She managed to brush the thoughts away. It looked good on the surface, she told herself. The closeness, the lovey-love. But it didn’t work out. She knew.

There was something special about the blonde. She sensed it the minute the girl came into the shop, very tall, very blonde, very striking in a print blouse and Capri pants. The blonde was not a typical customer of Heaven’s Door.

She was not a tourist, for one thing. When you lived in the Village you developed a special sort of disdain for tourists-they were too noisy, too pushy, too tasteless, too stupid. The blonde was definitely not a tourist. While she didn’t fit any of the convenient stereotypes for Villagers, something about her made it quite obvious that she belonged here.

The blonde’s eyes were on Rhoda as she walked over toward her. She could almost feel the woman’s gaze, steady and confident, and it made her vaguely uncomfortable to be stared at that way. But the girl’s face softened into a smile as Rhoda drew close.

“May I help you?”

“You sure can,” the blonde said. “I’m looking for a gift for a friend. She’s fond of the Oriental motif.”

“A wedding present?”

The blonde seemed amused, “Oh, no,” she said. “Lord, not that, not for her. Although in a way-” She broke off suddenly and smiled again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have a tendency to go on talking to myself. No, not a wedding present. Nothing for her apartment. A personal present.”

“Jewelry?”

“Something like that.”

“A pair of earrings-”