I slump on the leather couch, exhausted. Work all day.

With slow, sluggish movements, I bring my blackberry out of my pocket and open the mail app. I scroll down past junk mail and stupid promo letters.

I find a letter from Annabel. I automatically smile.

Annabel is my stepmother. My biological mother, Elinor Sherman, moved to New York and was never able to see me - her new boyfriend wouldn't allow it. Instead, my father married Annabel, who is by far one of the best people I know.

I press to open the email.

Dear Luke,

It's been a while since you, I, and your father have all gotten together, hasn't it? I'd love to arrange lunch sometime. How are you doing?

We're very proud of you and Brandon Communications. We hear all about it.

Email me soon!

Love,

Annabel

I smile and hit the reply button.

Annabel -

Great to hear from you. It has been a while. I'd love lunch. I'll make sure to keep noontime next Tuesday free for our lunch engagement, if that sounds alright with you.

How about Terrazza?

I'm doing great, thanks, and so is Brandon Communications. Thank you for asking.

Love,

Luke

I press send and listen to the whoosh that indicates a sent email. I check my calendar for next Tuesday, and sure enough, it's free.

I frown. Hmm, but I bet there will be work to do…

I shrug. Oh well, that just means more work to do today. I swing my feet back over the edge of the leather couch, get up, and head to my home office.

More research. The Flagstaff thing is going well so far, but I'm going to need to guarantee that nothing can go wrong.

And I've got a hunch that something might.

And until that hunch no longer exists, I can't spend a waking minute away from work.

The next couple of days go by without a hitch. Every morning I get up, make myself a cup of coffee, go out and buy the paper and a couple of magazines, read them, go to work or whatever press conference or trip I have to go on, come back at around 7, sometimes I walk or take the tube home, and continue working from home until way too late.

My life is basically work.

Oh, but there was that one incident with… my biological mother. She had heard, all the way from New York, via my parents, I guess, about my new public relations company. She sent me a congratulatory email.

Which was incredibly well received.

Luke:

Your father and your stepmother have informed me of your new public relations company. I will keep an eye on it. I expect much from it, so don't disappoint me.

Regards,

Elinor Sherman

Okay, so this is a bit embarrassing, but that email makes me a bit… ecstatic. My biological mother is a figure shrouded in mystery for me. I had never met her before. She's been the invisible mother who would stand there and be proud of me, I guess.

I mean, she's never actually said that outright, but I'm sure she feels it.

I know it sounds like I'm completely hung up over someone who hasn't done much in return, but that isn't true. I mean, without Elinor Sherman, I wouldn't exist now, would I?

And obviously my argument has flaws in it. I won't deny that.

But sometimes I just feel this… I don't know, but what I do know is my mother loves me.

Oh God, I'm beginning to sound like those airheads who think they're always right. That's not me, by the way. I could be wrong. There is definitely a chance that I could be wrong.

Anyway, now is not the time to think about it. Now is the time to work.

I arrive at Terrazza and immediately spot Annabel and my father sitting at a small table. I smile and give them a wave and both of them return with warm smiles.

"Hi Dad," I say, sitting down. "Hi, Annabel."

"Hello, Luke," Annabel says, giving me a hug. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great," I say easily. "Have you two taken a look at the menu?"

"I have," Dad says. "Seafood linguine. I've got to try that."

"Sounds…" I trail off uncertainly and glance at Annabel who's mouth is twitching.

"Great," Annabel finishes for me with a secretive smile.

"Just great," I echo, smiling back as I pick up my menu.

As we wait for our orders to come - seafood pizza and scallops for Annabel, spicy meatballs for myself, and seafood linguine for Dad - we begin to chat and catch up.

"How are you guys?" I ask between bites.

"We're doing absolutely great," Dad says enthusiastically.

"There's a Ruth Rendell book I've been meaning to get," Annabel puts in conversationally. "Do you know her, Luke?"

"No, but I'll look into that," I say.

I hear something familiar behind me but choose to ignore it. "Any books that interest you, Dad?"

"Indian recipes," Dad says, nodding with mock wisdom. "Traditional food. The kind that makes you want to jump into a bath of milk because that's how hot it is. Well, I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"That sounds…" I say, trailing off again. "Good luck, Dad."

"And what's this we hear about Brandon Communications?" Dad asks encouragingly. "Something to do with Flagstaff? Do you think we should go to Flagstaff for life insurance?"

"Well, it's going quite well actually, now that you mention it," I say earnestly. "I've been working nonstop lately. If this pitch goes well, our entire company could skyrocket and…" I trail off. Suddenly I notice a presence beside me.

Rebecca Bloomwood is standing by our table, awkwardly fidgeting and seemingly deciding whether to leave before we discover her or stay there and make conversation.

Oh, well. Too late now.

"Hi, Luke!" she says brightly. "I just thought I'd say… hello!"

I pause and frown. I glance at my parents who are looking at me with curious expressions. I look back at Rebecca. "Well, hello," I hear myself saying. "Mum, Dad, this is Rebecca Bloomwood. Rebecca—my parents."

She looks stricken. "Hello," she says with a timid smile, a lot quieter this time. "Well, I won't keep you from…"

"So how do you know Luke?" Annabel says invitingly.

"Rebecca is a leading financial journalist," I supply. I take a sip of my wine and watch as delight dawns on her face and she gives my father a confident grin.

"Financial journalist, eh?" Dad says roughly. He lowers his reading glasses to take a better look at her. "So what do you think of the chancellor's announcement?"

"Well," Rebecca says confidently, desperately scanning the restaurant.

I watch her expression, my mouth twitching. This is the Alicia Billington conversation all over again. "Dad, I'm sure Rebecca doesn't want to talk shop," I say graciously, keeping Rebecca in my peripheral vision.

"Quite right!" Annabel says, smiling. "That's a lovely scarf, Rebecca. Is it Denny and George?"

"Yes, it is!" she says brightly, grateful for a new change of topic. "I was so pleased, I got it last week in the sale!"

I look at the scarf, noticing it for the first time. Denny and George? Didn't Aunt Ermintrude… Oh, right. I forgot, she must have made that up, right? I wait eagerly for what she says next, and our eyes meet and then she flicks her gaze away in horror.

"In a sale… for my aunt," Rebecca backtracks. She looks at me with a defiant gaze. "I bought it for my aunt, as a present." She pauses for dramatic effect, thinking quickly and turning her gaze to the floor. "But she… died."

A moment of silence passed. My parents look shocked and look at each other, then me, then Rebecca.

"Oh dear," Dad says gruffly.

"Aunt Ermintrude died?" I inquire politely.

"Yes," Rebecca says, looking up. "It was terribly sad."

"How awful!" Annabel says sympathetically.

"She was in the hospital, wasn't she?" I say as I pour myself a glass of water. I flick my gaze up to meet her eyes. "What was wrong with her?" I raised my eyebrows as Rebecca contemplates my question.

"It was… her leg," she says finally.

"Her leg?" Annabel echoes anxiously. "What was wrong with her leg?"

Rebecca pauses. "It… swelled up and got septic," she says finally. "And they had to amputate it and then she died."

"Christ," Dad says, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Bloody doctors." He looks up fiercely. "Did she go private?"

Rebecca is squirming under our gaze and questions. "Umm… I'm not sure," she says as she backs away, her fingers on her scarf. Hmm, it did look lovely on her. "Anyway, lovely to see you, Luke. Must dash, my friends will be missing me!" She looks anywhere but my eyes and gives a nonchalant wave and quickly walks away, clutching the edge of her skirt.

I give a small smile in her direction before turning to my parents. "Rebecca Bloomwood, ladies and gentlemen," I say with a flourish.

"She made that up, didn't she?" Dad says abruptly. "Why did she?"

"It's a long story," I say with a grin. "She really wanted that scarf but was embarrassed to say so, so instead she made up a story about Aunt Ermintrude…"

"That's quite rude of you two," Annabel scolds. "Aunt Ermintrude might not be a fictional character, and here you are, insulting her while she lays in her grave."

"Please, Annabel," Dad says, touching her arm. "It's fake."

Annabel sighs and gives in with a smile. "Talented liar, that one. Hold on to her."

"Oh, we're not… involved," I say awkwardly.

"Are you still with Sacha?" Annabel says with a disapproving air.

"I… yes." I shrug. "She's not that bad, really. She is simply into more… public things than I am. She's great, really. Intelligent…"

"Yes, let me stop you right there," Annabel says gently, cutting me off. "She is great, just not for you. Trust me. A parent has an eye for these things."

"Thanks, Annabel," I say gratefully. "I'll take that into consideration."