"Oh my," he said, awed.

Grey's tone was dry. "Indeed." He blocked Shawn's path as the worker would have made a quick exit. "What I'm interested in, Mr. Kelly, is if you would have paid Miss Shaw for the information she just gave you."

Shawn's black brows came together in a single line above his eyes. "Hope's a precious thing," he said. "I'd pay for a piece of it, Mr. Janeway. Sure, and I would."

Grey nodded. "You can go."

Shawn backed out of the room, thanking Berkeley as he went. He excused himself when he b.u.mped into Grey, then he hurried out.

Grey was grimacing as his attention turned to Berkeley. "Thank you very much."

His tone made no sense to her. He didn't sound pleased at all, and she had only done as he asked. "I don't understand. You asked me toa"''

"I didn't think you were going to tell him to watch me. I won't be able to turn around without seeing him. The idea that I can make him a fortune is absurd."

"He didn't think so."

Grey had to agree with her. Shawn took the information in stride. "Let us establish right now that whatever else you choose to tell these men about their futures and fortunes, my name will not come up in it."

"Buta""

"Miss Shaw, I can't very well have a band of miners in step behind me."

"But you can't dictate that sort of thing. I shall have to find some other way to say it if it comes up again."

Grey decided he could be satisfied with that for now. "What about his family?'' he said. "How did you know he was married?"

"There were two marriages indicated in his palm. It was safe to a.s.sume that at his age one had already taken place."

"No, Miss Shaw, I mean truly, how did you know?"

Berkeley remained silent.

"So I'm not the only one with secrets," Grey said.

"Believe as you like, but don't ask me again how it's done when you don't want to hear the answer."

Grey was considering how to reply to that when his thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the hallway. He heard Berkeley following him as he went to the sitting room to get the door. "Luncheon," he said, taking the tray. "Where'd you get this, Mike?"

"The El Dorado."

Grey knew it would be better than edible. It would be delicious. He thanked Mike but saw that the worker was hesitating, shuffling slightly and trying to glimpse past him into the interior of the sitting room. "Is there something else?" asked Grey. He had a fairly good idea of what it might be.

"Well, sir," Mike began somewhat uneasily. "Shawn stopped me as I was coming in the front and told me the oddest thing. I wasa well, I was wondering, Mr. Janeway, if the lady would have a go at my hand. Sort of set me on the right path, so to speak."

Grey turned to Berkeley. She was staring hard at the tray of food in his hands. "Perhaps later, Mike. The lady's hungrya""

"No," Berkeley said. "I'll do it."

Shrugging, Grey let Mike pa.s.s and set the tray on the desk. He sat on the pine crate behind it and began uncovering dishes. The El Dorado's cook had prepared the seafood gumbo that was her particular specialty. The stew was so spicy the aroma alone burned the back of Grey's throat. Somewhere in the French Quarter of New Orleans there was a brothel sadly missing Annie Jack's fine cooking. It was San Francisco's gain.

Grey scooped rice into a large bowl and added a substantial helping of the gumbo. He tore the crust off the slab of warm bread, then began eating while he watched Berkeley draw Mike in with a few words and a shy, sideways look.

"Right here," she said, tracing his lifeline. "See how it branches? This is a picture of the confusion you sometimes experience. You've had choices in your life, not too few, but too many, and you wonder about some of them. You wonder how different your life might be if you had stayed on the farm.'' She paused. "Ohio? Is your family's farm in Ohio?"

"Yes, miss," he said eagerly. "It is."

Grey almost choked on his second mouthful of gumbo. "Mike, I thought you were from Kentucky."

"I am. Directly south of Cincinnati. Part of the farm borders the Ohio River. Easy enough for her to get confused about a little thing like that."

"Yes, isn't it," Grey said.

Berkeley ignored him. "Do you have a question for me?" she asked Mike.

"What?" Grey said, feigning surprise. "You don't know what he wants to know?"

This time Berkeley's mouth pursed to one side, and she had to draw on a well of patience to keep silent.

It was Mike who defended her. "Please, Mr. Janeway, she can't think if you keep interrupting."

"I apologize." He noticed that the cat was circling his legs, and he dropped her a bit of shrimp. "You'd think she would know," he whispered to the tabby.

"Your question?'' Berkeley asked again.

Mike thought he was going to ask if he would strike gold. Instead, he heard himself say, "Will I see my family again?"

Berkeley Shaw felt the full measure of yearning that prompted that question. She looked down at his palm and answered the only way that she could. "Yes, you'll see them again. Sooner, rather than later. You should write to them. Let them know that you miss them." Her voice was hushed. "That you love them."

Mike drew back his hand and offered thanks that was heartfelt. "You don't knowa this meansa thank youa" He couldn't manage to quell his youthful grin and walked out of the suite looking even younger than his twenty-four years.

Berkeley closed the door after him, but she didn't move away from it. It took a moment to collect herself. In spite of the heat of the day and the warmth of clothes she was wearing, she was cold. It was a deep, abiding cold, the kind that made her bones ache and drew her muscles taut. She also knew she was its source and there was no escaping it.

Carefully, feeling brittle and unsteady, Berkeley crossed the room. She put a hand on the back of the chair, held her place, then sat down slowly. Taking off the hat, she placed it on one corner of the desk.

"Are you all right?" Grey asked. His eyes had narrowed as he watched her at the door. He continued to scrutinize her.

"I'm fine." She had been showing off, she thought. She had no one to blame but herself. In order to prove her talent, she had to allow herself to be vulnerable, and this was the price of pride. "It takes a while sometimes to recover."

"Very affecting."

Berkeley didn't respond. She gathered her damp hair in a fist and drew it around her shoulder. Silently, she began plaiting it.

"How did you know he was a farmer?"

He had already proven he didn't want to hear the answer. Grey Janeway was not so different from anyone else of her experience. She knew what to say. Living with Anderson had taught her that. "He had calluses consistent with holding a plow. If you do enough of this sort of thing, Mr. Janeway, certain marks of a person's life become apparent. It merely takes some careful study to recognize the characteristics for what they are."

"I thought it might be something like that."

"Yes," she said, smiling weakly. "I was sure you did."

Grey put down his spoon and served her up a bowl of rice and gumbo. "Careful, this is hot even when it's stone cold. Taste it, you'll see what I mean." He watched, satisfied when she took a tentative bite. "Hot as h.e.l.l, isn't it?"

That was the exact description that came to Berkeley's mind. Her eyes widened a little as the gumbo settled in the pit of her empty stomach. There was a trail of fire all the way down her throat, but she gamely took another bite.

"Bread?'' Grey asked. She nodded, and he gave her a chunk. "Now tell me how you settled on Ohio as Mike's home."

"His accent. I've met people from that area before. Two, in fact, on the ship coming here. Mike was willing to make some allowance for my mistake."

"Yes, I found that interesting. Does it happen often that you're wrong?"

"It happens, but usually it's an error like the one I made with Mike. If the person wants to believe, he will find some way to make the information fit. If he's a skeptic, he will always find something wrong."

"And Shawn Kelly? You didn't see a thing in his palm, did you?"

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. "There's no doubting that you're a skeptic. Mr. Kelly had evidence on his left hand of a ring that he had only recently removed. That's what made me offer the information that he would marry again."

"You said he would have no more children."

"It's a simple enough subterfuge, Mr. Janeway. It makes me sound as though I know more than I do. People give themselves away in subtle ways. When I said he would marry again there was a slight tension in Mr. Kelly's hand that seemed to confirm he had been married before. Knowing that, it was logical to a.s.sume he had children. So I told him he wouldn't have any more. Later he offered that he had two. When he tells the story to others, he'll forget that he gave me that information. He'll repeat to others that I knew he had a boy and a girl."

"And his grandmother? How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

Berkeley waved her spoon with an air of nonchalance. "Most people his age have experienced some loss in their life. It merely requires a bit of refined guesswork to get to the root of it. I pay attention to the signals that people give me when I hold their hand. I watch their faces when they're looking at their own palm. I listen to the tone of their voice and the rhythm of their speech. I hear what they say and, more importantly, hear how they say it. There's nothing more to it than that, Mr. Janeway, but it takes practice. Years of it if one's going to be good."

"And it helps if you look as if you've been touched by the fairies themselves."

Berkeley's fathomless green eyes grew a shade wider and deeper. "What an odd thing to say. I wouldn't know about that."

Grey wasn't sure he believed her. "Have you ever tried to make money from this talent of yours?"

"No. It's a parlor trick, just as you suggested. I entertained Andera"" Berkeley caught herself again. She quickly took a mouthful of gumbo and considered how to correct herself. "I entertained and, er, amused my father's friends. Why? Do you think I could earn a living with it?''

"Don't you?"

Her short laugh was a bit uneasy. "I don't know. I mean, I hadn't given it serious thought. When I told you I had a talent, well, I said it just so you wouldn't think I was completely useless. I was rather feeling that way, you know, and you were goading me, not intentionally perhaps, but I'm sensitive about not being able to cook or sew or sing ora""

Grey held up his hand. "I believe I understand," he said dryly.

Her expression became wary as she returned his considering gaze. She could not interpret his long silence or guess at his thoughts.

"Do you want to work for me?" Grey said finally.

Berkeley blinked. She exhaled slowly, softly, trying not to appear eager or desperate. "I should like that," she said quietly.

Grey studied her a moment longer, then he nodded once, satisfied with her answer. "Finish your gumbo," he said.

It was dusk before Sam Hartford returned to the Phoenix. He arrived with gowns, petticoats, drawers, nightgowns, stockings, shoes, and one corset. Berkeley was overwhelmed by the generosity of Ivory DuPree. Grey was skeptical. While Berkeley carried off her secondhand wardrobe to a small suite down the hall, Grey questioned Sam about the unexpected bounty.

Sam pulled on one eyebrow and shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Miss Edwardsa I mean, Miss DuPreea gave me a bill for the things," he said. He reached into his wrinkled vest pocket and extracted a ragged piece of brown paper. The writing was Ivory's own, painstakingly neat but perfectly legible. All of the clothing was itemized and a value was placed on each. He handed it to Grey. "I haggled a bit with her, Mr. Janeway, I don't mind sayin', but Miss DuPree wouldn't hear any of it. She insisted on taking me around to the shops herself, just to prove she wasn't asking more than the worth. Then she added a little bit to each piece, for the inconvenience to her."

"The inconvenience?" asked Grey.

"Yes, sir. Miss DuPree had to try on all the clothing first, everything but that blue-spangled gowna"she tossed that at me and said whoever needed it was welcome to it. You were particular that the clothes should be too small for her, and she made a point to show me that was just the way of it."

It must have been quite a show, Grey thought. He said nothing and let Sam go on.

"So after she figured out what fit and what didn't, that's when she set a price."

"And that's when you haggled with her."

"Yes, sir. So she decides to take me around to the shops, like I said, and prove her point. I didn't mind too much, since you asked me to find out where you could buy a lady fashions and notions and such." Sam stopped pulling on his wiry brow and rocked forward on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. "So that's why I'm so late gettin' back. But you got your list right there on one side and the shops on the other, and if you don't mind, Mr. Janeway, I'd be plumb grateful if you'd find someone else to go lookin' at ladies' furbelows and geegaws next time out."

Grey cleared his throat to suppress the laugh caught there. His expression remained grave. "You've done admirably, Sam. I won't call on you in the future for similar duties."

"Thank you, sir." Sam stopped rocking in place. "It's a relief, I must say. I really don't have a liking fora"'' He stopped, his attention straying to the doorway where Berkeley Shaw suddenly appeared. Without hesitation Sam removed his hat. It was more difficult not to gape.

Grey turned. One of his dark brows arched slightly as he regarded Berkeley. She had lost no time changing into one of Ivory DuPree's castoffs. The navy blue day dress, with its tightly fitted sleeves and lack of ornamentation, made a slim silhouette of her figure. In dramatic contrast, her fine, pale hair was its own radiant light. Her smile was tentative, a shade wistful. "Yes, Miss Shaw?" Grey said.

She stepped into the room. "I wanted to thank you. The gowns are surpa.s.singly lovely, all of them, though I really think this is the only one suited for everyday. The others are quite fine, and I shouldn'ta""

Grey interrupted her. "Wear them or don't wear them. They're yours now."

His abruptness startled Berkeley. Had she offended him? Her fingers moved a bit nervously over her midriff. She smoothed the fabric where it gathered at her waist and looked at Sam. "And thank you, Mr. Hartford. You were very kind toa""

Grey stopped her again. "He's my employee, Miss Shaw. Kindness has no place here."

Bewildered, Berkeley's smile faltered, then faded. "Yes," she said. "I can see that. Am I permitted to express my thanks to Miss DuPree?"

"Here." Grey held out the ragged and wrinkled bill presented to him by Sam. "Thank Ivory by paying this."

Berkeley took the paper and examined it. Her brow creased as she totaled the items. One gown was valued at two hundred dollars. Another at three hundred fifty. The simple, serviceable dress she was wearing now had been a.s.signed a worth of one hundred twenty-five dollars. Oddly, Ivory DuPree's most beautiful offering, a sapphire satin evening gown embellished with blue gla.s.s beads, had no dollar amount attached to it. To be certain no one thought this was an oversight on Ivory's part, she had placed a thick slash next to the gown's description.

Berkeley's eyes moved along the list. Shoes: eighty dollars.

Stockings: fifteen dollars per pair. The undergarments came to one hundred eighty-five dollars.

"So much," she said softly. Berkeley looked up at Grey. "This is a fortune. I can't accept them when I can never hope to pay. I'll have to return everything to Miss DuPree." She turned hopefully to Sam. "You'll a.s.sist me, won't you, Mr. Hartford? I shouldn't know where to go if you don't accompany me."

Sam started to sputter and rock on his feet again. Whether he was trying to form the words to agree to Berkeley's request or refuse her was never clear. Grey cut him off, thanking him again, then dismissing him. Sam tipped his hat in Berkeley's direction as he hurried from the room.

"Was that necessary?" asked Berkeley. "Mr. Hartford had not answered me yet."

Grey waved aside her objection. "Sam would have hemmed and hawed for ten minutes without any direction from me. He's not in a position to offer his a.s.sistance to you without clearing it with me."

"You're very arrogant, aren't you?" she said baldly.

Grey's smile, the one that did not quite reach his eyes, appeared. "I'm the owner of the Phoenix, and I care very much that the people in my employ do as I request."