Chapter Ten

"You made it!" Hope beamed. "Did you have any trouble vapping over?"

"None. Easy as pie," Prudence said.

"Fantastic. You're better at it than me. I had a heck of a time when I first got here. Don't just stand there. Come on in!"

This morning Prudence had gotten a message from her friend, inviting her for lunch. The past couple of days had been so busy she'd been hesitant to go, not wishing to abandon Larth in the booth, but he assured her he could handle the noon rush. "It's not like I haven't done it before," he'd said dryly.

"Okay, you've convinced me," she'd replied, eager to see Hope. So many thoughts and emotions were stewing in her brain. She felt a need to confide in her best friend—but didn't know if she would. The situation with Larth seemed too personal, too intimate. But still, a visit would be nice.

Getting off the vaporator in the penthouse lobby had been like entering a different world, one of wealth, serenity, and space. An alabaster barrel-ceiling arched over tall white walls. Huge bouquets of exotic flowers lined the corridor leading to the Krogan residence.

"Your place is amazing. I've never seen anything like this in my life." Shamelessly, she gawked at the whiteness and space of her friend's apartment. The enormous parlor—if that's what they called the main room—was empty except for a huge snow-white sectional sofa nestled in a sunken conversation pit in the center. Walls were alabaster, and the floor appeared to be gold-veined white marble, although it had the give of a dance floor rather than stone. The only color came from the blue sky visible through a wall of glass. She widened her eyes as an alien bird soared by. "How high up are you?"

"About two and a half miles. This is the tallest cloudtopper on the planet," Hope answered. "You have to look down to see the other buildings."

Prudence moved closer to the window to do that and then shrieked as the floor disappeared beneath her feet. She leaped out of the way and gaped at the tops of skyscrapers below.

Hope laughed. "Sorry. I should have warned you the floor turns transparent. I had the same reaction the first time I walked to the window. It's safe. "

Above the clouds, there was quiet, calm, light, air, space. The surface was noisy, chaotic, dark, and crowded. No wonder everyone aimed to move up, why upper floors commanded a premium. But while her tiny apartment didn't have a view or much natural light, she preferred its coziness to the penthouse, which was so empty, it appeared as though nobody had moved in yet. But she would never say so to Hope. To each her own. Home is where the heart is.

"Don Juan should have lunch ready soon," Hope said.

"Don Juan?" She arched her eyebrows.

"Our android. He'll tell us when it's ready." Hope gestured they should take a seat.

Prudence was eager to see how the android performed, since she and Larth would be getting one. On Terra Nova, the government controlled and limited technology. The average citizen couldn't get an android even if he could afford one. Only generous campaign donors and government officials had them.

Not expecting comfort from the blocky sofa, she gingerly sat down. To her surprise, the couch adjusted to her spine and cushioned her bottom. She wiggled and settled in. Amazing .

She looked up to see Hope regarding her with a sly grin.

"Nice sofa," Pru said.

Her friend's grin widened. "Bow chicka wow wow."

"What?"

"You and Larth did the horizontal tango."

"You don't know that," she prevaricated. Her friend was guessing, fishing for details.

"I do, too. You're glowing."

"I am not," she denied but felt herself blush. "You're the one who's glowing. You have that pregnancy radiance."

"Perhaps, but you have the air of a woman who has been thoroughly probed by an alien."

"Hope, really!" Marriage and pregnancy had drawn her shy, introverted friend out of her shell.

"That's not a denial," she said smugly.

"No." She capitulated with a sigh. Why deny it? Her confusing relationship was one reason why she'd been so eager to see her friend. She needed another woman's perspective.

Hope cocked her head. "Is there a problem?"

She rubbed her hands together, the words to explain her tumultuous feelings eluding her. How did one define the indefinable? "No problem . We get along great—at work and at home. We're friends. We like each other. He respects my opinion, asks for my advice and input. He listens to me. We laugh together. We're attracted to each other." Their chemistry continued to shoot off the charts; the sexual encounter had unleashed a powerful lust.

The day after the first time had been interesting. On the surface—pleasant, friendly. Too pleasant, too friendly. Too many pleases and thank-yous. She'd been hyperaware of him all day. The slightest casual touch stirred her arousal. A bump against her shoulder. Fingers brushing when he handed her something. When she'd caught sight of the arousal tenting his pants, she'd realized he was affected, too.

After a long day, they'd gone to bed and turned to each other in a blaze of passion that carried them into the wee hours of the morning when they fell into an exhausted, sated sleep. A morning session had left them scrambling to open the stall on time.

"But…" Hope prompted.

"What if I start to want more?"

"I would be surprised if you didn't. Larth is a great guy. He is a genuinely kind, good man. A hard worker. He's an attractive fella. "

A metallic-blue android with a whirling light atop his head strolled into the room. "Luncheon is served."

Hope stood up and beckoned the android. "Don Juan, come meet my friend, Prudence McKenna."

The android had two scanners for eyes and a speaker for its mouth. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Hope Bennett's friend Prudence McKenna." He bowed, and the little light on his head spun faster. "I hope the luncheon meets with your approval."

"I'm sure it will. It's very nice to meet you, Don Juan."

He pivoted and marched away.

"How did you come up with the name Don Juan?" she asked. Was the android amorous?

"It's derived from his model number, Don 1.0. The Don stands for Cara don ia. One sounds like Juan, so Don Juan."

Like the parlor, the dining hall faced a huge view window, and the furniture—a long, wide table with throne-like chairs—fell way short of filling the massive space. They took their seats at place settings arranged side by side. The android had even set the table. "You don't have to lift a finger, do you?" Prudence guessed.

She did not begrudge her friend a life of leisure. Hope had prepaid for the privilege. Her friend's widowed stepmother had used young Hope as an unpaid servant and meal ticket, prematurely ending her education and sending her to work.

"Nothing domestic." Hope grinned. "Don Juan does it all. I cook and bake occasionally because I like it, but I keep pretty busy with other stuff. I attend a lot of political functions with Krogan and serve on several charitable boards." She gave Pru a brief rundown of the charities and her role. "And, I've been getting the nursery ready for Joy." She caressed her baby bump.

A pretty name, and so apropos for how Hope's life had turned out. Joyous. Prudence was thrilled she could be with her best friend at this time in her life. "You know it's a girl already?"

"I had a genetic test. All children are precious, but because of the tragedy, girls are desperately needed." She reached for one of two pitchers. "Would you care for a mimosa? I'm having a virgin one—otherwise known as juice. You can have that if you prefer. Or tea or water."

"I'll have a mimosa. Is it really orange juice and champagne?" Did oranges and grapes grow here?

"Let's just say it's fruity and has bubbles."

They laughed .

Hope filled their glasses, and Don Juan carried in the food, a platter of a variety of bite-sized, savory morsels, and, with an exaggerated flourish, set it on the table. "Lunch is served. Save room for dessert," he said and left.

"Larth has ordered an android," Prudence commented. "Right now, the two of us can bake enough for the cozi, but when the new shop opens, if business booms the way we hope it will, we won't be able to keep up." She held up crossed fingers. "We need business to boom to pay back the loan for the android. They aren't cheap." They couldn't afford a robot, but they couldn't afford not to have one, either. She'd been reviewing the financials on their DataDrive.

They dug into their meal. "This is delicious," Prudence exclaimed.

Hope leaned close and whispered, "Be sure to mention you enjoy it to Don Juan. He loves it when we praise his cooking."

"He does?" Was the robot sentient?

"Don Juan is a great chef, and he adapts recipes to my human tastes," Hope explained in her regular tone. "The only thing he's been unable to replicate is coffee. I miss it. Caradonia has nothing remotely similar." She sighed dramatically .

"Ask and you shall receive! I can get you some. We'll have a café in the bakery. I'm importing coffee from Terra Nova." She'd placed an order for a hundred kilos of beans. They'd be arriving on the ship with the next group of Cosmic Mates brides.

Hope grinned. "Thank you! I can't wait! Coffee will be a big hit with all the human women."

"That's what I'm counting on." Importing coffee would be expensive, but they were taking a calculated risk it would pay off by drawing human women, who would bring their husbands who would buy baked goods and spread the word.

Having worked at Flour Power since graduation, she'd always taken her steady paycheck for granted. Until she'd become involved in the decision-making, she hadn't understood the risk involved in operating a business, how much one had to invest in a venture before turning a profit.

She forked another seasoned, savory tidbit into her mouth. She hoped their android could bake as well as Don Juan cooked. Working round the clock, it could produce way more than she and Larth could—for Sala's Bakery . She sipped her orange-colored "mimosa." Fruity, bubbly. A decent facsimile, but still an imitation of the real thing. Like her marriage .

She set down the glass. "What if Larth never gets over her death?"

"Who says he's not over it?"

"He's not. He's naming the bakery after her."

"Wasn't it her idea? He's paying tribute to her."

"Exactly."

"What if it had been his mother's idea, and he named it after her?"

"That's different."

Hope widened her eyes. "Are you jealous?"

Stars help her, she was. And she felt ashamed for her growing resentment. The woman lost her life. Of course, he would grieve. But she couldn't escape the hunch she could never win in a competition with a dead woman. It didn't bother her that Sala had been his first love; she feared she would be his last .

"I'm the other woman in this marriage."

"No, no you're not. Other than the business name, what has he done that makes you believe he's still in love with her?"

She shrugged. How could she explain it wasn't anything he'd done or said or how he acted. "Just a feeling I have."

Hope's eyebrows pulled downward. "Pru, Larth isn't William. Have you considered you may be transferring your insecurities from that relationship to this one?"

"William's betrayal did undermine my confidence, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong." Ironically, she'd never had any doubt about William's fidelity. As a result, she'd been completely blindsided.

"Are you falling in love with him?"

"No…maybe… I could —if not for the situation."

Don Juan entered and cleared their dirty plates. "Lunch was excellent, thank you," Hope said.

"Delicious," Pru agreed. "Absolutely wonderful."

The light atop his head brightened.

"Prepare for the pièce de resistance," he said.

He'd left the room with their plates before his comment registered. "He speaks French?"

"When he learned I was from Terra Nova, he taught himself all the Earth languages," Hope said.

"Voila! Dessert!" Don Juan returned with two plates, each containing a slice of what looked like a chocolate torte dripping with fudge icing and sprinkled with dark chocolate shavings.

Hope beamed at him. "My favorite. Don Juan likes to surprise me with Terra Nova-type desserts. Cocoa doesn't grow on Caradonia, but he found a tree sap with a taste almost indistinguishable. "

Remembering the "mimosas," Pru lowered her expectations and forked a bit of the cake into her mouth. Rich, chocolatey perfection. "Oh my god. It's perfect. This is death by chocolate."

"Stop! Don't eat that!" Don Juan knocked the fork from her hand and snatched the plates off the table. The light atop his head turned red.

Prudence gaped at him.

"No, no! Don Juan. It's okay. It's not dangerous!" Hope said. "Death by chocolate is an expression. It means she really enjoys the dessert."

"It's excellent," Prudence quickly added. "Perfectly safe. Please give me the plate back."

"I will bring you another fork." He gave them the tortes and picked up the fallen utensil. "Your idioms are confusing."

"Yes, they are. My apologies," Prudence said.

He brought her a clean fork, two cups of tea to go with the dessert, and they resumed eating. She was again struck by how good her friend had it. "This must be like eating at a restaurant every night."

"Except for when the chef-waiter knocks the fork from the diner's hand." Hope giggled. "He's super protective. Sorry about that. "

"It's very sweet of him to be so protective. I'm sorry I triggered him."

"Not your fault. You'd assumed an android would be predictable. Just when I think I know what to expect, he surprises me. I like that about him. He has his own quirky personality." Hope rubbed her belly again, as if caressing her unborn child.

She envied her friend's happy life. She had a man who loved her and a little girl on the way. There would be no babies for Pru. Not out of this marriage anyway. She would never bring a child into a doomed marriage. Fortunately, she still had a birth control implant. She'd planned to remove it after she and William got married but then forgot about it when he jilted her. Dejected again, she stared down at her plate.

"Pru…" Hope covered her hand. "You have a year to work things out. You're not even into the marriage two weeks. You started out as strangers—now you're business partners, friends, and lovers. Give it time—and keep doing what you're doing." She waggled her eyebrows. "Remember, when I married Krogan and things weren't going well, you told me sex could help bring two people together."

"That was you. This is me." She laughed despite herself .

Paradoxically, while sex had forged a deeper bond, it also had revealed the chasm between what they had and what she desired. Hope had asked if she was falling in love. Unfortunately, she feared she was—with a man who was still in love with his late wife.

What if this was all they ever had? Could she settle for that? Could she stand playing second fiddle to a dead woman? Would Larth even choose to continue their marriage at the end of the provisional year?