Page 3 of Richard

“I am afraid I have five minutes left before I have to go.” Once, she had loved her younger sister blindly, looking past her faults and selfishness, but now, she felt nothing. “I am sorry to hear about your failed marriage, but I have no idea why you think I would be interested.”

Janice blinked at the tears. “I want my sister back.”

Years ago, those words would have warmed her and given her hope; now hearing them at last did nothing for her.

“I am not that forgiving Janice,” she said honestly. “It’s been almost ten years and yes, I am in a better place now, but what you and Trevor did scarred me and it’s something I am not able to forget.” She nodded and smiled at the hovering waiter, who came rushing forward.

“Delicious as usual, Antoine. Would you convey my compliments to Andre?” She fished out her company’s credit card and handed it to him. “Please take the usual tip.”

“Ms. Collette.” He beamed at her. “Thank you.”

She turned to see her sister watching her with a strange expression on her face.

“What is it?”

“You are very good at that.”

“At what?”

“Taking charge and making people feel as if you aren’t.” Janice pushed back her chair.

“I know it was a mistake coming here.”

“Then why did you?”

Gathering the coat she had not bothered to surrender to the waitress, Janice bobbed her head. “I wanted a fresh start, to see if my sister would find it in her heart to forgive me.” She heaved out a breath. “I am thirty-seven, and it’s as if my life has gone nowhere. I am about to be a divorcee with no prospects, no children, no home.

We have been living at Trevor’s leased townhouse since we got married, and he refused to let us buy a house of our own.

Now I know why.” She blinked at the tears and sniffed. “I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me and give me a second chance.”

“Not now.” Collette scribbled something on a sheet and rose. “I am not there yet. Take care of yourself.”

Janice nodded and, without another word, turned and walked away. Colette watched her exit, a bleak look marring her face. Dismissing her, picked up her oversized purse and made her way out. By the time she exited the foyer, the valet was rushing to retrieve her vehicle, and her sister was nowhere to be seen.

Sliding into the warm interior and plush leather seat of her BMW, Collette called for her favorite music while she made her way out of the parking lot. Very soon, she had merged into the uptown bottleneck. “Call Karen,” she instructed.

“Calling Karen,” the automated voice responded.

“I was about to call you.”

“Why?” She glanced at the dashboard clock. “I am not running late.”

“But your client is. He is stuck on the highway and asking if the meeting can be rescheduled.”

“What do I have now?”

“Just a conference call with Maitland.”

“Tell the client that’s fine. I am on my way.”

*****

In his private booth upstairs, music producer Richard McBride idly watched the scene play out. Dark green eyes took note of both women and his ability to read people had him thinking that there was something amiss between the two. They both bore a strong resemblance to each other for him to surmise that theywere related.

His meetings had taxed both his patience and energy. He was forty-five years old, and dealing with fractious and spoiled celebrities was becoming tiresome, not to mention an unwelcome task.

He loved his work, God knows, he loved the challenge of taking a raw talent and turning it into something the listening public gravitated to. He had a gift, and far from being vain and patting himself on the back, he was facing facts.

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