Derian grimaced. “I know what you mean.” She glanced around at the bare-bones décor in the bland, somewhat dingy room that seemed to have absorbed all the tragedies played out within its walls. “They try, I get that, but this place is two parts desolation, one part desperation, and the last part despair.”

Emily regarded her with concern. “I think it might be a good idea if we take a walk.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Derian rubbed the headache between her eyes. “The waiting is getting to me. I hate being helpless.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Derian heard the pain creeping into Emily’s voice and cursed herself inwardly. She wasn’t the only one suffering. “And this has to be terrible for you. I’m sorry, it’s not very sensitive of me to want to keep you here.”

“I want to be here for Henrietta,” Emily said, adding softly, “and if it’s helping you, I’m glad.”

“It helps more than you know,” Derian murmured, “but I’m feeling pretty damn selfish right now. This has to be bringing back some terrible memories for you.”

“I’m all right, really. Please don’t worry about me.”

“I know you’re all right. You’ve convinced me you’re tough,” she teased gently and felt rewarded when Emily laughed, “but I believe I’ll worry about you all the same.”

“Just not too much,” Emily chided, touched by Derian’s tender tone and surprised by how readily she could accept comfort from Derian when she rarely could from anyone else. Derian’s sympathy and understanding strengthened her, rather than making her feel small and diminished. She’d worked so hard to be neither. She rose, and in an impulsive reversal, took Derian’s arm and tugged her toward the hall. “Come on, let’s get outside for a little while.”

Gratefully, Derian let herself be guided to the elevators. Giving up control didn’t come naturally, but with Emily it was easy. The tightrope she’d been teetering on since she’d gotten the phone call from the surgeon gave way to solid ground for the first time all day. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Emily said. “If you need anything, anytime, just let me know.”

Derian regarded her so seriously, for so long, Emily blushed. She wished she could read Derian’s mind at that moment and was happy Derian couldn’t read hers, especially since she’d suddenly started thinking about the kiss. Derian couldn’t imagine she meant that kind of help, could she?

The elevator doors opened onto the bustling lobby and saved her from worrying about how Derian might have interpreted her offer. Once outside, in the sunlight, away from the scent of antiseptic, disease, and death, they strode toward Central Park, dodging through the crowds while managing to stay close together. When the throngs got too heavy and threatened to separate them, Derian curled Emily’s hand through the crook of her arm as naturally as if they’d walked together a hundred times.

When they passed a street vendor roasting nuts, Derian slowed. “You know, I think I probably need to put something in my stomach. Cashews?”

“I confess,” Emily said, “I’m a little bit addicted to the honey-roasted ones.”

Derian grinned. “Done.”

She purchased two bags, handed one to Emily, and they walked on.

“When my mother died,” Derian said after a few moments of silence, “I was lucky. I had Henrietta to help me make sense of it all.”

“I envy you that,” Emily said softly. “Neither of my parents had siblings, so our family was a pretty small unit. My father was often away on business, or when he wasn’t, he was preoccupied with it. He loved us, I know that, but he wasn’t always present for us. My mother and my sister were my world.”

“Then we’re even—I envy you that.” Derian shrugged. “Of my parents, I was closest to my mother. I loved both of my parents as children do, looking to them for support and protection and praise.” She laughed, with no humor in her voice. “Although there was precious little in the praise department.”

“Parents sometimes have an odd way of showing their affection,” Emily ventured. “And some just don’t see their children, or see the worth of them. There’s certainly no excuse for holding something against you that wasn’t your fault.”

Derian cut her a glance, a wry smile softening the tight line of her jaw. “You’re very kind and very perceptive, and I appreciate you taking my side. I suppose the fault lies on both sides—I wasn’t a particularly appreciative child, at least not of the things that my parents could provide.” She lifted a shoulder. “Security, and good schools, and not wanting for any of the physical things. I realize I’m very lucky, and it’s totally undeserved. I was born into safety and wealth.” She laughed again and shook her head. “And complaining about my childhood now makes me sound like something of an ass.”

“Not at all. I don’t think any child appreciates the circumstances of their birth, whether it’s difficult or not, privileged or not, and every child has the right to feel loved.”

“Yes, well, I have no complaints. My mother didn’t exactly have a great time of things either. She’d been groomed her whole life to be a man’s wife, and she was that first. My father’s disappointment at not having a son, but a daughter who didn’t even measure up, made their relationship pretty rocky.”

They stopped when they reached the entrance to Central Park. The weather was still cold enough to dissuade all but the most stalwart to stay still for very long, and Derian pointed to an unoccupied bench. “Are you too cold to sit? I promise to stop moaning about my horrible past. I’ve survived quite well and Martin must be much happier now, with a son and a young wife to give him what he always wanted.”

Emily caught back a protest. Derian’s experiences seemed terribly unfair to her, but she appreciated Derian wanting to make light of them. “I have to confess, I’m not quite ready to go back to that room. But I just want to say I think your father is the one who’s lost the most by not seeing what an accomplished, successful woman you’ve become.”

Derian stared. “Thank you. Not many people would agree with you.”

“What other people think doesn’t matter, though, does it?” Emily said as they sat side by side, finishing their cashews. “What about you?”

Derian raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Are you satisfied?”

“With what I’ve made of my life? Sure,” Derian said instantly, wondering as she did about the truth of her words. “I’m successful as far as making the right choices and backing the right teams, and I’m damn good at the tables.”

Emily laughed. “So I understand.”

“As I said, I have no complaints.”

Something about their shared waiting, and their shared worry, made for disclosures Emily never would’ve made otherwise. Knowing Derian loved Henrietta in the same way she did made her bold. “What about the other things in life? Do you want a family?”

“God, no. What would I do with a wife and children? What would I do for them,” she said, voicing thoughts she rarely entertained. “I’d probably be no better at child rearing than my parents, and I have no desire to saddle some poor kid with the Winfield legacy.”

“What makes you think that you would parent the way your parents did? I think you’re incredibly perceptive and you obviously love Henrietta, and what is more important to raising children than understanding and caring?”

“Nothing,” Derian said, fearing Emily gave her far too much credit and damn certain she could never measure up to the kind of unselfish loyalty Emily displayed toward her sister. Wanting to deflect the conversation, Derian countered, “And how about you? What are your long-term goals besides ruling the literary world?”

Emily laughed. “Really, I can’t see myself settling down for quite a long time. I work—well, I work when Henrietta works, and you know how that is.”

Derian frowned. “I do know, and we’re going to have to do something about that when she recovers.”

“I agree with you totally. Vonnie and I will do our best, but it wouldn’t hurt if you put in a word for her to slow down too.”

Derian winced. “I think that might result in shooting the messenger, but I’ll try.” She tapped a fingertip against Emily’s chin. “And you are pretty good at deflecting questions. What do you want besides work in your life?”

Emily’s face flushed from the brief touch and a thrill of excitement raced through her. She could never remember being so sensitized to another’s physical presence. She’d held hands with women, kissed women, been in bed with several, and she couldn’t remember her heart beating so fast or the electricity shooting beneath the surface of her skin from the most casual of touches. Concentrating on the conversation was difficult, but she grasped on to the question to avoid thinking about Derian’s hands on her. “When and if I’m in a position to provide for a family, or at least substantially contribute, I’d like to get married and have kids. I don’t see that anytime soon.”

“Because of Pam?” Derian asked gently.

“That’s partly it, since I know I would be bringing substantial financial responsibilities to any kind of long-term relationship,” Emily said, “but most of it is because right now my goals are career oriented.”

“Well, I imagine any woman who loved you would understand about Pam, and no one worthy of you would want you to do anything differently.”

Emily’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”

“How often do you get home to Singapore?”

“Two or three times a year,” Emily said, “when I take my vacation time.”

“I’m sure Henrietta would give you all the time you need, vacation time or not.”

“Oh, she would,” Emily said slowly, “but as much as I want to see Pam, it’s always difficult.”

“When’s your next trip?”