Chapter 1

~ Sitting, Waiting, Wishing ~

Daniel Meade Jr. shuffled into Betty's office, his beautiful eyes downcast beneath luxuriant lashes. Betty's heart sank. She didn't know why Danny, as he was now called, turned to her whenever he found himself in a jam he was ashamed to reveal to his father. If anything, she was sterner with him than Daniel would be, less likely to let his transgressions slide, more apt to lecture.

"OK, Danny, spill it. What have you done?"

"I've been kicked out of school for practically nothing." At sixteen, he now spoke fluent English, but retained traces of his native French accent—a slight difficulty producing a "th" sound and an "r" a bit more guttural than the English version.

"And just what triggered this travesty of justice?"

"I skipped a few classes is all."

"What's that mean? Three classes? Four? What's a few?"

"It was all my geometry and Spanish classes—but just since the beginning of the Fall quarter. I really don't need to know math anyway, if I'm going to be a ballplayer. And I already speak French and English. Why do I need a third language?"

"Since the beginning of the quarter—that means you've missed two whole courses for more than two months!" sputtered Betty. "Why hasn't the school notified your father before now?"

Danny shot her a sly smile from under those lashes. "They kind of had the impression I was getting out to have daily therapy for that elbow injury from last summer. They thought that Dad was having me tutored privately to make up the schoolwork. I kind of gave them letters from Dad and my doctor that said that."

"Letters you wrote, you mean. Not cute! You and I both know that elbow was nothing. The minor surgery you had on it was fully mended before school began. So, just what were you really doing all that time?"

"There's this girl . . ."

Ah, with Danny there was always a girl. He had inherited more than his good looks from his father. "You mean Kelly?" Betty named a classmate who was constantly text messaging him. "Or Becca?" His roller-blading date the previous Saturday.

"No, her name's Serena. She had two free periods during the last two hours of school, so we'd sneak out. Mostly we'd go to the movies or go to her house and make out and, and stuff . . ."

"Oh, and stuff—right." Betty knew what that meant. "You're sixteen! You shouldn't be doing stuff at all! I hope you were at least using protection?"

"Of course. Do you think I'm a moron?" huffed Danny, looking genuinely offended.

"A moron? Well, let's see, St. Lucius is the fourth prestigious private school in four years to show you the door. You're skulking in here because you don't want to face Daniel. Meanwhile, you're letting your education go to ruin, because you think you're going to be a big pro baseball star and won't need it, but you're too lazy to follow coach's orders and practice your batting or visit the gym. Not to mention you've been sleeping with an underage girl under her parents' own roof. Oh, you're quite the misunderstood genius, you are. I'm disappointed in you, Danny, and your father will be, too."

Danny's bravado faded and his shoulders slumped. "Will you tell him for me?"

"No, you'll have to tell him. But if you want, I'll be there when you do. By the way, how'd you get caught?"

"Yesterday we decided to go to a bar. We had these fake ID cards . . . "

"Sweetie, your angelic face couldn't pass for over 21 if you grew a full bushy beard – even a gray one."

"Now you tell me. Anyway, we fooled the waitress enough to let us place an order. It's not like it was the hard stuff, just beer. . . . "

". . . oh, barely alcohol at all . . . " Betty injected sarcastically.

" . . . but the next thing we knew, these cops showed up and called the truant officer and then they ended up taking us back to St. Lucius."

"Ms. Suarez?" A teenage pixie in braces named Annette, Betty's after-school intern, slid tentatively into the room. "I have that dummy issue ready for you." She clutched a file folder in hands splattered with ink, dabs of which had escaped to her face.

"Wow," said Danny, addressing the moppet. "Must be tough to have a job that leaves you such a mess." Annette looked crestfallen. For some time, Betty had observed with affectionate exasperation that her helper had a crush on the boy. All the little female interns did.

Ambling over to Annette, the adolescent Meade sniffed playfully at her hair and added, "You are a mess. Lucky for you you smell so sweet." Betty doubted that Danny had ever dipped into the collected works of Phil Roth, yet it wasn't the first time she'd seen him work a nova on a girl. Seductive talents came effortlessly to the Meade men. It was in their genes. As the intern brightened; Danny winked at his victim and sidled toward the door.

"Just one moment, mister," barked Betty. "Be back here at 5 p.m. sharp! We have to talk to your father tonight."

His mouth opened and Betty waited for the inevitable protest, which wasn't long in coming: "You sound like you think you're my mother." But she was unprepared to hear him blurt a moment later, "Well, guess what? I wish you were!" as he made a fast exit.

Framed by almost boy-short brown hair, Annette's brow furrowed. "I'm so sorry I mentioned the dummy issue in front of Danny, Ms. Suarez. I forgot the project was hush-hush."

"Don't worry about it. Danny couldn't care less about the workings of the publishing empire he's supposed to inherit someday. I'm sure it went completely over his head." Betty sighed. "But you're right, I do want to keep this under wraps until I have something impressive to show Daniel."

"I think this may be close to ready. Want to take a look?"

"Yes, but I don't want any interruptions. This office is like Grand Central Station. Let's find someplace a little more private to talk, shall we?"

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Frowning, Annette surveyed the outlandish furnishings of Fay Sommer's hideaway. What the heck was that bed doing here? "This conference room is really . . . different," she muttered as Betty locked the door.

"Conferencing?" Betty looked amused. "I guess that's one word for what this place was set up for. Now let's see what you've done."

Flipping open the file folder, the intern handed her boss what appeared to be a magazine with the word Cuisine splashed gaily across the cover. Only an industry insider could have spotted it as a mere facsimile of an actual publication. Betty's stomach did flip-flops. "Annette, if I can get Daniel to convince Alex to greenlight this, you're looking at the next step in my 5-year plan!"

"Five-year plan? What are you talking about?"

"Four years ago, someone—someone special to me—pushed me to make a career plan for the future. I don't want to be Daniel Meade's assistant forever, you know. I have ambitions of my own. Of course, Daniel's always been good about letting me do writing assignments on the side. At first, it was an article here, an interview there. Then there was my series for What's Happening magazine, the one on women who are master chefs in Manhattan. And lately you've seen my column on local trends in ethnic cuisine carried by Metro Menus Monthly. That column was actually what inspired this." She waved the magazine at the girl.

"It would be a big feather in my cap to get a magazine started from scratch," Betty continued. "You know, Daniel was Editor at Player for awhile and it turned out to be the perfect niche for him to develop the skills and confidence to recapture control at Mode. But neither Player nor Mode has really been a good fit for me. I mean, I've learned a lot, but I think a food-focused platform will be perfect for me. I'm from a foodie family. My Papi's a terrific chef who's always worked in food services. I wish you could taste his mole and his flan. My sister Hilda's husband manages a soul food restaurant over in Jersey. And I'm sure you've noticed that I myself like to eat," Betty grinned. "Now, I doubt that the Meades will think I'm ready to run my own magazine yet, but if Daniel backs my concept, they might give me a key role in its operations."

"But won't he mind losing you as his assistant? And won't you feel guilty leaving such a great boss?"

"Daniel's wonderful, but I have my own career to think of, and he understands that. You know, too many times in the past, I used to worry only about what was right for everyone else. I'd get so tied up in doing what I thought I was supposed to do that I'd forget to think about what's best for me. Don't let that happen to you, Annette." Absently fingering a small round silver disc that dangled from her watch band, Betty added, "A sense of duty is good, but don't let it stifle your dreams."

"What's that?" asked Annette, pointing to the silver charm.

"Hmm? Oh, just a gift I got from a friend years ago."

"Can I see the engraving?" Betty extended her arm. "JUST BE," read Annette. "What does that mean?"

Betty's mind wandered back to the day the little jewelry box had arrived from Rome. The memory still triggered a small stab to her heart and she quickly pushed it aside. "Long story. Maybe I'll tell you sometime."

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Daniel's office was empty when Betty arrived at 5 pm. Darkness had already engulfed the late autumn sky. She turned on the lights. The broad windows that exposed the office to the full sweep of the New York skyline during the day now reflected her own image back to her. Her braces were long gone, but otherwise her appearance had changed only in subtle ways since her early days at Meade Publications.

Three years ago, when the braces came off, Claire Meade had treated her to a thorough makeover courtesy of some top-dollar talent: a celebrity hair stylist, a make-up wizard and a fashion consultant to the stars. Betty had abandoned the little-girl puffed sleeves that once featured prominently in her wardrobe. Indeed, her choices did have a more stylish cut these days. However, gaily clashing bright colors and patterns had remained central to her fashion aesthetic.

The swingy shoulder-length coif had turned out to be more manageable than the black haystack Hilda had fruitlessly tried to tame for years, so the new hairdo stayed. But while no part of the makeover had drawn more compliments than her newly tweezed and arched eyebrows, Betty had felt like an imposter whenever she had spotted them in the mirror. Maybe the heavy black hedges that had always umbrellaed each eye weren't to everyone's taste, but they were part of what made her unique and she was stubbornly glad when they grew back beneath the still ever-present red-framed glasses.

Betty had quickly reverted to being Betty, albeit a tweaked version of her younger self. Yet as those around her became increasingly aware of the influence she wielded in the Meade family's inner circle, it turned out that no cosmetic product beautified a girl more than sheer power. Over time the look that in younger days had earned her contempt within the company became a distinctive trademark of her independence and offbeat vision.

Now, contemplating the unhappiness Danny's latest shenanigans were bound to cause Daniel, her thick brows were knit into a formidable scowl. Daniel, entering briskly, saw his assistant turn away from the window and drew himself up short, as if she had cracked her sour expression at him like a whip. "Whoa, not a happy face there, Betty! Who are you wearing that frown for? And I hope to God it's not me."

"Not you this time. In fact, here's the culprit now." Danny sauntered in nonchalantly, but his eyes darted around the room, anxiously avoiding his father's puzzled stare.

"Good news, Daniel," continued Betty. "You won't have to deal with that increase in the St. Lucius tuition for next quarter. Danny's helped you out by disenrolling there."

"I don't follow. Tuition . . . that's not really an issue . . ." said Daniel, but his grimace revealed that he was already bracing for trouble and preparing to take upon himself the blame for his son's misbehavior, whatever it might turn out to be.

"Tell him, Danny," commanded Betty. As the boy's confession tumbled out, the expressions flitting across his father's face betrayed that Daniel on the one hand didn't see what the fuss was about but on the other hand knew it must be bad, because Betty seemed to think it was and he trusted her responses.

"Well, son, I guess we're going to have to cut back on that holiday ski trip you're planning. Just one week, not two, because the first week you're grounded. . . ." Daniel noticed Betty shaking her head. "Er, in fact, wait, no. …What?" He was trying to grasp what she expected of him.

Betty took charge. "I think your father meant to say 'No ski trip at all.' And no car and no dates for a month. I've called around all afternoon trying to find another school to take you but there are no openings until March, so for now that means a tutor. And don't smile, I'm picking the tutor, which means no blondes with boobs. And when you're not attacking your schoolwork, wiseguy, you're going to be spending your off hours at Meade, interning. You start at 9 a.m. tomorrow, so be in my office on time." Turning to the other Meade, she added, "That's if all this is okay with you, Daniel?"

Danny turned his eyes beseechingly to Daniel and saw his Dad waver. The boy knew that if Betty weren't there he could get his father to back down, but a part of him was glad she didn't allow it. He hated that he knew how to play on Daniel's insecurity about his own paternal skills, hated that he could evoke this weakness in him. Sometimes Danny couldn't stop himself, but Betty could stop him, and that's why he loved her.

"You heard her, Danny. No arguing. You can go now," When they were alone, the powerful Editor-in-Chief of Mode magazine turned sheepishly to the pint-sized woman beside him. "He'll think I hate him now, and he'll hate me."

"No, he won't. Why do you say that? Because you set limits? Daniel, your son knows you love him. You're not Bradford. It's no gift to a child to let him have all the power in your relationship. He can't handle that and he doesn't really want it. He wants your respect and he wants you to make him earn it, because that shows that you believe he can be a good person."

"I guess you're right. Thanks. Except—no blondes with boobs? For sure, he'll hate me for that." Daniel fixed her with a grave and affectionate stare. "You're good for him, Betty, the way you used to be for me."

"Oh, think you've outgrown me, do you?"

"Nah—me, my son, my mother—all the Meades need you. Always will."

"And I need you. By which I mean, I need you to take a look at this." She handed him a bulging manila envelope labeled CONFIDENTIAL. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, and she responded airily, "Just a project I've been working on. Let me know what you think."

At the door she turned, "Don't worry too much about Danny. You know, I myself was once expelled from junior high."

Her boss's jaw dropped. "You? You've got to be kidding."

"And I turned out all right."

"Well, Danny's a junior in high school. You were younger then than he is now."

"Actually, I was 24. But you can be young at any age, you know. Anyway, I learned something important about myself that day. This could be a turning point for Danny, too."

She left him shaking his head in confusion.

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The elevator doors glided open and Danny steamed out into the lobby, his face hot with rage, shame and misery. Why, he thought, did he sabotage himself like this? Why did being bad feel so good when he was doing it and so horrible later on? And why did he always forget this when new opportunities for mischief presented themselves?

"Danny!" Damn, it's what's-her-name, Braces, from Betty's office. Wish she'd bug off. Who wants to be seen like this?

"Hey, what's wrong, Danny?"

"Oh, my father, what a jerk. There's this girl," he spat, not noticing the pixie face tighten suddenly. "My father can't stand to learn that we have an adult relationship. Just wants me to stay a dumb kid forever. And now I have to be one of those f--king lame interns at Meade."

Annette froze in place, her eyes fixed miserably on the floor. "How awful for you," she snapped.

Uh-oh, she sounds offended. What's her problem? "Are you stuck here? Do you got a ride?" he asked.

"No, taking the subway. I'm on my way out now."

"Yeah, me too."

For a moment Annette's heart raced. They'd walk there together. What could they talk about? Would she be tongue-tied like a fool? Dejectedly, she quickly realized there was no need to worry. Danny tramped off ahead of her, caught up in his own little world, leaving her in the dust.

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A few minutes later, Betty, too, was headed for the subway. She was passing the window that had once for a few months sported a smiling pickle, but now fronted a manicure parlor, currently locked up for the night. Abruptly, she came to a halt, startled. Up ahead on the street, moving away from her with a familiar swagger, she spied coal-dark hair, a compact build, broad shoulders nearly bursting the seams of a sleek black leather jacket, muscular legs sheathed in denim. Her pulse pounded. It couldn't be! It had been years! As if sensing her attention, he turned his head to look behind him. Her rapid breathing subsided as she beheld his face—a stranger's face.

There had been a time when such déjà vu plagued her relentlessly. For so long after he'd gone away, he had seemed to be everywhere, on the street, in a crowded elevator, at the wheel of a passing car. But she'd moved on and forced him out of her heart, and now it was a rare occurrence. Weeks, even months had gone by when she thought of him not at all. Surely he was haunting her tonight only because two conversations that day—the one with Annette and the one just now with Daniel—had evoked snatches of memories. Still distracted, she stole a glance through the manicurists' window. Peering into the dark interior of the shop, she felt herself hurled back to a moment of desire erupting as suddenly as a summer storm . . . strong hands gripping her head . . . urgent lips on hers . . . her own body quivering, melting . . . a hunger so raw it scared her.

Aware of an unwelcome heat flushing her face, she turned away violently, herding her thoughts back toward everyday reality and sanity. It was possible that she would never meet him again in this life, never again see the masculine pride in his eyes or his teasing good humor or the naked devotion that he couldn't hide and she couldn't let herself acknowledge. A chance lost forever—she had taught herself how to live with that truth, by focusing on the future. What might have been? She had had to let that gnawing question go, and she had succeeded brilliantly.

Betty willed herself to concentrate on other things. Tomorrow Daniel would give her feedback on her magazine proposal, and she felt pretty confident he'd like it. But if not, well, she hadn't told even Annette, but she was prepared to shop it to another publisher if necessary. For awhile her career had stalled, but Year 5 of her plan would soon overtake her and it was time to spread her wings.