Dance Upon the Air by Nora Roberts Page B

there.”
    â€œYou’ve classed up the place,” Ripley commented, and angled her head to get a look at the book Nell carried. “Reading up on island voodoo?”
    â€œVoodoo? Oh.” With a nervous laugh, Nell tucked the book under her arm. “I guess if I’m living here, I ought to know . . . things.”
    â€œSure.” Ripley pulled open the door of the pizzeria. “The tourists love all that island mystique crap. When we hit the solstice, we’ll be flooded with New Agers. Hey, Bart!”
    Ripley gave the man behind the counter a salute and grabbed an empty booth.
    It may have been early, but the place was jammed.The jukebox was blaring, and the two video games tucked back in a small alcove shot out noise and light.
    â€œBart and his wife, Terry, run the place.” Ripley shifted, stretched her legs out on the bench. “They’ve got your calzones, your pasta, and yadda yadda,” she said, tossing Nell a laminated menu. “But it’s really all about the pizza. You up for that?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œGreat. Anything you don’t like on it?”
    Nell scanned the menu. Why couldn’t she think ? “No.”
    â€œEven better. We’ll get a large, loaded. What we don’t eat, I’ll take home to Zack. He’ll pick off the mushrooms and onions and be grateful.”
    She slid out of the booth again. “Want a beer?”
    â€œNo. No, thanks. Just water.”
    â€œComing up.”
    Seeing no point in waiting for table service, Ripley walked up to the counter, placed the order. Nell watched the way she joked with the long, thin man behind the counter. The way she hooked her sunglasses in the collar of her shirt. The way she stretched gorgeously toned and tanned arms out for the drinks. The way her dark hair bobbed as she turned to walk back to the booth.
    The noise receded, like echoes in a dream, until it was a wash of white sound under a rising roar. Like waves cresting. As Ripley sat across from her again, Nell saw her mouth moving, but heard nothing. Nothing at all.
    Then, like a door flung open, it all swarmed back.
    â€œ. . . right up through Labor Day,” Ripley finished, and reached for her beer.
    â€œYou’re the third.” Nell gripped her tingling hands together on the table.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThe third. You’re the third sister.”
    Ripley opened her mouth, then closed it again in a long, thin line. “Mia.” She ground the two syllables together, then gulped down half her beer. “Don’t start with me.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to understand. Just drop it.” She slapped the glass back on the table, leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. Mia can think, believe, whatever she wants. She can behave however she wants as long as she doesn’t break the law. I don’t have to buy into it. If you want to, that’s your business. But I’m here for pizza and a beer.”
    â€œI don’t know what I buy into. It makes you angry. It just confuses me.”
    â€œLook, you strike me as a sensible woman. Sensible women don’t go around claiming to be witches descended from a trio of witches who carved an island out of a chunk of Massachusetts.”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œNo buts. There’s reality and there’s fantasy. Let’s stick with reality, because anything else is going to put me off my pizza. So, are you going to go out with my brother?”
    â€œGo . . .” Confused, Nell pushed a hand through her hair. “Could you rewind that question?”
    â€œZack’s working up to asking you out. You interested? Before you answer, let me say he’s had all his shots, practices good personal hygiene, and though hehas some annoying habits, he’s reasonably well adjusted. So, think about that. I’ll get the pizza.”
    Nell blew out a breath, sat