Free Earth Angel by Siri Caldwell

decided.
    “Great,” Abby said. “I really want to do this.”
    “Why?” Dara asked.
    Good question. Gwynne was interested to know the answer to that herself. Was Abby attempting to protect her from having to spend time alone with Dara? Because the alternative explanation would be that Abby was fighting Dara over her. Politely, subtly, so subtly as to border on imperceptibility, but nevertheless…
    “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Gwynne said, because if Abby thought a relationship with her was a good idea, she was not as smart as she looked.
    Abby draped one arm over the back of the chair and swiveled to face her. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “You’re not going to saw me in half or anything, are you?”
    And if she was really smart and could read her mind, she’d just made a deliberate choice to misunderstand her.
    “Not in front of little girls, no.”
    She was losing it if she thought Abby could read her mind.
    “From what I hear, it’s more of a live animal show,” Dara said.
    “Just rabbits,” Gwynne clarified.
    Abby’s eyes widened, still twinkling. “So you’re saying I just volunteered for rabbit poop cleanup duty?”
    “They’re litter trained,” Gwynne said. “And I will clean up.”
    “So chivalrous,” Dara murmured.
    Gwynne shrugged it off. “Your job is mostly to distract the audience,” she told Abby, as businesslike as possible. Her heart, though, was singing. “We can go over it the morning of the party.”
    “No rehearsal?” Abby said.
    “You’ll do fine.” It would be easy to insist on days and days of rehearsal just for a chance to be alone with her, but the show didn’t need days of rehearsal. Based on listening to her play the harp she knew Abby was comfortable improvising, so it was a good bet she wouldn’t need much of a run-through. “If we mess up, we wing it.”
    She turned to Dara and winked, hoping Dara wasn’t worried the party would be a disaster. “Don’t tell Dara I said that.”

Chapter Six
    Gwynne arrived early at Abby’s apartment Saturday afternoon to help her lug her harp to the beach wedding of someone named Penelope. Abby had said if she wasn’t dealing with sand she’d roll her harp on a hand truck, but in this case, she was going to have to hoist her instrument across the beach to the mini-platform that would be set up for her. Gwynne had volunteered to help because…uh…why did she volunteer? It just kind of happened. Well, why not? Nothing wrong with being helpful. There was also a stool and an amp to carry, but the main thing was the harp, which was apparently not the small one she used at the hospital nor the large one she played at the spa, but an even bigger, better one. “You have three harps?” she’d asked, and Abby had laughed and said, “Come to my apartment and I’ll show you.”
    As soon as Gwynne walked through Abby’s front door, she understood. There were at least a dozen harps spread around the room, with several folding chairs and music stands littered among them, leaving no room for the overstuffed sofa which had been relegated to the corner.
    “I used to have a room called a living room,” Abby said, smoothing the hem of a thigh-skimming crocheted sweater over her jeans and gesturing for her to come in. She laughed, seemingly not the least bit embarrassed to laugh at her own joke, and harp strings all around the room responded, resonating with her voice and filling the air with a burst of unexpected sound. For that one magical moment they sang on their own, without being touched, as if they were real, live beings.
    “You have quite a collection.” Gwynne picked her way through the room, careful not to bump into anything. “I had no idea.”
    “I know it’s a lot, but I figure when you really love something, it’s worth going overboard.”
    “They’re beautiful.” The harps were all different sizes and made of different types of wood. Some were decorated with intricate