Dream Trilogy by Nora Roberts

professional surroundings to have a giggle over old times. You might as well give it to me.”
    “All right.” It was cowardly, Kate knew, to wish she could postpone the moment. “We can say there’s good news and bad news.”
    “I can use some good.”
    “You still have your health.” At Margo’s nervous laugh, Kate set her own mug aside. She wished she had a better way to do this, wished she’d been smart enough or clever enough to find an escape clause for Margo. “Sorry, bad accountant joke. You have to have a pretty good idea that you don’t have a hell of a lot else, Margo. Financially, you’re fucked.”
    Margo pressed her lips together, nodded. “Don’t soft-pedal it, Kate. I can take it.”
    Appreciating her, Kate slid off the desk, sat on the arm of Margo’s chair, and hugged her. “I put everything in a computer program and printed out a hard copy.” And got less than three hours’ sleep, thanks to the extra workload. “But I thought you’d get more out of the whole picture if I boiled it down. You’ve got some choices.”
    “I don’t . . .” She had to pause to level her voice. “I don’t want to file bankruptcy. Only as a last resort, Kate. I know it’s pride, but—”
    Pride Kate understood, enormously well. “I think we can avoid that. But, honey, you’re going to have to seriously consider liquidating, and you’re going to have to be prepared to take a loss on some of your assets.”
    “I have assets?” Margo asked hollowly.
    “You have the flat in Milan. There isn’t a lot of equity, as you only bought it five years ago and your down payment was low. But you can get out what you put in, and with luck, a little more.” Because it was personal, Kate didn’t need her notes, or the file. She remembered all the details. “You havethe Lamborghini, and it’s almost paid for. We arrange to sell it, quickly, and you’ll save on those exorbitant garage and maintenance fees.”
    “Okay.” She tried not to regret her beautiful flat, lovingly furnished, or the glamorous car she’d adored driving fast in the countryside. There were a great many things she couldn’t afford, Margo reminded herself. Top of the list was self-pity. “I’ll put them on the market. I suppose I’ll have to go over and pack everything up and . . .”
    Saying nothing, Kate rose to open a file, not to refresh her memory but to give herself something to do with her hands. She perched her glasses back on her nose. “There’s the dead animals.”
    Sunk in depression, Margo shook her head. “What?”
    “Your furs.”
    “That’s such an American attitude,” Margo grumbled. “Anyway, I didn’t kill those stupid minks.”
    “Or the sables,” Kate said dryly, peering over the tops of her horn-rims. “Sell them and that also saves you cold storage fees. Now your jewelry.”
    It was an arrow straight to the heart. “Oh, Kate, not my jewelry.”
    “Toughen up. It’s just rocks and minerals.” With her free hand she picked up her coffee again, ignoring the faint burning under her breastbone. “The insurance premiums on it are killing you. You can’t afford it. And you need the cash to meet your debts. Dressmakers’ bills, salon bills. Taxes. Italian taxes are stiff, and you didn’t exactly save for a rainy day.”
    “I had some savings. Alain had been siphoning them off.” She realized her fingers were aching and made herself untwist them. “I didn’t even know it until last week.”
    Bastard, Kate thought. But that was then and this was now. “You can prosecute.”
    “What’s the point?” Margo said wearily. “It would justfeed the press.” Pride again, she thought. It was useless to ask Kate if she could afford a few miserly spoonfuls of pride. “So, basically I have to give up everything. Everything I have, everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve wanted.”
    “Okay.” Miserable, Kate put the file aside. “I’m not going to tell you they’re just things, Margo. I