Chapter 1

As the cab navigated the streets of downtown Stanton, Lillian leaned forward in her seat, her gaze wandering over the streets and buildings of her hometown – the place of her birth thirty-eight years ago — that she hadn’t laid eyes on in years.

She wondered again whether coming back was a mistake. Would it have been better to stay in New York — to continue the high-stress, high-reward life she had chosen, abandoning any hopes of a conventional family life? With her father’s extensive connections, she’d built an impressive portfolio of clients. But what had started out as a thrilling opportunity, generating boundless energy, had gradually settled into a grind. The demands were grueling —sixteen-hour days during closings; nonstop meetings with parades of lawyers and accountants; unrelenting pressure from clients, who never failed to transmit their level of stress to her. She’d become acutely aware that this was no longer the life she wanted.

She yearned for moments she had shared with her former husband – leisurely days by the pool, impromptu lakeside getaways, snuggling on the couch watching movies. Intimacy – both emotional and physical – had been missing from her life since the divorce. She’d had a couple of relationships, but neither had developed into anything emotional. Lillian had confronted a painful reality: her work had consumed her to a degree that didn’t leave room to nurture a relationship. It was the same affliction that had doomed her marriage – her inability to carve out sufficient space for Art in her over-subscribed life.

She remembered the first of the conversations that had led to her present journey. It was after 10 p.m. and the office was quiet. It had been over two years since she’d last spoken to Art. She sat staring at her phone’s screen, fingers tapping indecisively on the edge of the device. Then she dialed the number.

She heard his sleepy voice: “Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry; did I wake you?”

“Lillian?”

“Yes.”

There was a brief pause.

“Hi. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” Lillian said.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine, fine,” she said, impatient with herself. She knew he was thinking back to the deep depression she had succumbed to after her sister’s death.

There was another pause.

“Go back to sleep,” Lillian said. “We can talk tomorrow.”

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yup,” Lillian said. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Art had called her the next morning. And the next...

Lilian’s thoughts shifted to another challenging conversation she’d faced two months later.

“Hello,” he said in his low, patrician voice.

“Hi, Dad.”

“How’s my girl?”

“Fine. Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

“Always.”

But when she’d broached the subject of leaving the firm and resuming a life with Art, he’d interrupted her.

“Come home,” her father said.

“Dad, I have three major deals going, one of them closing Thursday!”

“All right, close that one and then come home. Robeson can manage the other two.”

“Dad, I can’t!”

“I’ll have a conversation with Simon. They need to support you.”

“Can’t we just talk on the phone?”

“No,” he said. “For this, I need to be looking into those blue eyes.”