the first Assignment novel. “That’s right. But of course he only staged his death to throw off Interpol.”
“Quite. And are you working on anything else?”
The question surprises me. “ Assignment: Tokyo isn’t enough?”
“As Dayle Salvesen, I mean. A new book under your own name.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He looks away. “That’s a pity, given your estimable talent.”
I shrug. “Well, no one reads Dayle Salvesen’s books. She’s retired forever, I’m afraid.” I’m about to say more when the room starts spinning and my knees weaken. Seeming to sense that I’m about to fall, Alec slips his arm around my waist and helps me to a nearby sofa, then crouches before me, stroking my hand.
“It’s all right,” he says gently. “Stay here—I’ll fetch some water.”
“No, wait. Don’t go.” I grab his hand. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.” I bow my head, waiting for the room to stop rocking. I feel like I’m imploding, toppling inward toward a cold dark core.
Suddenly a large, disheveled man in an ill-fitting suit blunders toward me, nearly tripping over both his shoes and his words as he presses Candee Cronin for an autograph.
“ Assignment: Bangkok is my favorite!” he blurts out, shoving a book beneath my nose. “I don’t even mind if Sao Paolo isn’t as good. I’m certain to love it anyway.”
Alec rises and touches the man’s arm. “If you don’t mind, sir, now is not a good time,” he says, firmly but politely. “She’s feeling unwell. Perhaps after her speech.”
“Oh. All right.” The man nods and ambles away looking disappointed.
“Thanks for running interference on my behalf,” I say as Alec’s attention returns solely to me.
“It’s my pleasure.” He bends closer and peers into my face. “Shall I call for help?” he asks softly.
“No, it’s okay,” I reassure him. “It’s just been a really rough day.”
He grabs a nearby chair and sits down facing me, knee to knee. “Tell me—what’s happened?”
I look up into his anxious green eyes and long to tell him everything. There is so much Alec doesn’t know about the past three years. He never knew I was pregnant, and that I had, and lost, a baby. Suddenly I want to talk about Rory; I long to speak my child’s name aloud and know that someone who cares about me has heard it. I want to describe how, after losing my son, I discovered within me a new place for pain to come from. I want to say all these things, but when I open my mouth something very different emerges. “Remember my flatmate, Cecelia Frost? The author?”
“Of course.” He frowns, searching his memory. “ West of …?”
“ West of Blessing, North of Hope .” I pause. “Well, she died this morning.”
“My God! What happened?”
“It seems she jumped off Waterloo Bridge.”
“I’m so sorry, Dayle. I know you two were quite…close.”
I bow my head and rub my temple. “I still can’t believe it. When I arrived this morning, I heard that she was missing but only learned an hour ago that she had died.”
He offers a gentle smile. “It was brave of you to come to the conference after getting such news.”
“I had to,” I explain. “Everyone was expecting me.” I pause, looking around the shimmering drawing room. “Or I guess I should say, expecting Candee Cronin.”
“Brave, nonetheless. Where will you go after?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I had planned to stay with Celia, at her flat.”
“Well, you won’t want to stay there now. Come back to my place and rest.”
I shake my head. “Thanks for the offer, but my luggage is at Celia’s, and I’ve already booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon. And I have to see Edwina.”
“Edwina?” His face registers mild panic at the unfamiliar name.
“Celia’s girlfriend. I need to say good-bye.”
“Of course. But do you at least have time for a drink afterward?” He looks hopeful. “A number of us are meeting at The Only
“Quite. And are you working on anything else?”
The question surprises me. “ Assignment: Tokyo isn’t enough?”
“As Dayle Salvesen, I mean. A new book under your own name.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He looks away. “That’s a pity, given your estimable talent.”
I shrug. “Well, no one reads Dayle Salvesen’s books. She’s retired forever, I’m afraid.” I’m about to say more when the room starts spinning and my knees weaken. Seeming to sense that I’m about to fall, Alec slips his arm around my waist and helps me to a nearby sofa, then crouches before me, stroking my hand.
“It’s all right,” he says gently. “Stay here—I’ll fetch some water.”
“No, wait. Don’t go.” I grab his hand. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.” I bow my head, waiting for the room to stop rocking. I feel like I’m imploding, toppling inward toward a cold dark core.
Suddenly a large, disheveled man in an ill-fitting suit blunders toward me, nearly tripping over both his shoes and his words as he presses Candee Cronin for an autograph.
“ Assignment: Bangkok is my favorite!” he blurts out, shoving a book beneath my nose. “I don’t even mind if Sao Paolo isn’t as good. I’m certain to love it anyway.”
Alec rises and touches the man’s arm. “If you don’t mind, sir, now is not a good time,” he says, firmly but politely. “She’s feeling unwell. Perhaps after her speech.”
“Oh. All right.” The man nods and ambles away looking disappointed.
“Thanks for running interference on my behalf,” I say as Alec’s attention returns solely to me.
“It’s my pleasure.” He bends closer and peers into my face. “Shall I call for help?” he asks softly.
“No, it’s okay,” I reassure him. “It’s just been a really rough day.”
He grabs a nearby chair and sits down facing me, knee to knee. “Tell me—what’s happened?”
I look up into his anxious green eyes and long to tell him everything. There is so much Alec doesn’t know about the past three years. He never knew I was pregnant, and that I had, and lost, a baby. Suddenly I want to talk about Rory; I long to speak my child’s name aloud and know that someone who cares about me has heard it. I want to describe how, after losing my son, I discovered within me a new place for pain to come from. I want to say all these things, but when I open my mouth something very different emerges. “Remember my flatmate, Cecelia Frost? The author?”
“Of course.” He frowns, searching his memory. “ West of …?”
“ West of Blessing, North of Hope .” I pause. “Well, she died this morning.”
“My God! What happened?”
“It seems she jumped off Waterloo Bridge.”
“I’m so sorry, Dayle. I know you two were quite…close.”
I bow my head and rub my temple. “I still can’t believe it. When I arrived this morning, I heard that she was missing but only learned an hour ago that she had died.”
He offers a gentle smile. “It was brave of you to come to the conference after getting such news.”
“I had to,” I explain. “Everyone was expecting me.” I pause, looking around the shimmering drawing room. “Or I guess I should say, expecting Candee Cronin.”
“Brave, nonetheless. Where will you go after?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I had planned to stay with Celia, at her flat.”
“Well, you won’t want to stay there now. Come back to my place and rest.”
I shake my head. “Thanks for the offer, but my luggage is at Celia’s, and I’ve already booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon. And I have to see Edwina.”
“Edwina?” His face registers mild panic at the unfamiliar name.
“Celia’s girlfriend. I need to say good-bye.”
“Of course. But do you at least have time for a drink afterward?” He looks hopeful. “A number of us are meeting at The Only
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