“Hey, buddy, maybe that was the problem,” Mark said, not holding back. “You think she didn’t expect anything from you, but trust me, she did. Someone else came along who was in touch with what she needed. The Barbie and Ken façade might have been enough for you, but it obviously wasn’t enough for Kendra.”

  The family, especially his mother, had been devastated. They’d accepted Kendra into the family when she was in college, and the plan had been that they’d marry as soon as she finished medical school last June. Kendra’s parents had spent a small fortune planning the wedding. The engagement party held at the Tavern on the Green had been immortalized in every tabloid on the East Coast and even the entertainment television programs. Ryan’s dialogue had been peppered with words like bachelor party, honeymoon, groomsmen, tuxedo. They’d even spent a weekend in Connecticut tasting cakes. Instead, she was lying in bed with her fourth-year resident in surgery. Whatever.

  The buffer to it was the intense, all-consuming work his firm did untangling some of the messiest divorces in the United States. Highly confidential and lucrative, Ken and Ryan worked diligently to preserve the profitable side of the business they’d inherited from their business-partner fathers. The founding partners and their wives were alive and needed to be kept in the style to which they’d grown accustomed, hence the sons’ almost fanatical obsession with work. Ryan’s brother, Mark, had chosen to teach college-level history instead of taking the bar, although he’d gone to law school, too.

  Ryan had been mystified when Kendra broke their engagement. He’d expected the same attitude of work first from Kendra. Wasn’t that what physicians did? It was one of the things that had attracted him to Kendra. Obviously, he had been wrong. Dead wrong. He was single and lonely. It wasn’t even that they’d spent that much time together. It was the idea that there was someone else.

  Being alone was okay. He had two speeds—wild man at work, and unconscious in his bed. He hadn’t had sex in so long his balls ached until, like a little boy, he’d had a wet dream. Waking up in the middle of the night gasping for breath, when he’d realized what had happened, he’d burst out laughing.

  “What a jerk,” he mumbled, taking care of himself so his housekeeper wouldn’t find the evidence.

  Sleeping around was not his shtick. However, he wasn’t going to find another girlfriend on the golf course. At the end of the summer, once he got the notion in his head that he was over the breakup, all he could think about was getting involved again. He had to have a certain type: blond hair, thin, smart, a trophy for his arm—and young. She had to be young, no biological time clock races for Ryan Lawson. In his divorce practice, he’d seen what that could do to the most successful marriage.

  After allowing his friends to fix him up with one unsuccessful blind date after another, he’d tried online dating sites, but that was a bust, too. Letting go of all preconceived notions about the perfect woman, he’d let nature take its course. Whatever happened would happen without Ryan Lawson’s manipulation, maybe.

  Hopping off the bus at her stop, the enthusiasm for the job finally overtook the worries of home. Long legs striding along, she felt vibrant and alive that fall morning. The first stop, a coffee vendor on the corner of Broadway and Chambers, a line already forming as the ninth hour approached. Holding the coffee cup away from her coat, she hurried to the office; the familiar, classic Greek key design snaking around the rim of the disposable cup represented stability and success to April. She remembered her grandfather had stored pencils in a heavy paper cup just like this one.

  The building loomed ahead, an ugly granite structure reminiscent of a fortress or a prison. The year of its construction was carved into a block of marble set into the granite to the right of the entrance, revolving doors moving so quickly, April worried she’d get clipped if she didn’t hurry.

  The doorman stood guard to make sure it wouldn’t happen, holding out his hands to slow the door down. Waiting for the greeting each morning made his day.

  “Thank you, Randy,” she said, beaming.

  That smile!

  “Miss Beaulieu, have a wonderful day,” he said, tipping his gold-braided cap. “See you tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Five sharp.”

  Moving on, she quickly approached the elevator. One of her obsessions was to get into the office before her colleagues. Miss Baker had made the observation that April was at her desk before any other employee had picked up their mail, still huddling around the coffee pot, whispering.

  Digging right in to her pile of work, she successfully blocked all noise, the external, frivolous noise of an office at the start of the day, and the internal, serious noise of unpaid bills and sisters ruining their lives. The only thing she allowed in was the reminder that she had a class that night, and in her briefcase was the fruit of her labor over a long, lonely weekend.

  “April, Mr. Lawson would like to see you.”

  It was Miss Baker interrupting April’s reverie. A few seconds passed before she responded, in that confusing transition between complete concentration and having to reply.

  “Mr. Lawson?”

  For a moment, April couldn’t remember who Mr. Lawson was.

  Frowning, Miss Baker allowed a veil of concern to float across her face. “Mr. Lawson. One of the primaries?”

  Flushing, April suddenly realized her faux pas. Ryan Lawson was one of the attorney partners in the firm.

  “Yes, of course,” she stammered. “I have the names in this file monopolizing my brain.”

  Blaming the misstep on work devotion was the right thing to say, and Miss Baker smiled, placing a supportive hand on April’s shoulder. “It certainly doesn’t take you long to become immersed. It’s only nine fifteen.”

  “Yes, well, this is a compelling file,” April said truthfully.

  “Come along with me. I’ll go up with you,” she replied.

  April had never laid eyes on a partner, there was no need. The researchers and paralegals housed on the ground floor never went any higher unless summoned, and from April’s observation, that was rare.

  Curious but not much more, it wasn’t in her nature to ask too many questions. She’d soon find out what the summons was for; if she started to dig now, anxiety would grow as she rode up in the elevator.

  “I’m must say, you aren’t letting me down,” Miss Baker said, smiling.

  “I’m not?” April asked.

  “I knew you’d be cool as a cucumber, and I was right. Anyone else would have a thousand questions.”

  “I don’t know what to ask,” April said truthfully.

  The elevator opened onto the executive floor, an environment as different from the pool where April worked as was possible, a luxurious place where clients met with their lawyers, meant to impress, and it didn’t fail. The thick carpeting muffled sound. There was just enough light to navigate safely, but unobtrusive so as not to interfere with the view, an amazing amalgam of Midtown Manhattan, with the Chrysler and Empire State Buildings dominating. Heart pounding wildly segued to gliding into the milieu; it didn’t take long for April to feel at home in the lavishness.

  “What do you think?” Miss Baker whispered. “Most young women are spellbound in such an environment. I was when I started here.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she answered.

  Arriving at the office, Miss Baker tapped on the door before she opened it. An attractive middle-aged woman got up from behind her desk, moving forward with her hand outstretched.

  “Miss Beaulieu?” she asked. “I’m Roberta Flynn. So nice to meet you.”

  “Esther, you and April have a seat, if you don’t mind. Mr. Lawson stepped out for a moment. Coffee is being brought in,” she said, moving toward the door.

  Pointing to a couch covered in beige linen, Miss Baker waited for April to sit before she did.

  “I’ve got too much work to do to sit around drinking coffee,” Miss Baker whispered, looking at her watch.

  In less than a minute, a man dressed as a butler pushed a silver tea cart through while Roberta Flynn held the door.

  “The kitchen can never serve just coffee,” Miss Flynn said, smiling. “I hope you’re hungry!”

  April was starving—she hadn’t taken the time for the peanut butter toast breakfast she’d prepared for her siblings, and there was nothing for lunch and no budget to buy it. Forgetting to be shy, she took a bagel and spread it with cream cheese and strawberry jam and fixed a cup of coffee. It would hold her through the day.

  Soon finishing the bagel, the next occurrence was the door opening as the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen walked through the door. Hoping she didn’t have cream cheese on her lips, she put the plate aside and started to stand, but he held his hand up.

  “Please, Miss Beaulieu, Miss Baker, finish your coffee. I have one call to make that may take a few minutes.”

  After Mr. Lawson disappeared through a hidden door along the rear wall, April finished eating while Miss Baker fidgeted.

  “Esther, if you’re done, you can go. We’ll fill you in after the meeting,” Miss Flynn said, walking to the door.

  It was the smoothest dismissal April had ever seen, unaware that Miss Flynn and Miss Baker were life partners. It was yet another drawback of being out of the loop of office gossip.

  “Oh! Okay, I think I will leave,” she said, putting her coffee down.

  “Take your bagel along if you’d like,” Miss Flynn said, but it seemed too much effort and rather inappropriate to be seen walking through those halls carrying a bagel on a plate, and Miss Baker declined.

  Enough time to finish her coffee had passed when Mr. Lawson opened that hidden door again, his eyes zeroing in on April, heart rate speeding up when he realized she was even more beautiful up close.

  “Miss Beaulieu, thank you for waiting,” he said, smiling.

  He held the door as April stood up, suddenly self-conscious, looking to Roberta Flynn, who nodded and smiled at April, giving her approval and encouragement.

  As she moved toward him, April felt like it was in slow motion, plodding through the thick carpet was now like stepping through quicksand. As she passed by him, in seconds they made eye contact. The moment was powerful, and it renewed her assurance; in spite of having bagel crumbs on the front of her blouse, she knew she was worthy of whatever it was he would ask of her.

  “Thank you for coming up,” he said, closing the door after she walked through.

  Holding out his hand to a seat across from his desk, she moved around and sat down. Then, surprising her again, he took the seat next to her rather than sitting back down at his desk.

  “How do you like working here so far?” he asked. “It’s been almost six months, hasn’t it?”

  “Almost six months,” she said. “A wonderful six months.”

  “Wonderful? How so?”

  “I enjoy my work, and it’s giving me the opportunity to finish school and still support my sisters.” Leaving out Nancy, the less said about her, the better.

  “So you’re in school?”

  “Last year at NYU,” she said. “But I plan on applying to law school.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, scratching his chin. “How many classes are you taking in night school? That sounds difficult.”

  “It really isn’t as bad as it sounds,” she said. “Right now I work and go to school, that’s it.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding his head. “So not much social life?”

  The question alerted her antenna. Why would he ask her that?

  “None,” she said. “No time, for one thing.”

  She left out that she had no interest. The very last thing on her mind was dating or a social life or relationships. Her friends from high school had stopped asking her to go out on the weekends shortly after she started college, and her college acquaintances were just as driven as she was about success, leaving no time for superfluous weekend activities.

  Standing up with his back to her, he fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a hankie. For self-preservation, he decided to get to the point and quickly.

  “How would you like to come up here to work?” he asked, putting the hankie back after wiping his hands off.

  Hiding a grin, she wondered if he was as nervous as she was, his vulnerability endearing.

  “Doing what?” she asked, her thoughts spinning.

  “The same thing you’re doing in the bull pen. Research. Only this will be specific, highly confidential.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

  His turn to grin now, he sat back down next to her. “I’ll explain it fully when I know for sure you’ll join us upstairs. It’s delicate, not the sort of thing our clients trust to an outside firm. Miss Baker swears by your ability. But I’d need confirmation that you would stay through until the end of the litigation, and I can’t even begin to tell you when that might be. It’s possible we could be going at it for years. If you’re planning on applying to law school this fall for next year, you’d either have to delay or refuse me.”

  “How long do I have to think about it?” she asked.

  The request seemed to surprise him, and that made her nervous. Maybe the cliché looking a gift horse in the mouth was made for such a time as this.

  “Let me think,” he replied, getting back up.

  A large leather-bound book was open on his desk, and April realized it was an old-fashioned calendar. Flipping back and forth through the book, he put his hand to his chin again.

  Looking at her, he hesitated. “Could you let me know by the end of the day?”

  So he was giving her seven hours to decide if the lifetime goal of going to law school should be put on hold. It would mean there would be no end in sight to her limited income; what if the case did take years to complete?

  “I feel nervous asking about money,” she said. “I have a sister who will be ready for college in five years. I was hoping to be in a position to pay for it.”

  “Because not everyone will get a full-paid ride to NYU,” he said, smiling.

  Embarrassed, April wondered how he seemed to know everything there was to know about her.

  “I was remiss not to discuss a remuneration package. Miss Flynn is prepared to go over it once you agree. But you can rest assured that you’ll be generously compensated.”

  “I hope I don’t seem greedy,” she mumbled. “It’s just my family and all…”

  “It’s why we work,” he replied. “I know you’re not here for the thrills.”

  Biting her lip, she actually did find the job rather thrilling but decided to stop with the small talk. Rising from the chair, she deliberated sticking her hand out to shake his but quickly nixed that idea and took a step away from his desk.

  “Thank you for the offer,” she said.

  “Do you have a big workload today? Because if you don’t, you can take the rest of the morning off to think about it.”

  “No, thanks, I’m swamped at my desk,” she replied. “And it’s actually something I’m really interested in.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, smiling at her. “What might that be?”

  Giving him a brief synopsis of her current workload, April forgot she was talking to one of the owners of the company, animated, gesturing with her hands. While she spoke, Ryan Lawson watched her, mesmerized, noticing things about her, physical things, the things he’d noticed out on the street, which would lead to bringing her upstairs if she would allow it. He wasn’t thinking about her in terms other than work. At least not yet.

  Earlier that morning his limo had pulled up to the curb on Broadway just as April paid for morning coffee.

  “Whoa!” he said, pausing with one foot on the pavement.

  “Yikes,” his driver, Arnold, said, looking at her through the open window, shaking his head. “Beautiful.”

  Watching her then, he saw her smile at the vendor, wave off her change, turn and walk to the building.

  “She’s going inside! I wonder if she works for us.”

  “You’d better move,” Arnold said.

  Grabbing his briefcase, Ryan slammed the door and, in a walk/run, followed April as close as he could without making her suspicious. He saw the way the doorman deferred to her, oblivious to everyone else coming through the door. Staying close to the wall, Ryan followed her as far as he could, pleased when he realized she was entering their offices.

  Turning back to the bank of elevators, he stepped on one with its doors open and rode up to his floor, thinking about April. When he got to his office, he signaled Roberta to come inside with him.

  “I have a little detective work for you,” he said.

  “Oh, is that right?” she asked, curious.

  “I saw a young woman enter the bull pen this morning. She’s wearing a navy, knee-length coat.”

  “She’ll have taken it off by the time I get down there,” Roberta replied.

  “Oh, right,” he said, frowning. “I’d never make a good detective.”

  “What’s her hair like?” she asked.

  “It’s long and curly,” he said, making poufy movements with his fingers, which made her smile. “It’s dark brown, but not really. There’s red in it. I don’t know how to explain it. Her eyes are amazing though. They’re green green, like she might be wearing those colored contacts.”

  “How tall?”

  “Tall,” he answered, putting the edge of his hand to his forehead. “Tall and thin.”

  “Why, of course! You wouldn’t be interested in a short, chubby girl,” she said, exasperated.

  “You’ll see what I mean,” he said, unapologetic. “She’s gorgeous. It shouldn’t be difficult to find her if she was just hired.”

  “Was she just hired?”

  “I think I would have noticed her before this if she’s been around a while,” he said.

  “Okay, boss,” Roberta said, closing his office door. Chances were he had no idea what any of his employees on the lower floors looked like.

 

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