This is an awful lot to digest in just one day, she said.
I know. Rick reached for her hand but she pulled it away.
You spied on me and my family and friends, Josie said, shaking her head.
Youre carrying around so many secrets I dont see how you can stand up straight. And if I have a relationship with you, Ill be a part of all this.
I understand.
This is way over my head, Josie said. My last boyfriend was normalhe designed computer software and played in a pickup basketball league.
Waityou already know that, dont you?
I am who I am, Josie. Thats what Ive been trying to tell you all daythis is the whole package. I know its a lot to accept, and I know it isnt everyones idea of a Prince Charming.
Good Lord, Josie said, wiping her cheeks. Look, Rick, theres only one thing thats a deal-breaker for me. Its the part about the children.
What children? he asked. He had no idea what she was talking about.
If you are getting ready to tell me you really did get someone pregnant or you havent taken care of a child you brought into this world, Ill just No, Josie. There are no kids. No pregnancies. Im asking you to believe me.
Josie waited a moment before she continued. You know, everything else youve done was reckless and stupid and selfish. I get the picture. And youve paid a horrible price for all of it. But you never once set out to destroy someone else.
Rick nodded soberly.
But men who deny their own children are the lowest of the low. Its unforgivable.
I agree.
Josie chomped down on her bottom lip and hugged her arms close across her chest. She searched Ricks face in the moonlight, looking for what, he wasnt sure, but he was happy to let her stare as long as she needed.
He had nothing to hide.
I believe you, she said eventually. So, whats the one last thing you have to tell me?
Rick sighed. Youll be the sixth person in the world to know this.
Josie didnt seem impressed. Yeah?
Im chairman of a nonprofit called the Meadowbrook Foundation. It pays the medical bills of severe head injury patients without insurance coverage.
Josie squinted at him. A foundation?
I hired an executive director to keep it running so I can stay behind the scenes. I dont want any recognition.
Thats it? Thats the one last thing?
Yes.
She uncrossed her arms and let her hands fall in her lap. Very quietly she said, Its a way of remembering Margot, isnt it?
It is.
So why that name?
We crashed on Meadowbrook Lane. I thought it would be as good a name as any.
Josie continued to study him, her face slowly relaxing, her frown subsiding. You sure thats the last thing?
Positive.
Come on. Josie hopped up from the wall and reached out her hand. They walked in silence up the lawn and toward the main house, the dogs running alongside. They climbed the stairs to the balcony outside Ricks suite. When they reached the door, Josie looked up at Rick, her face stricken.
I have my own secret, she whispered. I wont feel right until I tell you.
Whatever it is, Im listening.
I ordered you from the universe.
Rick laughed, not sure hed heard correctly. You want to elaborate on that a bit?
Josie gave him a crooked smile. Its a long story, but I interviewed this old lady for her husbands obit, and when I was leaving she told me that before the next morning I needed to make a list of the exact qualities I wanted in a man and send it to the universe.
Interesting, he said.
I finished typing it into my laptop just before I walked into the Celestial Pet grooming salon, the morning we met.
Thats very romantic.
Josie laughed. Its spooky, is what it is. She took a deep breath. This lady also told me that it would take courage to accept the man I had requested.
Rick raised an eyebrow. No kidding?
And then she came into the paper the other day to tell me she sensed you were in danger.
Rick stiffened. Who the hell /is/ this woman?
Mrs. Gloria Needleman, eighty-four, of Cayuga Terrace.
Josie. Josie. Josie. Rick pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight. Someday, when we tell our grandkids about how we met, theyll think were completely crazy.
Maybe theyll be right, she said.
All that had taken place hours before, and now Rick lay in the dark, Josie asleep at his side. In his last few moments of consciousness, he made his list for the day. He was grateful for the gift of communication. He was grateful for the freedom that came with honesty.
Once again, he was grateful for Josie.
Gwen had been taught not to cry. She was told that it spoiled her ivory complexion and made her eyes red, her lids puffy, and her nose obscenely swollen. Crying didnt flatter even the most beautiful of women, as her mother used to tell her. Extraordinary women, she said, knew the most important accessory was composure. The way to catch a rich, powerful, and handsome man was to be beautiful, intelligent, /and/ serene, even if it were only on the outside. /Oh, really?/ Gwen thought, looking into the mirror. /Go fuck yourself, Mother./ She peered closer into her huge bedroom mirror, attempting to assess the damage caused by too much wine and a two-day temper tantrum. She turned her face to catch the light. She looked undone. Hungover. Ruined. No man would want her like this, and certainly not Rick Rousseau. He didnt want her at her very best.
Gwen ran a hand through her knotted hair. It was a shame, really. A waste. She was thirty-two, and shed thrown away the very best years of her life chasing a phantom. Her mother had advised her to never give up on Rick Rousseau. She told Gwen that he was too perfect a catch to let get away. Her mother had laid it out like this: very rich men who make their mistakes early in life were the ones worth pursuing. /Wrong again, Mother/.
Gwen stumbled across the luxurious white carpet of her bedroom and down the hallway. She veered into the study, and fell into her desk chair.
She rooted through the drawers, creating havoc in her perfectly organized home-office environment.
She knew shed hidden Bennett Cummingss personal cell phone number somewhere. It wasnt exactly something she could put into her BlackBerry or leave lying around her condo, now was it? If Worrell ever found out Cummings had written to her last yearand she hadnt reported itGwen would be out on the street. Worrell was insane when it came to loyalty. He was insane when it came to Rick.
She remembered how, the day she was hired to run Meadowbrook, Worrell pulled her aside and said hed always have his eye on her. He explained that Ricks trust in her was conditional, dependent on one thing and one thing aloneWorrells opinion.
That man was such an ass. She hated him. She hated Rick, too. She hated him for not wanting her. /Well, fuck you, Rick,/ she thought. /Good luck finding some other love-struck sycophant to run your stupid foundation./ Its not like shed taken the job for the professional challengeshed taken it for /him/!
A dry sob escaped from Gwens throat, which promptly turned into the hiccups. Where was that damn thing? Where had she put it? /Hiccup!/ Her fingers touched a small piece of cardboard taped to the back panel of the bottom desk drawer. Aha! Now she remembered. She was so cunning! /Hiccup!/ Maybe she should look into a position in the intelligence community.
Her hand emerged from the drawer clutching a standard-sized business card, off-white, embossed with two large letters in an elegant script/BC/. On the back was a handwritten series of numbers.
Of course she couldnt use her home, office, or cell phone to place the call, which meant shed have to find a pay phone somewhere. The idea was so retro she quivered. Gwen ran into her bedroom and dressed as quickly as she could while still looking presentable. She slipped on her David Yurman watch, her Ed Hardy sneakers, a pair of silky Versace drawstring pants, and a classic Armani cashmere hoodie. She tied her hair up into a sleek knot at the back of her neck, shoved a ball cap on her head, and slipped on a pair of Dolce amp; Gabbana sunglasses big enough to cover any sign of a mental breakdown.