Whether or not Mal kept up his end of their bargain, Inara had business to attend to. And business required her to stay in touch. Which meant a Cortex connection, and a broadwave. She could have found those things in Jerrode's apartments, but a sudden breathtaking claustrophobia, a need for the impersonal noise of other human beings, drove her out into the common areas of the station -- where she could find a connection at a Cortex bar, and other distractions.

'Other distractions' mainly meant shopping. She could do that. Jerrode had paid her in cash, as always, and there were certainly things Serenity lacked. Things she could buy now, while she had the opportunity, and take back to the ship when Mal returned for her. Because he would return; he had always returned. And Jerrode had said only that Mal had left without her, not that Mal was dead, so Mal must not be dead. Jerrode would have good sources. So Inara wandered through the marketplace along Lyford Cay, where the air fresheners, striving vainly for atmosphere, seeped saltwater scent into the ambient, and looked for tea, perfume, scarves, and a Cortex bar.

One of Jerrode's bodyguards trailed unobtrusively behind her. She was almost ready to break the invisible wall between them, and ask him if he knew where she could find a Cortex connection, when she saw the rack of belts. Nice belts; genuine cowhide, with a matte finish that was at once elegant and rough-edged. They made her think of Mal, although she couldn't imagine why, except that right now everything made her think of Mal. Mal didn't wear belts. Mal wore those absurd suspenders. Surely he could wear a belt, though. He might even look good in a belt. Or less odd, anyway.

It was an act of faith, she told herself as she carried the belt to the sales counter near the door. Mal was still alive; it had to be so, because she was buying him a gift. She would not buy a gift for a dead man. Another omen, as she raised her eyes from the counter and looked out throug