“God. I’m… really sorry.”

I feel a shiver go down my back as I try to imagine how I’d be feeling if it were Luke in that hospital bed.

“He should be be OK, if he starts looking after himself. These men. They take it all for granted.” She shakes her head. “But coming in here… it teaches you what’s important, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” I say fervently.

We sit quietly for a while, and I think anxiously about Luke. Maybe I’ll get him to start going to the gym a bit more. And eating that low-fat spread stuff that lowers your cholesterol. Just to be on the safe side.

“I should go back,” says the woman, looking at her watch. She smiles at me. “Good to meet you.”

“You too.” I watch as she walks off down the corridor, then stand up and head back to Michael’s room, shaking back my hair and putting on a cheerful expression. No more dissolving into tears.

“Hi!” says Luke as I enter. He’s sitting on a chair by Michael’s bed, and the atmosphere is a lot more relaxed, thank goodness.

“I was just telling Luke,” says Michael as I sit down. “My daughter’s on at me to retire. Or at least downscale. Move to New York.”

“Really? Ooh, yes, do! We’d love that.”

“It’s a good idea,” says Luke. “Bearing in mind you currently do about six full-time jobs.”

“I really like your daughter,” I say enthusiastically. “We had such fun when she came into Barneys. How’s her new job going?”

Michael’s daughter is an attorney who specializes in patent law, and just exudes extreme cleverness. On the other hand, she hadn’t spotted that she was choosing colors that did nothing for her skin tone until I pointed it out to her.

“Very well indeed, thanks. She just moved to Finerman Wallstein,” Michael adds to Luke. “Very swanky offices.”

“I know them,” says Luke. “I use them for personal matters. In fact, last time I went in there was a few weeks ago. Just about my will. Next time, I’ll call in on her.”

“Do that,” says Michael. “She’d like it.”

“Have you made a will, Luke?” I say with interest.

“Of course I’ve made a will.” Luke stares at me. “Haven’t you?”

“No,” I say — then look from Luke to Michael. “What? What is it?”

“Everyone should make a will,” says Michael gravely.

“It never even occurred to me you might not have made one,” says Luke, shaking his head.

“It never even occurred to me to make one!” I say defensively. “I mean, I’m only twenty-seven.”

“I’ll make an appointment with my lawyer,” says Luke. “We need to sort this out.”

“Well. OK. But honestly…” I give a little shrug. Then a thought occurs to me. “So, who have you left everything to?”

“You,” says Luke. “Minus the odd little bequest.”

“Me?” I gape at him. “Really? Me?”

“It is customary for husbands to leave their property to their wives,” he says with a small smile. “Or do you object?”

“No! Of course not! I just… kind of… didn’t expect it.”

I feel a strange glow of pleasure inside me. Luke’s leaving everything to me!

I don’t know why that should be a surprise. I mean, we live together. We’re getting married. It’s obvious. But still, I can’t help feeling a bit proud.

“Do I take it you’re not planning to leave anything to me?” inquires Luke mildly.

“Of course!” I exclaim. “I mean — of course I will!”

“No pressure,” says Luke, grinning at Michael.

“I will!” I say, growing flustered. “I just hadn’t really thought about it!”

To cover my confusion I reach for a pear and start munching it. Come to think of it, why have I never made a will?

I suppose because I’ve never really thought I’ll die. But I could easily, couldn’t I? I mean, our train could crash on the way back to New York. Or an ax murderer could break into our apartment…

And who would get all my stuff?

Luke’s right. This is an emergency.

“Becky? Are you OK?” I look up to see Luke putting on his coat. “We must go.”

“Thanks for coming,” says Michael, and squeezes my hand as I bend to kiss him. “I really appreciate it.”

“And I’ll be in touch about the wedding,” says Luke, and smiles at Michael. “No skiving your best-man duties.”

“Absolutely not!” says Michael. “But that reminds me, I got a little confused at the engagement party, talking to different people. Are you two getting married in New York or England?”

“New York,” says Luke, frowning in slight puzzlement. “That has been finally decided, hasn’t it, Becky? I never even asked how your mother took the news.”

“I… um…” I play for time, wrapping my scarf around my neck.

I can’t admit the truth. I can’t admit that Mum still doesn’t know about the Plaza.

Not here. Not now.

“Yes!” I say, feeling my cheeks flame. “Yes, she was fine. New York it is!”


As we get onto the train, Luke looks pale and drained. I think it upset him more than he’s letting on, seeing Michael looking so helpless. He sits staring out of the darkening window, and I try to think of something that will cheer him up.

“Look!” I say at last. I reach into my bag and take out a book I bought just the other day called The Promise of Your Life. “We need to talk about composing our wedding vows.”

“Composing them?” Luke frowns. “Aren’t they always the same?”

“No! That’s old hat. Everyone writes their own these days. Listen to this. ‘Your wedding vows are the chance for you to show the world what you mean to each other. Together with the proclamation by the officiant that you are now married, they are the linchpin of the entire ceremony. They should be the most beautiful and moving words spoken at your wedding.’ ”

I look up expectantly at Luke, but he’s gazing out of the window again.

“It says in this book, we must think about what sort of couple we are,” I press on. “Are we Young Lovers or Autumn Companions?”

Luke isn’t even listening. Perhaps I should find a few specific examples. My eye falls on a page marked Summertime Wedding, which would be quite appropriate.

“‘As the roses bloom in summertime, so did my love bloom for you. As the white clouds soar above, so does my love soar,’” I read aloud.

I pull a face. Maybe not. I flick through a few more pages, glancing down as I go.


You helped me through the pain of rehab…


Though you are incarcerated for murder, our love will


shine like a beacon…


“Ooh, look,” I say suddenly. “This is for high school sweethearts. ‘Our eyes met in a math class. How were we to know that trigonometry would lead to matrimony?’ ”

“Our eyes met across a crowded press conference,” says Luke. “How were we to know love would blossom as I announced an exciting new range of unit trusts investing in European growth companies with tracking facility, fixed-rate costs, and discounted premiums throughout the first accounting period?”

“Luke—”

Well, OK. Maybe this isn’t the time for vows. I shut the book and look anxiously at Luke. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you worried about Michael?” I reach for his hand. “Because honestly, I’m sure he’s going to be fine. You heard what he said. It was just a wake-up call.”

There’s silence for a while — then Luke turns his head.

“While you were going to the rest room,” he says slowly, “I met the parents of the guy in the room next to Michael’s. He had a heart attack last week. Do you know how old he is?”

“How old?” I say apprehensively.

“Thirty-three.”

“God, really? That’s awful!”

Luke’s only a year older than that.

“He’s a bond trader, apparently. Very successful.” He exhales slowly. “It makes you think, doesn’t it? Think about what you’re doing with your life. And wonder.”

“Er… yes,” I say, feeling as though I’m walking across eggshells. “Yes, it does.”

Luke’s never spoken like this before. Usually if I start conversations about life and what it all means — which, OK, I don’t do very often — he either brushes me off or turns it into a joke. He certainly never confesses to doubting what he’s doing with his life. I really want to encourage him — but I’m worried I might say the wrong thing and put him off.

Now he’s staring silently out of the window again.

“What exactly were you thinking?” I prompt gently.

“I don’t know,” says Luke after a pause. “I suppose it just makes you see things differently for a moment.”

He looks at me — and just for an instant I think I can see deep inside him, to a part of him I rarely have access to. Softer and quieter and full of doubts like everyone else.

Then he blinks — and it’s as though he’s closed the camera shutter. Back into normal mode. Businesslike. Sure of himself.

“Anyway. I’m glad Michael and I were able to make up,” he says, taking a sip from the water bottle he’s carrying.

“Me too.”

“He saw my point of view in the end. The publicity that we’ll get through the foundation will benefit the company enormously. The fact that it’s my mother’s charity is largely irrelevant.”

“Yes,” I say reluctantly. “I suppose so.”

I really don’t want to get into a conversation about Luke’s mother right now, so I open the vows book again.

“Hey, here’s one in rhyme…”


As we arrive back at Penn Station, it’s crowded with people. Luke heads off to a rest room, and I head to a kiosk to buy a candy bar. I walk straight past a stand of newspapers — then stop. Hang on a minute. What was that?

I retrace my steps and stare at the New York Post. Right at the top, flagging an inside feature, is a little picture of Elinor.