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andJennifer, pulling a large, coffee-table book from the seat next to Jen.
    Kit was startled at the rush of memory that swept over her at the sight of the front cover. There it was, in full-color glory. Bougainvillea. The massive main house, in coral rock, concrete block, and stucco, covered with twisting bougainvillea vines. The photograph on the cover of the book was a shot of the front of the house from the street, with little more than the sweeping lawn before it to show the extent of the estate. But just seeing it, Kit was suddenly reminded of the rear of the house, the cottages and outbuildings that seemed haphazardly and yet somehow aesthetically strewn out behind it, bordering the lagoon and the water. She could see the winding paths, the exotic plants and flowers, the incredible wealth of birds that were forever flying in. As if something were sparked, she could almost hear a dog barking, and if she closed her eyes, she knew that she would see a beach scene, her mother holding her hand, hurrying her along the path that curled so beautifully around the lagoon. She was startled by the sudden urgency to be there again.
    And equally, she was disturbed by a strange feeling that swept over her, of suspicion, unease…something not quite right, that filled her heart with a sudden aversion to the place.
    Such a strange mixture of emotions, she thought, and all from one photograph.
    â€œHow gorgeous!” Jennifer exclaimed, bringing her back to earth.
    â€œAre you all right?” David asked.
    Kit realized that although Jennifer had swept up the book, David was looking at her.
    She nodded. “Of course. It’s just…well, the photograph. I’m suddenly remembering so much. About the place. But it’s very strange—I seem to have such a blank about the people there.”
    â€œAh!” Jen said, looking up from the book. “Maybe there’s someone mean and nasty that you want to forget! Any ogres at the family estate?” she teased David.
    â€œJust people—with their good points and bad.” He changed the subject suddenly. “Where are we going, Jennifer? Which hotel?”
    â€œOh!” She looked out of the window, unaware that the limo had managed to arrive at the hotel so quickly. “I’m right here.”
    â€œSo am I,” David said. “So is a large part of the convention, I imagine.”
    â€œI’m supposed to be,” Kit said. She looked at David. “Would you mind if I went ahead and checked in?”
    â€œNot at all. I’ll just run up to my own room,” he said.
    â€œDavid, I’m in love,” Jen said, gripping the book. “Mind if I keep it a while?”
    â€œI’m at the convention giving away copies. You’re more than welcome to keep it forever.”
    â€œGreat, thanks. And thanks so much for the ride!” Jen leaped out first, rolled her eyes at Kit in a way that warned her she must be charming rather than skeptical, and ran into the hotel.
    David spoke to the driver, asking him to wait, then said to Kit, “We’ll meet back at reception?”
    â€œTerrific,” she said, thinking she might have time for a quick shower.
    Except that it didn’t turn out to be so. She waited in a long line, then gave her name, and then her publisher’s name. It took them forever to find her reservation, and she was in the midst of being told that the hotel had overbooked, she was actually past check-in time and something had gone wrong with the guarantee. She didn’t know whether to be indignant or furious, or give way to frustration. However, the clerk behind the desk was obviously even more distressed than she was, and she checked her anger, thanking him as he said he’d need a few minutes to find her accommodations—somewhere—and that the hotel would be happy to make it up to her—complimentary, of course—at a later date.
    As she stood fuming by the counter, her feet