They chatted all through lunch on the flight, and Sarah watched a movie, while Claire caught up on back issues of Women’s Wear Daily. She had fallen behind recently, while working on the collection, and she wanted to see the fall runway shows from Fashion Week in New York, to make sure she was going in the right direction with the designs for her shoes. There was a lot to incorporate in their plans. And the inner construction of their shoes, and the materials they used, would be important as well. After reading the papers she’d brought with her, Claire fell asleep, and woke up when they were landing in Milan.

Malpensa, the Milan airport, was notorious for chaos, long delays, and an inordinate amount of theft, and it took them an hour to get their bags, and finally get a cab to their hotel, which was small, spare, and clean. It was all they needed, and they went for a walk to take a look around. It wasn’t a beautiful city, but it was the center of the fashion world.

They had dinner at a small trattoria, and Claire noticed that the local men were admiring both her and her mother, and assumed they were two friends. Age didn’t matter in Italy, her mother was still a beautiful woman, and men looked at her as often as they did at Claire, and Sarah seemed to be enjoying the attention. Even when they didn’t try to pursue it, Italian men made it clear when they thought you were attractive. It did a lot for both their egos, and Claire made more of an effort the next day when they got dressed. It made a difference when you knew that someone noticed, even if it was a stranger, and you got a casual eye and a glimmer of a smile as they walked past.

The next day they took a car and driver to the town of Parabiago. There were three factories that Claire had honed in on as good options for them, and one was the factory that Walter Adams used. They had appointments at all three. And by ten o’clock that morning, they had gotten down to business. The first factory they went to was the one she had been to several times with Walter, and they remembered her. She knew it was one of the most reliable and respected factories in Italy, they did solid work, and they did the manufacturing for several important brands in the States, and all over Europe. Claire thought it was a good possibility that they might use them, but she wanted to see the others too to compare them. This was one of the most important decisions they would make.

By eleven o’clock they were at a smaller and more artisanal factory, and many of their shoes were handmade. They fabricated beautiful shoes, with amazing intricacy and delicate detail, but she thought they were too fussy for her designs, and probably not durable enough for their customer. Their strength was evening shoes, the tour of their workrooms was fascinating, and their prices commensurately higher, due to the many hours of craftsmanship they invested in the work. They made the shoes for two haute couture houses in Paris, and the founder of the company, centuries earlier, had made shoes for Marie Antoinette, and all the queens of Italy, and they were extremely proud of it. Claire loved the tour but didn’t feel like it was a match for them. They needed something younger and more contemporary and more serviceable for the customer she wanted to target.

The third factory was strikingly modern and had impressive showrooms to showcase their current and past work. They produced shoes for almost every popular high-end brand, and several secondary lines at their price point. The factory was owned by Biagio Machiolini and his two sons, and like the others had been a family business for generations, and they were cousins of the owners of the second factory they’d seen. Everything about this one was modern, new, and exciting, and the owner’s second son, Cesare, was enthusiastic about their new brand and Claire’s designs. She showed him everything she’d done, and explained her vision, and the three of them talked for two hours, and then his father and brother, Roberto, joined them and invited Claire and Sarah for lunch and an even more private tour. They left the factory at four o’clock after arriving at noon. They’d been in Parabiago since ten that morning, and the prices they had quoted her, with a reduction for the first year to help them get off the ground, would be very helpful. Claire had a copy of the contract in her briefcase, written in English, so she and her mother could go over the fine print at their hotel, and e-mail it to their lawyer in New York. Claire was familiar with the contracts, as she had handled them for Walter and knew what to expect. And when she read it over carefully in their hotel room, there were no surprises, it was exactly as they had said. All three factories had excellent reputations, and she knew they would be in good hands with any of them. It was a matter of choice and preference, and a certain amount of chemistry, since they would be working together closely, and the factory would have to be responsive to their needs and demands.

“What do you think, Mom?” Claire asked her as she lay on the bed and put the contract down. They had had a great day, and had both learned a lot about the intricacies of the business. It was impossible not to be impressed by the history and skill at each factory they’d seen.

“I think you should make the decision,” Sarah said honestly. “You know a lot more about this than I do,” she added modestly. She had gained even greater respect for her daughter as she watched her conduct their meetings all day. She knew her stuff, and then some, as well as being a very talented designer.

They went over all three options again, and Claire had wanted to give her a voice in it, since she was their sole investor, but Claire preferred the third factory hands down, and Sarah said she did too.

“And the father is very handsome,” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye.

“So are the sons,” Claire added. Cesare and Roberto were both in their early forties, and they’d all had fun at lunch. And the Machiolinis liked the idea that they were a mother-and-daughter team starting a business, in good European tradition, although their business had been in the family for generations.

The two women had dinner at a nearby restaurant again that night, and went back to the factory the next day to go over final details. They had heard from the lawyer, who gave it his approval. And Claire and Sarah signed the contract together, and they all shook hands. Cesare agreed to deliver all twenty prototypes to them on or before April first. It was only six weeks away, but the Machiolinis had a large, efficient operation and assured them they could meet the deadline with ease, and they could make adjustments to the fit later. Claire realized she was going to need a fit model in a European size 37, which was size six and a half to seven in the States. She could use anyone with normal feet, and would need feedback about comfort, and reliability of size. The arches had to fit just right, the heels had to hold the foot properly, and the toebox had to be just high enough for comfort without looking boxy. But with their reliability in production, she didn’t expect to have any problems there. The burden was on her now to design shoes that women loved, at the right price point, for the right market, and sell them through the right stores. The trade show in Las Vegas was going to be very important for them, and give them the feedback they needed. They might decide never to produce some of the designs if wholesalers thought they were impractical, too limited in market, or the price too high. Claire was going to try and keep their designs simple so their production costs didn’t eat their profit. She had a lot to think about, and she transmitted all her working drawings to the Machiolinis digitally.

They parted friends after a glass of wine, and the two women declined another lunch. They wanted time to shop before they left the next day. They had to get back to New York and get to work on all their future plans. And ironically, Claire got an e-mail from the human resources office at Jimmy Choo that night. They were responding to the résumé she had sent them, and wanted to meet with her. She had sent it to them three months earlier, and now her life had taken a whole new direction. Three months before, she would have jumped at it, but for now it was too late. She thanked them, and said she was already involved with another project. It was funny how life worked.

Claire concentrated on her sketches all the way back to New York. She had also bought a great jacket at Prada, three pairs of shoes at a store she’d never heard of, which were fatally sexy but too extreme for her own line, and a white cotton dress to wear that summer. And Sarah had bought a sweater and beautifully tailored pants and a skirt at Prada. But more important, the trip had been a vast success for their new business. Claire Kelly Designs was off and running, and the Machiolinis were going to turn her dreams into a tangible product. Claire was so excited, she could hardly stand it.

And she noticed that her mother got a text message as soon as they landed at JFK.

“Who was that from?” She wondered if it was from Biagio Machiolini, who had been very taken with her mother and was only slightly older, although he had a wife and six kids, which hadn’t stopped him from flirting with her.

“Your father,” Sarah said shyly. “He misses me. He was asking how things went in Italy. I told him it went well and we had a lot of fun.” He was still shocked that his wife was helping their daughter with her business, and was able to do it. He was beginning to realize that there was a lot about his wife he didn’t know. And her absence had shown him how much he missed her and how important she was to him, and demonstrated to him that he had taken her for granted for a long time.

“Is he okay?” Claire asked cautiously. She had very infrequent contact with her father. They had so little to say to each other.

“I hope so,” Sarah said quietly, and changed the subject, as they walked to baggage claim to get their bags. Sarah had been as tireless as her daughter on the trip, and as anxious to get to work. In a few months, Claire wanted to hire an assistant, possibly before the Las Vegas trade show, but they didn’t need one yet. The two women were more than willing to do all the work, and even some of the heavy lifting, literally, when their samples came in. Both of them were hard workers with a lot of energy. And they chatted animatedly, feeding each other ideas, on the cab ride back to the apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. They had been gone for four days, and it felt like a month, but their business was off to a great start.

—

At the end of February, on the late-night shift, Lieutenant O’Rourke called Sasha at the hospital. The message said it was urgent, and she was instantly afraid that something had happened to Valentina. They hadn’t spoken to each other, or seen each other, in two months by then, for the first time in their life. Even when they traveled, or Sasha had been in medical school, they had never let more than a few days go by without talking. The silence between them had been brutal, and painful for both of them.

She called the lieutenant with a shaking hand and waited with bated breath for what he had to tell her. As always, he was blunt.

“We got him. Apparently Jean-Pierre cheated someone in an arms deal, and shaved off a bigger commission than they’d agreed on, and delivered second-rate goods. Payback time. They had him killed. Thanks to one of our informants, we got the guy who did it, and the French have the man who ordered it. They won’t extradite him to us, but they’ll try him in France. We have the killer here. He’s in custody, and we’re keeping him. I don’t think they were ever after your sister. But we couldn’t know. We had to play it safe, for both of you. We’ll release her in the morning, and you can take off your contact lenses and grow your hair.” He laughed. More important, they were safe now. “I’ll pull my guys off tonight, if you want.” Sasha had gotten used to them. There was a rotation of eight men who had been protecting her. They were nice to everyone in the apartment, helped wherever they could, and were friendly to the nurses at work.

“We’re going to miss them,” Sasha said kindly, and he laughed.

“So will your sister. But that’s a whole other story. She’s a handful,” he commented, and Sasha wondered what she’d been up to. “A handful” was an understatement, as she knew too well. It was her bad behavior and dangerous choices that had gotten them into this mess and put their lives at risk for the past two months. Sasha thanked him and called Alex in neonatal ICU as soon as she hung up.