The phone was answered on the second ring by the familiar smoky voice of Caroline Lord. There followed a lengthy explanation on Sam's part, friendly silences from Caroline as she spoke, and then a strange, anguished sob as Samlet herself go at last. Then it was like coming home to an old friend. The older woman listened, really listened. She gave Sam a kind of comfort she had forgotten over the years. And when Sam hung up the phone half an hour later, she lay staring at the canopy above her, wondering if maybe she really was going crazy after all. She had just promised to fly to California the following afternoon.
2
It was a frenzied morning for Samantha, she packed two suitcases, called the airlines, left a note and a check for the cleaning woman, and attempted to close up the apartment as best she could. Then, with her two suitcases, she took a cab to the office, where she gave Charlie the key to the apartment and promised to send Christmas presents for the boys from the coast. Then she met with Harvey for more than two hours, explaining everything he wanted to know.
“You know, you don't have to do this for me, Harvey. It isn't what I want.” Her eyes reached out toward him as they concluded the meeting that would send her on her way.
He eyed her quietly from across his vast marble and chrome desk. “It isn't what you want, Sam, but it's what you need, whether you know it or not. Are you getting out of town?” He was a tall, spare man with iron-gray hair that he wore as closely cropped as any Marine. He wore white Brooks Brothers shirts, striped suits, looked like a banker, and smoked a pipe, but behind the steely gray eyes was a brilliant mind, a creative spirit, and a rare and beautiful soul. He had been, in a sense, like a father to Samantha, and now that she thought it over, it didn't really surprise her that he was sending her away. But they hadn't spoken of her plans all morning. All they had talked about were the accounts.