LITMIR.BIZ

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who needs to know knows. The rest can read it in the paper.”

      “You’ve done a lot.” She’d barely accepted the news, and Dixon had been making arrangements. “I feel bad this has been on your shoulders.”

      “I had a couple hours’ head start. You’re here now. We’ll do the rest together.”

      “Right. So we have to pick photos and write the obituaries...” she repeated, trying to get up to speed, to contribute to the process. “What else?”

      “Decide the music and who should speak and in what order.” He studied her face. “You look dead-tired. We can go over all the funeral stuff tomorrow.”

      “Sounds good. It’s mostly jet lag,” she said. “I flew in from Norway early this morning for a meeting in L.A., then drove straight here.”

      “No wonder you’re wiped out. Go get some sleep.”

      “I’m too wired for that.” She smiled sadly. “But I could use a drink.” Her gaze snagged on the ice chest on the floor beside the table. She opened it and took out the champagne, melted ice dripping from the bottle. “Might as well drink this, right?”

      “Why not? Sounds practical,” he said with a weary smile. “I’ll get glasses.”

      She picked up the flowers. “I should put these in something.”

      In the kitchen, Aubrey opened cupboards until she spotted a crystal vase on the top shelf. She was too short to reach it, but Dixon was plenty tall.

      She turned to ask for his help, but he was looking at the fridge photos. “This was before they got married.” He tapped a shot of Brianna and Howard at a picnic table. Brianna grinned at the photographer. Howard stared at Brianna with pure adoration. “They thought they had a lifetime together,” Dixon added gruffly.

      Aubrey remembered the margarita-stoked conversation she’d had with Brianna when the girls were babies. I just want to get them through college, you know? she’d said. High school was too soon. I wasn’t ready. My core wasn’t solid yet.

      You won’t get cancer, Aubrey had insisted. You live a seatbelt life, totally strapped in. Of all the words she could have chosen. Seatbelts hadn’t saved Brianna this time.

      “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Aubrey said, unable to hide her sadness. “It’s like I lost half of myself. There was so much I should have told her.” I’ll be here more. I miss you, too. I’m sorry I let you down.

      “I know what you mean,” Dixon said, his voice husky with emotion. “The last time I talked to Howard I bitched about a report he forgot to finish before the trip.” His eyes were watering now.

      “You didn’t know it would be the last time.”

      “Howard was the one who raised me after Dad left. I was ten. He was fifteen. I was wild as a kid.”

      “You were wild?” He’d seemed like a straight arrow to her.

      “Mom blamed me for Dad leaving. I’d been screwing up in school, getting in trouble, but after he left, I ran off the rails. Mom worked days and went out nights, but Howard stayed on me, kept me out of jail and in school. I owe him so much...” His jaw muscle worked. “Working at Bootstrap was a way to pay him back.”

      “I’m sure he knew how grateful you were.” Her words seemed so hollow in the face of the pain Dixon was feeling.

      “I can’t remember his voice.” Dixon forced the words out. “Or see his face. That’s what’s killing me.”

      “I know what you mean. You feel so...alone.”

      “Yeah. Alone.”

      Then she remembered something from back when her mother died. “The voices and memories come back,” she said. “A grief counselor told us that the shock blanks out your brain for a while. Over time, it all comes back.”

      “It does?”

      “It happened for me in dreams first. After a while, the happy memories covered over how sick Mom was at the end, and that’s how I remember her now.”

      “That’s good,” he said. “I’ll look forward to that.”

      She could tell he was about to break down. So was she. “This is so hard.” Dixon must have sensed that she was crumbling, and pulled her into his arms, tucking her against his chest. They held each other tightly, as if for dear life, against the storm lashing them both.

      Dixon smelled like citrus and starch, and his heart thudded steadily beneath her cheek, saying, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

      She rested against him, calming herself, breathing in time with Dixon, sharing the same sorrow, the same pain. They stood, swaying slightly, for a long time. Gradually, another feeling took over—this one more primal.

      Desire.

      She wanted him. Of all the wrong times to react like that. All the turmoil had her riled up, of course. Her emotions flitted like fireflies lighting her up here and there.

      Dixon jerked, so she knew he’d been struck, as well. He let her go as if she’d scalded him. “We were getting glasses and a vase.” He cleared his throat.

      She reined herself in, a little irked at how easily Dixon had backed off. He never let physical needs rule him. She admired that...and resented it, too.

      “Could you reach that?” She pointed up at the vase.

      Dixon retrieved it and filled it with water. She put the flowers inside, feeling his gaze on her as she worked. When she looked up and caught him staring, he colored, then moved to the cupboards. “I think the champagne glasses were...here.”

      They were. When Aubrey reached in to help, she startled Dixon, who pulled back, knocking three glasses off the shelf. Aubrey nabbed two in the air. Dixon caught the third.

      “Not bad,” she said, holding out her hand for his glass. When he gave it to her, she started an easy juggle, careful to compensate for the uneven weight of the flutes. A rush of pleasure hit her. She loved demonstrating a skill. Careful...watch it...easy...easy. She shifted her body to even the arc. Concentrate. Don’t get cocky. She juggled a few more seconds, then quit while she was ahead, catching the glasses one by one.

      “Wow,” Dixon said.

      She bowed, a faint surge of hope rushing through her. Life would go on. She would smile again, go on new adventures, learn new skills. Grief wouldn’t take her down for good. “I took juggling during my circus adventure last year.”

      “You ran off with the circus?”

      “I ran to the circus. Off-season. For training. I took juggling, trapeze, unicycle and lion taming.”

      “In a cage, with a chair and a whip?”

      “That’s the idea. The trainer was there, but it was still terrifying.”

      “Is that your criteria for an adventure? Terror?”

      “That’s part of the challenge, yeah.”

      “Feel the fear and do it anyway?”

      “In the end, yes. The secret is going in prepared. I read, talk to experts, take classes, and practice what I can. After that, it’s mostly self-doubt you have to conquer.”

      He didn’t seem convinced.

      “The trapeze scared me more than the lion. Trusting a stranger to catch you?” She shivered at the memory. “It was so worth it. The thrill of flying. I gave the girls an indoor trapeze set for their birthday.”

      “I remember.”

      “Did they ever set it up?”

      “Not that I saw.” He seemed to be fighting a smile.

      “What? You thought it was a bad idea,

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