******



“Come on, Jessie. Grab your lunch kit. I have your school bag.”

“Coming, Mommy.” Jessie came racing into the living room, her pink woolly hat in one hand and her hand-knitted gloves in the other. “I just wanted to kiss Miss Kitty goodbye.”

Meg gave her daughter a warm smile and bundled her into her jacket. Jessie never left the house without saying goodbye to her favorite toy. Miss Kitty had been a gift from her grandmother for her second birthday and she loved her just as much now as she had when she just got it. When other kids clung to a beloved ‘blankie’, Jessie clung to Miss Kitty.

“Okay, let’s go.” Meg grabbed Jessie’s backpack and her handbag with one hand and took her daughter’s hand with the other. As the little girl chattered away they went out the door and down the driveway to the car.

As Meg drove her daughter to school her mind drifted away from the conversation. She gave her usual responses of ‘Yes, sweetie” and “Of course, honey” but her mind was on what the rest of the day would bring. She’d stayed up late two nights before, thinking through her options, battling with the decision until finally she had come to the conclusion that she needed to accept the contract. It would be difficult for her, that was for sure, but the man was offering five figures to get his memoir written. And it was not as if there were any other offers on the table. She had the rent to pay and her daughter to feed and clothe. She would just have to bear things for the months that it would take to get the job done. Then she would bury him once more in the back of her mind and get on with her life. And so the next day she’d called and made an appointment to see him that very week - before she had a chance to change her mind.

The main office of Duncan Investments was impressive. Meg pulled into the parking lot then walked up the driveway to the twenty story building fashioned in black tinted glass and silver beams. It had a futuristic look and feel that made her wonder at the man Drake Duncan had become. From his days at the university he’d been voted as most likely to succeed. He’d been touted as a progressive and innovative thinker. And look where it had taken him. She was not surprised.

Meg signed in at the security desk and rode the glass paneled elevator up to the top floor. There she checked in at the receptionist’s desk.

“Please have a seat, Ms. Gracey,” the smiling young woman told her. “Mr. Duncan will see you in just a few minutes.”

Meg sank gratefully into the plush leather sofa in the waiting lounge. She felt like her knees were turning to Jello so she was glad for an excuse to get off her feet. Then she slid forward and perched on the edge with her handbag propped on her knees. Her palms were moist and with each passing moment there was a quickening in the rhythm of her beating heart. Goodness, it was sheer torture sitting there, anticipating their meeting.

“Ms. Gracey?”

At the sound of her name Meg jumped. She looked up and found herself staring into the warm brown eyes of a gray-haired woman in a navy blue suit.

“Yes,” Meg said with a nod, and hopped up off the seat.

“My name is Liz Dobson. I’m Mr. Duncan’s personal assistant.” The woman held out her hand and gave Meg a firm handshake. “Thanks for making yourself available so quickly. I’ll take you to see Mr. Duncan now.” As if sensing her visitor’s nervousness the woman smiled at her again then turned toward the heavy oak door that led to the inner offices.

Meg followed, feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, but she sucked in her breath, straightened her back and put on her bravest face. Even if she melted inside Drake Duncan must never know.