New York, New York

Monday, June 1st, 1964

Officer John Hendrickson was in his Dodge police cruiser, sitting outside of The Time Life Building. He was looking down at his watch, and he had arrived slightly late. He shook his wrist, and snorted fresh air. It was a breezy 55 degrees in the early morning.

Joan Harris walked through the front doors of the building and onto the sidewalk of West 50th Street. She approached the police car, and opened the passenger door. She peered down before she sat.

"Officer Hendrickson." She greeted him, smiling.

"Ms. Harris, thank you for obliging me."

"Anything to help further your efforts." She sat and closed the passenger door of the car.

"We could have done this at the precinct, but I know you're busy and I don't want to take up much of your time."

"And I appreciate that." She said.

"Right. I'll get to it. Were you aware of outstanding debt your husband had accrued from loan sharks?"

Joan looked ahead out of the windshield.

"No." She paused. "I knew we were in some debt. Greg was very… secretive. He didn't speak much about money."

"Alright." John said. "He had outstanding debts worth over $4000, were you aware of that?"

"No." She replied after a moment of silence.

"I see. Were you also aware he had bought a gun, just over a year ago?"

"No…" Joan hesitated.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I suspected he had one. He was in the military."

"He was training as a medic, though."

"I don't know how the military works, Officer Hendrickson." Joan looked at him.

"Fair enough. Did you ever see the gun?" He continued.

"No."

"Any idea where he would have kept it?"

"No." She said curtly. "Didn't you search my house last week? You'd have a better chance finding it than I would."

"I'm exploring all avenues, Ms. Harris. You understand?"

"I do." Joan said.

"I'm sorry for being persistent, it is my job." John started the car. "We'll go for a drive. I don't want your fellow secretaries thinking you're in trouble or something."

The Polara pulled away from the curb, and drove down West 50th towards 6th Avenue.

"We will be sweeping areas and combing for the gun. I'll keep you abreast of anything else we find." He said.

"Is that all?" Joan said.

"For now, I suppose. I just wanted to ensure we didn't leave you in the dark."

"Thank you." She said. "It's appreciated."

A moment of silence passed between them as the car drove down 6th Avenue.

"You're doing alright?" John broke the silence.

"Pardon me?"

"I know it's been a few months, but..."

"I'm fine. Greg was not home very often. He went to basic training for a while and as a resident doctor, he was on sporadic shifts, where I didn't see him. It doesn't feel like much has changed."

"I see." He said stoically. "Work is going well?"

Joan waited to speak.

"Yes, we're doing well. Dealing with many future clients and accounts." She said.

"Oh really? Even this past week?"

"Yes… we went out Friday. Is there anything specifically I can help you with?"

John looked over to his passenger. Her lips were tightly pursed, both hands folded over her handbag.

"No, no I'm just making conversation." He said, turning down the backside of West 51st Street.

"You're somewhat sweet on Kaye, I noticed." Joan began. John relaxed.

"Well, we were." He said.

"Oh. Forgive me for prying."

"No, it's my fault. I pressed too hard. She got angry with me, doesn't want to see me again."

"She's hard to read." Joan said.

"Well she needs to get out of that abusive relationship she's in."

"Not that's it's any of our business, but she's not in a relationship."

"Oh…" John contorted his face, rubbing his chin. "Well she looks like she got beat up pretty bad. Within the last few days, I'd guess."

Joan didn't say anything.

"I'm worried about her." John said.

"I'll check on her." Joan replied. "She's strong willed. I haven't met anyone so… resilient."

"Thank you." John said, pulling the car back up to the curb where they had begun their expedition. "I'm still somewhat worried though."

"Was that what this was?" Joan asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did you meet with me to ask about Kaye?"

John leaned back in his chair and looked ahead.

"I met with you to discuss the case of your late husband. However, I would be lying to you if it wasn't my intention to bring it up in conversation if time permitted."

"That's deceptive at best." She said.

"And I apologize for that." John added. "You're not worried about her then?"

"I am. Mr. Rizzo took her home Friday. She wasn't well after our outing. As I said, I will check on her."

"Mr. Rizzo? Is he her boss or something?"

Joan said nothing, opened the door, exited the car, and leaned back to speak to John.

"Thank you for the drive." She said.

"Ms. Harris, I apologize for my line of questioning, but I am sincere."

"Goodbye, Officer Hendrickson." She said curtly.

"Goodbye, Ms. Harris." He said, turning his gaze slowly to the road ahead.

Joan closed the door, walking back into the building. The cruiser pulled away from the curb.


Don was laying beside Nancy in bed, the television on, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He had come over the previous evening and they had gone out to a small restaurant in Ossining. Nancy stated openly she would have preferred a restaurant in the city. Don said that there wasn't the time. Their intimacy did not last long, yet Nancy was enthusiastic for its duration. She stole Don's cigarette, smoked it, and then put it back.

"I'm looking for a new job. Do you know anyone?" Nancy said.

"Not particularly." Don said.

"Mrs. Francis says that her husband is coming back home. I'll only need to be there occasionally now to assist with things."

"I heard."

"You don't sound so enthused."

"Well you're out of a job."

"Yes, but now I'm free and clear." She smiled. "We don't have to hide it from your ex-wife anymore."

Don sat up against the headboard. He grabbed the TV remote beside him and turned it off, butting his cigarette into the side table ashtray. He hopped from the bed, and began placing his clothes back on.

"Where are you going so fast?" Nancy asked.

"Work. I should have left a half hour ago." Don buttoned his white shirt.

"You're already late. Why don't we go for round two?" She revealed herself from under the covers, throwing off the duvet. Don watched her move like an animal slowly across the bed toward him.

"You don't really want to go, do you?" She smirked.

"I don't…" He leaned over, kissing her on the forehead. "But, I have to."

"What a drag." She said, throwing herself back under the sheets. "You guys can be such squares."

"Who?" Don said.

"Wall Street guys."

"I don't work on Wall Street."

"Ugh, they're all the same thing. Slicked hair, a tailored suit, a glass of whiskey and a cigarette. Whatever." She scoffed.

Don silently watched her.

"What? No retort?" She laughed.

He turned around, entered the bathroom, and began tightening the tie around his neck. After shaving and some aftershave, he grabbed his fedora from the rack.

"Are we going out this week?"

"I'll call you." He said, tying up his shined shoes.

"Well we don't have to worry about the bitch anymore. You can take me out Friday."

"Don't call her that." Don said, standing up and putting on his overcoat.

"Oh what, you still love her?" Nancy laughed.

"It's unprofessional."

"Not like it's my career or something, Donnie." Nancy settled back into the bed. "I didn't know you were still fond of her."

Don said nothing.

"Anyway, Friday night?" Nancy perked up.

"I'll call you." he said, opening the apartment door and exiting.


Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce

35th Floor of the Time Life Building

The office was alive again. The weekend sluff had blown away; the typewriters were clacking and dinging constantly. The telephones were ringing and people were congregating in the kitchenette again. It was 9:45. Don's Monday morning creative meeting began at 9:30, and he was late. Alison, Peggy, Joey and Stan were sitting on Don's couches talking as the minutes ticked by.

"Is he always late?" Joey asked.

"Depends on his mood." Alison added.

"Did you catch the Mets last night?" Stan said.

"I don't watch baseball." Peggy said.

Stan scoffed. "It was the longest game in history. How have you missed this?"

"Baseball is the most boring sport to watch. Nothing happens."

"Nothing happens." Stan smiled. "Okay."

"I listened to some of it. I turned it off after 9:00. I thought it would be done then." Joey said.

"It went until 11:30. I wasn't there for the first double header, but I sat through the second game. What a rush." Stan finished. "I had 20 bucks on the Mets. Never been more excited and disappointed at the same time."

"You'd save money if you didn't bet on a shit team." Joey said.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Just then, Don pushed through his office door in a blue suit, and black tie. He smiled briefly to his team, putting his fedora on the rack and his briefcase on the desk. He frowned.

"Where's Kaye?"

"She was here earlier." Alison began. "She went back to her office ten minutes ago."

"Why? You can start without me." Don sat down in his office chair.

"She said to call her once you arrived." Alison stood up.

Don leered silently, snapping his briefcase open and removing file folders.

"Shall I call her?" Alison asked.

"I'll do it." Don reached over to his phone and buzzed Donna. She put him through. "Kaye, get in here." He hung up the phone. "Where are we on Gibson?" He said, looking at the Creative team.

"Gibson?" Peggy said. "We've been working through Muriel Cigars all weekend."

"They're prospective clients, Peggy. You can't just drop one for the other."

A silence fell over the room.

"So where are we?" Don said.

"Well, nowhere." Joey said.

Don breathed through his nose. Roger swung the door open and he and Kaye walked into Don's office.

"I have arrived. We can start the proceedings." Roger said, walking over to the drinks cart and pouring himself a vodka. "Gibson Guitars is coming in on Friday. Have you talked about that?" He faced Don.

"We were."

"Good. Neil Delaney is their east coast rep. Him and his buddies are looking for "atmosphere" or something. We're not trying to win them in the first round. They'll think we're too keen, and get turned off. Offer to pay for the meal, don't eat from their hand." Roger sipped his vodka, looking around. "Why isn't anyone talking?"

"We will." Kaye said.

"Good. I'll be in my office on the phone. No. I'll tell Caroline I'm going out." Roger took his glass and exited the room.

"Where were you?" Don said, turning to Kaye.

"In my office waiting for you."

"You're late."

"We tied."

Joey hid a smile.

"Next time, run the meeting. Catch me up to speed. Then we don't have to sit here going over how little has been done."

"I don't remember seeing you over the weekend." Kaye sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. The tension was building quickly in the room.

Don stood up, looking down at Kaye. He filled a glass with whiskey. "I want something by the end of day tomorrow. What do we have for Muriel Cigars?"

Stan pulled out their poster board and Peggy's information slip on the ad. The pictures had come together nicely on a yellowish background. Don smiled.

"Blow smoke in her face, and she'll follow you anywhere." Peggy said. "The text just explains their flavour combinations. It's something that fat guy mentioned to Joan on Friday."

Joey laughed.

"It looks good." Don moved over to see the board closely. "It's simple. Cheeky."

"It gets teen boys excited." Peggy said.

"Kaye, you'll lead the pitch tomorrow." Don began. "Peggy and I are sitting in. Pete and Roger will be there."

She clenched her hands tightly and pursed her lips.

"I think you should lead." Kaye said, facing Don.

"Why?" Don asked.

"Because I think a male presenting this comes off better." She walked over to the couch, and sat beside Stan.

"We've already decided it's you. Pete agreed."

Stan watched Kaye intently.

"It's an ad for men about girls. It should be presented by a man with girls present." Kaye said.

"You're going to pitch. We've already discussed it with Muriel. They're anticipating you."

The room fell silent.

"Anything else?" He said. No one responded.

"Alright, meeting adjourned. Kaye, wait here." Don stood, buttoning his jacket.

The creative team left the room. Kaye stood up.

"Don't be late again. If I'm not here, start the meeting without me."

"So you can be late but we can't?"

Don reached into his pocket, lighting a cigarette.

"Don't question me in front of them." He said. "It makes you look foolish."

"No, it looks like we disagree on something that was never communicated."

Don looked at her, clenching his jaw.

"Just get the job done."

"I won't pitch Muriel tomorrow."

"Clem Matthews and Frank Mercer requested that you pitch. They were spellbound at the club. Pete relayed that you would. I don't understand what the problem is. We have them practically landed already. Get them to the gate."

"Kirk Lorrie is a disgusting pig and I never want to see him again." Kaye stammered. Her hands trembled. She reached over to Don's desk and lit a Lucky Strike. Don stood back, his eyes moving up and down Kaye. He said nothing. "I won't do it. I'll sit there, and watch. You're the golden boy. I landed the plane; you bring them to the gate. You get the win."

"What happened on Friday?" Don finally replied. "You left early."

She smoked, her hands shaking. Kirk was above her. He kneeled into her back. He strangled her. She could feel her pulse through her forehead. The air, being sucked out of her lungs. Her vision blurring with her tears, mascara running down her cheeks.

"Kaye." Don repeated.

"Will you do the pitch, or not?"

Don smoked. "I'll do the pitch, since you're so adamant. This doesn't look good."

"I don't much care. Tell Joan to say the line." She said.

"What?"

"When you're pitching, have Joan wear something sensual. Tell her to say the tagline."

"Joan isn't part of the team."

"Peggy isn't the one you want saying the line."

Don placed the cigarette between his lips and removed his coat, hanging it on the rack.

"Though you may not be fond of her, she's competent and worked hard on this." He said.

"This has nothing to do with competency." Kaye leaned up against the desk. "They care about how easy and beautiful you are. The only thing that crossed their minds on Friday was how they could leverage this pitch to get us to bend over."

"That's crude and unprofessional." He said. Don leaned back in his chair and smoked. He rested his hand on his cheek.

"So are they. We're playing their game by their rules. If you don't fight to win, you drown. Save me your chauvinistic bullshit. It works on the skirts around here, but it doesn't work on me."

"You need to watch your mouth." Don said. Kaye blew out a plume of smoke.

"I'll talk to Joan." She said.

Roger burst in the door, his vodka still in-hand and a paper in the other.

"You read the score from the Mets game? What a way to be remembered. Took the longest time to lose in history."

"I'm in the middle of something." Don said.

"We've got a problem." Roger said. "Lee Garner Jr. is acting out. He's been blowing off my calls and invites for a meal."

"He's probably busy."

"Only Creative could be so optimistically dumb. He's fishing for someone else. Daddy's gone now, and Senior took a lot more of a shining to you than Junior does."

"The Surgeon General is slapping those warnings on the ads next Wednesday." Kaye said.

"What?" Roger said.

"As of June 10th, all cigarette ads have to state that they're killing you. You didn't read the paper?"

"I'm surprised Caroline didn't tell me." Roger said, gesticulating. "I'll talk to Lane. We'll tap the well while it lasts."

"I'm busy. You can find me in my office." Kaye said, dabbing the cigarette into Don's ashtray. She spun around and closed the office door behind her. Making her way down the hall, a voice came from Joan's office.

"Kaye! Could you come in here?"

She took two steps back, and walked into the office. She clasped her hands together.

"What is it?" Kaye said.

"I spoke to John Hendrickson this morning." Joan said.

Kaye sighed. "What does he want?" She sat down in the chair opposite Joan and threw the door closed behind her.

"Well he was concerned, about you."

"Don't mention me to him again." Kaye said, adjusting the bangle on her wrist. "I don't want to see him."

"I suppose it's none of my business. He mentioned you were hurt when he saw you."

Kaye said nothing.

"What happened?" Joan said.

"Would you pitch tomorrow?" Kaye interrupted.

"Me?"

Joan paused.

"Yes. Would you say the slogan for the pitch tomorrow. Throw in a few lines about the product, and then just say the tagline. Make it sexy. Wear a low cut dress."

"I'm sure Peggy could do…"

"Peggy is forgettable."

"It's not my place to make that call."

"You're right. It's mine."

Joan said nothing. She watched Kaye.

"So you'll do it." Kaye stated.

"I suppose so." Joan said. "I'll do because you asked."

Kaye stood up from the chair smiling.

"Good." She said. "You're a doll."

"What happened on Friday, Kaye?" Joan said from the blue.

There was a long pregnant silence.

"If you have to ask that question, you already know."

"I'm sorry."

"I wish I was far more drunk than I was." Kaye said, turning to leave the office. Joan stood up. "Stan interrupted him after I'd given up. He didn't have the chance in the end."

Joan said nothing.

"You'll pitch tomorrow, right?" Kaye asked.

"Yes..." Joan hesitated. "You'll be there, right?"

"Yes. I'll sit beside you. We can go over it later."

Kaye opened the door and left without looking back. She made her way down the hall and passed the Creative room. Stan called out to her as she walked by. She continued past the lobby area and went into her office, locking the door. Reaching into her top desk drawer, she found a vial of powdered Raphetamine. She poured out a large quantity and snorted it, pinching her nose. There was a knock at the door.

"It's me." Stan said, outside the door. "Why's your door locked?"

"What do you need?"

"You've been off all morning."

Silence.

"Kaye." Stan said.

"Everything's fine. Go back to work."

"Can I get a glass of Canadian first?"

"Fine." Kaye said, walking over to the door and spinning the lock. She opened it and Stan was leaning against the jamb. She moved out of the way behind the door and let him come into the office.

"Why do you get the big office?" He said, moving over to the drinks cart.

"You don't want my office." She replied. "There's no window, I'm next to Pete, and the secretaries don't shut up outside the door."

Stan smiled. "I can't decide which is worse." He grabbed a tumbler and filled it with whiskey. Kaye stood beside him and did the same. She drank down the rest and refilled it. He watched her.

"What's with the attitude?" He started.

She looked at him, holding the glass to her lips.

"You've been all clammy lately. You bicker with Draper. Normally you can tolerate Peggy. You don't even look at her." He continued after her lack of reply.

"I'm busy, Stan." She put the tumbler down on her desk.

"We're all busy." He said.

"I have a lot going on…"

"Yeah, but you're being all cagey about it." He looked at her, noticing traces of white powder underneath her nose.

"I choose not to talk about it. Because there's nothing to say."

"You could do something. You could go to the police."

"Oh save it."

"Why not?" He protested.

"They would never believe me. There's no evidence."

"You need to do something. You're wasting away."

"What?"

"You're thinning out."

"So what?"

"You're not taking care of yourself. You're doing uppers all the time to stay on the ball. You're drinking all the time to bring you down from the uppers. You're smoking all the time to relax."

"Thanks, Dad, I don't need a guardian angel." Kaye turned and refilled the whiskey.

"I'm looking out for my best interest. When you're at your worst, so is the copy. It brings the team down."

"Is the copy bad?"

"What?"

"I said, is the copy bad?" She repeated.

Silence.

"Forget I said anything. I'll see you out there." He said, turning slowly and closing the office door behind him. Kaye sipped her whiskey. The room was eerily still. She placed the glass down on the edge of her desk, but missed. It fell to the floor and shattered. She reached down and picked up the glass, but it sliced her. Blood began pouring down her hand. Kaye dropped the broken glass and shrieked.

She huffed, her cheeks and face reddening. The purple birthmark became visible down her forehead. Kaye began shaking, clenching her jaw and fists tightly together. She picked up the edge of her typewriter, and flipped it off the desk. It came crashing down in a mess onto the floor. The plastic rim on the top exploded and splintered. Many of the keys popped off. Next, she grabbed the paperwork on her desk, and threw it at the wall. It went in every direction, sailing around the room. A work party picture of Stan, Peggy, Joey and herself remained on her desk. She took it, and threw it against the door. The frame snapped in half and the glass shattered.

"Is everything alright, Ms. Sharpe?" Donna said, opening the door. She looked, wide-eyed, around the room.

"Everything's just fine, Donna!" Kaye yelled, smiling widely.

Donna quickly shut the door. The secretary marched away from her desk and made her way down the hall.

"What's that racket?" Pete Campbell said, sticking his head out of his office door. Donna continued down her path, moving around the edge of the conference room and making her way to Draper's office.

"Is he busy?" Donna asked Alison.

"No."

"Can you buzz him?"

Alison picked up the receiver and buzzed through to Don's office.

"Kaye's secretary Donna here to see you."

"Send her in."

Donna closed the door behind her as she entered.

"Mr. Draper, I wouldn't bother you in other circumstances, but I think Miss Sharpe is having some issues."

"What issues?"

"Well, it seems she's coming… unhinged."

Don stood up and walked around his desk

"Where is she?"

"She's in her office. It's a mess."

He jaunted around Donna and out the door, making his way across the egress to the hall, skirting Pete who had come out to investigate.

"What's with the thumping?" Pete demanded.

"I don't know. Go back to your office." Don said. He approached Kaye's door and swung it open, entered and closed it behind him.

The room was a disaster. Papers were everywhere. Standing furniture was knocked over. Glass and blood dotted the floor. Kaye was leaning up against the wall facing Don. Her hands were covered in blood.

"What the hell is going on?"

She looked up, and adjusted her glasses.

"Spring cleaning." She said quietly. Don stood for a moment, and then backed towards the door without speaking. He went into the kitchenette, grabbed the aid kit from the shelf. He pulled out a large gauze dressing and tape.

"Come run it under the water."

Kaye left the office, balling her hand, and walked into the kitchenette, turning on the water. She winced as the warm water ran over the wound. Don stood over her and ran his fingers over her palm. The pressure relieved some of the pain. She looked up to him. He wrapped the gauze over her palm and around her thumb. Using a small stitch of tape, he held it together.

"Change it tonight." He said.

"You know your way around bandages." She muttered.

"Basic training."

Draper was leaning over her. He looked into Kaye's eyes and she met his. They spent a long time in silence, looking at each other.

"Come with me." Don said, walking out of the kitchenette, with his hands in his pockets. Kaye turned and slowly followed. He walked casually to the front doors. "Wait here." He instructed.

After walking up the hall to Allison, he muttered to her quietly.

"Get a custodian to clean up Kaye's office. Put all the paperwork back on her desk. Tell Donna it's been dealt with."

"Right away, Mr. Draper." Allison picked up the telephone and began dialling. Don walked into his office, grabbing his overcoat. He made his way back down the hall. Kaye had not moved from her spot near the front door.

Stan watched as Don placed his overcoat over Kaye's shoulder and they left through the front doors. They stood at the doors to the elevator together, and descended.

"Where are we going?"

"To get a drink."

Don escorted her out the main doors of the building and into the fresh morning air. They approached his Cadillac, got in, and Don pulled away.

"Where's this place?" Kaye said.

"Corner of Columbia and Union, in Brooklyn."

After a 20-minute drive south across the river, they arrived at a small waterfront café on Columbia Street. Don stopped the car and got out, walking around to the passenger side and opening the door for Kaye. They stepped out into the sun and boarded the sidewalk, entering the eatery. It was very quaint, filled with booths and tables, and served a little bit of everything.

"You bring Lee Garner here for lunch?" Kaye said, sitting down in a booth, looking out the window with a view of the river. Don smiled.

"No. I don't come here often."

The waitress came around and they ordered coffees.

"No one seems to know what happened on Friday." Don said, taking the fresh coffee that the waitress brought to his lips. Kaye reached for hers, looking down into the black water.

"Why does everyone care? I drank too much." She said.

"It's none of my business." Don said, reaching into his pocket to light a cigarette. "You pitched better than I've seen in a while. It landed, and we have them by the collar. And you're backing off."

"They don't come for me; they come for you, Don."

"False modesty doesn't suit you." He puffed.

Don looked more closely at Kaye now. He watched her body language; it said fear. Her face was thin and worn, her eyes were tired and makeup only covered so much. He wandered around her body. He noticed the cut now, covered well by her hair. It was a large gash. It looked to have been sutured. Faintly, where her neck met her shoulder, he could see a bruise. Kaye was in the middle of speaking; Don was not paying attention.

"Listen." He said. "We'll dump Muriel. Conflict of interest."

"What?" Kaye said. "There is no conflict."

"It's not worth it." Don paused. "Who wants to be in business with people like that?"

His eyes searched hers. She brought her coffee to her lips. The air was thick and heavy suddenly.

"Then I wasted my time." Kaye said.

"There's more tobacco out there. If we did it once, we can do it again."

"No, I wasted my time. Everything on Friday was a waste. Everything we worked for was a waste."

Don said nothing. Kaye's face reddened.

"If we back out now, everything was a waste." She clenched her jaw tightly. "Everything."

"Then I'll pitch tomorrow." Don said, inhaling on his cigarette. "You won't be there. You're on Gibson. You're too busy for this."

"I'll show my face. Nothing is amiss. But, Joan says the line." Kaye said.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"Joan says the line." He repeated.

The waitress came by and refilled their coffees.

"Thank you." Kaye muttered to Don.

They spoke briefly of the upcoming day. Don had instructed the others on the Muriel crew to prepare. Gibson needed to be completed immediately, and he reiterated his displeasure with their lack of progress. Kaye changed subjects. There was no point in beating a dead horse.

"What made you come here anyway?" Kaye asked.

"I know I won't run in to anybody." He smirked. Kaye was about to speak, but she watched him rub his hands on the table instead, and butt his cigarette. He looked up to meet her glance.

"I moved to New York ten years ago." Don started. "I'd just gotten married. I was a car salesman in Illinois before that. I made enough to get by. I got a job on commission at Heller's furs, over on Seventh Avenue."

Kaye reached into her clutch and lit a cigarette.

"I had a terrible week. I hadn't sold one coat, and pay day was going to hurt. After work on Friday, I came here. It was raining, hard, and I walked. I don't know why, but I did. I was soaking wet, drinking coffee near the window, watching the rain come down. Watching the river flow. It cleared my mind. Something about the water, maybe. I was at peace."

Kaye exhaled a plume of smoke.

"I don't come often, but when I do, it's to think." Don said, sipping his coffee.

"You were born in an ad." She said. Don smiled. He thought back to Aimee, to Abigail and Archibald. He thought about Uncle Mack's house on the small hill in Illinois; Anna finding him at the dealership; His foray with Betty; Anna divorcing him, and his marriage to Betty. He took pictures of Betty for the ads he made at Heller's. She was always his model. He sat at the edge of the window, the rain pouring outside; he was happy.

"I wasn't always like this." Kaye said. Don came out of his trance to see her look out at the bay behind him. "I grew up in Connecticut. Dad owned a bank in Jersey. The war changed everything. Bad investments. Dad stopped being dad. The bank went under after years of fighting. Mother became a hypochondriac, thought the world was out to get her. In league with Margaret Drysdale."

Kaye smoked.

"My dad took his own life. My mother couldn't raise me, so my older sister Elena did. I ran away from home, ended up in the city, starving. There was an old man who ran the tickets at Carnegie Hall. I was peddling outside one day and he shared his food with me and invited me into the hall. I just needed a little money to get by. He asked if I would submit paperwork for him at various locations, and drop off ads. I did that for a while, on and off, whenever there was work to do. Herman was good at drawing, but he had no vision. I took some of his drawings, changed them, and submitted them. I did the ads for the New York and Boston Philharmonic." She smiled.

"I'm surprised they took it." Don said.

"He hired me to do more work after that. It was always piecework. I made enough to get by. Never enough to thrive. Until I came here." Kaye flicked the ashes from her cigarette.

"That's quite the story." Don sipped his coffee. "You've come a long way."

"I suppose. I have a long way to go." Kaye butted the cigarette,

"We should get back." Don said, placing the mug on the table and putting down some change beside it. "They'll be expecting us. Are you ready for this?"

Kaye stood from the booth seat, placing the bag over her shoulder.

"Lead the way." She said.