“I hope you’re right,” Abby said, sounding calmer and more confident than she felt. They both went to bed a little while later, and Claire strongly suspected that Ivan was cheating on her friend, and had before, possibly many times. There were so many nights he didn’t spend with her, with thinly veiled excuses, or just didn’t show up, or wouldn’t answer his cell when Abby called. But Abby always gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Sasha had already gone to bed long before, exhausted from work, and relaxed after the happy evening Max had provided for them.

Max left before the others got up the next morning, and whispered to Morgan that he had to go to the fish market in the Bronx, to get their fresh catch of the day. He liked to pick the fish, meat, and produce himself. Usually the cook went with him, and sometimes Max let him go on his own. He ran a tight ship at the restaurant, and everyone liked and respected him there too. He was loved by all.

Morgan was at her office before anyone else the next day. She wanted to get ready for her first meeting, and still had research she wanted to read, and to check some numbers on her computer. There was an investment that George wanted to make, and she had promised him her opinion before the meeting. She was looking through what she had on her computer, when something caught her eye. It was just a name, on the list of directors of the fledgling company they were looking into, and something about it rang a bell. She Googled the man’s name, and saw that he had been indicted by a grand jury five years before, but the charges against him had been dropped. He had been accused of insider trading by the SEC, but he had been cleared and was never prosecuted, but she had remembered the name. She didn’t like the fact that he was one of the directors of the company, and mentioned it to George later that morning, and he laughed.

“That was all a big mix-up, some crazy coincidence when someone in his family bought and sold some stock. Don’t worry about it—he was cleared. You get an A for doing your homework, though.” He smiled at her and looked pleased. “I’m proud of you.” But she still didn’t like the idea of their investing in a company where one of its directors had been accused of fraud, even if his name had been cleared. She was a firm believer in the theory that where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and she didn’t like the idea of having to explain it to their client. But the subject never came up, and George had told her before the meeting that it wasn’t worth mentioning, although she disagreed with him. It was one of the rare times when they didn’t agree, but he was her boss, and she followed his lead. The client was enthusiastic about the company, and they were supposed to go public in a year. It was the kind of young high-tech company that could make them all a lot of money if it took off.

She forgot about it after the meeting, and had other files to attend to and research to do. She didn’t see George again all morning, and she had a call from Claire at noon.

“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” she said apologetically.

“Something wrong?”

“No…yes…I’ve been fighting with my boss for the last month. It’s so frustrating. I need some good sound business advice.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I don’t know whether to stay and tough it out, or look for another job and quit. Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night and talk about it?”

“Sure.” Morgan was flattered to be asked, and it was obvious that Claire was troubled, and scared of what the job market would be like if she left. “Max’s at seven-thirty? I’ll tell him we want a quiet table in the back.”

“Thank you,” Claire said, grateful and relieved. She was sure that Morgan would help her figure out the right thing to do. She had a better head for business than Abby or Sasha, although they would have been willing to listen too.

“Happy to do it,” Morgan said, and then went back to work, as Claire went back to her drawings for the spring line, which she hated. And Walter seemed to be looking over her shoulder constantly, as though he didn’t trust her. And the little twit from Paris was driving her insane.

Sasha didn’t have to be at work until noon after their Sunday-night dinner, so she could sleep in, and still almost overslept anyway. She was rushing again as she got to the hospital. She was wearing black jeans and a white sweater, and grabbed her white doctor’s coat with her name on it out of her locker. She was surprised to see the resident from the NICU hanging around the doctors’ lounge again.

“You seem to spend a lot of time here. Business must be slow in NICU,” she teased him, and he didn’t want to admit that he’d checked the schedule and had been lying in wait for her.

“I never got to introduce myself the other night,” he said, feeling awkward. She was so damn beautiful it took his breath away, and she looked calm and cool. “I’m Alex Scott.”

“Sasha Hartman,” she said simply as she hurried to the door. She already knew she had three women in labor, one of them almost ready to deliver. She was a surrogate giving birth to someone else’s twins, and the parents of the twins were planning to be in the delivery room with her—it was going to be a zoo. The surrogate was married, in her thirties, and had three children. It was the second time she had lent her body for surrogacy. She thought it was a noble cause, and it was a good source of income for her. The twins’ biological parents had been desperate to have a baby, and had been willing to pay almost anything.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime…or lunch?” he blurted out as Sasha started to hurry away. She turned to him with a look of surprise on her face. The thought of sharing a meal with him, or anything more than coffee in the doctors’ lounge, hadn’t even occurred to her. He just seemed like a friendly guy at work, and she thought of him as collegial and nothing else. She didn’t have the vaguest idea that he was interested in her.

“Either one,” she said, noncommittal and businesslike, thinking about the babies she was about to deliver and hand over to their legal parents.

“Tomorrow?” he said quickly, looking hopeful.

“Tomorrow what?” She was in a rush to leave, and he could see it.

“Tomorrow dinner?”

“Lunch. In the cafeteria. I’m on duty.” He could sense that it was the best deal he was going to get for now.

“Sounds good. So am I. I’ll check in with you at noon to see how your schedule is looking.” She nodded, touched her forehead in a military salute, and flew out the door, and he almost let out a whoop as he threw away his empty coffee cup and went back to the NICU. It had already been a terrific day, and it was just minutes after noon. He could hardly wait for lunch the next day.

Sasha was already in the labor room, checking her patient, who was handling the contractions well. The parents were so excited they were already crying, and it wasn’t even time to push. They could hardly wait to get their babies in their arms. But for now, the surrogate was her patient, and Sasha was focusing on her. The babies were lined up nicely, and the monitors looked good, and Alex Scott was the farthest thing from her mind.

—

The theater was dark on Monday nights, but Abby went in that afternoon anyway. She had more scenery to paint, and a little carpentry to do. She and a janitor did the heavy cleaning on Mondays, and she had been calling Ivan since that morning, but he didn’t pick up, and hadn’t returned her calls. He had been MIA since the day before, and by the time she got back to the apartment at six o’clock, she was panicked when she ran in to Claire in the hall. They came up the stairs together while Abby told her that she hadn’t heard from him all day.

“He’s probably just busy, or sleeping, or reading that girl’s play. You know how he is. Sometimes he just disconnects for a couple of days.” Claire tried to reassure her. He had done it before, but Abby had a bad feeling about it this time. She didn’t like the adoring look of that girl. And why was he reading other people’s plays when he still hadn’t produced hers?

They were both breathless when they got to the fourth floor and unlocked the door to the apartment. The others hadn’t come home yet. Claire knew that Morgan was meeting a client for a drink, and Sasha wouldn’t be home for several hours since she had only started work at noon.

“Try not to worry about it,” Claire told her soothingly, sorry for the state she was in. “He’ll turn up. He always does.” Unfortunately, she added silently. The best thing that could happen to Abby, she knew, would be if Ivan really did disappear, but she also knew how upsetting it would be for her.

Claire went to her bedroom and changed out of her work clothes, trying not to think about her problems with her boss. And her mother called her a little while later, just to see how she was. Claire tried to talk to her at least once a week, but sometimes she got too busy, or forgot, or the time difference was wrong.

Her mother told her that she had taken another small decorating job, but Claire’s father didn’t know. She didn’t want to upset him, and it was just freshening up a living room and two bedrooms for a friend. She always belittled what she was doing, and made it sound like a favor, instead of work, which was how she portrayed it to her husband if he saw her with samples or found out. She had been treating her decorating work that way for years, although she did a beautiful job and her clients loved what she did. She usually came in under budget, and had a knack for finding good-looking accessories and furniture at reasonable prices. She and Claire had decorated the loft together nine years before, and added new pieces from time to time, to keep it up to date and interesting-looking. The others loved what Sarah did for them. She had a great eye for color, and had found great resources online. She was always sending Claire new Web sites to check out, or sometimes she just sent her things as a gift.

Claire and her mother had a close relationship, and now that she was older, she appreciated even more the education her mother had provided for her, with her small but steady informal decorating jobs, that she passed below her husband’s radar so he didn’t get upset. Claire thought her mother should have established her own interior design firm years before, openly, regardless of what her father thought, but that wasn’t Sarah’s style. Her entire marriage had been spent soothing his ego, bolstering his self-esteem, and encouraging him after he failed again. Her mother had never given up on him. She even helped him sell real estate by staging houses for him. Claire thought she was a saint.

Sarah loved hearing about New York from Claire. Thirty years after she’d left and moved to San Francisco with her husband, she still missed it, and the more interesting life she had led there. And their life in San Francisco had shrunk steadily over the years. Embarrassed over his many failures, Jim no longer wanted to travel or entertain, and Claire thought they led a sad life. He hated the opera, symphony, and ballet, which her mother loved, never went to the theater, and they had few friends. The only two bright spots in Sarah Kelly’s life were her daughter and her work, which didn’t seem like enough to Claire. She wished she could do more for her mother to repay her for everything she’d done for her growing up. But she seldom went to San Francisco, except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and it always depressed her when she did. She wished that she could kidnap her mother and take her back to New York with her, and free her from the dreary life she led. She deserved so much better, but her mother insisted she was fine. Things hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped, but she was an intrinsically cheerful person and never complained. And she was happy for Claire that she was living in New York, which was where she would have liked to be herself.

“When are you going back to Italy?” her mother asked her as they chatted. She lived vicariously through her, and loved knowing that Claire got to Europe for work.

“Not for a few months. Maybe after Christmas, when our spring line is in production. I’m still working on the designs.” She didn’t tell her mother how bored and unhappy she was at work. She didn’t want her to worry about her. She had enough on her plate, listening to her husband complain. Claire didn’t want to add to it.

They chatted for half an hour and then Claire hung up, happy to have talked to her. And by then, Claire realized that Abby had reached Ivan, and was questioning him intensely, which Claire thought was a mistake. It was more attention than he deserved after disappearing and not returning her calls.