LITMIR.BIZ

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sipped at her tea. Her gray curls were covered by an elaborately tied scarf and her eyes were ringed with dark makeup. “Do sit down, Lily. I think your imagination has run away with you again.”

      “I’m right, I’m sure of it. He says he’s a writer, but no writer I’ve met would drive a car like that. A Mercedes convertible? In Minnesota? Do you know what that car says?”

      “I wasn’t aware automobiles had acquired the power of speech.”

      Lily rolled her eyes. “You understand what I meant.”

      “Please, Lily, be more precise in your speech. If you don’t stop this tendency of yours to wander off topic, you’re going to start sounding like Daisy. Trying to follow her train of thought is like chasing a hummingbird through the woods.”

      “I’m not going off topic. That expensive convertible says that he’s a lawyer. It tells anyone who bothers to notice that he’s wealthy enough to have a summer and a winter car. And then there are his shoes. And his watch.”

      “Perhaps he’s a lawyer who is attempting to be a writer,” her aunt suggested. “Must you always be so suspicious? Not everyone is out to get us.”

      “I’m just trying to protect us all,” Lily said.

      The door to Violet’s cabin opened and her two sisters hurried inside. Rose, the youngest of the trio, wore her long gray hair in an untidy knot on the top of her head. A composer, she was currently working on a new series of songs inspired by art. Over the course of the day, she’d stuck pencils in her hair until she looked like some deranged geisha.

      The middle sister, Daisy, was an artist like Lily and could normally be found wearing a paint-stained smock and a scarf covering her hair, which had been dyed a shocking shade of pink for the last few months. Before that, it had been lavender, a much more appropriate tone for someone of her age.

      “What is the problem?” Daisy asked. “I really need to get back to work. Did you see the sunrise this morning?” She sighed. “Paris, 1963.”

      Violet motioned for them to sit down. “Lily thinks she’s seen a lawyer. Here. At the colony.”

      “What? Just wandering through?” Rose asked.

      “No,” Lily said. “He’s pretending to be a writer. He’s asked to stay.”

      “What do you call those clouds that look like horse’s tails?” Daisy asked.

      “I’m not sure,” Lily said. “I suspect he’s going to try to get closer to you three.”

      “He’s welcome to try, but you know we can’t be persuaded,” Violet said. “Nothing he says will change our mind. We’re not going to leave the colony and that’s that.”

      “Then what do you want me to do about him?” Lily asked.

      “Well, perhaps we should take him in,” Violet said. “We might find him useful for other reasons. And don’t they say that it’s better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

      “Who said that?” Rose asked. “I do recall arguing about that very quote one night at the bar in the Savoy Hotel in London. I’d had far too many gin fizzes.”

      “Wilbur Fontaine,” Daisy said.

      “Who?”

      “The butcher in town,” Daisy explained. “I heard him say that very thing just last month. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Or maybe it was ‘keep your musket cocked and your tinder dry.’ But I’m not really sure what that means.”

      Violet sighed softly. “Back to the matter at hand... We could be like cats with a mouse with this lawyer. When we grow tired of him, we’ll send him home. We haven’t had real amusement here in such a very long time. Let’s do ask him to stay.”

      “I asked Finch to take him on a tour of the colony while we talked,” Lily said. “He’s supposed to bring Quinn back here for tea when they’re finished. But we should have our plans in place before he gets here.”

      “How old is he?” Rose asked.

      “I suppose he’s about my age,” Lily replied.

      The aunts looked at each other and smiled. “And is he handsome?” Violet asked Lily.

      “No, he looks like a lawyer,” Lily said, “one of those shrewd, ruthless types who eat people like us for breakfast.”

      “Oh, he can’t be that bad. Even a lawyer has to have some redeeming qualities.”

      “They can get you out of jail when you’ve started a brawl at the Opera Ball and slapped a policeman’s horse,” Daisy said.

      “I’m sure, given time, the three of us can noodle the truth out of him,” Violet said.

      A knock sounded on the screen door and Violet stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and beneath her scarf. “Well, shall we have a look at Lily’s lawyer?”

      Lily held her breath as her aunt walked to the door. A few moments later, Mr. Quinn James stepped inside. He had an easy way of moving that made all eyes in the room follow him. Lily could see immediately that even her aunts found him attractive. What was it about him?

      Was it the nearly black hair that looked as though he had just gotten out of bed? His face was a perfect balance of features, so composed that a search for any flaw was impossible. Or was it his voice? Deep and warm and so sexy that it made her heart beat just a tiny bit faster with every word that he spoke.

      Violet held out her hand, arching her wrist and waiting for the customary kiss rather than a polite shake. Lily was surprised that he took the cue and touched his lips to a spot just above her fingers.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Violet.”

      Violet introduced her sisters and Quinn kissed their outstretched hands, as well.

      “Quinn James, at your service,” he said. He sat down next to Lily, his thigh brushing against hers. Warmth seeped into her bare leg and she found her attention fixed on the spot, her pulse pounding in her head.

      “Where are you from, Mr. James?” Violet asked.

      “Call me Quinn,” he said. “The Twin Cities. I was born in St. Paul. I’ve lived there all my life.”

      “And how long have you been writing?” Rose asked.

      “Five years, on and off. I’ve only just decided that it’s something I really want to pursue.”

      “Lily tells us you’d like to stay with us for a while,” Rose said.

      “I’m not sure that we have an opening,” Lily interrupted. “You may have to share a cabin. And we rarely take unpublished writers. Unless, of course, we have a chance to read their work first.”

      “Now, darling, I’m sure we can find him a suitable place to stay. After all, he has important work to do.” Violet fixed her gaze on him.

      “There is the other side of Finch’s cabin,” Rose suggested. “And I’m sure Finch would enjoy the company.” Rose turned to smile at Quinn. “What say you, Mr. James? We’d be happy to have you stay.”

      “I don’t mind sharing,” he said.

      * * *

      “WELL DONE,” VIOLET SAID. “Now that everything is settled, would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. James?”

      Tristan was trying not to fist-pump. “Actually, I’d rather head back to the city right away,” Tristan said. “I need to pack a few things.”

      “You didn’t bring your things along?” Violet asked.

      “I suppose I wasn’t sure that you’d let me stay.” He stood and gave them a smart bow. “But now that I am, I’m anxious to move in and get started.

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