“Did you see Steve?” Cal asked with a look of concern as she came downstairs. He was beginning to worry about her, almost like a little sister.

“No, he had to go back to the hospital for a meeting. It's okay. I didn't really expect to see him.” She seemed disappointed but not surprised by it. It was the nature of the life they led, and she was used to it, far more than Cal was.

“That's too bad. I'll bet he was disappointed.”

“I'll see him in a week,” she smiled. “I might even take some time off when we get back. We might go to Vermont for a few days, if he can get away. If not, maybe we'll take a long weekend somewhere.”

“It's too bad he couldn't meet us in London for the weekend.”

“I tried to get him to come to Paris,” she smiled, “but he's covering for the head of the trauma unit next week, who has to go to Dallas.”

“You two lead a disgusting life. I don't know how you stand it. Well, maybe we can go to the theater this weekend in London. Or Annabel's. Do you like to dance?” he asked, and Charlie McIntosh glanced out the window, looking disgusted. Mixing business with pleasure, for Cal at least, clearly did not meet with Charlie's approval, and most of all not with Merrie.

“I love to dance,” she said, smiling, as much touched by the invitation, as she was amused by Charlie's obvious disapproval. It entertained her to shock him. “And I love the theater.”

“Maybe we can do both then.” He felt he owed her some fun for all her trouble. And they were both going to be alone in London, except for Charlie.

The three of them went over some papers together when they got to the airport, and by the time they boarded the plane to Edinburgh, they were all tired. The plane was making a stop on the way, in London. But as soon as they had eaten, Charlie and Cal turned off their lights and settled down under their blankets. Cal and Meredith were seated side by side, and Charlie was sitting right behind them. But as Cal put his seat back as far as he could, Meredith reached down for her briefcase.

“Merrie,” he asked softly in the darkened plane, “what are you doing?”

“I thought I'd do some reading.”

“Stop that!” he ordered her gently. “You need to get some sleep too. I order you to turn your light off.”

“You ‘order’ me?” She looked amused. “That's a novelty.”

“Maybe it's time someone said that to you more often. Come on, give it up for tonight. Turn your light off.” She hesitated for a moment, and then decided that maybe he was right, and her work could wait till morning. And quietly, she reached up and turned her light off. “Good girl. It'll still be there in the morning.” His tone was kind and fatherly, and she could suddenly imagine how he was with his children. She knew instinctively that he was a good father.

“That's what I'm always afraid of,” she said gently, “that it'll all still be there in the morning. I keep hoping the work fairy will show up in the middle of the night and do it for me.”

“You're the work fairy, Merrie. But even fairies need to rest sometimes.” It made him more determined than ever to give her some fun in London. She deserved it. She had done more for him than anyone had in a long time, maybe ever.

She moved her seat back like his, put a pillow behind her head and pulled up her blanket, and lay there, quietly beside him.

“Can you sleep on planes?” he asked, whispering. They were like two kids at a slumber party.

“Sometimes. Depends on how much work I have in my briefcase,” she said, smiling at him.

“Pretend you left it in New York. Pretend you're going on vacation.” She smiled at the game, and whispered back at him.

“Where would I go on vacation?”

“How about the South of France? … Saint-Tropez … how does that sound?” He was still whispering and she was smiling.

“That sounds very good. I like it.”

“Then close your eyes and think of Saint-Tropez,” he whispered gently.

“Is that an order too?” she whispered back again.

“Yes … now, be quiet, and just think about it.” And much to her surprise, she did. She lay there with her eyes closed, envisioning the South of France, the little port, the narrow winding streets, the Mediterranean, and the flower market. And the next time he looked at her, she was sound asleep, and he gently pulled up her blanket and tucked it around her.





Chapter 7

THE PLANE STOPPED in London, and then flew on to Edinburgh, and Meredith was surprised that she slept for most of the flight. It was morning in Scotland when they arrived, and they went directly to the location where they were to make their presentation to the officers of several of the Scottish trusts. It was part of the standard ritual of the due diligence tour, and one of the routines Meredith knew well.

As it had for nearly two weeks now, the tour was continuing to go very well, and Callan was ecstatic when they got a fax from her office in New York, telling them that the order book was oversubscribed ten to one now, which meant that they had ten times more demand for stock than they needed.

By evening they were ready to move on, and they flew back to London that night. And by the time they got to Claridge's, even the indefatigable Callan looked exhausted. It had been a long day, after flying all night before they arrived. And the next morning, they had to be fresh to make their presentation again in London. Callan was pleased with everything, the tour was going extremely well, better than he had ever dreamed, and he had Meredith to thank for it.

“What are you up to tonight, Meredith?” he asked as they checked in, and a liveried desk clerk showed them to their rooms. Charlie McIntosh was on another floor, but their rooms were side by side.

“What am I up to?” she asked. “Sleep, I hope. I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I thought I'd go to bed so I don't screw things up for you tomorrow.”

“There's no risk of that. Do you want to go out for something to eat?” Even as tired as she knew he had to be, he wanted to go out. Callan Dow liked to work hard all day, and then go out to play at night.

“Not tonight, thanks. I'm going to order room service, and then hit the sack.”

“Party pooper. What about dinner at Harry's Bar, and then Annabel's tomorrow night?”

“Where do you get your energy, Cal? Don't you ever get tired?”

“Look who's talking. You never stop,” he said admiringly.

“I think I just have,” she said, looking tired. The jet lag and the long day and long flight had finally caught up with her, and she could hardly keep her eyes open as the porter set down her briefcase and her bag, and then let Cal into his room. Hers was handsomely done in Art Deco style. His was all done in pale blue taffeta with pastel chintz covered in flowers. And they both looked like they'd been recently redone. But Meredith would have been happy to sleep in a haystack that night, and she wanted to be fresh for the next day. They were doing their first presentation at eight A.M. But she didn't feel as pressured here as she had in New York. The European market was of slightly less interest to them. Traditionally, they tried to keep the size of the European investments down. It was important to have them participate for the long haul, but they preferred to keep the bulk of hot IPOs for U.S.-based investors, who would spin the stock more often, generating more commissions.

Cal wandered back into her room after they had brought him his bags. He tried to convince her to go out again, but she said she was in for the night. And a little while later, she heard his door open and close, and knew he had gone out. She was in bed and sound asleep by nine o'clock. And she was bright and cheery the next day when they met for breakfast.

“What did you do last night?” she asked him over scones and coffee in the dining room. His CFO hadn't joined them yet.

“I caught up with some old friends. I know a lot of people here, some of them through my ex-wife.”

“I was dead to the world by nine.” She smiled at him.

“We'll do better than that tonight,” he smiled, as Charlie McIntosh arrived at their table. He was in a fairly decent mood for once, and the three of them chatted amiably as Charlie ordered sausages and eggs. And by eight o'clock they were making their now familiar presentation. It was a huge hit, just as all the others had been.

They met with private investors at noon, and at one o'clock made their presentation again over lunch. And by four o'clock, all three of them were back at the hotel. Charlie had plans to spend the weekend in France with friends, and they were to meet up again in Geneva on Sunday night. In an uncharacteristically generous gesture, Charlie wished them a nice weekend before he left, and Meredith allowed herself to hope that it meant he was mellowing a little.

“Ready for a night on the town?” Cal asked as he walked her back to her room at five. They had reservations at Harry's Bar at eight o'clock, and were still planning to go to Annabel's to dance after dinner.

“Are you sure you don't mind wasting time with me?” Meredith asked comfortably. “You can probably have a lot more fun with a real date,” she said honestly, they were like brother and sister by now, and they both seemed to enjoy it.

“I'd rather have dinner with a good friend anytime,” he smiled, as they stood in the hall and chatted a little bit about their afternoon. The presentations had gone even better than expected.

“I thought Charlie did better here too,” Meredith said charitably. Even at his warmest, Charlie McIntosh was no ball of fire. But at least he didn't seem as truculent as he had in Los Angeles and New York. Cal said he had noticed it too. “It's a shame it took him so long to warm up.” Callan didn't comment on it, and after a few more minutes, they went back to their respective rooms. He said he'd come by to pick her up at a quarter to eight, which gave her plenty of time to unwind, relax, and take a bath. And as soon as she slipped into it, the phone rang in her room.