Balancing Act

Free Spirit





chapter One


Only the rustling of their bodies against the sheets and the soft sounds of their murmurings broke the silence of the night. She nestled against him, burrowing her head into the hollow of his neck, the silly strands of her pale blond hair falling over his shoulder. She breathed the scent of him, mingled with the fragrance of her own perfume. Her fingers teased the light furring of his chest hairs; her leg, thrown intimately over his, felt the lean, sinewy muscles of his thigh.

They were like light and shadow—she silvered, the color of moonlight, and he dark, like the night. He held her, gentle hands soothing her, bringing her back down from erotic heights.

It was the best of all times, this moment after making love, when all barriers were down and satiny skin melted into masculine hardness. This closeness was the true communion of lovers who had brought peace and satisfaction to one another.

Dory Faraday burrowed deeper into the nest of Griff’s embrace. He drew her closer and she smiled. She loved this hunk, as she liked to call him. He was good for her in every way—understanding her and accepting her for the person she was.

“Want to talk about it?” Griff asked softly, as his fingers traced lazy patterns up her arm.

“I suppose we should. It’s just that this is such a perfect moment, and I hate to tamper with perfection.” She felt his smile through the darkness. They had discussed Griff’s leaving New York for months, but now that the time had almost arrived, Dory was finding it hard to accept. Washington, D.C., was only forty-five minutes away by air, but this knowledge did not bring her comfort. Holding tightly to Griff, Dory whispered, “This is our last day. I’m going to miss you until it’s time for me to join you. Up to now, everything has been so perfect. We had our work, our careers . . .” She stopped to dab at her eyes with the hem of the lavender-scented sheet.

“Shhh. Don’t cry, Dory.” His touch was comforting as he wiped away her tears with the tips of his fingers. “It’s only a few weeks. D.C. is only minutes away, and we can talk on the phone in the evening. You said you understood.” His wasn’t an accusing tone, but Dory felt compelled to move and struggled to prop herself on one elbow to face him.

“I do understand, Griff. It’s a golden opportunity for you and you had the idea long before you met me. You deserve this chance. You’ll broaden your horizons and do the work you like best. It’s just that I’m going to miss you. Simple as that. I also have a few qualms about telling Lizzie I want a leave of absence.”

There was an anxious note in Griff’s voice, and he reached to touch the silky strands of Dory’s hair, rubbing them between his fingertips. “You aren’t anticipating any problems, are you?” If he had been in a less romantic position, he would have crossed his fingers. How he loved this long-legged woman with the lithe cougar walk and one hundred sixty-two pairs of shoes. When she offered to take a leave of absence to join him in Washington, he had been more than pleased, but he was also apprehensive. Was it selfish of him to agree that Dory give up her prestigious position at Soiree magazine? He admired her independence and didn’t want to infringe on her career. Life in D.C. would be different for her but, as she explained, it would also present new opportunities. That had made him feel better, but now he wished, for the thousandth time, that she would accept his proposal of marriage instead of opting for a live-in arrangement. At least he would see more of her in D.C. than here in New York, where Dory lived in her small but stylish apartment while he continued occupying his loft. If things worked out with his new partnership in the veterinary clinic and if Dory could find challenging work, perhaps she would change her mind. Marriage was what Griff really wanted.

“No, honey, I’m not anticipating problems with Lizzie. She’s fair and I’ve worked hard. The magazine can hardly refuse me a leave of absence to pursue my doctorate, can they?” She rushed on, as though not wanting to entertain for one instant the possibility that her request might be refused. “I can do all the freelance work I want from Washington. Contrary to popular opinion, Griff, New York is not the only city in the world where a woman can find work. Meaningful work. Even if we live in Alexandria or Arlington, school and work won’t be a problem.” Her tone was only a shade less anxious than Griff’s, and if the room weren’t darkened, he would have seen her vivid green eyes cloud with questions. “You aren’t having second thoughts, are you, Griff?”

“Good God, no!” He ran his fingers through his thick, chestnut hair, the soft waves falling over his wide forehead. “I just want you to be aware of what you’re getting into. I’m going to be up to my neck in work for the first couple of months, and our long, lazy weekends are going to come to a screeching halt. The clinic is going to consume me, love. Rick and John are going to be just as busy, so you’ll have their wives to keep you company. You’re going to be pretty busy, too, going to Georgetown University and keeping house and freelancing. I’ll help as much as I can, but I think we should find housekeeping help right off the bat. Don’t you?”

Dory pondered the question. “Not right away. Let me settle in and then decide what I can and can’t handle. It’s going to work out, Griff. Let me take care of the domestic end of things and you concentrate on the veterinary clinic and your partners.” She leaned down and found his mouth, delighting in the feel of his lips against hers and the slight abrasiveness of his mustache.

“I should be getting back to the loft.” He stretched and squinted at the radium dial of the bedside clock. Three ten. His eye fell to the floor and the persimmon froth of her discarded nightgown. A lazy look veiled his expression as he lay back down and felt himself stiffening beneath the sheets. What the hell, he could just as easily leave an hour later. This was now and there were some things that would always be more important than sleep. Griff Michaels’s Law. He smiled indolently, turning to gather Dory in his arms and nuzzle the softness of her neck.

Dory sensed his immediate mood change and allowed herself to be carried with it. One moment his arms cradled her, soothing her, the next they became her prison, hard, strong, inescapable. She loved him like this, when the wildness flooded his veins and she could feel it beating through him. It brought her a sense of power to know that she could arouse these instincts in him. She yielded to his need for her, welcoming his weight upon her, flexing her thighs to bring him closer.

His hands were in her hair, on her breasts, on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He stirred her, demanded of her, rewarded her with the adoring attention of his lips to those territories his hands had already claimed. And when he possessed her it was with a joyful abandon that evoked a like response in her: hard, fast, then becoming slower and sweeter.

She murmured her pleasure and gave him those caresses he loved. Release was there, within their grasp, but like two moths romancing a flame, they played in the heat and postponed that exquisite instant when they would plunge into the inferno.

Dory rolled over and stretched luxuriously, feeling vibrant and alive. Griff’s vigorous lovemaking always left her ready to conquer worlds and build universes. There was no point in going back to sleep now. She might as well shower and get to the office early after a leisurely breakfast.

A wicked grin stretched across her lips as she watched Griff dress. “You look better in those jockey shorts than any Calvin Klein model. Griff, how about doing a layout for Soiree?”

Griff laughed. “And have every female who reads that racy magazine lusting after me? I have all I can do to handle my bills, let alone tons of fan mail. Besides, how would it look to old Mrs. Bettinger when she sees it? God, she’d never bring her cats to me again.”

“Nerd. She isn’t going to be bringing her cats to you anymore. You’re moving, remember? A head shot? How about a beefcake layout?”

“I can see the headline now: ‘Stud Michaels, his own best endorsement.’ ”

Dory giggled. “It would be something to show your grandchildren.”

Griff frowned. She hadn’t said “our” grandchildren. Immediately he erased the frown. Time. Time would take care of everything.

His kiss was long and lingering. Dory clung to him with a feverishness that surprised him. “Don’t forget we’re going to the theater with my aunt tonight.”

Griff smacked his forehead. “It’s a good thing you reminded me. I forgot all about it.”

“You’re going to love Aunt Pixie.”

“The question is, will she love me?”

“She’s going to adore you just the way I adore you. If there’s one thing Pix is good at, it’s sizing up a man. You’ll pass muster.”

For a moment Griff wore a frazzled look. “Dory, all those outrageous things you told me about her. Were they true or were you putting me on? It’s not that I care, it’s just that I want to be sure to say the right thing to her. I really want her to like me,” he finished lamely.

“Don’t worry. She’s going to love you. And, with Pixie you could never do or say the wrong thing. She is outrageous. I used to think everyone had an aunt like her, but she’s unique. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Anytime I have a problem, she’s there. She’s been more of a mother to me than my own mother. Look, if you’re really worried we could meet in a coffeehouse for a visit before going on to the theater. Would that make you feel better?”

Griff nodded.

“Okay, I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to leave. Now go home and stop worrying. Or are you putting me on and what you’re really worried about is this big change in your life?”

Griff grinned. “Lady, you know me too well. Of course I’m concerned. This is a major step in my life. I want it so bad I can taste it, but I still have butterflies when I think about it.”

“Go home. Think happy thoughts,” Dory said impishly as she pushed him from her. “See you tonight.”

He was gone. For a brief moment it seemed as though the walls were going to close in on her, but she recovered quickly. He was gone but it wasn’t the end. In more ways than one it was a new beginning. She felt confident, sure of herself and her new choices. Options were something she liked. Options were a part of her life.

Her nakedness was something else she was comfortable with as she padded out to the kitchen to prepare the two-cup coffeepot. She would soak in a nice warm tub and work on her checkbook while the coffee perked. Some French toast for sustenance, and she would be ready to face her day.

The warm, steamy wetness worked its magic as she deftly computed the numbers in her checkbook. It looked good. This month she had an even two hundred dollars left that she could invest. She was pleased with the way she had handled her finances. All her bills were paid, money was set aside for the next three weeks for lunches, cab fare, hairdresser, even a new pair of shoes if the mood struck her. She calculated her airline fare into her totals and still she was ahead. Her small portfolio was looking better and better as the months went on. She could exist for an entire year on her savings account alone if she suddenly found herself jobless. Not bad for a career girl who just turned thirty-one.

Dory attacked her breakfast the way she did everything, with energy and gusto, savoring each mouthful. She enjoyed everything about life, more so now that Griff was a part of it. An important job at one of the most prestigious magazines in the country, a wonderful relationship, money in the bank all gave her the confidence she needed to be part of the active life in New York.

She would miss it. But nothing was forever. Now the important thing was being with Griff and taking the proper steps to finish her doctorate.

While the breakfast dishes soaked, Dory poked through her walk-in closet. It was bigger than her tiny living room, and the main reason she had leased the apartment. She finally selected a fawn-colored Albert Nipon original. She loved the feel of the exquisite silk that was one of Nipon’s trademarks. She scanned the specially built shelves holding her shoes. The sexy Bruno Magli strap shoe was the perfect choice.

When she left her apartment an hour later she was the epitome of the successful New York career woman. Her lithe cougar walk, as Griff liked to call her long-legged stride, drew more than one admiring glance. She was not unaware of her image, and she reveled in it as she slid gracefully into a cab, returned the driver’s smile, and gave the address of Soiree.

Dory leaned back and closed her eyes for the ride uptown. Her thoughts were with Griff. Until he came into her life six months ago, she had been so busy carving out a career and seeing to her financial future that she dated rarely, preferring casual relationships that wouldn’t get sticky. But all her good intentions fell by the wayside the moment she met Griffin Michaels. It was at a cocktail party given by Oscar de la Renta, and Griff had been dating one of the designer’s models. He had looked so elegant in his Brooks Brothers suit and shoes that she had smiled. Loose was the only word that came to her mind at the time. He didn’t exactly fit in with that crowd, yet he did. He wasn’t impressed, of that she was certain; in fact, he seemed to be bored by all the surface glamour and sophistication. She had taken the initiative and introduced herself. Things progressed rapidly; within the hour he made his apologies to his date, who was hanging onto a male model, and he and Dory left together to have a drink at a small cocktail lounge.

It was a wonderful old-fashioned courtship. Long walks in Central Park, weekend dates that always ended at her front door at midnight or shortly thereafter. Delicious, searing kisses that left her breathless and wanting more were a way of life for six weeks until he finally seduced her. Or had she seduced him? It didn’t matter now. Now they were truly together.

They found they had much in common. They both knew the words to all the Golden Oldies and often danced in her small living room to the beautiful songs. They loved the same writers and laughingly compared books. He loved walking in the rain as much as she did and regarded snow as the most wondrous thing in the world.

He never crowded her, never asked for more than she was prepared to give. He was patient and understanding, and Dory loved him all the more for it.

Wonderful, short, intimate phone calls from Griff in the middle of the day were something she treasured. Her penchant for sending Snoopy cards delighted Griff. He was pleased that Dory would take time out of her busy schedule to shop for just the right card and mail it at just the right moment. Both had laughed in embarrassment when they admitted that not only had they been thumb suckers but blanket holders as well when they were toddlers. Snoopy and his pals were a joy to read about in the Sunday comics over a long, lazy breakfast in bed.

The mutual concern they shared was Dory’s most prized possession, if emotion could be considered a possession. She adored the tall, loose individual she called Griff. She was never sure how that adoration had turned into love, but one day she woke and looked at the man sleeping beside her and realized she loved him with all her heart. “For all my life,” she had whispered softly, so as not to wake him.

Griff proposed after three months. She refused. She wasn’t ready to commit herself to something as awesome as marriage. It would have to wait for a while. Griff said he understood, and smiled when she said she didn’t want to move in with him or vice versa, not yet. She needed her own space, and so did he, didn’t he? Again, he said he understood.

Her friends told her she was a fool. Here he was, handsome as sin itself, a successful veterinarian with his own practice, money, no strings attaching him to someone else, great potential. But what did they know, with their on-again, off-again romances that left them teary-eyed and neurotic? Thanks, but no thanks. Time was on her side, or so she thought. Griff had been honest with her from the beginning, telling her that he would be giving up his New York practice to open a clinic in the Washington, D.C.–Virginia area with two partners. As soon as the clinic was ready, and he estimated the work would be finished within four months, he would be leaving. His practice was sold and he was staying on only until the new vet got the hang of things. He had been up front all the way.

“Here you are, miss,” the driver said, leaning over the seat. Dory gave him a second dazzling smile that made him grin. “You have a nice day now, you hear,” he said in a fatherly tone. Damn, he wished he was thirty years younger. He also wished he had more fares like her. Made your day when a pretty woman smiled. And this one didn’t just smile, she beamed. A meaty lady in slacks two sizes too small huffed and puffed her way into his cab. He shrugged. You win some and you lose some. “Where to, lady?”





Soft early-morning sunshine washed across Dory’s desk. The stark white paper stood out against the buff-colored blotter. Her request asking for a leave of absence. She still had an hour before her meeting with Lizzie Adams, the managing editor of Soiree. Was she gambling with her future? Was she doing the right thing? Or was following Griff to Washington the wrong thing? That was a negative question and negative thoughts had no place in her life. She hadn’t gotten where she was by entertaining negative thoughts. The word “no” was one word she simply refused to recognize. She was a positive person all the way.

Dory stood up and met her reflection in the smoky-mirrored wall. She was attractive by some standards, beautiful by others. Chic, elegant, fashionable were compliments paid to her by the staff. But it was those people closest to Dory who realized that her beauty came from within. Serenity, confidence, success were the traits that made Dory Faraday beautiful.

She straightened the soft silk at the neckline of the Nipon dress. Any designer would have gladly dressed Dory just for the pleasure of seeing his creations shown off to perfection. Bruno Magli would have been pleased to see his soft kid shoes worn on such pretty feet. There was no need for jewelry at the long, slender throat, nor elaborate makeup and a styled hairdo. Dory was naturally lovely. In the world of slick sophistication and cosmetic beauty, Dory Faraday was one of a kind.

The hazy gray mirror lost the reflection as Dory turned to scan her surroundings. She was going to miss this peaceful, charming office where she spent so much of her time. Decorated in earth tones with splashes of vibrant color, it lent itself to the serenity that was Dory’s trademark at Soiree. Emerald ferns graced the corners of the office, wicker baskets and tubs held flowing greenery. Everything in the room, including Dory, blended like a chord in a symphony.

In the space of fifteen minutes Dory took three phone calls, penciled corrections on a lipstick layout, and nixed a model’s see-through blouse. She sat back, her hands folded on the desk while the model ranted and raved about the desirability of the tasteless blouse. “The blouse goes,” Dory said crisply, “and so do you if you don’t wear the one your ad man sent along with your folio. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay, okay,” the model snapped as she grabbed the offending article from Dory’s desk. “You aren’t the last word, Miss Faraday,” she shot over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.

“I am if you ever want to do another ad for this magazine.” There was no mistaking the ring of steel in Dory’s voice. The model hesitated a second and then raced from the office. Dory sighed.

“I heard all that,” Katy Simmons laughed as she sailed into Dory’s office. Katy was Dory’s right hand—keeper of the files, confidante, mother hen, provider of low-calorie brownies. She had been with Soiree from Day One and was fond of saying that Dory was the only person she could get along with because Dory knew what she was doing and didn’t let people walk all over her. “How’s it going today? Never mind, you look like someone gave you the moon and the stars for a present. I hate people like you,” she grumbled good-naturedly. “Just tell me how the hell you manage to look so gorgeous at eight thirty in the morning with no makeup. It takes me hours and hours and then I always look like I slept in a park and got dragged by a stray dog.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Katy. And I’m not so dumb that I don’t know you’re fishing for a compliment. Yes, you have gorgeous eyes and, yes, you have a wealth of hair that I would kill for. Now, does that make you feel better?”

“Sort of.” Katy sniffed. “Want your schedule?”

“Why not. I just pretend to work around here.”

“First, you have a meeting with Lizzie. I allowed forty-five minutes for that. She wanted an hour but I said no way. You’re having lunch with two digital-advertising execs and are they something. Hunks, both of them. Look sharp. You have a two-hour meeting after lunch so don’t be late. A layout presentation after the meeting. Somebody from Dior is having a bash, and it would be a good idea if you made an appearance. It was Lizzie’s idea—she can’t go. She’s all booked up with out-of-town clients who are demanding more space but don’t want to pay for it. Some new models are downstairs, modeling jeans. They want you to take a look-see and give them your opinion. I told them you wouldn’t be caught dead in jeans but they wouldn’t listen. I picked up the two new profiles for the spring issue and they need your pencil and approval. Whenever is okay. Today, if you can. And, if you have any extra time this evening, I have tickets for the theater that some turkey sent here for you. He said he’d meet you in the lobby at curtain time. I guess that’s about it. Now, what do you want me to do today? I have this headache and one of my corns is killing me, so take that into consideration when you unload on me.”

“Cancel the turkey with the tickets. I’m already going to the theater tonight. Go back to the lounge and take a catnap. I can handle things here. Send Susy in and she can send some e-mail I didn’t get done yesterday. That’s an order, Katy.”

“Yes, Ms. Faraday,” Katy drawled as she left the office.

The door opened and a breathless young girl breezed through as though blown on the wind. “Gee, Miss Faraday, do I really get to help you today? Katy said she was too busy. I love that dress and those shoes are out of this world. You’re just gorgeous, you really are. Everyone says so. They all talk about you out in the front office.”

Dory smiled when the girl finished. “Do you know you said that all in one breath? Amazing. Thanks for the compliments, and you can thank the girls in the office for me too. This is what I want you to do.” Quickly she outlined the work, ending with instructions to water the plants and make coffee. “I have a meeting with Lizzie and I know she could use some about now. Refer all my calls to her office. Why don’t you work here at my desk while I’m gone.”

There was reverence in Susy’s eyes. Wait till the girls outside heard she was not only working at Dory Faraday’s desk but also watering her plants and making coffee. She’d be the talk of the office for a week. Someday she was going to be just like Dory Faraday. She could feel it in her bones.

The plaque on the door read LIZZIE ADAMS, MANAGING EDITOR. Dory rapped softly and opened the door. She held the stiff paper in her right hand at her side.

“Dory, come in. Coffee?” She looked around vaguely as though expecting it to materialize out of nowhere.

“I told one of the girls to bring some up. It should be ready soon. I’ve got a full schedule today, Lizzie, so I’ll get right to the point. I would appreciate it if you would give me a leave of absence.” She laid her written request on the dark green blotter and waited for Lizzie to say something.

Lizzie was a chunk of a woman. From the neck down she was all one size. Pudgy, she called herself. But people never seemed to notice her size; they kept looking at her face. She had eyes the color of warm chocolate and the thickest eyelashes Dory had ever seen. A flawless complexion and perfect white teeth. Hair that was clipped short and blown back from her face. She looked sixteen while, in fact, she was thirty-six.

“Why?” It was a question, a demand, a don’t-give-me-any-crap answer.

Dory swallowed hard. “I want to work on my doctorate.”

“Just like that. No warning, no nothing. You just walk in here and ask for time off. I asked you why? How much time?”

Dory stared at Lizzie, not understanding her attitude. They had always gotten along. Why was she being so dogmatic about this? Dory’s stomach churned. Lizzie would understand about the doctorate but she would never understand Dory wanting to follow Griff to Washington. No one at Soiree would understand something like that. The doctorate really was her main reason for the leave of absence. The timing was perfect; she could live with Griff.

“I told you, Lizzie, to pursue my education until I complete it. That’s the best answer I can give you. If you can’t hold my job, I’ll understand.”

Lizzie leaned across the desk. “Does this have anything to do with Griff? Level with me, Dory.”

“I’m going to move in with him. I’ll be studying at Georgetown, so it will work out all around.”

“You think so, do you? If you thought that, why aren’t you getting married?”

“I’m not ready for that kind of commitment yet, Lizzie, This is what’s best for me right now. For me, Lizzie. No one else.”

“What if I told you I was leaving here in six months and planned on having you step into my job? What would you say to that?”

“I’d be stunned,” Dory said truthfully, her green eyes widening in surprise.

“Then look stunned. You know, open mouth, insert foot, raise your eyebrows and all that.”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn right I’m serious. Who did you think I would pick?”

“I never thought about it. I didn’t know you were leaving.”

“Jack and I finally got the adoption agency’s approval. They said they would have a baby for us in six months. I can’t work and raise a baby too, so that puts my job up for grabs. You’re the logical person to take over. Now you floor me with this. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Six months, that’s all I can give you. I’d like five with a firm commitment but I’ll settle for the six.”

“Lizzie, this will be my last chance to go for my doctorate. If your offer holds and I take the job, I could bring new focus to the position. You know I never do anything halfway. Do you want an answer now?”

“I think you’re capable of giving me an answer now. That’s why I hired you in the first place. I’ve never regretted that choice, Dory, not once. You’ve proved yourself time and again. You’re like me. You can make a decision and live with it. I have to know and I have to know now so I can start scouting for a replacement. Six months. You can finish that degree at Columbia, can’t you? And, just so you don’t get too wrapped up in this live-in relationship, I think you should consider doing some freelance work in the meantime. Take a look at this. It came down from on high today.”

Dory scanned the printed words and then laughed. “You’re one shrewd fox, Lizzie. That’s called covering your tail, in this business.”

“Look, Dory, I think I’ve known all along that you were planning this move. You’re right. This might have come down from on high, but it was my idea. Who better than you to do a few profiles on eligible, handsome senators and congressmen? Pay’s good too. Top dollar. A person could live a full year on what you’d make, say on just four of them. Quality, of course. Standout casual pics, that sort of thing. Say you’ll take it so I can let my ulcer rest.”

“Okay, but it means I’ll have to work like hell.”

“Dory, when do you plan to leave?”

“I’d like two weeks, but if you need three, I can handle that. That should be more than enough time to break in Rachel Binder and Katy will be there to take up any slack. You do agree with Rachel as the logical choice, don’t you?”

“No question about it. Two weeks it is. Will that give you time to sublet and handle all the mundane details of moving?”

“I can manage. Weekends I’ll be going to D.C. to help Griff and find some place to live. Lizzie, I’m grateful, I truly am. I was hoping you’d be fair, but generous and fair is something I didn’t count on.”

“Listen, I’m being selfish too. I might want to come back here someday and I don’t want to burn any bridges. You’re good, Dory, and there will be no qualms around here. I’ll feel right turning it over to you if that’s your choice. I want you to promise me something. I want you to call me in three months and tell me how it looks from where you’re standing. You owe me that.”

“That’s fine with me. I’m afraid I’ve been lax in not congratulating you on the adoption. I know how long you’ve waited for this. Jack must be delighted.”

Lizzie laughed as she toyed with a pencil. “He’s got the room painted and decorated. He bought a rocking chair and is sanding it down. Supposedly, it’s some kind of antique and hundreds of years old. Can you just see me in a house with antiques?”

Dory laughed as she looked around the starkly modern office. Chrome and glass were everywhere. “Give it time, you might learn to like it. I’m going to miss this place. You’ve all been good to me. It’s hard to say good-bye.”

“It is just temporary, isn’t it, Dory?” Lizzie asked in a pinched tone.

“I don’t know. I’ll call you in three months and that’s a promise.”

“Here’s our coffee. Put it here on the desk, Susy.”

Lizzie poured, then blew softly into her cup, watching Dory over the rim, her eyes full of unasked questions. “Damn it, I want to know more, Dory. Call it curiosity, concern or just plain nosiness. Somehow I didn’t think you were the type for a live-in relationship. I’m not saying it’s wrong. For me, sitting where I am, it just doesn’t compute. And going back to school. That’s a mind-bender, right there. Do you have any idea of what size chunk you’re biting off? You’re leaving the city and your job, you’re going into a live-in relationship, and you’re going back to graduate school. It’s a goddamn mind-bender is what it is. I always knew you had guts and if anyone can do it, you can. I just hope that you’ve looked at all sides of it. I don’t want you to have regrets later. Consider me a sister now and not your managing editor.”

Dory leaned over the desk, her face earnest and sincere. “I have thought about it. I have to admit I had some doubts. I still have a few but I have to take a shot at it. I love Griff. That’s my bottom line. As for marriage, maybe I love him too much to marry him right now. I never do things halfway, you know that. And you know how important my doctorate is to me. I can’t keep putting it off forever. I’ll give it my best shot and go on from there.”

Lizzie sipped at the hot coffee. “This stuff is mud. My ulcer is going to complain. I like you, Dory, I always have. Everyone here on the staff thinks highly of you. None of us would stand in your way. Hell, what I’m trying to say is if for some reason things don’t work out, don’t wait six months. Saving face is not an American trait.”

Dory smiled. “I’ll remember that. It’s nice to know the door is open. But I can’t make any promises.”

“You’re really sure you need that doctorate? How long will it take?”

Dory flinched. She really didn’t want to talk about going back to school. Not now anyway. “I only have another year to go. When I copped out that last year and came to work here it was the right thing to do at the time. I’d had enough of school and working part-time. I cheated myself, I know that now. I’ve always been sorry I never finished. I’ll handle it.”

Lizzie looked at her sharply but dropped the subject. “I wish you the best, Dory. I hope things work out the way you want them to. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks, Lizzie, and my best to you too.”

Lizzie stared for a long time at the chair where Dory had been sitting. Blunt fingers with squared-off nails tapped at the smooth surface of her desk. The conversation ricocheted around her brain. The blunt fingers tapped faster. Suddenly the fingers stilled and a wide grin split her features. Her money was on Faraday.

Back in her own office Dory closed the door behind her. For some reason she felt cold and clammy. An interview, a conversation really, with Lizzie shouldn’t be having this effect on her. Lizzie was on her side. What more could she want or expect? She slid into her chair and leaned her head back. Why was she feeling so light-headed? Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head to her knees. Another deep breath. Her mouth was dry, as if she’d eaten too much peanut butter. She didn’t like what was happening to her. Was this some kind of warning? Surely it couldn’t be an anxiety attack. Only people like her mother had anxiety attacks. Why would she have one? Things were going smoothly. Everything was falling into place. She almost had the world by the tail. Her breathing was almost regular now. Paper bags. People used paper bags when they hyperventilated. Was that what was happening to her? Was that the same thing as an anxiety attack? What did you do if you didn’t have a paper bag? Exactly what she was doing. Nothing. A picture of herself carrying a brown grocery bag in her purse made her smile. “Just take the bag out of my purse and put it over my head.” God, what if she had to say that to some stranger? Never! Get it together, Faraday, she told herself firmly. Pick up your head and wipe off your hands. Handle it. Take control. Don’t lose control.

It was a good ten minutes before she felt normal. Now she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Managing Editor. Jobs like that only came around once in a lifetime. It certainly was something to think about. It was also something to keep to herself for the time being. She wouldn’t share it with Griff now, especially when he was just getting started in his new job. What a long way he had come from the days when he worked for the ASPCA. She wouldn’t do or say anything that could put a blight or a shadow on his confidence or happiness. For now, Griff had to come first. Would her successful career be as appealing if Griff were not in her life? Would a life with Griff but without a career for herself be appealing? She didn’t know, wasn’t sure. For now, she could have the best of both. She was a reasonably intelligent woman and she should be able to handle both the man in her life and her career. It was something she really wanted, to return to school and finish her degree. But was that really true? Or was she using school as an excuse to go with Griff? The thought bothered her. It was the perfect time and the perfect opportunity. But was she really ready to go back to the academic life? Really ready? She shrugged. It felt right and that would have to be good enough. If it proved to be the wrong decision, she would handle it. Griff seemed to sense how important her doctorate was to her. Could that have something to do with her decision to go back to school? She didn’t want to disappoint him. He found it admirable for a woman to pursue education, and she believed it brought their relationship to a more equal level. He already had his degree in veterinary medicine; she would soon hold a doctorate in the humanities. No, she couldn’t disappoint Griff. It had to be Griff and Dory. Equals.

By the end of the day news of Dory’s plans had spread through the entire fifteenth floor. She knew this had been engineered by Lizzie who, by showing her approval, sanctioned all the good wishes and congratulations of Dory’s colleagues. David Harlow, the editor of Soiree, stopped by to congratulate Dory and offered her drinks and dinner at Le Bernardin the following day. In essence, this was an open declaration that Soiree would always welcome Dory back with open arms.

Dory was overwhelmed by Harlow’s offer. In her eight years at Soiree she had rarely been in the man’s presence. Several wild and exhilarating Christmas parties and one summer picnic hardly counted. David Harlow was a commanding, dynamic man who generated office gossip concerning his private life. Two wives and twice as many mistresses were attributed to this rather short, nattily dressed man with the bruised circles under his eyes. Because of the authority and timbre in his voice a person forgot about the road map of veins in his cheeks and nose and the beginning of ponderous jowls.

“I’d like that, Mr. Harlow,” said Dory as she accepted his invitation. Although she wasn’t eager to spend an evening with this man, she realized it would be inopportune to refuse. Especially for Lizzie’s sake. Dory’s replacing Lizzie as managing editor would require Harlow’s blessing and now was as good a time as any to pave the way.

He didn’t smile or brighten at her acceptance, nor did he ask her to call him David. One didn’t call Mr. Harlow David. Ever.

Jewel-bright eyes flicked over Dory’s attire; he seemed to register satisfaction. “Fine,” he told her, his voice conspiratorially muted, “I’ll stop by around seven tomorrow and we can catch a cab from here.”

Dory sat quietly for a few moments considering the brief exchange of words. For some reason she felt vaguely disgruntled. Katy always said it would take an act of Congress to make the big guy step down to the fifteenth floor to chat with the underlings. Was her leaving and the offer of Lizzie’s job equivalent to an act of Congress?

The late afternoon sun slanted into the spacious office, turning the plants into shimmering green jewels. Dory looked for dust motes but could see nothing but the band of light that seemed to laser through the wide window. She suddenly felt claustrophobic—as though she were trapped in a paperweight, the kind she had when she was a child that snowed tiny flakes when you turned it upside down. An overwhelming urge to talk to Griff washed over her. She drew in her breath, not understanding the feeling.

Katy bustled into the room, jarring Dory from her deep thoughts. She closed the door behind her and flopped down on the chair next to Dory’s desk. With the door closed they could indulge in familiarity. “I’m impressed. So is everyone on the damn floor. God, do you have any idea of the stir you just created? By the weekend, according to rumor, you’ll either be having a raging affair that’s been going on for years or going off on a ‘business trip’ with Big Daddy Harlow. Le Bernardin, no less. Mr Harlow’s secretary told Lizzie’s secretary who told Irma who told me. What do you have to say about that?” Katy grinned.

“With a network like this who needs AT&T? I was as surprised as you are. I’ve only spoken to him once or twice and both times it was at a Christmas party. He’s being nice. Don’t give me problems, and for God’s sake shut the girls up, will you? You know how I hate gossip.”

“I’ll do my best but it’s going to be a lost effort. Wouldn’t you rather assign me to something else?” Not waiting for a reply, Katy rushed on. “I was going to invite you over to the house for dinner, but I can’t come close to Le Bernardin in decor or food. So enjoy. We’ll get together before you leave. How did it all go today?” Her question was serious and Dory, long used to Katy’s moods and questions, fell into the called-upon role.

“Good. Lizzie really surprised me. It’s going to take some getting used to, I can tell you that. It’s a chance of a lifetime, but so is going for my doctorate. I won’t deny that I have a lot of thinking to do. Did you know about the adoption and the offer?”

“I had an inkling. Lizzie’s secretary spread the word that an adoption agency has been calling Lizzie for several months now. That was something no one wanted to discuss because if it didn’t come through for Lizzie we would all have been devastated. You know how badly she wants a baby. And who but you is capable of stepping into her job?”

“They could have brought someone in from outside. I was stunned. I had no idea whatsoever. This has been a day to end all days.”

“The day isn’t over. You still have dinner and the theater, and then there’s tomorrow—dinner with the big boss. You will tell me what it was like, won’t you? I won’t sleep a wink tomorrow night, worrying about you.”

“For heaven’s sake, Katy, why would you worry about me having dinner with Mr. Harlow?”

Katy pursed her full lips till they resembled a rosebud. “Because Mr. Harlow was just divorced and divorced men get lonely and for God’s sake, Dory, do I have to tell you that men, important men like David Harlow, sometimes bring pressure to bear on lowly employees to get . . .”

“My sexual favors?” Dory laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing like that. This is strictly business, I can feel it in my bones.”

“That’s what Cassie Roland thought,” Katy mumbled.

“Okay, who’s Cassie Roland?”

“Cassie Roland is the girl in the publicity department.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They say Harlow lured her back to the stacks after closing time and had her bloomers off in the wink of an eye.”

“Katy, I’m surprised at you for repeating such gossip. Did they get caught?” She giggled.

“Why do you think he was just divorced? Where in hell have you been for the past eight years? Everyone knows you can’t get a job in publicity unless you sleep with Harlow.”

“I never pay attention to rumors like that,” Dory said. “Where’s Cassie Roland now? Did she get a promotion?”

Katy doubled over. “She sure did. She lives in the Dakota and is driving a Mercedes S550. She says she’s doing freelance work.”

Dory’s stomach churned. “I’ll handle it.”

“Will you be going to D.C. this weekend?”

“I’m going to leave early Friday. Griff’s partners’ wives have been lining up apartments for us to look at. Griff will be staying with John for the time being. He hasn’t even left yet, but I already miss him. Just knowing he won’t be here in the city after tonight gets to me.”

“And yet you say you aren’t ready for marriage. I don’t understand you, Dory. You’re obviously crazy about the guy, yet you won’t marry him. A live-in relationship could get sticky. You know, everyone isn’t as liberal as we are. How much do you know about his partners’ wives and the other women you’re going to be associating with? Not much, right? I’d hate to see you get hurt, Dory, or dumped on, for that matter. I suppose you’re sophisticated enough to handle it all, but is Griff? He seems like such a sweet guy, and he’s going to be hanging out with some pretty influential people if he goes into equine medicine. You’re talking about political clout, old money. Look, I’m talking to you like a mother, now. You can’t just think about yourself—you have to think about Griff. Don’t get so involved you can’t walk away. I want to make sure that whatever you do you do for the right reasons.”

“It will be for the right reasons, believe me. I’ve been honest with Griff and he’s been honest with me. He says he understands and will wait for me to make my mind up. I didn’t jump into this. I’ve given it a lot of serious thought. For me now, at this point in time, this is my best move. I’ll deal with later when later comes. All I know is I love him and I love my career. I have to find a way to combine the two of them, and going back for my doctorate is the first step. It’s the best I can do for now. Everything is up front. Neither of us would have it any other way.”

“Okay, I can buy that,” Katy said, sinking deeper into the leather chair. One shoe slipped off and she sighed with relief. “If I could just take off about twenty-five pounds, I know my feet wouldn’t hurt so much.” She grimaced. “How you manage to walk around in those three-inch heels is beyond me. What’s the shoe count this month? I picked one hundred sixty-six in the pool. Just tell me if I’m close.”

Dory laughed. At first she had been less than amused when she found out the girls in the outer office were running a pool on her shoes. Then she had been flattered when they continued the practice. “No way. Pay your money and take your chances like everyone else.”

“Much as I’d like to chitchat some more, I have to clean up my desk, run down to copy-editing, and then it’s home for me and the love of my life. I’m referring now to my cat, Goliath, not my husband. We’re not speaking. It was his turn to do the laundry last night and he copped out. He said his back hurt. He’s starting to give me that ‘women’s work’ routine. It isn’t sitting too well with me.”

“That’s because you make more money than he does. I told you, every dollar you earn above his is a dollar’s worth of power. Guess you’re going to have to turn down your next raise. You’re due next month, aren’t you?” Dory’s voice was light, teasing, but there was something in her eyes that made Katy think twice before she answered.

“I would never turn it down. I would, however, do some serious reevaluation of my marriage.”

Dory said nothing, but her eyes were sympathetic as she watched Katy bend over and struggle to slip her swollen foot into her espadrille. She winced and Dory looked away. “I’ll see you in the morning and thanks again for the invitation.”

“Any time,” Katy said, limping from the office.

The end of another day. For some reason Dory felt saddened at the thought. There weren’t too many days left. She couldn’t start thinking wishy-washy thoughts now. The die was cast; she was leaving. Maybe she would return and maybe she wouldn’t. For now she had an evening with her aunt and Griff to look forward to. His last night in town and he was generously offering to share it with her and her aunt. It pleased her that he was going to the theater after a busy day and all the last-minute details that had to be taken care of before he could leave in the morning. That was so like Griff. He really put out for her in more ways than one. And, in her own way, she did the same thing. It was give and take. Griff wouldn’t exactly “suffer” through the play but she knew he would rather be doing something else. Thoughtful, kind, wonderful Griff.

Dory straightened her desk as she made her brief call to Griff to arrange their meeting in the coffee shop. He was agreeable as always. “Love you,” Dory said softly.

“Yeaaaaaah,” Griff drawled.





Dory knew when Pixie walked into the coffee shop, even though she couldn’t see her. Pixie’s entrance had created a hush. Dory smiled. There was no doubt about it. Pixie was an attention getter. She stood up and waved. “Over here, Pixie.”

“My God, you look stunning, Dory. You do take after our side of the family. I’m not late, am I?” she asked, looking around. “Where’s Grit? He is coming, isn’t he?”

“Of course. He’ll be here any minute now. Good Lord, wherever did you get that outfit? Is that a new wig? Those aren’t real diamonds, are they? Is that cape really lined with ermine?”

“One thing at a time. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Yes, the wig is new. I always wanted a black wig. I had to take this one because all the others made me look like Cher. I’m as skinny as she is but there the resemblance ends. I had to glue it. There’s a high wind out there. Of course these diamonds are real. Your mother would give her eye teeth for them. I needed a cape and this was the only one I could find. What difference does the temperature make? The theater will be air-conditioned. You can wear ermine any time, any place. What are we having to drink?”

“Coffee. Here comes yours.”

Pixie looked around to see if alcoholic beverages were served. Seeing nothing but a coffee urn, she rummaged in her bag and came up with a silver flask. She faked a sputtery kind of cough and poured liberally for the waitress’s benefit. “Medicinal purposes.”

“If that’s your story, it’s okay with me,” the waitress said wearily.

“Smart-ass.” Pixie grimaced.

Dory stifled a laugh. “Here’s Griff.”

“You didn’t tell me he was this good-looking,” said Pixie. She held out her hand to Griff. “Be continental and pretend you’re kissing my hand. I do so love attention. Look at these poor starved souls in here. This will be something for them to talk about for days.”

Griff swallowed hard as Dory made the introductions.

“It’s all right, young man. I usually have this effect on people. Isn’t that right, Dory?”

“Absolutely,” Dory said.

“I always wanted to be a household word. You know, famous, that kind of thing,” Pixie said, yanking at the black wig.

“In Mother’s house you’re a household word,” Dory said as they sat down. “She called me today and told me you went for your annual checkup. How did it go?”

“The doctor was dumbfounded. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Your mother seems to think I’m senile. I sent her an e-mail saying I would live. That should ruin her day tomorrow when she gets it. The doctor was amazed when he took my history and found out I had had so much repair work done. He said it was astonishing that a woman would go under the knife so often and for so little results. He also told me I should get a cat or some other dumb animal for my twilight years. I let him know what I thought of that in quick order. Grit, would you like a belt of this?” Pixie held out her flask. Griff shrugged and took a swig.

“Jesus, what is that?” he croaked.

“Some people call it white lightning. Others call it shine. I have a whole barrel in my kitchen. It was a legacy from one of my husbands. Right now, I can’t remember which one. But it will come to me.”

“Those gloves are certainly elegant,” Dory said, peering closely at her aunt’s hands.

“I only wore them because my hands are smeared with Porcelana. I do hate those damn liver spots. No one really believes they’re giant freckles except your mother,” Pixie said fretfully. “Shouldn’t we be leaving? It’s not nice to walk in after the play starts.”

“I guess so. Why so quiet, Griff?” Dory asked.

“No reason. Here, let me help you . . . Pixie.” He looked wildly at Dory and mouthed the words. “What should I call her?”

“Of course you should call me Pixie. Everyone else does,” Pixie said, craning her neck and knocking the wig off center. “Is it on straight, Grit?”

“Looks all right to me. Dory?”

“Perfect.”

With a swish of the ermine-lined cape Pixie sailed down the aisle.

Dory almost choked on her own laughter when Griff pinched her arm. “She’s wearing Puma funning sneakers.”

“Guess her bunions are bothering her again. Don’t worry, no one will notice unless she trips on that damn cape. Don’t you just love her?”

Griff grinned from ear to ear as he linked arms with both women. “I’ll be the envy of every man at the theater. Not one but two beautiful women. What more could a guy ask for?”

“Not much,” Pixie snapped. “I like him, Dory. He knows beauty when he sees it.”





“There’s one thing I hate about the theater,” Pixie whispered during the third act. “They don’t sell anything for you to eat during the play. I like to nibble and sip.”

Dory nudged Griff, who was dozing in his seat. She smiled. “He only came along because he knows I like the theater. He’d rather be home watching a ball game. Isn’t he wonderful, Pixie?”

“Do you go to ball games with him?” Pixie whispered.

“No, we go to wrestling matches. I hate them but I go and scream like everyone else. After I’m there I don’t really mind. Griff loves wrestling.”

“One of my favorite husbands loved wrestling but I can’t remember which one. This play is boring. No wonder he went to sleep. Did I tell you about my pen pal?”

“No. Male or female? Ooops, sorry. What’s he like?”

“Smashing. I think. We’re really getting to know one another. One of these days I plan to meet him. He writes delightful letters.”

“What kind do you write?”

“What do you think? I lie my head off. No woman ever tells a man the truth unless she’s a fool. Women my age, that is. You better wake your prince before the play is over. He might be embarrassed when the lights go on. He’s a nice young man, Dory. I like him.”

Dory let out a long sigh of relief. She had been waiting all evening for Pixie’s opinion. Her two favorite people in the whole world and they liked one another. “I’m glad.” Pixie knew how important her opinion was to Dory.

“I wasn’t sleeping, merely resting my eyes,” Griff said sheepishly. Pixie smirked. Plays were boring. She’d take the wrestling matches any day over Broadway.

“We’ll put you in a cab, Pixie,” Dory said. “I’d go along home with you but I have a big day tomorrow. And Griff has an even bigger one.”

“You mean you and I aren’t going for a nightcap? I thought we would go to Gallagher’s and pick up some hunks and play around a little. Actually, I thought I would pick up a hunk and you could watch. Now that I met Grit I don’t think you should play around. It doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

“Pixie, it’s Griff, not Grit. Can I have a rain check? I know I’m missing out on hours of fun and I do love to watch you in action but I really do have a big day.”

“You know me. Once I get a name in my mind it stays. To me he’s always going to be Grit. Good name. Sturdy. Guts and all that. Of course you can have a rain check. Hang on to that guy, he’s good stuff.”

“I know,” Dory laughed as Griff flagged down a cab and gave the driver the Dakota’s address.

“Driver, ignore that address and take me to Gallagher’s,” said Pixie. “You know where it is, don’t you.”

“You bet.” The driver grinned and winked at Pixie.

“Well don’t just sit here, burn rubber, man,” Pixie said, leaning back against the seat.

“You got it.” The driver smiled to himself. He got them all. This night shift was something else.

It was really hard to say good night like this, but Dory and Griff had agreed to call it a night. They hailed separate cabs and Dory sank back against the cushions. She was too tired to care. What a day this had been!





Griff listened with one ear to the chattering cabbie on the ride across town. His thoughts were with Dory, her lovable eccentric aunt, and the move he was making in the morning. At this time tomorrow he would be in a new environment and loving every minute of it. His dream was finally coming true. And in a couple of weeks his dream would have a big gold ring around it when Dory joined him. It still bothered him that marriage wasn’t in the picture, but he was coming to terms with the whole idea.

“What’ya say, buddy, am I right or wrong?”

“Hmmmmmnnn?” Griff said absentmindedly.

“That’s what I say. If some crazy football team wants to give you five million smackers, take the money and run I say. Hell, the kid can always go back to school later on. Best goddamn running back I’ve ever seen. Heisman winner to boot.”

“Hmmmmnnn.” The old lady was a pure delight. For some crazy reason she was everything he thought she would be. No wonder Dory was such a wonderful person. Imagine growing up with someone like Pixie. She had liked him, and approved, he could tell. And that flirty wink she gave him. He smiled to himself. She was okay in his book. But he cringed a little when he thought of his mother meeting Pixie.

The play wasn’t bad, what he could remember of it. It wasn’t that he minded going to the theater or to a musical with Dory, but if he had a choice he would pick wrestling. Dory was a good sport about going with him, even though he knew she didn’t particularly care for sports.

“I think Georgia can get along without him. Don’t you think Walker is doing the right thing?”

“Hmmmmnnn.” Now that his big move was almost upon him he was more certain than ever that it was the right thing. The clinic had always felt right; it was the move with Dory that gave him jittery moments. He knew now it was right because it felt right, he told himself. And when he felt right it was all systems go.

“Driver, let me out here, I’m going to walk the rest of the way. Hell no, I’m going to run the rest of the way,” Griff said, thrusting a ten-dollar bill at the driver. “Keep the change and you’re absolutely right about Walker, he is the best goddamn running back I’ve ever watched.”

“You got it, buddy.” The driver grinned as he pocketed Griff’s money. “See you around. Jersey is only across the river.”

Running? Griff looked down at his evening clothes and his shiny shoes. Without a moment’s hesitation he bent down and took off his shoes and socks. What the hell, it was only four blocks. No one in New York would give him a second thought as he raced by in his bare feet. Damn, he felt good. Tomorrow he was going to feel even better.