Dance Upon the Air Read Online Free Page A

them know you’re coming, so you can charge to the store account. Any pots, pans, whatever are your expense, but I’ll float that until the end of the month. I expect to see you, and your creations, by nine-thirty sharp.”
    She stepped over and dropped the keys into Nell’s limp hand. “Any questions?”
    â€œToo many to know where to begin. I don’t know how to thank you.”
    â€œDon’t waste your tears, little sister,” Mia replied. “They’re too precious. You’ll work hard for what you make here.”
    â€œI can’t wait to get started.” Nell held out her hand. “Thank you, Mia.”
    Their hands touched, clasped. A spark snapped out, blue as flame and quickly gone. With a half laugh, Nell jerked back. “Must be a lot of static, or something, in the air.”
    â€œOr something. Well, welcome home, Nell.” Turning, Mia started for the door.
    â€œMia.” Emotion gathered in her throat, ached there. “I said this was like a fairy cottage. You must be my fairy godmother.”
    Mia’s smile was dazzling, and her laughter low and rich as warmed cream. “You’ll find out soon enough I’m far from it. I’m just a practical witch. Don’t forget to bring me the receipts,” she added and quietly closed the door behind her.

Two

    T he village, Nell decided, was a bit like Brigadoon as seen by Nathaniel Hawthorne. She’d taken some time to explore before she’d gone to the market. For months she’d told herself she was safe. She was free. But for the first time, wandering the pretty streets with their quaint houses, breathing in the sea air, listening to the sharp New England voices, she felt safe. And free.
    No one knew her, but they would. They would know Nell Channing, the clever cook who lived in the little cottage in the wood. She would make friends here, and a life. A future. Nothing from the past would touch her here.
    One day she would be as much a part of the island as the narrow post office with its faded gray wood or the tourist center cobbled together by old clinker bricks, and the long, sturdy dock where fishermen brought their daily catch.
    To celebrate she bought a wind chime fashioned ofstars that she saw in a shop window. It was her first purchase for pleasure in nearly a year.
    She spent her first night on the island in the lovely bed, hugging her happiness to her as she listened to the stars ring and the sea breathe.
    She was up before sunrise, eager to begin. While the day’s soup simmered, she rolled out pastry dough. She’d spent every penny she had, including most of the advance and a good portion of her next month’s salary on kitchen tools. It didn’t matter. She would have the best and produce the best. Mia Devlin, her benefactor, would never have cause to regret taking her on.
    Everything in the kitchen was precisely as she wanted it. Not as she’d been told it must be. When she had time, she would make a run to the island’s garden center for herbs. Some she would plant outside the windowsill. All cluttered together the way she liked things to be. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in her home would be uniform and precise and stylishly sleek. She wouldn’t have acres of marble or seas of glass or towering urns of terrifyingly exotic flowers without warmth or scent. There wouldn’t be . . .
    She stopped herself. It was time to stop reminding herself of what wouldn’t be, and plan what would be. Yesterday would hound her until she firmly closed the door on it and shot the bolt.
    While the sun came up, turning the east-facing windows to flame, she slid the first batch of tarts into the oven. She remembered the rosy-cheeked woman who had helped her at the market. Dorcas Burmingham—such a fine Yankee name, Nell thought. And full of welcome and curiosity. The curiosity would have shutNell down once, turned her inward. But she’d been