"Sure she is. You're right. She's usually in the middle of things and this time she's stepping back. Which has you in a tizzy. Catching people off guard is her style. She's manipulating the situation as much as if she told you what to do."

Taryn hadn't thought of it that way. She leaned into Angel. "Maybe you're right," she said, letting the warmth and strength of his body comfort her. "I've been running in mental circles since I left her office."

"She loves that." He moved his hands to her face and cupped her cheeks. "You'll figure out the best way to get Bailey a suit."

"I hope so. It just would have been easier if the mayor had offered a solid suggestion." She smiled at him. "Okay, I'm officially done with the topic."

"You don't have to be."

"We have trees to plant."

They'd spent the morning at Plants for the Planet where Taryn had chosen three different j.a.panese maple trees. They were all small enough to be happy in containers, which made them perfect for her small patio. Now they had to be moved into their new container homes.

After sliding the containers into place, Angel had put rocks in the bottom to help with drainage. Now she held the trees steady while he cut away the plastic. Once he'd tossed them aside, he freed the roots before lifting the trees into place.

"You're good at this," she told him. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a plant guy."

"I know things."

A casual enough answer, but she saw the tension in his shoulders and knew he was keeping his face deliberately away from her. She picked up the bag of soil and poured it in. As he smoothed it into place, she spoke.

"It's okay," she said quietly. "To talk about your life with Marie and Marcus."

Angel straightened and wiped his hands on his jeans. "It was a long time ago."

"But it's still a part of who you are. I understand. If Marie hadn't died, you wouldn't be here right now. We wouldn't have met. Your feelings about her have nothing to do with me."

His gray gaze settled on her face. "That sounds rational. But this isn't a rational subject."

"Why not? We're together because she's gone. You don't have to pretend you don't want it to be different. That you don't miss her."

Ignoring the fact that neither of them wanted a commitment, even if either of them was more traditional and wanted it all, she would still have to tend with a ghost in his past. A first love. It wasn't about being loved more or fighting memories. Loving Marie had made him who he was. She was a part of him, just as Taryn's past was a part of her.

If they were on a different course, she would still be okay with what had come before. Because the alternative was to fight what she could never change.

"I don't want you to pretend you don't love her," Taryn told him. "I like that you do. It makes you one of the good guys."

He pulled her close again. This time he hung on so tight she found it difficult to catch her breath. But that was okay-because when it came to Angel, she'd discovered she liked the feeling that he would never let go.

TARYN STARED AT the columns of numbers. She hated going over the books of a business. It was one of the reasons she was so fond of Sam. He protected her from that at Score. But he wasn't involved in her partnership at Paper Moon, and as he was still sulking because she insisted he plan the upcoming company party with Dellina, and he didn't want to, she had been pretty sure he would refuse any request for a favor.

Which was why she was stuck hunched over Isabel's desk, reviewing monthly statements and fighting a tension headache. She scanned the receipts for the construction, then checked the receivables and payables.

"You're coming in slightly under budget on the remodeling," she said. "Is this all the receipts for fixtures?"

Isabel sat opposite her. "Yes. I got a great deal on some racks I wanted. Technically they were used but they never got out of the box. The people who bought them had a store that went under before it opened."

"A lesson to us all."

They'd decided to keep the two sides of the business distinctly different. Brides shopping for wedding gowns wanted the special experience of soft lighting, romantic music and gigantic dressing rooms. On the "regular" retail side, the design was more edgy, the music more rock and there was a whole lot less tulle.

Taryn straightened. "You're doing great." She opened her tote and pulled out a check that represented the final installment of her hundred-thousand-dollar investment. With it, Isabel would buy inventory and hire extra staff for both sides.

Isabel took the check and sighed. "We're really doing this."

"We are." Taryn smiled at her. "I thought a lot about what you said about Madeline. Bringing her into the business. I think that's a good idea. As you said, make her manager of the wedding gown side of things. Giving her skin in the game will make her even more motivated. Although you're going to have to warn her that initially there won't be any profits for her to share in."

Taryn opened a folder and handed Isabel a copy of the chart she'd made. It showed Madeline starting with an initial grant of 2 percent of the business, then over the next five years working her way to a 10 percent ownership. Taryn's hundred grand had given her a 40 percent stake. Her suggestion was that by the end of the five years the 10 percent would be divided according to the percentage of their stake. So Isabel would own 54 percent, Taryn would own 36 percent and Madeline would have the remaining 10 percent.

"At that point, we'll reevaluate," Taryn said. "You especially. In five years you'll want to start buying me out."

Isabel's eyes widened. "You'll leave the partnership?"

"I don't have to, but you'll be ready to be on your own. Trust me-having a partner looking over your shoulder is going to get old."

"Maybe, but right now I appreciate your business ac.u.men."

Isabel wrote her a receipt for the check, then walked to a small refrigerator and pulled out a diet soda for each of them.

"Any aftereffects from our lunch a few days ago?" she asked.

Taryn grinned. "I was buzzed into the evening, that's for sure. But I'm fine today." She took the soda and popped the top. "Consuelo was surprising."

Isabel sat across from her. "Panicked, you mean? Their relationship is so unexpected. I mean Kent's a great guy, but the way Consuelo looks at him, you'd swear he has secret superpowers."

"Maybe for her, he does," Taryn murmured. "It's nice that she's so crazy in love. Or just crazy."

"He's a math teacher." Isabel shook her head. "I don't get it, but on the bright side, it does prove there is someone for everyone."

Taryn took a sip of her soda and refused to speculate on the obvious. Because it didn't matter if there was someone for her. She wasn't interested.

"It's fun that she's trying so hard to be conventional," she said instead. "I don't know a lot about her past, but I'm guessing this is the first time she's tried to be like everyone else."

"You're right," Isabel told her. "I swear, Ford is terrified of her."

"Angel won't admit to fear," Taryn said with a grin, "but he gives her a wide berth. Which only makes me like her more. Yet it all comes down to pleasing Kent and wanting to fit in. I know guys will change when they get in a relationship, but it seems that women change more. Or are willing to. Maybe I'm generalizing."

"I don't think so." Isabel leaned toward her. "As a gender, we want to bond. The connection is important. Even for a woman like Consuelo. I don't know everything about her past, but I get the impression that she's always wanted to go her own way."

"Or maybe she's just had to," Taryn murmured, thinking people were often defined by what they'd been through.

She rose and walked over to the single rack of clothes Isabel had brought in. They were for her to try on. All beautiful, she thought, fingering the fabric. Custom-made by up-and-coming designers. They would go for anywhere from a few hundred dollars to a thousand.

Once the store was open, Isabel would carry a range of prices. While she would never be competing with a discount store, not every garment would be expensive. They were hoping to cash in on the tourists spending time and money in town. Her business plan also included selling to residents.

Still, could someone like Bailey afford to shop here?

"Fool's Gold needs a consignment store," she said absently.

Behind her, Isabel made a choking sound.

"Wh-what? Are you trying to put me out of business before I even get opened?"

Taryn glanced at Isabel and saw she was staring wide-eyed.

Taryn immediately held up both hands. "Sorry. I'm not trying to frighten you. I was just thinking there are people who can't afford a thousand-dollar handbag."

"So they don't need to buy one. A consignment store? Tell me you're not going to invest in one."

"I'm not." Taryn returned to the desk. "Seriously, it's okay. I was just thinking..." She sighed. "There's this woman I met. She's a single mom and she's about to enter the job market and from what I can tell she doesn't really have an interview suit. I'm not sure she can afford it. I don't know why that bugs me, but it does. And it's not like I can give her one. She's not going to take it. So I was thinking a consignment store would be the answer."

Isabel's breathing returned to normal. "Why didn't you say so? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Which was not my goal for many reasons." She thought about Bailey. "I don't know what to do. I went to Mayor Marsha and she basically blew me off. She said she was sure I'd figure out a solution."

"Our mayor Marsha?"

Taryn nodded. "Shocking, right? That's what I thought, too. Doesn't she have a reputation for meddling? Which means I don't know how to help. Like I said, I can't really go up to her and hand her a suit. It's weird and she might be insulted."

Isabel picked up her soda. "So let's have an exchange party."

"A what?"

"A clothing exchange. We can hold it here. We invite a bunch of women to bring in clothes they no longer want and we exchange them with each other. We can ask for a small donation for a local charity if you want to make it seem like there's a cause involved. So your friend doesn't get suspicious."

"It's Bailey Voss. Do you know her?"

"No, I don't think so."

"She's great. If we wore the same size, I would give her one of my suits."

Isabel eyed her. "Is anyone your size? Aside from supermodels?"

"Very funny. I like your idea of an exchange party. I could buy a couple of suits and pretend they're part of the exchange. How do I find out her size?"

"I'll take care of that," Isabel said, writing down the name. "After working in this place, I can judge a size at fifty yards." She looked back at Taryn. "Don't buy anything too fancy. She won't be comfortable in it."

Taryn nodded. "Should I let you take care of the suit purchasing?"

"No offense, but yes. I'll also have one of my tailors at the party to do instant alterations."

"I'll cover that cost," Taryn told her. She remembered Bailey's scuffed flats. "Let's do shoes and handbags. Why don't we say everyone has to put five dollars in the pot for every item they take? Can you judge shoe sizes?"

"Not as well," Isabel admitted. "How tall is she?"

"About five-seven."

"So nothing below a seven, most likely." Isabel grinned. "You have big feet. Bring some of your old shoes."

Taryn glared at her. "I do not have big feet. I'm tall. My feet are appropriately sized."

"You're a nine or a nine and a half. That's not pet.i.te."

"I'm ignoring you," Taryn told her. "Okay, we'll have an exchange party. Let's get the word out. Oh, wait. I know. I'll hire Dellina to organize the whole thing. We can have food and music." She thought about her ongoing tussle with Sam. "It's not like she's working on the company party."

"The what?"

"Nothing," Taryn said with a sigh. "Score business. Anyway, yes, let's do this. We'll have fun."

"OKAY, THIS IS a stretch, even for Fool's Gold," Taryn said as she and Angel walked through the center of town. "I'll accept celebrating the major holidays and summer and fall and harvest, but Rosie the Riveter Days? Seriously?"

"Haven't you been reading the posters?" Angel asked with a grin. "She might have come from around here."

"I don't think so."

"But you can't be sure. Besides, we're celebrating the contribution of women. You should support that."

"I'll support it more when there isn't any pay inequity left." She glanced at the tourists clogging the streets. "Not that I don't love a good festival."

"You don't," he teased.

She smiled at him. "I'm getting used to them."

It was a sunny Sat.u.r.day morning. Angel had called the previous night and suggested they spend the day together. They were going to cruise the festival through lunch, then maybe catch a movie. He would grill steaks for them that night and tomorrow they would work on her garden.

Implied in the invitation was him spending the night-a plan she could totally support. Lately she'd found herself sleeping better when Angel was in her bed. Of course that could be about the things they did before they fell asleep, but she was open to that, as well.

Now, as he took her hand, she laced her fingers with his and felt the swell of contentment in her body. Being around Angel made her feel good.

They moved slowly with the flow of the crowds. There were booths lining the streets. A schedule of events promised live music later.

"Angel, Taryn!"

Allison, a little blonde girl with gla.s.ses, ran up to them. She wore a pink T-shirt and white shorts. As she reached them, she pushed up her gla.s.ses.

"Hi. I saw you and wanted to introduce my uncle Ryder." She was dragging a good-looking guy behind her. He looked to be around thirty, with tanned skin and a crooked smile. He was tall, maybe six-three, so he towered over the little girl. "He's a really famous photographer." She paused to beam at them. "He's my favorite uncle."

Ryder shook hands with both of them. "Hi," he said. "Allison gets a little carried away. I'm not that famous."

Taryn liked how Ryder put his hands on Allison's shoulders in a gesture of love and support, rather than getting annoyed with her.

"You're her favorite uncle," Taryn said.

"I'm her only uncle."