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a way that crinkled the edges of those remarkable eyes.
    Oh, dear. She definitely should not have given up men. It made you kind of crazy.
    Still smiling, he stood, and he held out his hand.
    â€œAnd now,” he said, laughter gilding the edges of his pleasant voice, “If your pumpkin is waiting, maybe you could take me with you to the land of Enchantment.”
    Celia sighed. Oh, heck, why fight it? Whoever Patrick Torrance was, and whatever he was here to do, wasn’t all that important, was it? She knew he had laughing eyes and gentle hands. And she knew that the moment she’d laid eyes on him, even when she still thought he was a ghost, she had been washed with an attraction more intense than any she’d ever felt.
    She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. They stood there a minute, just smiling at each other. Something warm and golden moved inside her.
    He’d be here a week, he’d said. Or two. Two weeks of reckless magic—and then the clock would strike midnight.
    Oh, it was insane to even consider it—it was completely unlike her. Trish would have a fit. And besides, technically Patrick Torrance hadn’t even asked.
    But he would. He felt the magic, too. It was in thewarm touch of his fingers. It was in the surprised sparkle of his eyes. Oh, yes, he would ask.
    And maybe, just maybe, she would say yes. Because sometimes even two weeks of magic was better than none at all.
    Â 
    T HE CLINIC WAS OPEN ONLY half a day on Saturdays, unless one of the mothers was in labor. This Saturday was slow, so Trish had decided to give the windows of the reception area a thorough spring-cleaning. The clinic had a good professional cleaning crew, of course, but Trish had her own standards.
    Cloth and vinegar solution in hand, she knelt on the sofa cushions and rubbed at the front multipaned window, giving each of the rectangles special attention. The cleaning crew sometimes ignored the edges.
    Through the shining window, she could see the front parking lot, where a couple of cars sat, drowsing under the spring sunlight that filtered through the pines.
    After a few minutes, Celia’s silly little Volkswagen Bug pulled in. Celia leaped out and executed a happy twirl in a shaft of light, arms outstretched as if she wanted to gather in the spring day and give it a hug.
    Trish’s hand stilled, and she watched with a deep, vicarious pleasure. Even at twenty-eight, even though she was well educated and smart and dealt with real problems in her patients every day, Celia was in many ways as innocent as a child.
    She believed the whole world was as good and gentle as she was. She picnicked in the mountains aloneat night, she picked herbs in ghost towns, she made wishes on Red Rock Bridge in the moonlight and expected them to come true. It worried Trish, but she could never find a way to stop her.
    That was because Celia had never known anything but love and affection. Her physician father was a little arrogant, and her mother was just a touch subservient, but nothing truly wicked ever happened at the Brice household.
    Celia’s brother lived in Seattle and her parents had recently moved to Santa Fe, but they all were in constant contact with letters, e-mails, phone calls and visits.
    A happy family created a happy child, and the happy child became a happy woman. It was like a mathematical equation. And of course the opposite was just as inexorably true, as well.
    Trish didn’t envy Celia, not really. But as she watched the young woman skip up the front walk as if someone had drawn a hop-scotch board on it, her waist-length hair dancing in the dappled sunlight, Trish couldn’t help the pang of…something…that tightened around her heart.
    She couldn’t remember ever, ever feeling that light and full of joy.
    â€œTrish!” Celia swept open the clinic door and blew in on a gust of spring sunshine. “I hoped you’d be here!”
    Trish smiled. “Why? Did