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prompted with an endearing grin that sent a shaft of tremored modesty through her.
    She cocked her head in humored resignation. “If you must.”
    â€œDo you live here all year?” His dubious glance toward the window lent silent comment on the weather conditions of Nantucket Island.
    April laughed. “I’m told there aren’t that many hurricanes. This is the first one in years. The weather here is supposedly milder than that on the Massachusetts mainland. And, yes. I’ll be living here year round.”
    â€œYou will be?” He caught the subtlety of her phrasing. “Have you just recently moved here?”
    She nodded. “Last month.”
    â€œFrom … ?” he probed, not offensively.

    â€œNew York. The Big Apple. Manhattan, to be more precise.” Her grin faded at the sign of his frown. “Something rings a bell?”
    â€œNo. I don’t think so. New York.” He tested the words on his tongue. “New York.” Again, the headshake. “No. Nothing. Tell me … April,” he said, changing the subject eagerly, “why did you move here?”
    Her shrug was an evasive one. “It seemed a … quiet, peaceful place to work.” Her own words amused her. “That’s funny! Peaceful—hah! The past twenty-four hours have been anything but !”
    Her guest shared the humor briefly before sobering. “Speaking of the storm, are we stranded?”
    April sat back in her chair, finally beginning to relax in his presence. “That’s one word for it. Stranded. Marooned. Deserted. Take your pick. Whichever, we are!”
    â€œWhere is the nearest town?”
    â€œThere’s ’Sconset village, several miles down the road—uh, make that down the rustic, rutted and, most probably, flooded dirt road—and Nantucket itself nine miles on farther.”
    â€œYou have a car—I saw it outside this morning. Any chance of using it?”
    She sighed. “Not unless your bout with the sea has vested you with superhuman strength. Don’t you remember the fiasco with the car?” When he shook his head, she enlightened him. “When I first managed to haul you up from the beach, I had grand hopes of driving you directly into town. Unfortunately—and to make a long story short”—she grimaced—“my tires are now hubcap deep in mud!”
    â€œPhones?” He systematically explored the possibilities, though his voice grew progressively weary.
    â€œStill out.”
    â€œNeighbors?”
    â€œNot for a mile.” She paused, smiling. “The way you
fire off questions, I would almost imagine you to be a police investigator.”
    As though shot with pain, his jaw tensed. “Who knows,” he growled, standing quickly, “maybe I am.” When he swayed, April bolted up to his aid. Knowing intuitively that his anger was directed at the situation rather than at her, she ignored it and it passed.
    â€œPerhaps you should rest awhile. You really did endure an ordeal yesterday.” Wrapping her arm about his waist to lend marginal support, she helped him back to bed. He seemed suddenly exhausted.
    Yet when she was about to leave, his hand reached for hers and held it firmly, his thumb gently caressing her wrist’s inner pulse. “Sorry to conk out on you like this, April. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” Even as he spoke, his grasp loosened. The other arm, thrown limply across his eyes, gave April the message. Turning unsteadily, she left him to sleep.
    During her subsequent period of midmorning solitude, April pondered her stranger and his improbable predicament. Amnesia—it sounded absurd! Yet, the man claimed to remember nothing. And he was quite believable. If only there were some link-up to the outside world, she might ferret out the information he could not provide! Yet power, both phone and electric, remained out, confirmed conclusively by her