Kicked to the curb.

Ashleigh Griffith hugged the satchel that contained her laptop as she watched Kirks Lexus zip into the street and speed away . Incredible! Shed actually been kicked to the curb. Or so that was the spin she imagined Kirk would put on their breakup when he returned to his wife, full of hollow apologies and false promises. A brisk autumn wind swirled leaves along the curb and caught at Ashleighs hair, lashing it across her face. Tears welled in her eyes. She stood tall, hardening her heart as she blinked the wetness away. Only days ago, shed learned that Kirk Etheridge, her supposed boyfriend, was married. Not divorced, as hed claimed. Not even separated. Married. With children. Her stomach lurched. The thought that shed been the other woman, responsible for putting a family in jeopardy, made her want to puke her guts out right there on the sidewalk. That Kirk had lied to her all along was no excuse. All those surreptitious phone calls and sudden business emergencies she should have suspected. In a weak moment, Ashleigh had agreed to listen to his pleas. "Aw, babe, please let me explain," hed said when hed met her outside the Chronicle offices with a huge bouquet of roses and the offer of a ride to her creative writing class. Hed sworn that he was getting a divorce, but this time shed seen the way he couldnt look her in the eye. Shed recognized his oily smile a nd avoided his coaxing kisses. Her blinders were off: Kirk was a lying, cheating snake. And hed made her one, too. A sob rose up inside her. She gritted her teeth to keep it down and swiveled on her heel, thinking of the comfort shed find among her friends in the classroom if shed let them see her pain. Ashleigh nearly ran into a man whod just bounded down the steps. He managed to avoid a collision by grabbing her shoulders and halting her forward motion. "S-sorry," she said, appalled to hear her voice tremble. Shed always envisioned herself as cool and in control. She would not be the kind of woman who wept over a breakup. In public, least of all. "No need to apologize Ive got you." The stranger paused and took a closer look at her expression behind the windblown hair. "Excuse me, miss, but are you okay?" Ashleigh blinked again, trying to focus on the mans face. His voice was deep, soft and kind, almost fatherly. His appearance was the opposite. Successful businessman, through and through. Clipped black hair threaded with silver at the temples. Ice blue eyes. Beneath a light wool topcoat, he wore an expensive tailored suit with a silk tie. Well groomed, well spoken. Even, it seemed, well meaning. Well, well, well. Ashleighs interest was piqued in spite of the emotional upheaval of the past few days. She shook her head. Was she crazy? The very last thing she needed was to rebound with another smooth-talking man. "I am fine," she said, each word precise. "Now will you please let me go." He removed his hands. "Certainly." She whipped her hair out of her eyes. "Again, I apologize." "Accepted." "Im late for class." She stepped to one side, and so did he, causing her to walk into his broad chest. He was so solid, she bounced off, stumbling a little in her high-heeled ankle boots. He caught her, this time by the elbows, and with a firm hand, moved her to his right while he stepped aside. "Id try a dip or a twirl," he said, "but youre so brittle Im afraid youd break." Ashleigh inhaled. What a presumptuous comment! She was not brittle she wasshe wasstrong. Determined. Focused. Kirk was a bad mistake, granted. One she wouldnt make again. Her next escort would have to produce a divorce decree before she keyed him into her Palm handheld. "Brittle?" She tossed her head. "I have a spine of steel." "Ah. And brass" The mans gaze skimmed over her from head to toe and settled on her hands clenched around the satchel. "Brass knuckles, I suppose?" The admiring perusal caused a hint of warmth to creep into her cold, numbed body. She had to smile. "No, but there is my iron will and that pesky steel plate in my head." He laughed. "You must be fun in the airport." "Ive been known to set off a few alarms." His pale eyes glinted. "That I can believe."

A blush seeped into Ashleighs cheeks. She blinked furiously, battling the leftover sign of her old shyness. While the small city of New Hope wasnt as sophisticated as Paris or as exciting as New York, she had moved well beyond the quiet, studious girl whod dreamed of fortune and fame while stuck back home in Parkersburg, West Virginia. She slung the strap of her briefbag across her chest, then straightened her black leather Anna Sui skirt. "I really must go. Theyve probably started the class without me." "Want to cut? We could have a drink at the wine bar across the street." For an instant, she was tempted. Shed completed her theme assignment, but she knew her writing wasnt nearly as skilled as it would have to be for her to make it into the New York literary circles that were her aspiration. And there was no doubt this handsome, compelling stranger could distract her from the residual repulsion over Kirks lies. But no. She had to keep her professional goals in mind. Shed had plenty of experience well, some with suave businessmen and their charming pickup lines. This guy was probably no different than Kirk. "Im sorry. I cant." She brushed by him and hurried up the steps. "At least tell me your name," he said, watching from below with the most endearing dimples framing a lopsided grin. "Ashleigh." He lifted a hand, gave a short wave. "Thank you for the dance, Ashleigh." "Youre welcome," she said, blushing so hotly she had to turn so he wouldnt see and think she was no more than a naive schoolgirl. At twenty-three and on her first job post-college, she was aware that her inexperience and youthfulness were not a career advantage. She needed to project a smart, savvy air. Fortunately, her natural inclination for mature men coincided with the chosen image. When they werent revealed to be lying, cheating scum. Ashleigh glanced over her shoulder as she pushed open the doors. The stranger had disappeared, but there was a sleek black Porsche pulling out of a parking space not far away. Her hollow stomach fluttered. He was so her type. Better to be feeling sexual chemistry than nausea over a betrayal, she decided. Although there was no time for either as she hurried to the classroom. She paused with her hand on the knob, trying to calm her heartbeat and cool her cheeks before entering. All heads turned when she opened the door, interrupting the lecture of the creative writing teacher, Niall Killian. He gave her a nod, smoothly continuing his discourse while she slipped into her customary seat in the front row, stepping over the sprawled legs of Roger Derks, the unkempt "artiste" who sat across from her. He grumbled a complaint. Abby Lancaster leaned forward to whisper, "Something wrong?" Ashleigh started to say no. With her other friends, the older women of her critique group whom she hoped to impress, she might have kept up the front. Abby was different. Since meeting in the first class, theyd developed a surprising kinship, founded despite vastly dissimilar lifestyles. Only eighteen, Abby was a single mother who worked as a waitress to support herself and the baby. It was a hard life. Ashleigh was impressed by her classmates spunk and determination to improve herself, but she was also glad that shed escaped a similar fate. Babies didnt fit in briefcases. "Tell you at break." Ashleigh flipped open her laptop, a slender silver Sony VAIO shed splurged on when shed first been hir ed as a reporter for the New Hope Chronicle. She opened her class notes document and focused on Mr. Killian Niall. Dark hair, glasses, with a lean body clad in faded jeans and a black turtleneck. Abby had a little crush on him, and Ashleigh suspected that there were other students in the same predicament. Niall was too boho-intellectual for her, though. She admired his writing career and hoped to pick his brain regarding publication with The New Yorker, but that was all. Ultimately, she needed to feel safe and cared for with a man. Apparently Roger had just finished reading his assignment to the class. His way to prove that he didnt care much about their opinions was to slump on his tailbone and paste a bored expression on his face beneath his shaggy mop of hair. "Your theme neednt be so overt," Niall said, picking up the evaluation of Rogers work. "In the scene where your protagonist confronts the arms dealer, you go over the top by having him notice and comment on the scar shaped like a pitchfork. The reader will pick up on the significance on their own." Roger snorted. Niall addressed the class. "Do you have suggestions for Roger on another way to enforce his good-versus-evil theme to the reader?" Several hands went up. Niall nodded at Catherine Matusik, a fiftyish silvered blonde who was in Ashleighs critique group. Catherine aimed a comforting smile at Roger before answering. "Symbolism. Hes already doing it. The scar is good as an example, but itll work even better if the shape is a less obvious representation of evil." Behind his glasses, Nialls eyes shone with a special warmth. "Exactly. Thank you, Catherine." He walked to the blackboard behind his desk at the front of the room and picked up a piece of chalk. "Symbolism and theme they go hand in hand." Ashleigh pecked at her keyboard. She wasnt into the class tonight. Her thoughts drifted first to the final argument with Kir k, resolving to have nothing more to do with him, and then to the man shed met on the sidewalk. Would she ever see him agai n?

Hed seemed to be leaving the community college building. Perhaps he was taking a class, although he didnt seem the type. Could he be teaching? She hadnt even asked his name. Niall had asked for literary examples of theme and symbolism. A husky voice from the far side of the room engaged Ashleighs attention. "There are many examples of symbolism in Beloved by Toni Morrison," said Marsha Cowen. Ashleigh had been lucky enough to be assigned to the well-known TV journalists critique group. If she played her cards right, the woman might become a mentor. "Excellent choice," Niall said. "Who can name one of Morrisons symbols?" Ashleighs hand shot up. She entered the discussion without waiting to be called on. "The house number one twenty-four," she said. "It represented Sethes four children, the third being dead." She was pleased when Marsha validated the answer with a thoughtful nod. Niall also approved. "Any other examples?" "The green light in The Great Gatsby," said one student. "It represented the wants and longings that Gatsby could never reach." Another cited several examples from Lord of the Flies standard high school stuff, in Ashleighs opinion. Faith Lewellyn, another critique partner, raised an eager hand. When the class had first begun several weeks ago, Faith had seemed like a mousy, frumpy housewife with a head filled with frivolous romantic fantasies. Since then, shed gained confidence as a woman and a writer. At their last class, shed announced that shed finished her novel. Having re ad no, devoured the absorbing, highly moving book, Ashleigh was ashamed of her quick rush to judgment. Faith had real talent. "Nathaniel Hawthornes The Scarlet Letter," Faith said. She pushed back a strand of blond hair with her pen. "Although Im not sure that qualifies as subtle." "Cant get much more obvious than a big red letter A sewn to the front of your dress," Nancy Beckman, a recent divorcee, contributed in her usual dry tones. Her mouth twisted. "Too bad the courts have abandoned the practice." Several classmates snickered. Guilt and humiliation burned in Ashleigh. She knew that Nancy referred to her own cheating ex-husband, but the embittered woman hadnt exactly been silent on the subject of Ashleighs older male friend. Ashleigh had always acted as though Nancys disapproval was of no consequence to a woman as hip and cynical about dating as herself, but now she wished that shed put Kirk under a stronger microscope. Miserable, she hunched over her laptop, opened an email and began to type. Subject: screwed again dear tad: i havent written in a while. i guess because i thought my life was totally under control and i didnt need u as a sounding board. but here i am, screwed again. kirk seemed perfect, u know? he was everything i wanted handsome, successful, over and done with the marriage thing (or so I thought). old enough to be wise, young enough not to need depends. haha. joke was on me. a colleague at work stopped by my desk last week with a smug grin on her face and informed me that shed run into kirk and his WIFE at the city symphony on saturday night, when he was supposed to take ME to the movies and had sent me a text msg to cancel. not even a phone call. a crappy text msg!!! so its over. he didnt even have a good excuse when i called him on his lies. just the standard "she doesnt understand me, were getting a divorce when the kids are old enough" crap. blah blah blah. i wanted to cry, or even better to pop him one, but i couldnt let him see how much hed hurt me. the thing is that my feelings dont really matter. ive been hurt before and ill get over him. i already am. its the kids i cant get out of my mind. KIDS. who love their dad, no matter what a dickhead he is, the way kids are supposed to. if they have a dad. Ashleigh

Chapter Two
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After class, the women of Ashleighs critique group decided to head over to the wine bar across the street. They were celebrating because Faith had recently mailed her manuscript to a New York publisher, and now they were also commiserating with Ashleigh. During the coffee break, Faiths motherly instinct to comfort had been roused when shed overheard Ashleigh telling Abby about being dumped at the curb. Even though the group had already known the relationship had ended, this time they wouldnt let Ashleigh brush them off as if it didnt matter. Abby had been invited, but shed had to rush home to reliev e her baby-sitter. "To Faith and Ashleigh," Marsha said, lifting her glass for a toast. "One very good manuscript and one no-good man out the door." "May neither of them come back to you." Nancy clinked their glasses and took a large swallow of wine. She wagged her head at Ashleigh. "Now, little Miss Innocent, tell us. Was he married?" "Nancy," Catherine warned. Ashleigh felt as though the scarlet A was emblazoned on her chest. She put on a blank expression. "Id rather talk about Faiths book. How long before you hear?" "Shes unagented," said Marsha, who was most familiar with the ins and outs of the world of media and publishing. "Could be a long wait." "I dont even want to think about that yet." Faith traced a finger over the bowl of her wine glass. "The idea of an actual ed itor reading my pages is enough to give me nightmares." "It will be all right." Catherine laid a manicured hand on Faiths arm. "Niall was impressed. Hes a professional."

"Theres a big difference between a community college teacher and a New York editor." "Pah," Nancy said. "Editors put their panty hose on one leg at a time, just like us." "Wait until youre ready to submit," Faith said. "Then youll find out." Nancy shrugged. "My writings only a hobby." She had produced a few pages of a mystery with a mouthy female detective not unlike herself, but she was as dismissive about her work as she was about everything else except her children. Ashleigh recognized a bit of herself in the chic brunette. Nancys irreverence covered a lot of inner pain. Ashleigh sipped her wine. Shed skipped dinner again and the Beaujolais was giving her a fierce headache. She pressed a knuckle to her temple. A tiny whimper slipped out before she could clamp her lips shut. "Ashleigh? How are you doing?" Faith inclined her head. When she saw Ashleighs face, she slung an arm around the youn ger womans shoulders and gave her a hug. "Its going to be okay, sweetie." "Trust me," Nancy said, tipping her glass toward Ashleigh, "youre better off without him. As a species, men are one level ab ove pond scum." "Thats rather harsh," Catherine said quietly. She was married, but rarely spoke of her husband, who was ill and confined to an institution. "Ive come across all types," Marsha said. "All around the world. Men are responsible for a lot of the tragedy and horror Iv e seen, but also much of the goodness. As a species " she sent Nancy a wry grin " theyre not all that different from us." "Huh. Then why are their actions so incomprehensible?" The women looked at each other. Ashleigh broke the momentary silence with one word: "Testosterone." Marsha nodded sagely. "There is that." "And they think we have the Curse." Nancy grinned at them over the lip of her glass before emptying it. They laughed and moved on to another topic, discussing their latest assignment to write a scene illustrating theme with symbolism. Without saying a word, Faith reached for the platter of hors doeuvres theyd ordered and arranged a snack plate o f grapes, cheese and crackers and set it before Ashleigh. She nibbled a crisp wheat cracker, feeling lucky to be among the diverse group of women. At first she hadnt expected to fit in with them, as the youngest and least settled. Slowly she was becoming more comfortable even though Faith, Catherine and Nancy were all, or had been, married with children. They lived in expensive homes and had no money worries, while Ashleigh kept to a strict budget so she could afford the fashions and electronic gadgets she loved. It was Marsha who was Ashleighs model for success. The TV journalist had traveled the world, from palace balls to war z ones. Her approach to life was brisk and unsentimental, yet she still had heart, as evidenced by the touching pieces shed written for class assignments. Marshas life was proof that Ashleigh had been right to choose either career or family, not both. Unlike her mother, whod bought into the popular notion that a woman wasnt complete without a child. At age forty -two, Nora Griffith had gone to a sperm bank for insemination. Shed been certain that she could be a superwoman and raise a child alone while maintaining her active banking career. Though shed managed, Ashleigh had grown up knowing that superwomans boots were not made in her size. She would do it differently. Like Marsha. "Need a ride?" Marsha asked, pulling Ashleigh from her reflections. She looked around the table and realized that the other women were getting ready to leave. "Yes, thanks." Ashleighs secondhand car had died a couple of weeks ago. She wasnt sure when she could manage the payments for a replacement. "Ive been, um, car shopping, but no luck yet." Catherine chimed in. "Going my way?" Her luxury condo and Marshas high-rise apartment were both in the ritzy riverside district. Ashleigh lived downtown, in a more humble, eclectic neighborhood. "My cars in the shop. I had my brothe r-in-law drop me off for class." "No problem," Marsha said. "We can take Ashleigh home first." Ashleighs hopes sank. Shed been looking for an opportunity to spend a few minutes alone with Marsha, to get advice about breaking into the tight New York job market. "We should schedule our next critique session," she said, pulling out the handheld organizer that contained their contact info. "Its my turn," Faith said. Ashleigh made sure the other women had Faiths address. "Saturday afternoon, as usual?" she s aid, stylus poised. "Actually, can we switch to an earlier time?" Nancys face scrunched in concentration. "Im pretty certain that my daughter, Brin, has a ballet recital Saturday afternoon."

"But I work out every Saturday morning," Ashleigh blurted. The women looked at her with some amusement, assuming shed have no problem with skipping or rearranging the workout. "Goodness," Faith said. "Youre already so slender." Nancy was dismissive. "So what, you eat one less cracker on Saturday." Ashleigh held her tongue instead of arguing. They were probably right. She could be less rigid. But she liked her schedules and lists. They gave her a familiar sense of order. The other women were gathering their notebooks and purses. Ashleigh reached for her wallet to pay her share, but Nancy waved her off and plunked down a credit card. "My treat." She tipped the bottle over her glass to drain the remaining wine. "No sense letting it go to waste." Faith exchanged a look with the other woman and discreetly offered Nancy a lift as they left the bar. Ashleigh took the backseat of Marshas practical Volvo, trying not to feel like a child riding with her parents. When the conversation turned to the new tires being put on Catherines car, she settled back and slipped her cell pho ne from its pocket in her satchel, checking for voice mail messages. Kirk had called. "Dont be mad, kitten. You know I love you." Thats not love, Ashleigh thought, erasing him with a press of a button. She wasnt exactly sure what love was, but she knew what it wasnt. Time to get rid of Kirk. With a few taps of the keys, she deleted his number from her cell, then took out her Palm and removed all traces of him there, too, making sharp stabs with the stylus that felt strangely satisfying. There, and there, and there. Take that, Kirk Etheridge. Youre deleted from my life. The satisfaction carried her through the ride home. Only when she unlocked the door to her quiet, practically empty apartment did she let down and feel the hollow inside. Was she missing Kirkor was there something else she needed to fill the emptiness in her life?

Chapter Three
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Subject: moving on dear tad: forgot to tell u about the guy i met. ran into him on the sidewalk outside of class. there was something about himsomething special. i mean, maybe on the outside he looks like all my other boyfriends, but I think youd understand if u could meet him . his eyes, his smile with only a few words, he was able to boost my spirits from their absolute low. now i cant even focus because my thoughts keep returning to him. stupid, i know, considering the disaster with kirk. i so dont want to be one of those women who always has to have a boyfriend. and I KNOW u would think hes too old for me. too bad. u have no say in what i do with my life Ashleigh quickly closed the email when she saw her boss striding through the newsroom. Gregor Thompson was in his fifties, a tall, imposing man with a fit body and thinning hair. He never ranted, nor even raised his voice. In fact, Ashleigh frequently found herself straining to hear him. She suspected hed read an art of management book that said a quiet, even voice commanded more authority than a bellow. The reporters in the newsroom called him the News Whisperer behind his back, but they also hushed in his presence. She sat up straighter and tucked her hair behind her ears as Gregor approached her desk. His lips moved. "Ashleigh Griffith." She tilted forward. "Yes, sir?" "Youre finished with the zoning board report." An assumption, not a question. He didnt wait for her response. "I have another assignment for you." She tapped at her laptop, calling up her notes on a story she hoped to pitch. No time like the present. "I was thinking I could look into that water contamination report the city issued on the New Hope River. I have a tip about illegal dumping upriver, in the next county " Gregor lifted one finger to cut her off. "Well and good. Look into it on your own time. If you find anything promising, submit your notes and Ill assign an investigative reporter." "But " "I need you on this." Gregor laid a fax sheet on her desk. Her shoulders drooped when she saw it was a standard press release. "Groundbreaking ceremony for another condo development. Take a quick trip out there with a photographer, get a quote from the big cheese. You know the drill." "Yes, I know the drill." "Good girl," he said, and turned on his heel. Across the room, a features reporter tried to duck into the hallway, and he stopped her with an upraised brow. "Ms. Mangioni, a word." Good girl, Ashleigh mimicked inside her head, working to maintain her composure. She wouldnt whine, even though Gregor might as well have said "Leave the important reporting to the big boys."

The press release crumpled in her fist. She was going nowhere fast in this job. Her scintillating zoning reports would not gain the attention of big city editors. She needed a real story. "Dont even," called a woman from one of the office cubicles that bordered t he open space of the newsroom. Felicia Cruz, the flamboyant, forty-something brunette who doubled as travel and lifestyles editor. Her cubicle looked as if she was holding a perpetual fiesta an explosion of color and fripperies like bobble-head dolls, incense sticks and birthday cupcakes. Newsroom gossip had it that Gregor tolerated the disorder because he and Felicia had once been an item. "Pardon?" Ashleigh blinked as Felicia sauntered to the cubicle opening. Shed come to work in bright orange capri pa nts and white patent-leather hooker boots. "Dont give him your notes. Like he said, hell only hand the story off to one of his favorites." Felicia put her hands on he r hips. "Dont breathe a word until you have the entire story, then write it yourself and present it as a fait accompli. Its the only way." Ashleigh looked dubious. Shed feel better about taking Felicias advice if the woman was lessout there. "If you say so." Felicia laughed. "I wasnt always the Carmen Miranda of the newsroom. I was a ha rd-nosed police reporter once upon a time. But I finally realized that junkets to Barbados were a lot more fun than hanging around the station hoping for a murder." She snapped her fingers. "Youve gotta live a little, chica." "My work is my life," Ashleigh said, knowing she sounded prissy. Felicia flipped a hand. "To each her own." "But thanks for the advice about the story." Ashleigh picked up the phone to dial the photo department, then set it down. "Can we have lunch next week?" Felicia looked surprised. "Sure. Have you reconsidered my offer?" Shed recruited Ashleigh for the lifestyle section early on, but Ashleigh had declined. Hard news was where its at even if she had to start at the bottom with Gregor Thompsons scut jobs. "Actually, theres someone I want you to meet. Marsha Cowen. Shes interested in submitting a travel article." "The Marsha Cowen?" Felicias kohl-ringed eyes widened when Ashleigh nodded. "I had no idea you were so well connected." For a moment or two, Ashleigh basked in the reflection of greatness before confessing. "Im not, really. We met in a creative writing class." "Why would Marsha Cowen be taking creative writing?" "Im not entirely sure. She seems to be on a leave from work and wants to try something new, like t ravel writing." Marsha had been circumspect on the subject. Felicia nodded. "Burnout." She pointed a long red fingernail at Ashleigh. "See what I mean? All work and no play makes for a very dull life." Ashleigh smiled noncommittally and placed her call. After arranging to meet a photographer in the lobby in five minutes, she gathered her gear and said a pleasant goodbye to Felicia. But she thought about their conversation all the way to the construction site, and finally decided that she was worrying needlessly. Felicias idea of a good time involved margaritas and tiki torches. Ashleigh preferred quiet candlelight dinners. She was justdifferent. Not a stiff. And Marsha Cowen was only on a break. "Were here," said Stevo, the young, good-natured photographer Ashleigh was often paired with. He had a girlfriend, so shed been spared the awkwardness of explaining that she didnt date colleagues. Ashleigh gazed past the windshield. They were parked in a makeshift lot overlooking the vast site of the Rivertowne development. Familiar red-and-white signage and flags signified the builders Tripletree Developments, which was a subsidiary of Tri-Thorn Investment Company. Broad swaths of grass and underbrush had already been ripped out and the land leveled. Several earthmovers were lined up behind the knot of people gathering for the groundbreaking ceremony. "Give me five minutes." Ashleigh unzipped her laptop carrier. She should have been researching on the drive over instead of fretting over Felicias comments. Shed downloaded Tri-Thorns annual report after covering a city board meeting where the company had pushed through a rezoning plan despite the protests of a citizen group. Stevo had already grabbed his equipment from the backseat. "See ya there." Minutes later, Ashleigh was working her way to the front of the onlookers as one of Tri-Thorns major investors dug a spade into the dirt. The mayor of New Hope posed with one low-heeled pump resting on her spade. There was a smattering of applause. Cameras clicked. A question was poised on Ashleighs lips, but a face in the lineup behind the bigwigs stopped her. Dark hair, blue eyes, the lopsided grin that made her heart flip. Yes, it was him. The stranger from the sidewalk. The Tri-Thorn honcho was introducing his team. Ashleigh tore her gaze off the only man who truly interested her and tapped feverishly at the screen of her PDA, trying to catch the others names and jobs.

Her sidewalk Romeo received the final introduction. "From Kleinman, Scott and Torrance, the project architect, Mark Torrance." To polite applause, Mark stepped forward and nodded. Mark Torrance. Ashleigh didnt have to graffiti that one into her Palm. She wasnt going to forget. "Get a picture," she told Stevo. "Of the Tri-Thorn team." The ceremony finished quickly and most of the crowd disbanded. Ashleigh approached Mark Torrance, holding out her hand. "Ashleigh Griffith. Im with the Chronicle." "I know you." His dimples appeared. "Care to dance?" Returning the smile, she indicated the construction site. "Concrete works better than dirt for dancing, Im afraid." Hey, girl. Youre not here to flirt. She cleared her throat. "I have a few questions about your work with Tripletree Developments. Do you mind?" "Not at all. Want to get out of here? We can talk over coffee." Ashleigh agreed with a flush of pleasure and waved for Stevo. He looked skeptical when she told him she was going for coffee with the architect, Mark Torrance, but she put the photographer out of her mind. This was an interview, not a date. At least not yet. Mark escorted her to the parking area. She scanned for the black Porsche. Fruitlessly. He stopped beside a silver BMW SUV and beeped open the door. She glanced inside, saw crumbs and a crumpled page from a coloring book on the floor mat. Mark grabbed a floppy doll off the passenger seat and tossed it to the backseat, amongst a jumble that included a Kim Possible lunch box, a baseball mitt, assorted childrens clothing and a couple of crushed juice bo xes. Ashleigh looked at the family of smiling faces evident in the photos pinned to the visor. The blood drained from her face. She whipped around to stare daggers at Mark Torrance. "Dont you dare lie to me. I have to know. Are you married?"

Chapter Four
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Ashleigh and Mark squared off. She looked ready to take him down for the count. The thought would have been amusing, as she was so petite, but apparently she was deadly serious. "Are you married?" she demanded. "No," he said at once. "Im not married." Not anymore. She pulled in a deep breath. There was a wariness in her eyes that made him think someone had hurt her. "Separated counts as married in my book." "Mine, too. Im divorced. Got the final decree months ago." First time that he was glad to say so. He inclined his head to the SUV. The door still hung open. "Are you willing to go for coffee with a divorced man?" "I suppose. For an interview, anyway." She swung her satchel in first and then climbed into the vehicle, cute as a button in a pinstripe trouser suit. Hed been attracted from the start by her enticing mixture of intensity, shyness and beauty. But of c ourse she was too young for him. "Youre sure youre divorced," she said when he got behind the wheel. "I wouldnt deceive you about that. Divorce isnt a joke. A year after the fact my kids are still dealing with the upheaval." He pointed to the photos on the visor. Hed seen her notice them. "This is Logan and thats Violet. Hes ten and shes three and a half. You might as well know up front, Im a devoted father. They come first for me, always." "Even before your job?" "Absolutely." "What about your ex-wife?" He tried a grin. "Since the divorce went through, shes further down the list." Ashleigh frowned. "I mean, what happened? Do you see her often? Who has custody? Is there any chance youll get back together?" "How about we hold off on the rapid-fire questions until I get some caffeine in my system?" Ashleigh winced and fell silent until he got her chatting about her job shed been a staff reporter at the Chronicle for about a year and his firms lucrative contract with Tripletree Developments. She asked about the town house project, sniffing for a story. Although there were critical rumblings about Tri-Thorn trying to take over New Hope, he was proud of his work for them. He brought Ashleigh to his favorite hangout near the office, Caf Noir on Third Avenue, a locally owned coffeehouse with retro tables and stools and quilted steel on the walls, industrial kitchen-style. She asked for an espresso. "How about a muffin?" he prompted. "Maybe a scone? A brownie? You look like you could use the calories."

She refused with a polite but frosty air. "Im sorry," he said as they settled at a small round table. "That was rude of me. I wouldnt comment if you needed to lose a few pounds." The apology relaxed her. She made a wrinkle-nosed grin. "Exactly. Im always being told Im too skinny. And rigid about my workout regimen. And superorganized, and single-minded." Awkward laugh. "Thats all true, but even so" "Its not anyone elses place to point it out." He wondered why control was so important to her. "I dont see any reason to change, even if I could." She shrugged. "I like setting goals and having a direction." "Ambition is admirable." He studied her face. Full, soft lips, fresh skin, magnetic blue eyes set off by black lashes and finely arched brows. Young, but not naive. She was too driven and sharp for that. "What is yours?" "To move to New York City within a year. I want to work at one of the large newspapers or magazines and see one of my short stories published in The New Yorker. After that, a novel or a screenplay, maybe a Pulitzer." "How about an Oscar and the Nobel Prize for Literature?" She was young. Too young to know that life threw curve balls. Ashleigh picked up the espresso, inhaling the strongly-scented steam. "You think Im silly." "No, just very young and optimistic." "My age has nothing to do with it. I was born a perfectionist." "Born? You were this way even as a child?" "Yes. My mother worked long hours, and I dont have a father, so I grew up to be very responsible. Ive always been mature fo r my age." She looked at him over the rim of her cup, then dropped her lids and took a sip. Daintily, she set the cup down and picked up a napkin to dab at her lips. Her red lipstick left a faint mark on the linen, like the imprint of a kiss. "Divorced parents?" he asked. She shook her head, not volunteering any more information. "Tell me about you." He grinned. "Suddenly Im feeling like a slacker. When I was your age, I was only interested in earning lots of money and having a good time." She blinked. "Really?" "Yes, really. I was something of a playboy." "What happened?" "My girlfriend got pregnant. I was twenty-six and Natalie was two years older. I wasnt ready for marriage, but she was, and the baby settled the deal. Logans arrival changed my life. I did a complete 180, from carefree bachelor to dedicated father." Ma rk smiled at the memories. His life had once been black and white. The kids had colored him a rainbow. "Natalies family set a good example for me. Theyre close and extremely devoted. Always there for one another." Especially now, he thought, when troubles had come with his and Natalies divorce and an illness in the family. Although Mark was technically no longer connected, they treated him as if he were still part of the family. He suspected that Natalies sister held out hope theyd reunite. "In that case, Im surprised you were divorced." Ashleigh was looking suspicious again. "People change," he said, though it was Natalie whod changed. One day, shed decided that shed had enough of being a housewife and had announced she was leaving him to enter law school. Hed been willing to carry on with the marriage, but in the end they had agreed that theyd never been as much in love as they ought to have been. "Some marriages break with a snap," he said, "and others simply divide and grow apart." "Im sorry," Ashleigh said. "Especially for your children" Mark took a swallow of his latte. "Theyre adjusting. Theyd like to see their mother more often, but I do the best that I ca n." Ashleigh gave her head a little shake. "You mean that you have custody? Most divorced guys are satisfied to be Saturday dads." He wondered how many shed known. Her own father, perhaps? "My ex-wife is in law school. She has the kids on weekends." "Whew." Ashleigh rolled her bottom lip as she stared at him. "Youre so not what I expected." "That doesnt sound like a compliment." "Its " She slid back on the stool, folding her hands into her lap. "Its not a choice between good and bad. Were just very different. Children arent in my future at all."

"You say that now" "I know what Im talking about. I was brought up by a single mother who tried to do it all career and family. Its impossible. One or the other gets short shrift maybe both and Im too ambitious for that." "Well. You do sound very certain." Ashleigh folded her arms. "Believe me. I am." "Shame," Mark said, "because I would have liked to get to know you better. But I come with kids, and theres no way around that."
***

Subject: future perfect dear tad: i know u of all people understand my reasoning. u r the very epitome of clear-cut, bloodless, uncomplicated decisions. no messy emotion or squid-like commitments with their tangled tentacles squirming into every part of your existence, searching, searching for your heart, only to squeeze the life right out of it, all in the name of love Stop it, Ashleigh! Subject: future perfect dear tad: i know im right. my choice is set. mark has young kids who are the major force in his life, ergo hes wrong for me . just because it felt so right with him and we talked easily and he charmed me with his good looks and his total honesty (kirk looks like such a loser slimeball now; i cant imagine what i was thinking), doesnt mean that we should date. he wanted to ask me and, yes, for a mi nute there, i really, really wanted to forget about my plans for the perfect life and just go for it with him. for the short term anyhow. he indicated no desire whatsoever that he was looking for a new wife and mother, so its not as if Ashleighs cell phone chirped. She set the laptop on the bed beside her and reached into the le ather briefbag on the floor. "Hello?" "Ashleigh. Its Mark." "Mark? I uh I " Jeepers creepers. His voice alone gave her the shivers. "I know," he said. "At first I thought Id think up an excuse for calling, like to give you the inside story on Triple tree " "Is there an inside story?" He laughed. "No. Not like youre hoping for." He stopped and breathed as if hed been running. She knew the feeling. Her puls e was doing a 10K. "Im calling for a date," he said. She pulled her legs, clad in loose cotton pajama pants, up to her chest. Hugged them, smiling. Almost giddy. "But I thought we decided not to do that." "Ive been listing the reasons not to in my head. And they dont matter. All I know is that I want to see you again. Dinnertomorrow night? What do you say?" "Yes." She was barely able to contain her delight. "I say yes."

Chapter Five
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Faith put on a full brunch spread for the groups Saturday critique session. The other women exclaimed over the food as they filled their plates at the dining room buffet. Faith brushed off the compliments by explaining that she was making up for cooking the bare minimum during the weeks shed been on fire to finish her book. Ashleigh helped herself to scrambled eggs, skipped the breads and meat, then chose from a selection of cut fruit. She sat and looked around at the beautifully appointed room. Faiths home was gracious and elegant. As a girl, Ashleigh had longed for such a life. Now, of course, she understood why her mother had kept to a contemporary condo in a complex populated by professionals and retirees low maintenance and convenient location. It just hadnt been the best place to raise children. As they ate, the women returned to the discussion of their rough draft assignments. Faith had revised a scene from her book to enrich the "love heals" theme. Catherines piece was a memoir of a trip to Italy with her husband. Her motif was endings. Shed interwoven images of a golden sunset, crumbling brick, a lonely street sweeper. "Ashleigh," said Faith, "you didnt read." Nancy nibbled a sausage. "All shes done is sit there and smile like an idiot. Whats up with that?" "I couldnt concentrate on the assignment." Another goofy grin spread across Ashleighs fa ce. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Aha." Marsha nodded. "A new man. I recognize the signs."

"Another one?" Catherine said, over Faiths incredulous, "Already?" "I met him outside of our class last week." The words bubbled out before Ashleigh could stop them. "Hes wonderful. Smart and handsome and mature. Hes even helping me with background for an investigative piece for the paper." "Older, I take it?" asked caustic Nancy, sending an "I told you so" look around the table. Catherine leaned over and murmured with Faith, then said, "Excuse me," to the rest of them as the two left the table to go to the kitchen. "Be careful," cautioned Marsha, after watching Catherines exit with a worried frown. "Hell expect something in return." "Marks not like that! We have the most amazing connection. He took me to dinner last night, and we could have talked all night " Ashleigh heard how ardent she sounded and tried to dial the enthusiasm back a few notches. "But it was just one date. Nothing serious. He has kids, and I am not the mothering type." "How do you know?" Faith asked as she returned with a coffee pot. She refilled Marshas cup. "Do you have any experience with children, Ashleigh? You may make an excellent mother." "The girls twenty-three." Nancy stirred her Bloody Mary with a stalk of celery. "Dont rush her into motherhood. Let her enjoy herself." With a crunch, Nancy bit off the end of the dripping stalk. "With kids her own age, preferably." The last comment stung. Ashleigh had always been out of place with her peers. Too shy, too studious, too serious. "Not every woman needs to have children," Marsha put in with her usual quiet assurance. Shed confided to the group that her marriage had broken up in part because of her decision against motherhood. "Certainly not," Faith quickly responded. "I only meant that Ashleigh should make an informed decision." Nancy let out a raucous laugh. "I smell a babysitter! Come on over to my house some weekend, Ash. Brin and Scott will introduce you to the joys of motherhood." Faith clapped with delight. "Ill bring my three over, too." "Lets not go overboard," Marsha said. She studied Ashleigh, absently fingering the collar of her white silk shirt. Her thick red ponytail was anchored by a beaded band. "I hate to say it, but they might be right. Concentrating on your career is all well and good, especially at your age. But dont rule out your options too soon." Doubts? Ashleigh wondered. Surely not Marsha! "If you really want to, you can do both," Marsha said. Faith agreed. Resolutely, Ashleigh shook her head. "Ive made up my mind. Its going to be either/or for me." "O, sweet youth." Nancy sighed. "Life is so clean-cut when youre twenty." The three women looked at Ashleigh with doting smiles. She fumed, silently standing by her decision. She wasnt naive or uninformed. All her life shed seen her mother torn between motherhood and career. That was too hard. Ashleigh wouldnt do that to her own children. But Mark was, she suddenly realized. And by all accounts he managed nicely. The past night, over drinks and appetizers, hed gone on and on about his children. Ashleigh had found herself fascinated by his clear love and dedication. Shed never known a father who was so devoted. Yet he did have a career a busy one. Nonetheless, he claimed his children came first, even though it had sounded like their mother was little help except on weekends. How was that possible? A nanny and housekeeper. Ashleigh nodded to herself. Shed ask. Mark was lucky if he could afford full -time help, she supposed. Funny how it took two paid positions to fill a mothers shoes. Ha. Add an outside job to the mix and it was no wond er that contemporary women were so exhausted. Not me, Ashleigh vowed. I have big plans. Marks animated face returned to her minds eye. Their evening truly had been remarkable. If shed dared to own up to her feelings, shed have had to admit that she was already a little bit in love with him, children and all. Shed been coasting o n endorphins for the past forty-eight hours, and only a concerted effort kept her on a somewhat even keel. Catherine returned to the table. Faith put a hand out to stroke the blondes shoulder reassuringly. "How is he?" Catherines face was sad. "As well as can be expected." Faith explained to the group. "You already know that Catherines husband, Graham, is ill and under full -time care. Im afraid he had an especially bad night. The situations not critical, but Catherine wanted to call to check on him."

Nancy gasped. "Of course you did, honey." She got up and stood behind Catherines chair, encircling her in a hug. "Im so sorry." "Oh, Catherine." Marshas husky voice cracked with emotion. "Thats rough. If theres ever anything I can do" Ashleigh murmured sympathetically before rising from the table with her plate. She rushed into the kitchen and scraped the contents into the trash can, blinking hard. She felt so selfish. "Ashleigh?" Faith came into the kitchen. "Are you okay?" "Sure." She moved to the sink and set her plate beside it on the granite countertop, careful not to chip the fine china. "Im not good with big emotional scenes." Especially those concerning husbands and fathers. "I never have the right words." "Words arent important." "Hey." Ashleigh tried to grin and wound up having to knuckle away an escaping tear. She sniffed. "Youre a writer. Youre not supposed to say that." Faith gave Ashleigh a comforting hug. "Dont tell Niall." Although she wanted to stay in the motherly embrace, Ashleigh broke away. She zeroed in on the family photos magnetized to the stainless steel refrigerator. "Are these your kids?" "Yes. And my husband, Ben." Faith indicated a close-up of a handsome, well-built man with curly brown hair. "Nice." Ashleigh gazed longingly at the shots of family frivolity beach vacations, birthday parties, casual times at home. Faith was looking at her with a knowing, bemused expression. "But of course youre a full -time mom," Ashleigh pointed out. "Not so much the past month when my book was taking over my brain." "What will you do if you get a publishing contract? Maybe a real writing career?" "Ill juggle," Faith said with confidence. "Ben has always been a great dad, and hes promised to do his share." She chuckled . "Well see. Its not as if Im counting on an acceptance anytime soon." "I think it will happen." Ashleigh was no connoisseur of romance fiction; shed always assumed love stories were too sentimental and unrealistic for a cutting-edge girl like her. But Faiths book had changed her mind. And Ashleigh wasnt known for changing her mind.

Chapter Six
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On Tuesday, Ashleigh met Marsha and Felicia Cruz for lunch. She felt very important, and had selected the restaurant carefully, going for a chic, casual contemporary feel. An early reservation had earmarked a good table by the windows overlooking the downtown business district. Marsha and Felicia hit it off over tortilla chips and guacamole dip. Soon the editor was offering Marsha a regular travel feature, even though shed only glanced at the copy Marsha had brought along a previous class assignment shed written about biking in India. Ashleigh was thrilled at the prospect of counting the TV journalist as her colleague, but Marsha remained aloof. Not disinterested, exactly. Reserved. While she ate her Cobb salad, Ashleigh thought of the work Marsha had read in their critique sessions. "You should show Felicia your other writing. Shed snap them up for feature pieces." Ashleigh turned to the editor. "There was one essay about starving children in Bangladesh, and one " Marsha interrupted. "Im not sure Im ready to go public with those. Thanks anyway, Ashleigh." "Oh. Sorry. Its just that well, theyre so good. With your name, you could even have them published as a collection." Felicias dark eyes gleamed with interest, though she said nothing, only smiled to herself as she took a bite of her salmon. Marshas business card was safely tucked away in her purse. "Id rather keep to travel articles for now." Marsha shrugged. "Change of pace." "Change of lifestyle for me," Felicia said. "There came a time when chasing down leads and massaging informants got old. I decided life behind a desk wasnt so bad after all." She smiled at Ashleighs expression. "Our gir l here has the fire in her belly." "Good for her." Marshas flinty tone hinted at the dogged reporter shed been. "But Im getting nowhere fast," Ashleigh said. "I thought there might be a story in Tri -Thorn Investments. A company that big and that powerful is probably up to something. So far, all Ive found is one disgruntled carpenter who claimed theyre using substandard materials." She shook her head. "And a project architect who says theyre not."

Marshas eyes narrowed. "Which do you believe?" "The architect, without a doubt." Granted, Ashleigh had been wrong in the past about men. But she was ninety-nine percent certain of Marks honesty, both professionally and personally. "Get the guided tour of one of the project sites from the companys PR man," Marsha said. "Waste of time. Theyll only show me what they want me to see." "And you see all of it. Then drop by the same site unexpectedly. Theyll hustle you off, of course. But theres no telling wh at you might learn." Ashleigh picked through her salad. "I have an inside track with the architect, Mark Torrance." She glanced at Marsha. "I told you about him at Faiths." "That could get complicated." "I wont let it." But Ashleigh wondered what Mark would say if she told him that for her, career came fi rst. He should respect her choice as much as she respected his. Yes, that was perfectly sensible. The women had finished their meal and were getting ready to leave when Ashleigh glanced out the window and saw a strange sight. Mark was rushing toward the bistro with a child in his arms a chubby little girl in a pair of pink bib overalls. Strawberry blond ringlets framed her dimpled cheeks and big blue eyes. Ashleigh quickly signed the receipt the waitress had delivered and tossed her credit card into her purse. She tucked the clutch under her arm for once, shed gone out without her fully equipped brief-bag. "Excuse me for a minute," she said to her lunch mates. "I see someone I know." Both Felicia and Marsha turned to watch as Ashleigh hurried to the front of the restaurant. Mark burst through the door. "Ashleigh!" he said. "Thank God. Can you take Violet to the ladies room?" "Uh I ah, I guess so?" "Its an emergency." He thrust the redheaded girl into Ashleighs arms. She staggered under the weight, catching Violet at the armpits so that she could hold the child away from her gray linen skirt. She half expected body fluids to spout from one end or the other, but all that came were a few tears as Violets face scrunch ed into worried pink creases. Mark made reassuring sounds over Ashleighs shoulder as she rushed the girl into the ladies room. Ashleigh put Violet down in a stall. "What do I do now?" she called to Mark, who was hovering near the door, making apologies as a woman exited with an alarmed hmmph. "Get the overalls down as fast as you can. She had a carton of whole milk at her preschool and it doesnt agree with her." Violet made a face. "Tummy hurts." "Good grief." Ashleigh peeled the clothing off the girl and plopped her onto the toilet. She slowly backed away, raising her voice for Marks benefit. "Okay, Ive done it. Shes, uh, all set. Whats next?" Violet hunched, balancing on the porcelain with he r overalls hanging inside-out over her shoes. "Do I have to hold her? Will she fall in? Does she know how to" Ashleigh dropped her voice "wipe?" "Um, well" came Marks voice. In one of the closed stalls, a woman chuckled. Her feet went up on their heels, as if she expected a puddle to encroach her cubicle. Ashleigh set her clutch purse on the long vanity with multiple sinks, keeping one eye on Violet while trying to make it appear she wasnt watching too closely. Even a three-year-old deserved some privacy, right? After a minute, Ashleigh darted into the entryway, where Mark waited by the half-open door. "I think shes going." "Whew." He grinned. "Thanks. You saved my upholstery. Im double-parked in a fire lane." "Want to go and move your car? I think I can handle this." "No, I might as well wait now that were here. Its just as quick." Ashleigh left to check on Violet. The little girl had hopped down and was fumbling with her inside-out overalls. Ashleigh gritted her teeth and entered the stall, reaching for the toilet paper. With her face averted, she took care of business and got Violet reclothed. "See the sinks? Ill bet youre a big girl who always remembers to wash her hands." "Okay," Violet said in a whispery voice. She ran to the sinks and was just able to reach the tap with a chubby little hand. Ashleigh stopped to flush the toilet. Struggling to get more paper from the dispenser to wipe up the dribbles, she checked on Marks daughter over her shoulder. She was flushing again when her cell phone rang. "Phone," Violet said. "Answer the phone."

Ashleigh came out of the stall as the girl reached into her purse. "Thats all right, Violet, let it ring " "Phone!" Violet ran toward Ashleigh on stubby legs, the slim cell phone clutched in one wet hand, the purse dangling from the other, spilling its contents on the tile floor. Credit card, wallet, lipstick, condom. Eek! Ashleigh knelt and opened her arms to catch the girl. Violet ran straight to her, all right, but she also reared back and tossed the chirping cell phone into the air with a gurgle of delight. A distinctly wet plop told Ashleigh where it had landed. Mark called out worriedly. "Whats going on in there? Having troubles?" Ashleigh was exasperated, but the feel of Violets sturdy little body in her arms and the childs innocent chortles at her achievement were strangely mollifying. Even sweet. "Were doing fine," she said to Mark. "Just dumping my current calling plan."

Chapter Seven
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"How can I make it up to you?" "Really, Mark, theres nothing to make up! Im fine. I survived. It was just my cell phone that didnt." Ashleigh smiled to herself. Admittedly shed been flustered by the ladies room incident, but strangely the loss of her cell phone hadnt bothered her as much as it should have. "No big deal." "Ill take you shopping, then. Buy you a new phone." "I already did that." Shed gone an entire day without one, then had caved and rushed out on her lunch hour to the nearest electronics store, where they knew her by name. "What do you think Im talking to you on?" "Oh," he said. "Right. But youll let me pay for it." "Thats okay. I needed to update to the new model anyway." He sighed. "I wanted you to meet my kids eventually. Didnt expect it to happen under those circumstances. Ive got to tell you, though, that was typical. Life with Logan and Violet is never dull. Ive learned to roll with the punches." He chuckled. "You rolled very well yourself." "I was all thumbs." "You were fantastic. Ill never forget your face when I shoved Violet at you." Ashleigh giggled. "I was glad to help." She lifted a hand to acknowledge her friends as they walked past. Faith pointed to the classroom. The break was ending. Other students drifted by. Ashleigh leaned against the wall. She didnt want to hang up yet. "But, seriously," Mark said, returning to the same refrain. "If I cant pay damages, there must be something else I can do for you." Love me. She cupped the cell phone to her cheek as a sweet rush of longing swept through her. Mark was everything she wanted, except for one complication his children. Kind of a gigantic complication. Ashleigh straightened. She had to be smart and hard, not soft and sentimental. "You could give me a guided tour of a Tripletree construction project." "Sure. But thats professional." His voice dropped. "What can I do for you after hours?" She put her mouth closer to the phone and purred, "Im free Saturday night." "Natalie will have the kids. Want to come over to my place for a romantic dinner? Candlelight, privacy, no bathroom emergencies to break the mood..." Ashleigh laughed softly. "Sounds wonderful." This could work if I only see him when the kids are away,Ashleigh thought to herself. I never wanted a boyfriend who demanded too much of my time anyway. Nor one who wanted all of me. Great plan. Perfect. Exactly what I want. Then why wasnt she satisfied? Frowning at her unaccustomed confusion, Ashleigh ended the call with Mark and hurried to the classroom. The other students were still getting settled. Niall hadnt returned yet he was late. Abby leaned forward to nudge Ashleighs arm. "Call the new boyfriend?" She turned and nodded. "We have a date for Saturday night."

"Im jealous. The only guys I meet are so " Abby rolled her eyes at Rogers caveman hair " inappropriate." She perked up when Niall walked into the room, then wilted again when she saw that Catherine was with him. "Speaking of inappropriate..." Ashleighs mouth tightened. She dug into her satchel and pulled out a hardcover book. "Before I forget, heres that copy of Story I promised to lend you. I finished it last week. You should get a lot out of it." Abby had confessed that in her fantasies, she sold a million-dollar romantic-comedy screenplay to Hollywood and was swept away from her humdrum existence forever. "Thanks." Abby took the book. She glanced at Ashleigh and mouthed, "Sorry." Ashleigh shrugged. It wasnt any of her business if Niall had an interest in Catherine, or vice versa, whatever their age difference. But it was a little weird to realize how she must appear to others, with her similar attraction to older men. She jerked back to awareness when Niall spoke her name. "Ashleigh." He took off his glasses and fixed her with his gaze. She was pinned like a butterfly. "You havent read yet." She made a face, having hoped that theyd move on to a discussion of the next assignment after the break. "Do I have to?" "No. But you wont get as much out of the class if you dont." "All right." Ashleigh dragged her pages out of a leather folder, took a deep breath and read as fast as she could. Shed set her scene at a trendy Manhattan cocktail party. Her idea of one. The theme was the disenfranchisement of individuals. Shed illustrated it with symbols of space and coldness the echo of footsteps in a minimalist loft, the clatter of ice cubes in a glass. Not particularly original, but shed polished the vignette until not a word was out of place. The classroom was silent when she finished. Niall rubbed his stubbly chin. "Any comments?" Roger raised his hand. "Its antiseptic." "Thats what I was going for," Ashleigh said. She glanced at Roger, sprawled halfway into the row between desks again, and pulled her elbows into her body. Rogers lip lifted into a sneer. "Then you achieved it spectacularly." A middle-aged lady who usually wrote about her pets lifted a tentative hand. "The piece did set a certain tone, but it wasnt the kind of tone the average reader enjoys. Dont people want to be entertained and involved? Ashleighs story was so dry I didn t care for a single one of the characters." "You have a point," Niall said. "But lets focus on the symbolism." He looked over the students. "Marsha?" "The symbolism was effective. Thats easy to tell from our reactions." Ashleigh felt a little better. Then Marshas mouth puckered in thought. "But I wonder how Ashleigh would have managed if shed chosen a theme and symbols less common to her. You know, stretched a little." Abby waved her hand. "But were supposed to write what we know." "Im writing a mystery and I dont know murder," Nancy said. She gave an evil chuckle. "Except in my fantasies about doing in the ex and his bimbo." Niall smiled at the scattered laughter before getting them back on track. "How do you feel, Ashleigh? Were you writing what you know?" Ashleigh worried at her lip. "Not really, I guess." Roger snorted. "You mean youre not an ice princess?" "No personal comments, please." Niall tilted his head at Ashleigh. "You make me wonder why youve used a similar setting and theme in all your assignments. Is that a conscious choice?" "I suppose." Being the focus of attention made Ashleigh quiver inside, but outwardly she remained a cool cucumber. "I want my stories to be intelligent and witty. I dont particularly care about pop entertainment." "What about emotion?" Niall went around the desk and picked up a piece of chalk. He paused for a moment, gathering himself, and then began writing at the top left corner, continuing without stopping until the entire board was filled. Ashleighs eyes sped through the dense paragraph a jumble of words and thoughts that formed a peephole into Nialls mind. He turned to face the class, dusting off his hands. "Stream of consciousness. Your next assignment." He nodded at Ashleigh. "This ones especially important for you, Ashleigh. While your writing is skilled, its also much too careful and self -aware. I want you all of you to turn off the internal editor that inhibits your work and write from the heart and soul, not the brain." Ashleighs fingertips crashed down on the keys of her laptop, producing a garbled line of type. She wiggled uncomfortably in the desk chair as she deleted the garbage. Oh, please! Turn off the brain turn on the heart? I might as well take my F now, because Ill never be able to do that. Never!
***

Subject: matters of the brain

dear tad: im starting to wonder if my life is veering out of control. on the surface, its all smooth -going. im setting up the tripletree tour with mark and i dont even have to be sneaky about it. he knows im looking for a story, but hes so sure of the companys honest intentions that hes willing to prove hes right. so maybe im chasing my tail there. chasing tail...bwahaha. good segue, you think? truthfully, im not so sure about the date with mark either. it would be crazy to let myself fall in love, considering his circumstances. violet was cute and all really, really adorable, even with the wiping-the-bottom and drowning-thecell complications but i barely managed five minutes with her. five disastrous minutes. and mark is absolutely the type of guy whod expect me to lovelovelove his kids. before we go any further, ill have to talk to him about that. but whenever we speak, all my doubts vanish and i get all gooey inside see what I mean? way out of control. the only upside to that is that maybe ill be able to do my class assignment after all. :-( btw, hows life in the deep freeze? Ashleigh

Chapter Eight
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"Im sorry if my whining was a bore," Ashleigh told Marsha the following Saturday afternoon. She was sacked out on the Italian leather sofa in the living room of Marshas chic apartment. The decor was similar to Ashleighs, except for the funky appeal of ethnic artifacts. "Im afraid Ill never get the knack of that stream of consciousness thing." The other members of the critique group had just left. Marsha surveyed the used glasses and plates, the messy pile of papers gathered on the steel-and-glass coffee table. With a wry smile, she smoothed her wavy red hair behind her ears. The October sunshine flooding the floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted the strands of silver and the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. "You gave it a good try." Marsha collected two glasses and put them with the others on the table, then gave up and threw her lean, athletic body onto the sofa. "If it had been twenty years ago, Id have passed out weed instead of wine and you might have relaxed more and really learned to go with the flow." As a group, the women had really loosened up, even gotten a little wild and wacky as they slurped red wine and experimented with their stream of consciousness assignment. Marsha had supplied colored markers and large sheets of paper. Theyd scribbled, doodled, written long, jumbled paragraphs, told secrets and jokes. Most of all, they had laughed uproariously. And still Ashleigh was blocked. "Its hopeless." She shoved her hands into the pouch pocket of her hoodie. "Im hopeless." "Oh, I wouldnt say that." Marsha smiled, crinkling her eyes even more. "I sense a modicum of mellow. Youre even wearing jeans and sneakers instead of a business suit." "I skipped my workout too. Well, sort of. I did go for a five-mile run along the river before coming here." Marsha pulled an African batik pillow into her lap. "Hm. How come you skipped?" "Laziness." That wasnt the entire truth. Ashleigh had been up late, chatting with Mark via instant messages on her computer. Shed slept so well and had such nice dreams, this morning she hadnt wanted to get out of bed. "Got the love bug," Marsha observed. Ashleigh grinned bashfully. "I know the other women think Im falling for the wrong guy again. Even I thought that, at first. But its different with Mark." "Why?" "It feels real. Deep. Not superficial. On the surface, he seems like my perfect type and thats probably what first attracted me. But the thing is that hes not slick like Kirk. He has this real life that he wants to share with me and Im actually conside ring it, even though it might include the kids." Ashleigh stopped for a breath. Whoa. She was spilling her guts and Marsha was listening and nodding. Not like a mentor. Like a friend. "Would that be a mistake? I cant give up my career. But Mark Ashleigh closed her eyes for a moment. "If only I could have both." Marsha had turned her face to gaze out the window. "Its a hard decision." "Do you regret yours?" "Not exactly. There are times I wonder what might have been." "Everyone has those thoughts," Ashleigh said. "Some people act on them. That was why my mother had me she was afraid of getting old and regretting that shed never had a child." Marsha looked interested. "You sound as though you think she made the wrong choice." "Of course Im glad to be alive." Ashleigh slid deeper into the sofa cushion, digging her chin into her chest. "But Ive always wished I had a dad." "Yours wasnt involved?"

"My so-called father was so uninvolved they never even met." Ashleigh glanced at Marsha and swallowed nervously. "He was a depositor at a sperm bank." "Ahh. That explains a lot." Ashleigh disliked being psychoanalyzed, so she covered with a light joking tone. "With her career in banking, Mom took a lot of teasing about making that sort of withdrawal. For the first few years of my life, I was known as Mommys little divid end." She changed the direction of the conversation by saying, "I noticed you have family photos." An evenly spaced row of them in the hallway, all black-and-whites, with wide mats and sleek silver frames. Shed been drawn to them with the same interest shed shown when examining Faiths photos. "My brothers family," Marsha said. "Were close. Im the fun aunt who drops in from exotic places, distributes trinkets, tel ls stories and takes the kids out to eat." Ashleigh sighed enviously. "Thats so smart. I wish I could snap my fingers and have your life." Marshas throaty laugh was knowing. "How ironic. We could switch places and then Id finally have the chance to find out if whether or not Id make the same choices if I had to do it all again."
***

Mark raced around his house, flinging toys into a laundry basket. Though Ashleigh was skittish about his children, he wasnt about to erase their presence. Order would be nice, however. She appreciated order. He shoved the basket into the coat closet and ran to the kitchen. The skinless chicken breasts were roasting. Asparagus ready to steam. He took a bag of cut lettuce out of the fridge and dumped it in a big wooden bowl. The kitchen was fully stocked with implements, pots and pans everything. His ex-wife had left everything but her personal items. Shed said that was so the children would be less disrupted; he thought she was also glad to get away from the clutter and responsibility of their daily lives. Considering how theyd begun, it was strange that hed been the one whod taken so readily to family life. Then why was he getting involved with another woman who couldnt see that even the duties were a joy? He didnt know. When it came to Ashleigh, he simply couldnt stop his feelings. The surge of love was that pure and strong. The doorbell rang. His heart jumped. On the way to answer it, he took a lighter from his pocket and flicked the flame over the candles on the dining room table. He turned the lights low and opened the door. Ashleigh smiled at him, gorgeous in a simple black dress with a silver buckle at the waist. Her long dark hair fell loose, skimming her bare shoulders and arms like silk. She held a white cashmere sweater in her hands. He took it and she said, "I should have brought wine, but I was so excited in the cab over here I forgot to stop." "We dont need wine to get buzzed." Mark bent to kiss her cheek. She turned her face and their lips touched instead. "Mmm. We might not need dinner either. You taste wonderful." She laughed and slipped away. "Oh, no, you dont. Ive been looking forward to this. Its not often a man cooks for me." "I kept the menu simple and light. I know how health-conscious you are." "That was thoughtful." She stage-whispered behind her hand, "But, you know, Im not perfect. I keep a stash of Ben & Jerrys in my freezer." He caught her by the waist and gave her a laughing hug. "Ashleigh Griffith imperfect? I think not." They kissed again. Marks blood began to heat. In the weeks hed known her, theyd managed to talk a lot and share many intimate thoughts, but their physical contact had been fairly limited. Theyd held hands and kissed after their first date, a nd that was about it. In his younger days, hed rushed into sex. His married love life had been comfortable. With Ashleigh, everything was different. He was as excited as a teenager and yet immensely pleased that his first pleasures with her had been grounded in the emotional connection. When they reached the next level, it would be truly intimate. "Why are you smiling like that?" she whispered, stroking her fingers along the side of his jaw. "Because Im falling in love," he said.

Chapter Nine
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They talked about Logan and Violet over dinner. Mark was so sweet about them, telling cute stories, like about the time that Logan the science whiz concocted a stink bomb that sent them to Grandmas house for the weekend. Ashleigh was a millimeter away from being won over. Only when they left the table and went to the living room for coffee and dessert did she have enough space to attempt to clear her head.

No luck. Marks earlier announcement that he was falling in love with her crowded out every other thought. But she wasnt supposed to get sidetracked by love and female nesting instincts. Shed intended to control those urges and stay focused on her goal: a bigger, better job in New York within a year. Nothing was supposed to hold her back. Who was she kidding? Shed gotten nowhere on her investigation into Tri-Thorn, even though shed been working the phone and computer all week, hunting up and questioning suppliers, subcontractors, inspectors. There was still the site tour Mark had arranged. If that yielded no clues, she was ready to give up. Itll be different in New York, where the action is. I can make it there. I know I can. But the prospect of leaving New Hope was no longer so easy or attractive. Not only because of Mark. Shed made good friends these past few months women she didnt want to lose touch with. Mark entered with a tray. He sat beside Ashleigh on the cushy couch and passed her a dessert plate. "Baked pear with caramel sauce." "Wow. Im impressed. I was halfway expecting that dinner would be takeout." It might have been if theyd dined at her apartment. She looked over the living room of Marks restored arts -and-crafts bungalow. Oak floors and built-in bookcases, a green-tiled fireplace, overstuffed furniture that had seen a lot of wear, and a well-stocked entertainment center. A cheerful, cozy room. Very different from her own minimalist decor. "This house is suspiciously clean," she teased. "I thought you had kids? Or was this the maids day on?" "No maid. No takeout." Mark rubbed his knuckles on his chest. "Im a domestic god. Just dont try to open the closet." Ashleigh sliced into her pear, amused that a man who looked like Mark, who had a thriving career, would boast about his housekeeping prowess. "Youll make a lucky woman a very good husband." He cocked his head, the ice-blue eyes lighting up. She swallowed. "I mean, someday. Not now, of course. You already tried marriage. Im sure you dont want to make a second mistake. When if you find " She clenched her teeth to make herself stop babbling. "What happens if I think Ive found her where I least expected?" Ashleigh plunked down her plate. Her heart was in her mouth and she couldnt speak. Mark stroked her hair, brushing it back from her face. "You know, usually when I tell a woman Im falling in love with her, I get a response." "I didnt know what to say," she whispered. "You dont have to sign a commitment. Just tell me if I have a chance." "Mark! Of course you do." He swept her into his arms. Kissed her, slowly, thoroughly, at first holding her tight and then gradually sliding his hands along her bare skin so she prickled with wonder and emotion and sensation, until finally he was cupping her face and licking soft, sweet kisses from her lips. She closed her eyes and swooned into the desire, trusting him. Instinctively. Her heart had overruled her head. They reclined on the couch in a full-body embrace. She worked the tail of his shirt from his pants and slid her hands beneath it, finding his warm satiny skin. He unzipped the back of her dress so it gaped, almost falling off her s houlders. Shed worn no bra. He discovered that with a soft grunt of appreciation. He reached inside her loosened dress and caressed her breasts with feathery strokes. Nice. A humming pleasure vibrated in her throat as she circled her shoulders. His hand closed over her breast, squeezing. She angled her head and found his lips again. Their kisses deepened until they were on the threshold of decision. Continue or stop now. "I meant to talk to you before we started, mmm this ." Ashleigh squirmed pleasantly as his leg pressed between her thighs. His mouth opened on her throat, nipping, licking, sucking. "Weve talked plenty." "About Logan and Violet." She panted. "They cant I cant be, you know, involved." "Dont worry. This is one area I keep separate. Too confusing for the children to be privy to my love life." "But you said you wanted me to meet them." "Only if "

If we last, Ashleigh thought. She was dismayed, and then frustrated with herself for being so impulsive and emotional. She should have been glad that Mark was waiting to see if what they had was short term. White-hot passion burned out. Reality set in. Everyone knew that. Mark kissed her. "Only if youre ready." "Oh. How am I supposed to know if Im ready?" He got to his feet and scooped her up beside him. "Same way youll know that you love me." She was liquid and loose -jointed, but his arms held her steady. His body was a rock. And that is? She considered asking, but he was leading her to the bedroom with a burning promise in his eyes, and suddenly she didnt want to speak or think. She only wanted to feel.
***

Subject: matters of the heart dear tad: seems kind of strange writing to u about this, but its not like youll ever read my letters, right? i must say u h ave been very disappointing that way. among others, hahaha. hold on while i get an evian. b/k. my mouth is so dry. sixteen straight hours of hot sex is terribly dehydrating. i got out of marks house only an hour be fore his ex was dropping off the kids. he didnt ask me to stay, thank heaven. that would have been too weird for words. so, yeah. i did it with mark. and did it and did it. fantastic, mind-bending, rock-my-world sex. which means im in a big fix, taddie. mark is going to have expectations, even tho he kept reassuring me that i was in charge, i could make the decision about what happens tomorrow and next week and next month and that he would always understand, no matter what i choose. but i dont feel in control. i just feel happy. Ashleigh

Chapter Ten
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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," Ashleigh said, standing on the sidewalk outside of the Chronicle building. After checking her schedule for next week on her Palm handheld, she slipped the PDA into its place in her satchel, then patted the adjacent cell pocket. All accounted for. She was ready, set, go for her weekend away with Mark. Ashleigh tossed her braid over her shoulder and zipped up her jacket. If shed made a graph of her week, the zigzag would have dipped and soared wildly before going off the charts altogether. Lows had been Gregor Thompson assigning her to cover another sewage board meeting, and the Wednesday evening creative writing class, when Niall had spoken to her after class about why she hadnt handed in the assignment. Shed begged for another week, saying she was on the verge of a breakthrough. A lie, but not a hopeless one. If ever she was to loosen up and let go, it was now. With Mark. Every one of the weeks highs had been him. Theyd met for lunch on Monday and shed been late returning to the newsroom and hadnt even cared. Wednesday, hed asked a neighbor to watch his kids for a half hour so he could drive Ashleigh to class . Shed been late arriving there, too, because she and Mark had been making out in his SUV like a couple of teenagers. The entire class had smiled at her when shed walked in with her lipstick smeared and her blouse askew. On Thursday Mark had taken her on a tour of three of Tripletrees construction projects the raw beginnings of the Rivertowne condos, a nearly completed office building and an apartment complex that was in the midst of construction. Shed asked questions, made notes, even snapped photos for reference, but the only article she could foresee was a puff piece praising the company for its good business practices. There was no obvious, or even surreptitious, skimping. Hell, the company even recycled. When Mark had suggested they take off for his place in the mountains for the weekend, leaving directly from work so they could get there by nightfall, Ashleigh had been more than ready. Shed cleared her schedule, including making apologies to her critique group. She was checking the busy street for the hundredth time when Felicia Cruz exited the office building. "Hey, Ashleigh." She looked at the gym tote that had joined the brief-bag at her colleagues feet. "Going away for the weekend?" "Yes. To the mountains. With my boyfriend, Mark." Saying that out loud made her smile. "So thats why you left on time for once." Felicia slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses. "I was looking for you." She stepped closer. "Dont get angry with me, but I did something bad. When you were fussing around with your creative writing assignment the other day, I took a peek." Ashleighs face got hot. Even though, aside from a few stops and starts, there hadnt been any stream of consciousness to rea d. "Took a peek at what?" "The laptop. You went to the bathroom and left a file open. What can I say? I was curious, the way you were moaning and groaning over it. I skimmed a piece youd written the one about a young career woman?" "Oh, that. Just something I wrote for my class." "Well, I liked it. At the last editorial meeting, Gregor was talking about how the lifestyle section needed to jump on the youth bandwagon " Felicia wrinkled her nose before continuing " and that got me thinking "

"Can we finish this later?" Ashleigh interrupted, after a toot had drawn her attention to the curb. "Theres my ride." She wa ved at Mark to stay in the vehicle, then grabbed her gear and hurried over to join him. "Sure. Ill speak to you on Monday." Felicia waved. "Have a good time."
***

Mark watched as Ashleigh sat stiffly in the front seat of his SUV, pretending to be studying the road although her eyes were continually darting to the rearview mirror. Logan and Violet were ensconced in the backseat. Ashleigh seemed to think they were alien beings who might sprout wings or antennae if she didnt keep an eye on them. "Sorry," he said as they reached the highway that led out of town, leaving the worst of the traffic behind. The cabin was ninety minutes away. "You can stop saying that. Im not mad. It wasnt your fault." Natalie had called at the last minute to announce that she had a legal brief due and couldnt take the kids. Since it wasnt the first time shed pulled a stunt like that, hed started to insist, but shed played her trump card struggling with an illness in the family, she said her sister needed her, too. Mark had given in. He hadnt intended to spring the kids on Ashleigh without warning, but thered been no time to call he was already overdue to pick her up. When shed seen his passengers, her eyes had gotten as big as saucers. Hed offered to cancel the weekend, but shed looked at the kids expectant faces and said no. And so their romantic weekend getaway had become a family affair. Ashleigh leaned closer to whisper. Her shoulder harness pulled taut. "Will they be traumatized to see you with a girlfriend?" He chuckled. "No. But it would be better if we didnt share a bedroom." "What are you whispering about, Dad?" Logan said from the backseat. Mark had thought his son was absorbed in his book. "Nothing special," he answered. Ashleigh winced and withdrew, pressing her narrow shoulders into the seat. She stared out the window as the suburbs became countryside, chewing at her thumbnail. He felt guilty about putting her into this situation before she was ready. If only she was as sure of herself as he was sure of her. He reached across and squeezed her leg. She smiled gratefully, then cut her gaze to Logan. Mark returned his hand to the wheel. It was going to be a long weekend. The kids were good travelers, but after an hour on the road they became restless. Violet was hungry; Logan was hungry, thirsty and bored. They made a quick pit stop at a convenience station and, without asking, Ashleigh took Violet by the hand and brought her to the ladies room. A big white truck pulled out just in front of them, blocking the two-lane road. Mark muttered a complaint. "Dont get road rage, Dad," Logan said. "Youll have a myocardial infarction." Ashleigh giggled. "Do you have a heart condition I should know about?" Mark winked. "Just lovesickness." She colored a delicate shade of pink and went back to studying the truck in front of them. "Isnt that the same recycling company that Tripletree uses? Why would they be all the way out here?" "No construction sites nearby that I know of," he said. "Maybe they have a warehouse up here." "So far from New Hope?" Ashleigh took out her laptop. "I looked the company up online, just out of curiosity. Let me see what info I saved." She flipped up the screen and powered-on her sleek silver computer. "Wow, a top-of-the-line Sony Vaio," Logan said. "Thats a killer computer. Sweet!" "Sweet!" Violet repeated from her car seat. "I want anibal crackers." Mark instructed Logan to dole out a few of the cookies. "I stuck a box of them in the tote bag." "Rainbow Recycling," Ashleigh said. "Its a private company. I couldnt find a connection to Tri-Thorn. They have offices downtown and a recycling plant outside of New Hope, but thats forty miles in the other direction. Strange." "Youre grasping at straws. The trucks probably out here to make a pickup." "Probably." Ashleigh settled back, but she kept a skeptical eye on the truck, which was setting a steady pace at the speed limit. "Im bored," Logan announced ten minutes later, after kicking the back of Marks seat a few times and being reprimanded. "Miss Griffith, can I please see your computer? I promise not to break it." Ashleigh looked alarmed. "I dont think so," Mark said. "Well be at the cabin soon. Read your book."

"I finished it." "Do you play Tetris?" Logan responded enthusiastically, so Ashleigh passed him her PDA, with only a brief furrow of her brow. "Six miles to go," Mark announced a little while later. The kids cheered; they loved weekends at their cabin in the woods. The recycling truck had slowed, changing gears as the incline steepened. The road was too narrow and twisty for them to pass. "This is beautiful country." Ashleigh admired the autumn colors. Many of the trees were sparsely garbed, but the aspen were a golden blaze and the carpet of fallen leaves was thick and multicolored. "Youre lucky to have a mountain retreat." "If you hadnt told me otherwise, Id have thought you were a city girl through and through." "I try not to show my country roots." She dropped her head forward. "Look the truck is signaling for a turn." "Finally," Mark said cheerfully. He almost had to bring his vehicle to a stop as the unwieldy truck lumbered into its turn onto a dirt track that disappeared into the thick woods. "Wherever theyre going, it must be a waterfront site. The New Hope River r uns right along here. My cabin is only a few miles upriver, past the waterfall." "This is very odd." Ashleigh craned her neck after the truck. "Could be someones building a fancy retreat and theyre picking up construction leftovers. Want me to follow?" "No, keep driving. We cant follow without being seen and, well " she glanced into the backseat " we have kids in the car. Ill come back later." She exchanged a look with Mark, seeing his skepticism. "Just to check. I have a feeling something fish y is going on."

Chapter Eleven
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Marks cabin was a welcoming mixture of rusticity and elegance. There was electricity and basic plumbing, simple furnishings and a spectacular view of water and woods. A modern glass wall had been inset into the rough-hewn logs, with doors that opened to a deck overhanging the river. Tall pines loomed above and below the rapids rushed over large granite stones. In the distance were rolling mountains covered in trees colored in brown and gold and rusty red. Mark brought a mug of hot coffee out to Ashleigh on the deck. After the children had settled down from the excitement of their arrival, theyd had a simple supper at the farmhouse table. "Logan and Violet are upstairs getting into their pajamas." Mark gripped the deck railing and breathed deeply. "I finally have a few free minutes to enjoy the sunset with you." She nodded, but her mind wasnt on the darkening sky. He knew how to read her. "Still thinking about the truck?" She nodded. "I wish my cell phone worked here." Shed tried it as soon as theyd arrived, but the mountains interfered with her signal. The cabin had no phone. Mark put his arm around her. "You cant do anything until tomorrow, so why not put it out of your mind." He lowered his mouth near her ear and puffed a ticklish breath into it. "There are more pressing concerns." "Like sleeping arrangements?" "You can have the master bedroom. Logan and Violets room has twin beds. Ill be on the living room couch." It was an old couch with sagging cushions. "Violet could sleep with me," Ashleigh said, surprising herself. "Then you can have a real bed." "I have to warn you Violet has the occasional accident in the night." "Accident? Like falling out of " Ashleigh blinked. "Oh that kind of accident." "Too much for you?" She gulped. "I guess I can handle it. Ill just make sure to keep my electronic gadgets out of her reach this time." So far, Logan was treating Ashleigh with a healthy dose of wariness, ameliorated by his enthusiasm for her electronics. Violet had been shy, but sweet and trusting. Shed even asked if Ashleigh was going to read her a bedtime story. "Logans still playing games on your Palm. He discovered the screen lights up. You might have to pry him loose from that thing." "Hes a smart boy." Logan was quiet and thoughtful, but his mind was always busy. He had dark brown hair and light eyes like Mark. "He told me he wants to be a nuclear physicist." "Last month it was a neuropathic surgeon. Hed found an old physiology college text of mine." Ashleigh laughed and leaned her head on Marks shoulder. "Did they ask any questions about me?"

"I told them youre an undercover reporter on assignment." He gave her a squeeze to let her know he was teasing. She moved away. "We probably shouldnt let them see us getting too cozy." So she didnt have to look at Mark, she turned toward the view again, lifting the coffee mug with both hands. "Your children are adorable. I dont want todisappoint them." "Why do you think you would?" "If I dont, you know" She cleared her throat. "Stick around." "Yes, that would be bad," Mark said with a grave voice. "Especially for me." Ashleighs insides twinged, but before she could reply, Logan interrupted by stepping onto the deck in pajamas and bare feet. His hair had wet comb tracks and his eyes were big and round behind his glasses. He held two batteries in one hand and the Palm in the other. The screen was blank. Logans lower lip quivered. "I think I broke it."
***

Ashleigh woke early the next morning. At first she was confused by the weight in her arms and she started to pull away. A breathy sigh stopped her. Violet. Ashleigh raised her head, blinking at the soft sunlight filtered by matchstick blinds. Violet was cuddled up close beside her. The little girls face rested on Ashleighs pillow. Her round cheeks were warm and mottled pink. The rosebud mouth puckered. Long red lashes framed nearly translucent lids, quivering slightly with sleep. Ashleighs heart melted. Oh, boy. Im in trouble. Still, she couldnt resist touching her lips to Violets forehead and breathing in the little girls scent before carefully e asing her arms away. She tucked the blankets around the child, gathered a few clothing items and tiptoed out of the room. No one else was up. Ashleigh took a quick shower and got dressed, then crept downstairs in her stocking feet. She started a pot of coffee in an electric percolator, then went to retrieve her laptop and the Palm. Logan hadnt broken it, but hed lost all of her stored information when hed taken the batteries out to change them. The Palm was set up with a nine second leeway for battery changes, but of course Logan hadnt realized that. Luckily, what might have been a catastrophe was no big deal. She was diligent about keeping her Palm synched with her laptop. She could download the content and be right back up to speed. It was a little strange, though, being without the cell and the Palm at the same time. Good thing Mark had told Logan to stay away from her laptop. She slipped it from her bag, intending to use the momentary quiet time to go over her Tri-Thorn research, looking for connections to the recycling company. A great big yawning sound came from upstairs. She looked up and saw Mark, dressed only in a pair of loose boxer shorts. He scratched his bare chest and rubbed his hands back and forth through his hair until it stood on end. She thought he looked like a bear waking from hibernation, and that made her smile. He wasnt the man shed assumed, back when all shed seen was the tailored suit and the fancy car. He was far, far better. "Morning, sleepyhead," she called softly. "Hey, sexy." He smiled, showing his teeth. "Whats for breakfast?" "I usually have yogurt or granola." "That wont do with so many hungry m ouths to feed, woman." "I can make passable French toast." She left the laptop to go to the kitchen, determined that she would make him proud. The past night, before theyd gone to their separate beds, hed expressed his concerns yet again about foisting t he children on her. That was starting to annoy her. She might not be an experienced homemaker, but how difficult could it be? Pretty difficult, she allowed twenty minutes later, when shed overcooked the bacon into hard brown strips that crumbled at t he touch. The French toast had turned out okay, as long as Mark was willing to eat the overdone pieces. She set the platters of food on a tray, then gathered syrup and glasses of orange juice. Mark and the kids had stayed in the great room, as directed. She called, "Breakfast," as she lifted the tray high and carried it to the table where their places had been set by Logan. She spied her laptop, shoved over to the center of the table. Better get that out of the way before we eat. Violets face illuminated when she saw Ashleigh walk into the room. She slid off the couch, said "Ashleigh!" and started running, her chubby legs churning as fast as they could go. Mark grabbed her. "Whoa, there, little girl. Where do you think youre going?" Ashleigh relaxed her death grip on the tray. Shed been sure Violet would barrel right into her and cause another disaster.

"I wanna say mornin to Ashleigh." Violet pulled away from Mark and threw her arms around Ashleighs knees, hugging them with such fervor Ashleigh was thrown slightly off balance as she lowered the tray to the table. For one instant, she thought shed caught it in time. Plates rattled as the tray plunked onto the table. In what seemed like slow motion, Ashleigh watched as a glass of juice tipped over. A small glass. But enough to send a wave of sticky orange liquid splashing across the keyboard of her laptop. Ashleighs eyes bulged. She let out a shriek. "Oh, no!" "Oopsie." Violet stuffed her fist into her mouth. Mark grabbed a napkin and starting sopping up the juice. "Damn. Im sorry. This doesnt look good." Logan surveyed the damage with his chin resting on the back of a chair. "I think youll be needing a new computer." Tears sprang to Ashleighs eyes. "This cant be happening. All my stuff. And the Palm. Ill lose everything. I cant " She started to raise her hands, but they were shaking so badly she dropped them. Her brain was frozen. It couldnt absorb the horror Violet tugged at Ashleighs hand. "Dont cry." She took a deep breath. "Yes, youre right. Nothing to cry about. Just a little spilled juice." How fortunate that she was also an inveterate backer-upper. She had almost everything on disk. Mark wasnt fooled by her brave face, but he carried on with breakfast, covering for her shell -shock. Afterward, he sent the children outdoors to the deck. He took Ashleigh by the hand and led her into the kitchen, where they had some privacy. "God, Im so sorry, honey. Want can I do to make it up to you?" "It was my own fault," she said. "I left the laptop on the table. Guess Im not accustomed to having children around. And even then, it was me who spilled the juice." "Yeah, but " She hushed him. "I dont want to talk about it. I dont even want to think about it. Lets not let this ruin our weekend, oka y?" He was surprised. "I cant imagine you without your gadgets right at hand. Theyre such a part of the Ashleigh Griffith I love." She laughed, surprising herself too. "Looks like were going to find out what Im like without them for a couple of days, anyway. This weekend will be an experiment. Here on out, you can call me Ashleigh Unplugged."

Chapter Twelve
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Later that afternoon, Ashleigh brought the laptop to the kitchen. Even though Mark had swabbed the juice off the keyboard, it had dried sticky. She took a damp cloth and a handful of Q-Tips and cleaned every crevice. She had little hope that the workings werent fried, but set the laptop tenderly in the top of a cabinet to dry. Cell phone not working. Palm Pilot blank. Laptop in the emergency ward. Surprisingly, instead of feeling abandoned, she felt unencumbered. Theyd all gone for a short hike in the woods earlier, and her spirits had been so high she felt lighter than air. Maybe it was a result of seeing the worst happen, and then finding out that it wasnt the worst after all. Mark had taken the kids to a roadside stand for apples, so the house was quiet for a change. She got out her folder with the hard copies of her writing and went out to the deck to enjoy the crisp fall air. Briefly she thought of her plan to investigate the recycling truck, but in the light of a new day that seemed like a desperate reach. Besides, she wanted to write. In longhand. She gazed at the view for a few minutes, clearing her head, and then picked up a pen. Subject: Future Imperfect Dear Tad: Ive never written to you like this with pen in hand. Isnt that strange? Ive spoken to you in my head, Ive tapped at the computer like a loony woman when Ive been all hyped up over something, but never have I written your name on paper. Or said it out loud. Tad. Taddie. Tadpole. My father. Im supposed to be doing this stream-of-consciousness writing, but every time I try my brain gets knotted up and I cant think what to say . I spill my guts to you, Tad, but thats probably only because youre safe. Youre not even a person, just a few million tadpole s in a specimen cup. I probably must seem like a complete head case for writing to you like this, for all these years, with nowhere to send the emails, buthaving you has helped. Especially today, when I have so much to work out in my head that I cant contain it all. I wonder what youd think of me now. Ive been turned on end and shaken until theres nothing left in my pockets. And guess what? I like it. Im free. And at the same time, Im not I have Mark, who loves me, and Abby from class and the women of my critique group. And even Logan and Violet. All of them, making a chain, a circle of friendship and love. Wow. I just looked at those words on the page andwow. Does this mean Ive given up on my career goals? Hell, no! But maybe theres a way Mark honked from the driveway. He stuck his head out the open window. "Ashleigh! Get on out here hurry! I just saw another of the Rainbow Recycling trucks with barrels in the back."

She jumped up, spinning her wheels for a few seconds when the habit of reaching for her satchel hit and she remembered there was nothing to grab. She took the pen and a few sheets of paper instead and shoved them in her jeans pocket. The letter to her father caught on the breeze and lifted off the deck, floating high like a kite for a few seconds before it wafted downward, landing silently on the rushing water. She watched as the paper was swept downstream. Her hand lifted to wave. "Goodbye, Tad. Dad." She laughed a little at her drama, then hurried over to join Mark. And Logan. And Violet. All of them so real and imperfect she could be real and imperfect, too.
***

Ashleigh was grinning when she arrived at the classroom the next Wednesday evening. Shed had several busy days, starting when she, Mark and the kids had trailed the Rainbow Recycling truck to an illegal dump site on the river. Theyd backed out without being spotted and had gone to find the closest phone. Shed called Stevo at the Chronicle to come out and take photos. From there, the story had broken wide open. Police and a team from the hazardous waste commission were called in. Ashleigh had been buried in work to get the story ready for newspaper deadlines, but Mark had understood. He was only glad that as the investigation deepened shed uncovered no illegalities by Tri-Thorn or its subsidiaries they, apparently, had used the recycling company only for construction waste. A team of reporters was working on the story now, as the continuing investigation would be featured all week long. But it was Ashleighs byline that had been on the front page under a headline that read Reporter Discovers Chemical Dumping in New Hope River. At Ashleighs entrance, Nancy, Faith and Catherine started to applaud. Marsha stood with her hands on her hips for a moment, then let out a hearty "Congratulations!" and gripped Ashleigh in a big hug. Abby was bopping about, chattering about how Ashleigh was sure to get job offers in New York now. "Will you go?" Marsha asked as more of the students gathered around to congratulate Ashleigh on her big story. "I dont think so," she said, shaking hands with the undertaker who said they needed to talk about some of the illegalities hed seen at the funeral home. "Other options have opened up." Abby squealed. "Youre getting married!" "Good God, no." Ashleigh laughed. But she also blushed. "At least, not yet." "Then what is it?" asked Faith. "Felicia Cruz, the travel and lifestyles editor, has offered me a regular column in her section. She read one of my stories and says Id be perfect for a hip, single-woman-in-the-city kind of column. Im considering it. Especially because thats making the news editor realize how much he wants me. Hes throwing plum assignments at me left and right to tempt me to stay." "You could do both," Marsha urged. As she had before. Superwoman syndrome, Ashleigh thought. Except now she understood that she wouldnt have to do it all, the way her mother had. Having a dependable partner like Mark made a big difference. Niall walked into the room and the students began taking their seats. Faith stopped to squeeze Ashleighs hand before moving down the aisle. "If the columns a hit, you might get syndicated." "Maybe." Ashleigh slipped into her desk chair. Suddenly her future was filled with possibilities. She placed her leather folder on the desktop and laid her hands on it. Aside from a couple of necessary items stuffed in her jacket pocket, the folder was her only accoutrement. Shed replace her laptop eventually, and probably reload her Palm, but she was in no rush. After relying on her electronic tethers for so long, she was enjoying her liberation. In the next row, Roger scowled. "What happed to the computer?" "Its a long story," whispered Ashleigh. An idea sparked. She could make "Ashleigh Unplugged" her first column for Felicia! Niall clapped for attention. "Good evening, class. I want to begin tonights session by returning your stream -of-consciousness assignments." He lifted a thick wad of paper off the top of the pile and dropped it on Rogers desk. "Youve got a very busy mind, Roger." "Thanks." Ashleigh raised her hand. "Niall, I realize Im late, but I finally completed the assignment." "You did?" The teacher stopped passing out the papers. He returned to the front of the room and sat on the edge of his desk, looking at Ashleigh with surprised interest. "Is it anything youd care to share with the class?" Ashleigh exchanged a nervous glance with Abby, then sought Marshas eyes. The redhead nodded encouragement. "Yes, I think I would like to read aloud." Ashleigh opened her folder and removed a couple of handwritten pages. She stood. "Im not sure if Ive done the stream of consciousness the way you wanted, but" She swallowed, trying to calm her jittery voice. "Mine came to me in the form of a letter to my father."

"Go ahead," Niall said, his expression especially intent. Perhaps because he recognized the enormity of her breakthrough. Ashleigh took a deep breath and began to read. "Dear Tad" The End

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