rang. I almost didn’t get it, but then I thought it might be Duncan Laird. I answered it without checking the number.

“Callie McFay?” a woman with a lilting Australian accent asked. “It’s Jen Davies. Sorry I took so long getting back to you.”

“Not at all, Jen,” I said sitting down on the bottom step. “I know you’re busy. I saw the piece you did on Sarah Palin’s wardrobe stylist. Nice one!”

“Yeah, I felt a bit like I’d found Deep Throat.”

We both laughed, but Jen stopped first. “Hey, I appreciate the good review but I don’t think you called about that. Have you heard about the meeting in Fairwick?”

“I heard the Grove is coming to discuss with IMP whether the door to Faerie should be permanently closed.”

Jen snorted. “That’s not the half of what they’ve got planned. I think we’d better talk. I got into town early …”

“You’re in Fairwick?” I asked, surprised that Jen would spend anymore time in the country than she’d have to.

“Yeah, the muckety-mucks sent me on first to scout out the lay of the land. I’m staying at a motel out on the highway. No offense to your pal Diana, but if I stayed in her inn one more time I’d never fit into my jeans again.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, remembering how Diana had stuffed me full of sweets and baked goods when I stayed at the Hart Brake Inn last year. Jen Davies, as I recalled, looked like she did Jivamukti yoga twelve hours a day and lived on agave protein shakes. She probably hadn’t eaten a carb in the last decade. “Where do you want to meet? You could come to my house?”

“Could we meet at the diner in town?”

“Sure,” I said, glad the meeting would include food. I was suddenly ravenous – probably from running through the woods all night. I hung up wondering how guilty I’d feel having toast and home fries in front of Jen Davies … and decided I was willing to risk it.