Chapter 15

Paul was sitting at his desk going over buying reports and manufacturing bills, with spreadsheets all over his desk to refer to, when his assistant told him on the intercom that there was someone there to see him. She didn’t say who, and didn’t dare, since the four FBI agents who had shown up had told her not to. She was silent as they walked into his office and told him he was under arrest for money laundering and the importation of stolen items. They read him his rights and snapped handcuffs on him before he could object, and he stared at them in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous!” he said in an angry tone. “That little witch put you up to this, didn’t she? She’s the guilty one, I’m not. This is a grave mistake.” He was shouting at them, and they weren’t impressed, as they told him to walk out of his office. He tried to take a swing at the agent closest to him, using the handcuffs as a weapon, and with a single blow they dropped him to the ground, and he lay there, winded.

“Come on, get up,” the senior agent said to him. “Let’s get going.” Paul struggled to his feet, his dignity badly ruffled.

“I want to call my lawyer,” he said, sounding frightened.

“You can do that from downtown.”

“Where am I going?” He wasn’t moving till they told him, and the four agents eyed each other, wondering if they’d have to carry him out. They would prefer not to, and had assumed he’d be polite and subdued.

“You’re going to federal jail for now, until your arraignment.” The grand jury had already indicted him and approved the warrant for his arrest, which had been signed by a federal judge that morning. It was two weeks after Sydney had begun her house arrest.

“I have nothing to do with this, nothing, do you hear me?” he shouted at them. “This is all that woman’s doing. She’s the smuggler here. I had no idea what she was buying.”

“That’s not up to us, sir. You’ll have to discuss that with the judge.”

“Call my lawyer,” he shouted to his assistant, who could see him through the open doorway. “Tell him they’re arresting me, and taking me to federal jail.”

“Are we going to take you out of here in shackles and leg irons, or are you going to walk?” the second officer asked him. “It’s up to you. I don’t care either way. It might look a little more dignified to your employees if you walk out under your own steam.” They were giving him one last chance before they trussed him up like a turkey and carried him out, and Paul was beginning to get that message. Reluctantly, he followed the lead man out of the room, with an agent on either side of him, and one behind him. Several people had heard the ruckus by then, and two of them picked up their iPhones and took videos of him. Others took stills and posted them on Instagram and Twitter.

“Stop that!” he shouted at them. “Take their cellphones away,” he told the agents, who ignored him and kept walking alongside him. They escorted him out of the building and pushed him into a waiting FBI car, and by then Paul was shouting at them again, screaming obscenities and calling them names. The employees continued watching him, and a few minutes later the two FBI cars drove away. It was all dispersed over the Internet within seconds. By the next day it was on the front page of the Post and The New York Times, and the article had been reprinted in WWD. Sydney saw the coverage on the news that day, and watched him on YouTube, and she called the girls. She felt vindicated now that he was in jail. And she was comfortably at home in her apartment, however small, drinking coffee and working as usual. She had settled into a routine.

The newspaper articles about Paul explained the charges against him and mentioned her too. But the item about her was simple and clean. It said only that she had been charged with a misdemeanor and was under short-term house arrest, and that was it. She realized again then that Steve had gotten her a great deal with the plea bargain. It sounded like she’d been given a ticket for jaywalking and had gotten a small slap on the wrist. But the stories about Paul were more shocking. More evidence had surfaced that he’d been importing and selling stolen goods for years, the charges were more severe, and the penalties were liable to be too. They said that he could get from ten to twenty years in prison. It was serious business.

Steve called her about it that day. “He’s in jail now,” he reported to her. “And the bail is going to be pretty high.” They had the goods on Paul and were prosecuting him to the limit, and rightfully so. It was karma again, as Sydney said to Ed.

A follow-up article a week later said that his business was up for sale, and his wife was filing for divorce. It was a clean sweep. Sydney knew it wouldn’t go to trial for quite a while, but sooner or later Paul would have to pay for what he did. And Bob was pleased about it too. The good guys were winning.

Sydney was reading the papers more closely now than she used to. She wanted to stay abreast of what was happening in the world. And occasional gossip was a good distraction too. She loved reading Page Six in the Post and saw a week later that Kellie’s husband, Geoff Madison, had upped the ante and wanted the whole house, not just her half of it. Apparently he intended to sell it. Three days later, she saw a sad little item that Kyra had been drunk and disorderly at a nightclub, and subsequently charged with possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell, which meant she had a lot of it. So she was in trouble too. With their newly enlarged fortunes, they were being exploited and indulging themselves, not living well.

Kellie’s and Kyra’s lives were falling apart, perhaps because of what they’d done to her, and in spite of all that they’d inherited. She said as much to Bob, who didn’t disagree.

Almost three weeks to the day from when he’d last been there, Bob Townsend flew back to New York to see her. He said he’d been in Switzerland on business, and it wasn’t a long flight to New York. He had rung her doorbell and there he was. He swept her into his arms the moment he saw her, and spun her around, almost knocking something over. The place was crammed to the rafters with furniture and equipment now. But she had everything she needed, and she loved the two-way screen to the office. She felt like she was right there with them and could talk to Ed face-to-face anytime, or show him a new design.

“You know,” Bob said as Sydney fixed him lunch after he arrived. He put his feet on the coffee table, and relaxed after the flight. “You’re the only jailbird I visit,” he teased her. “In fact, you’re the only jailbird I’ve ever been in love with.”

“Very funny,” she said as she handed him a sandwich and some potato chips. He was happy to see that she was in good spirits.

They wound up in bed as soon as he finished his sandwich, and he reminded her to turn the video screen off so no one would hear them. Sydney could hardly wait, and he was as anxious as she was. He told her he had missed her desperately while he was away.

They lay in bed, relaxing, in the afterglow of lovemaking. He told her all about what he’d been doing. Although they talked every day, they always had more to say. It was October by then, and cold outside, and she was cozy in her apartment, which had become the haven where he rested from the rigors of the world when he was with her.

A week after Bob left New York, Sydney read that Paul Zeller was out on five hundred thousand dollars’ bail, his trial was still months away. His business had been bought by Chinese investors. It had happened very quickly. He had apparently wanted to sell before he went to prison, possibly to pay for his divorce and criminal defense. She had lost her freedom as a result of what he’d done. And so would he, but he had lost his wife and his business too. Ed’s not trusting Paul entirely and warnings about him had proven to be well founded. It still terrified her to think about what might have happened to her without the attorney Ed had found her, the evidence their detective had been able to unearth about Paul, and if Steve hadn’t been able to make the deal he did. Without Steve’s help, Sydney felt she would have gone to prison for sure.

After a month of being confined to her apartment, she was feeling crowded and had cabin fever. She missed her freedom, but Ed was keeping her busy. They were both hard at work designing, and showed each other their progress several times a day. And the orders for their first collection were continuing to pour in. It had been a huge success. In addition to the two-way screen, which was proving invaluable, he came to see her several times a week. Couriers were bringing her fabric samples so she could see the textures and colors, and they made constant joint decisions. He had asked her about adding a bathing suit line, and she thought it was too soon. And they were both delighted that they worked well together and respected each other’s decisions.

“How’s your romance going, by the way?” she asked him one Friday afternoon, when they were talking on the big screen. Bob was in town but out at a meeting with a client, and Ed was alone in his office. On weekends, she missed the buzz of activity at the office. It was nice seeing people on the monitor and the enormous screen which covered one wall.

“Kevin is a good guy,” Ed said with a sigh, confiding in her about the young man he was dating. Most of the time, he was extremely private and kept his love life to himself. “He’s young, though. He’s still in design school.”

“How old is he?” He looked mature and close to Ed’s age, although she knew he was in his last year at Parsons.

“Twenty-two. But still. I feel it at times. But he’s very serious, his father died when he was a kid, and he helped his mother raise his three younger siblings. He’s been working since he was fifteen.”

“Are we going to hire him when he graduates?” She was curious about Ed’s intentions, and suspected he didn’t know himself yet. They’d only been seeing each other for a few months.

“Maybe. I would discuss it with you first, obviously. He’s got a nice hand at designing, but he’s more interested in the business end. He’s in the economics and business section, and he wants to go to grad school eventually and get an MBA, after he works for a few years.”

“At least he won’t be trying to compete with you, and he understands the industry,” Sydney commented, and Ed nodded pensively. He had considered all of that himself and hadn’t come to any major conclusions. He was just enjoying their time together. He had recently turned thirty, and he wasn’t sure about the eight-year gap between them, and whether it bothered him enough to worry about. Most of the time it didn’t, particularly when they were alone.

“What about you?” he asked her, venturing into waters they didn’t usually discuss, as she just had. They were both very private people, and usually didn’t talk about their personal lives. They confined their conversations and dealings with each other primarily to work-related subjects. Fabrics, designs, colors, what textile factories to use, how various employees were fitting in, deadlines, press, embroiderers, sewers, patternmakers, and all the complicated minute components of their business, and occasionally a good laugh to ease the tension after a long day at work. In many ways, they were very similar, despite the differences in their ages, life experience, and culture. They lived and breathed fashion, worked incredibly hard, and were perfectionists in all they did. Neither of them ever stopped until their work was done. But he could also see, whenever they were together, how happy she was with Bob. She was less worldly than most of the women Bob usually went out with, and she was far more serious about her work. “How’s it going with Bob?” Ed asked cautiously. It seemed to have gotten very serious very quickly, in part due to the pressures on her before the trial.

“Amazingly well,” she said with a smile. “I never expected something like this to happen. I didn’t even want to date after Andrew died. I don’t know where it will go, living eight thousand miles apart. Long-distance relationships are hard to sustain.”

“He travels a lot, though,” Ed said thoughtfully, “and he’s coming to New York more than he used to. Nowadays, you can work from almost anywhere in the world.” She laughed when he said it.

“True, the two-way screen is working well for us,” and had been a genius idea on his part. They had cameras all over the office now, so she could switch to almost any room, could watch their fittings on models, and talk to the on-site patternmakers and sewers while they worked. They did a lot of their finish work there where they could oversee it. The main production was being done at Ed’s family’s factories in China, which was essential to cost. They had a tremendous advantage being able to use his family’s facilities at an extraordinarily low rate. “But I’m not sure how well two-way screens work for romance,” she added, and he laughed.

“He’s crazy about you, Syd. He talks about you whenever I see him. I think he’s really in love with you.”

“And I love him. I just can’t figure out how this would look for the long haul.”

“Maybe don’t think about it for now. That’s what I’m telling myself with Kevin. You don’t need all the answers immediately. See how it goes.”

“Do you want to come for Thanksgiving, by the way? You can bring Kevin of course,” she asked him.

“I’d like that. I don’t think he wants to go home. And I can’t go with him. His mom doesn’t want his siblings to know he’s gay. She thinks it’s contagious.” He smiled when he said it. He’d been there before, with other people’s parents and families who refused to face the truth. It made everything that much harder. He always said how understanding his own parents were about it.

“Sounds complicated,” she said, and Ed nodded. “My apartment is a mess,” she added as she looked around. She was enjoying chatting with him. “I’m starting to look like a hoarder. I have everything I need here and all my work supplies, but you can hardly move. I’ll use my design table for Thanksgiving dinner. I think I’m going to get a bigger apartment when I can get out. Nothing fancy, but a little more breathing room, especially with Bob here so much.” The business had taken off with a bang and was doing well, and her salary more than covered her meager expenses, but she constantly thought about wanting to pay Sabrina back for her legal fees before she did anything else. It was her first priority now.

“He has a fabulous apartment in Hong Kong, you’d love it,” Ed told her. “It’s kind of a bachelor pad, with a second apartment below for his kids when they’re around. I don’t think any of them live there now. The one who cooks and the artist have pretty simple tastes, and his daughter in medical school is in England, and his son the writer lives in a garret somewhere. None of them are showy people, but the place is fantastic.”

“What are the kids like?” They were having a good visit and letting their hair down about private matters, which was rare, and she’d wanted to ask him for a long time.

“They’re normal, kind, fun. I went to school with the oldest one, the chef. I think Bob got married pretty young the first time. He always seemed like a young dad when we were growing up. I thought mine were older because they’re my parents. His kids are just good people. He always encouraged them to pursue the work they wanted.” She could tell that from their varied professions, but she was worried about how they’d react to her. Andrew’s twins had set an ugly precedent, and scarred her. “You’ll like them,” he tried to reassure her, understanding why she was worried. “They’re not like your stepdaughters.” The stepmonsters, as Sophie and Sabrina called them.

“Hitler and Stalin were like the twins. I just don’t want to get into some big battle with any man’s family again. I don’t need the headache.” And she had paid a high price for Andrew putting her at their mercy.

“His kids are all very independent. And they’ve seen a lot of women come and go,” Ed said, smiling.

“I’m not sure that’s reassuring.” She laughed at his comment. Bob had said as much himself, and that this was entirely different, with her.

“He’s a serious person and a good father.” Andrew had been too, but his daughters had behaved atrociously, with their mother’s tutelage. “You’ll have to come back to Hong Kong to meet them,” he said.

“Well, for the moment, it’s not a pressing problem. He can just tell them I’m in jail until next spring.” She was developing a sense of humor about it, now that she knew nothing worse would happen. It was just a challenging time she had to get through. “What about you? Are you going to take Kevin to Hong Kong?”

“Maybe someday. Not now. That’s a big statement. I’m not there yet.” They were dating, not living together. “He met my parents during Fashion Week. That’s enough for the time being. But thank you for including him on Thanksgiving. I assume the girls are coming.”

“Of course.” Sydney had been wondering if Steve would invite Sabrina to go to Boston with him, to his family, but so far he hadn’t. “You’re the godfather of Sabrina’s romance too,” she reminded Ed, since he’d found Steve for Sydney when she needed a criminal lawyer. And he had introduced her to Bob. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Except for myself,” he chuckled. “I just hit on our interns.” But she knew from him and an earlier admission that this was a first for him. He had been diligent about not dating anyone where he worked, and never someone who worked directly for him. Until Kevin. It was too awkward if the relationship went wrong.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked him.

“We’re going to stay with friends in Connecticut, to see the changing of the leaves. They got married last year, and just adopted a baby. I’m not sure that’s the model I want to show Kevin. It’ll probably cure both of us from domestic life by the end of the weekend.” Ed always said he wasn’t looking to get married, and might want children one day but not for a long time. And she knew it was the first serious relationship he’d had since the lover who’d committed suicide years before. He’d been careful not to get too deeply involved ever since. But Kevin, with his innocence and natural sweetness, had made it through his wall of barbed wire.

“It sounds like fun,” Sydney said wistfully about his weekend. “I think I’m going to pitch a tent in Central Park after all this. I never realized how much I’d miss being outdoors, or walking down the street.”

“It’s not forever,” he reminded her gently.

“I know, and I’m grateful to be here and not the alternative.” She had thought of putting up a chart with the numbers of days for six months, and then decided it would be depressing and make the time go slower, while she waited every day to cross off one more day. A month had gone by already. All she had to do was get through another five. “Well, have a good weekend,” she said as they wound up the call. It was getting late, and Ed had to get home and pack for the weekend.

“Say hi to Bob,” Ed said, and as he did, she heard his key in the lock, and he came through the door, carrying packages. He had picked up groceries on the way home, so they could cook dinner, instead of ordering in, which they did a lot, from restaurants all over town when he was there. By now, she had a long list of favorite food and meal delivery services she used constantly.

“Hi, Ed!” Bob said, and waved at the screen. “How’s everything?”

“Great. Lots of orders. How long will you be in town?”

“About a week if I can swing it. Five days otherwise. Do you want to come over for dinner?” he asked as Sydney kissed him and he smiled.

“I’d love to, but I’m going away for the weekend. Maybe Monday if you’re still here.”

“I will be. Have a good weekend.” All three of them waved and said goodbye then, as Bob took off his coat and Sydney unpacked the groceries. She loved seeing him at the end of the day, and cuddling up with him at night to talk, and relax, and drink wine. It was a wonderful contrast to the long nights she worked into the wee hours when she was alone. She was sleeping less now and working even longer hours, since she couldn’t go out. Instead of lazy, being trapped at home was making her work harder.

“How was your day?” she asked, as she poured him a glass of red wine and handed it to him.

“Good,” he said, smiling at her gratefully. “Except for a call from my oldest daughter, Francesca. She quit her job without telling me, sank herself in debt up to her ears, also without asking her father, and she’s opening her own restaurant. She had a great job, at the best restaurant in Hong Kong, with three Michelin stars. Now she wants to open a bistro, which won’t show off her talents and is almost a sure way to lose money. I think her boyfriend talked her into it.” He looked worried and frustrated, as he glanced up at Sydney. “Usually they ask my advice, but in the end, they always do what they want anyway.”

“Maybe we did too at their age. My parents hated my first husband. They thought he was lazy and a user and they were right. And they had both died by the time I married Andrew, so they never saw me get it right.” But they would have been upset by the last year too, when she lost everything and was confined to her apartment with an electronic bracelet around her ankle from the court. “I guess we’re never too old to screw up,” she said with a sigh and a rueful smile.

“Your only crime was being naïve,” he reminded her. “Paul Zeller knew what he was doing. He probably spotted you for an easy mark when he hired you, and had a plan in mind then, and you were convenient for him,” he said wisely. He was a good judge of human nature, better than she was. He was more businesslike and less trusting.

“I was so grateful for the job, when the employment agencies told me no one would hire me after being out of the game for so long. And Paul was so kind to me on the plane.”

“Bad guys are almost always nice, too nice, otherwise how would they get away with it?” he said sensibly, and she nodded.

“What are you going to do about your daughter?” she asked him. She could see that it was troubling him.

“Try and talk her out of it, but she’ll do what she wants. I don’t like the boyfriend, and she knows it. He’s another lazy charmer. She works so much, she never meets anyone, and she’s easy prey for guys like him. He’s a part-time bartender. The rest of the time he does nothing and sponges off her. The only guys she meets are the ones who work in her kitchen,” he said unhappily, and then he smiled at her. “I guess that’s what I did too. I fell in love with the wrong woman. My first wife, Helen, was brilliant and I was enamored with her mind. I never asked myself if she’d be a good wife or a good mother. And I don’t think she did either. I wanted a lot of kids, and she went along with it. Five years later she figured out that she hated being married and had no maternal instincts, so she took off. The only one who was surprised was me. And I married my second wife, Brigid, because she had a great body, and I felt like a star when I was with her. She figured that one out in six months, while I was still buying her jewelry and bikinis.” He was able to laugh at himself, but he hadn’t then. He had been shocked, humiliated, and brokenhearted, and readily admitted it now, and already had to Sydney. “The two women couldn’t have been more different. Helen and I are good friends these days. I don’t even know where Brigid is, she seems to have faded from the skies. Someone told me she’s in India making cheap movies, which is probably likely. But the two women were opposite extremes.”

“So were Patrick and Andrew. Patrick was totally irresponsible, and Andrew was the most responsible man I’d ever met,” until his oversight at the end. Bob thought that if he’d been truly responsible, she wouldn’t have been living in an apartment the size of a birdcage for a canary, barely able to scrape by, and he knew she was well aware of it herself, so he didn’t want to add to it and criticize her late husband.

“I’m going to talk to Francesca when I get home. At least if she lets me lend her the money, she won’t wind up drowning in debt. But she’s very independent. She doesn’t want anything from me. She shouldn’t have quit her job.”

“I was afraid when Sabrina wouldn’t go back to her old job after they fired her because of me. I thought they’d paralyze her with a noncompete if she quit. And it turned out even better in the end. I’m sure Francesca will land on her feet too, if she’s anything like her father.” She smiled at him.

“I had no idea I’d worry about them this much at their ages. It was so much easier when they were younger.” Although his son, Dorian, had gotten into drugs for a year in college and gone to rehab, but he hadn’t had a problem since. He had told Sydney about that too. “It takes courage to have kids. I love my kids, but I wouldn’t have the guts to do it again, or have more. I worry now that I’m doing it all wrong and giving them bad advice based on my own mistakes and my own fears. Every time my son goes out with some hot babe, I think of Brigid and tell him to run. He pointed out recently that I only approve of his going out with unattractive women and if he found one with a mustache who was butt ugly, I’d be thrilled.” He chuckled then as he looked at Sydney. “I thought about it, and he’s right. You’re the only beautiful woman who doesn’t scare me.” She knew from Ed that he’d had a lot of beautiful women in his life since Brigid but had never taken any of them seriously. He was considered something of a man-about-town and a catch in Hong Kong.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” she reassured him and kissed him, “except my bad cooking. The only meals I know how to make are turkey on Christmas and Thanksgiving, and tacos,” she admitted, and he laughed.

“Sounds good to me. And I have a solution for that,” he said, as he set down his glass of wine. “I’m cooking dinner.”

“You don’t trust me,” she said, pretending to be insulted. She wasn’t known for her culinary skill, and had already demonstrated it to him on several occasions.

“In the kitchen, not really. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can burn pasta,” he teased her, and she chuckled.

“You may have a point, but wait till you eat my turkey,” she conceded, and they cooked dinner together. He made them excellent steaks, and she made the salad, which was all she ever ate anyway. She was thin because she wasn’t a big eater and watched her weight, as did her daughters. Fashion was a harsh mistress, and the people who worked in it cruel judges. Designers were expected to be as thin as the models, and most of them were. Ed was too. Bob hadn’t seen a normal-sized person in the business since he’d started dating her, and his daughter in Shanghai, the artist, was no better. The chef and the medical student had more normal eating habits. But Bob was lean too, very athletic, and stayed trim. He claimed it was because he didn’t like airline food and spent most of his life on planes, but she knew he worked out with a trainer in Hong Kong, and swam at his club whenever he could, or when he stayed at a hotel with a pool.

Sydney was working out a lot now. The ballet teacher she met with on Skype that Sophie had recommended was proving to be a hard taskmaster. She had several models as clients, and women who traveled a lot and couldn’t attend class in person. She had a booming business with individual sessions on Skype, and Sydney could already see changes in her thin body. It made her feel healthy to do something while she was confined to the apartment and couldn’t even go for a walk. And running in place was too boring.

She and Bob watched a movie that night and went to bed early. He went for a run the next morning when he got up, and came back with a bag of croissants and brioches filled with chocolate.

“That’s not fair!” she complained. She had just gotten out of the shower and was drying her hair, wearing pink jeans and a pink sweater, and looked like a breath of spring despite the wintry weather outside. “You go for a run, and I sit here getting fat and you tempt me with croissants? You must like chubby women,” she accused him, but ate one of the chocolate buns while she did, and he laughed. He was a good sport about being stuck in the apartment with her. When she wasn’t working, they played Scrabble and cards, and liar’s dice, and she was ecstatic when she beat him. And sometimes they just lay around and read. He always bought her a stack of books when he was in town, or she ordered the latest bestsellers on the Internet while he was traveling. They were adjusting well to their confined life, and he insisted he didn’t mind. With Sydney, everything was fun. And when he wasn’t around, she was working.

Ed came to dinner on Monday, as he had promised, without Kevin, since he had a late class and a midterm the next day. Sydney showed him some new drawings she’d worked on, and Ed made some suggestions, which she liked. They always enhanced each other’s work, tossing ideas back and forth. And he’d had good news that day. A chain of stores in Asia had placed an enormous order.

“You should open a store in Hong Kong,” Bob suggested during dinner. They were balancing plates of Mexican food on their knees because she had work spread out on the design table. Sydney had made tacos, and Bob conceded they were excellent.

“I’ve thought of it,” Ed said seriously. “I’m not sure if we should open one here first. A lot of big designers are setting up flagships in Beijing, but if we do something in Asia, I’d rather do Hong Kong,” he said thoughtfully. He and Sydney had talked about it, but agreed they weren’t ready. For the moment they were doing well with department store sales in the States, without taking on the overhead and build-out costs of a retail store of their own in New York, although it was among their midterm plans, just not yet.

“Well, I think Hong Kong would be a great idea,” Bob said, smiling at them both. “Though I’ll admit, I’m not without ulterior motives.” He was trying to find a way to get Sydney to Hong Kong on a regular basis once she was free, other than just to see him. He knew that her work ruled her life, and he’d never get her there without it, or not often. But they had time to figure it out, and for the next five months it was a moot point.

Ed stayed late that night, enjoying long conversations with them over dinner, and called to thank her the next morning.

“You two are so good together,” he commented.

“We are,” she agreed. “Maybe because we’re not together all the time. It keeps the romance fresh.”

“I worry about that with Kevin. He wants to move in, but maybe we’d get bored with each other. It’s too soon anyway.”

“How was the weekend, by the way?” She had forgotten to ask the night before.

“Oh my God, they’re completely hysterical. I think they take the poor kid to the emergency room every day to make sure he’s still breathing. They have monitors with video screens all over the house. I was a nervous wreck by the time we left. They thought he had a fever and called the doctor three times on Sunday. I think they just had too many cashmere sweaters and blankets on him. I am definitely not ready for that.” She laughed, the idea of two gay men fussing frantically over a baby was sweet, but sounded intense, as most new parents were. She wondered sometimes when Sabrina and Sophie would want children, or if they ever would. They were so consumed by their work, there was no room for a baby in either of their lives. She didn’t think the thought had even crossed their minds, and she didn’t feel ready to be a grandmother yet either, at fifty. When Kellie had had children, she had hoped it would soften her and improve her relationship with her, but it hadn’t. If anything, she was nastier, except with her father, and wouldn’t let Sydney near her kids. Nothing had changed.

She and Ed talked about business for a few minutes, and they set up a face-to-face design meeting later in the week. And Bob left on Wednesday. He had to get back to Hong Kong for board meetings, and he was anxious to see his daughter and try to talk her out of making a mistake with her bistro and crushing debt.

Bob promised to come back in four weeks this time. He had a lot to do until then, and he was going to try to be with her for Thanksgiving, since he knew it meant a lot to her. They’d be talking on FaceTime every day, but that wasn’t the same. The apartment seemed empty and sad to her when he left. It was too quiet that night without him, as she lay in bed alone. She got up and made herself a cup of chamomile tea, and sat looking out the window at the quiet street. He was on the plane by then, and she thought about how entwined their lives had become and hoped it was a good idea. It was so easy to love him, and they were a good fit. But then what? How far could it go, with him living in Hong Kong and she in New York? They each had children who took up their attention and energy, even if they were grown. They had their own demanding careers, and in the long run living on two different continents would take dedication and work. But she loved him now. They got along seamlessly. She wondered what would happen, and as she stood looking out the window, it started to snow. She couldn’t see into the future and she didn’t have the answers, as a thick white blanket silently covered New York. She opened the window wide despite the cold and stuck her hand out, so she could feel it, as the snowflakes fell into her palm, and she thought about the man she had come to love, and the day she was longing for when she could finally walk down the street next to him again.