Free Angel Wings by Suzanne Stengl Page A

mind.”
    “Maybe not,” Jessibelle said. “Maybe he’s not right for her.”
    Daphne sat down in the same chair Rodney had used. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. “How can she do that? Now? I mean we all have doubts . . .” She shook her head, lost in thought. “Even I have doubts.”
    “You do?”
    Daphne looked up at Jessibelle and realized she’d spoken out loud. “Normal ones,” she explained. “Like sometimes I wonder if my boyfriend Luke is the right one.” She tilted her head, considering. “Of course, he’s got an excellent job, over at Scriber and Speeken. But—”
    She shrugged the thought away. “Never mind. We have to help Hanna. We have to keep her from making a big mistake.”
    “Yes,” Jessibelle said. “Keep her from making a big mistake,” she repeated the words. And then, “I don’t think she’s going to make that mistake.”
    “Found it!” Bea held up the book they were studying, the old Romeo & Juliet book, with its worn brown cover and tattered pages.
    “This is a great story,” she said. “I sure hope it doesn’t end in a tragedy.”

Chapter Seven
     
    Daphne left City Realty looking muddled and worried. Jessibelle spent a busy morning answering the phone, talking to clients and realtors, and finishing the filing. And Hanna arrived for lunch at a quarter past twelve.
    They walked to the Friends Café on Collins Street, ordered lattes and salads, and spent the noon hour talking about the soon-to-be-cancelled spring wedding. If anything, Hanna was more convinced than ever that she would not marry Rodney.
    At half past four, Betsy arrived with her backpack of school work, including the Romeo and Juliet book. “It has all the notes in the margins,” she explained. Jessibelle turned the reception duties over to Betsy and headed for home.
    As she entered her quiet apartment, she wondered when she’d see Gabe again. He’d be back, she was sure, because he’d said they had one more thing to do. Tonight.
    Outside her living room window, the late afternoon sunshine dappled the water on the bay and the seagulls soared, arcing over the sky. The lighthouse stood guard in the distance and the world seemed right.
    Walking into her bedroom she spotted her Spanish books next to the door. The flamingo orange sack of books frowned at her, with its assignments untouched from last week.
    Maybe she’d do like Gabe had suggested—forget Spanish and learn French. Because she didn’t want to go to Spain. That had been Rodney’s idea, not hers. Instead, she’d learn French.
    The idea took hold. She’d always wanted to go to Paris. And, not only that, she’d be able to go to La Petite Maison and order in French.
    She picked up the sack, feeling its weight—the textbook, the workbook, her binder of notes, The Handbook of Traveler’s Phrases and the CDs of Learn Fast . She took out her binder, removed her pages, and tossed them in the recycle bin. Tomorrow, she’d take the textbooks and the CDs to the College Secondhand Bookstore.
    And now, it was time to think of something to make for dinner. As she entered her living room, she saw Gabe, standing in front of the big picture window.
    His dark brown hair was tousled and looked windblown. In fact, he looked like he’d just flown in, except there wasn’t any broken glass.
    “Hi,” she said.
    “Good, you’re quitting Spanish.”
    Once again, he surprised her. “How did you know?”
    “They fill us in on details,” he said, watching her with a warm light in his eyes.
    He wore black slacks and a black shirt open at his throat. The ends of the collar held a tiny white design. She walked closer to him and he closed the distance between them catching her in a quick hug and then holding her shoulders and looking down at her.
    “You had a good conversation with Rodney this morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “Don’t worry about that part where he said no passion. Some people don’t have any chemistry.”
    “I don’t