Atlantis Reprise. James Axler

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      The soft clink and jingle of bangle bracelets was the only indication Beth had that she wasn’t alone in the room. “Jenna?”

      At the sound of more jingling, and nothing else, she turned around. “Don’t you think that’s wonderful news?”

      Jenna Brigante tossed her waist-length black hair over her shoulder and flipped the Closed sign in the window of The Silver Gypsy. Instead of turning the lock, she swung around, her gauzy skirt swishing around her knees. “Not only do I think that’s wonderful, but I told you it was wonderful the first three times you mentioned it.”

      “Oh. I must be repeating myself.”

      “I live in an old prospector’s cabin in the mountains with only crows for company much of the time. So if you think I mind hearing about Christopher, think again. In fact, if you want to tell me one more time, be my guest. And then, when you’ve run out of diversions, you can tell me what’s really on your mind tonight.”

      Beth folded her arms and studied her friend. Jenna looked every bit like the gypsies she claimed were her ancestors, from her big brown eyes to her low-necked blouse, all the way to the strappy sandals on her feet. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for with personality. She said she was thirty-two “springs” old, and had an incredibly straightforward way of saying exactly what she was thinking, not to mention an uncanny ability to read every nuance of a person’s expression and behavior. She was the only person Beth knew who could swear in four languages, and the only person who accepted Beth exactly as she was.

      Straightening a display of silver baubles and charms and necklaces, Beth said, “I saw Barry today.”

      Jenna made a derisive sound. “I suppose it’s inevitable. In a city of over sixty thousand people, you never run into an old friend or former classmate, but ex-husbands appear on every corner. How is old Barry, anyway?”

      Setting a string of Romany wind chimes in motion, Beth said, “He seemed all right. Better than all right, actually, especially while he was introducing me to his new wife.”

      “Aw, honey.”

      “Her name is Chelsea.”

      “It figures.”

      “She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

      “What a jerk. Want me to put a curse on him? I could make his member fall off. Just say the word.”

      Beth almost smiled in spite of herself. “You don’t have to do that on my account.”

      “Believe me, it would be no trouble.”

      Moving on to a glass case that held the more expensive silver jewelry mined and designed with Jenna’s own hands, Beth said, “Did I mention that they’re expecting a baby in three months?”

      “As a matter of fact, you didn’t. It must have slipped your mind.”

      Beth rolled her eyes. Subtle, Jenna wasn’t.

      “That Barry always was a fast worker, wasn’t he?” Jenna sputtered. “Didn’t even wait for the divorce to be final. Of course, this means my curse would be a little late. I could still do it, but now it would be more for enjoyment than actual revenge.”

      After a momentary silence, Jenna said, “Did it hurt? Running into Barry, I mean. Is that why you’re so quiet tonight?”

      Beth moved on to the next display. “It’s nothing I won’t get over, if that’s what you mean. It just hasn’t been a red-letter day, that’s all. I had an appointment with Mrs. Donahue at Social Services right after work. She told me she’d love to let me adopt Christopher, but those silly old courts prefer two-parent homes.”

      “Geez, Beth, have you been breaking mirrors or walking underneath ladders or throwing black cats over your shoulder, or what?”

      This time, Beth cracked a smile. “Actually, there’s something else.”

      Other than the traffic outside on the city’s main thoroughfare, the room became utterly silent. Without turning to face her friend, she said, “I sort of asked one of the doctors at the hospital to marry me.”

      Jenna broke the long stretch of silence with a loud whoop of glee. “Bethany, honey, I do believe you’re finally coming out of your shell.”

      “It’s not funny, Jenna. And I am not.”

      “Sure you are, and yes it is. But tell me, what did this doctor sort of say?”

      Running her hand over the brightly colored skirts hanging on a rack in the corner, Beth said, “Actually, the only noise I heard was the thud of his jaw hitting the floor.”

      Beth didn’t turn around. Not when Jenna made a sympathetic sound. Not even when the chimes over the door jingled with the arrival of a late customer.

      “Uh, Beth?” Jenna asked.

      “Hmm?”

      “Did this doctor you mentioned look as if he could have just stepped off a steamboat from Italy?”

      “You could say that, why?”

      “Oh, it’s nothing, but unless doctors have gone back to making house calls, I believe your fiancé just walked through the door.”

      Chapter Two

      Her fiancé?

      Was that what Jenna had said? That her fiancé had just walked through the door?

      Beth stared at a shelf containing books of old Romany curses, wishing with all her might that she could make herself vanish into thin air. But there was no way out. She was in a corner, literally and figuratively. Sooner or later, she was going to have to turn around to see if Tony was really standing in this very store.

      “Bethany?”

      Her mind went blank for a moment, then scrambled like a radio picking up more than one signal. There was no doubt about it. That voice belonged to none other than Tony Petrocelli himself. She took a deep breath for courage, then turned around to face the music and the last man on earth she was prepared to see.

      She glanced at Jenna, who was suddenly all eyes and ears, then slowly raised her gaze to Tony’s. Although she couldn’t quite manage a smile, she nodded in greeting and said, “Dr. Anthony Petrocelli, this is Jenna Maria Brigante, my best friend.”

      Tony heard the regal formality in Beth’s voice, and wondered where she’d acquired her manners and her style. He didn’t doubt that she was strong; nurses had to be—in spirit and in body. But even the grouchiest nurses at Vanderbilt Memorial could flirt with the best of them. He enjoyed playing along, but he’d never had any trouble dismissing the overtures as fun, and nothing more. Beth Kent had intriguing looks and a willowy body that rivaled any nurse’s in the building. Yet he’d never seen her so much as wink at one of the doctors. She obviously didn’t believe in small talk or casual flirtations. Oh, no. She’d cut straight to the quick when she’d asked him to marry her, in so many words. And he simply hadn’t been able to dismiss that.

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