It is high time that I give a tip of the hat to marvelous photographer, Bernard Vidal, who for twenty years has journeyed from Paris to take my cover photo and to Karem Alsina, master hair stylist and makeup artist, who allows me year after year to put my best face forward on the back cover of the newest book.
No accomplishment would have any meaning if it were not being shared with my husband, John Conheeney, spouse extraordinaire, and our children and grandchildren. You know how I feel about all of you.
And now my readers and friends, I hope you curl up and enjoy this latest effort. Happy Reading and God bless you one and all.
For my youngest child
Patricia Mary Clark
“Patty”
whose wit, resilience, and charm
has brightened all our lives
With Love
1
On Monday morning, Olivia Morrow sat quietly across the desk from her longtime friend Clay Hadley, absorbing the death sentence he had just pronounced.
For an instant, she looked away from the compassion she saw in his eyes and glanced out the window of his twenty-fourth-floor office on East Seventy-second Street in Manhattan. In the distance she could see a helicopter making its slow journey over the East River on this chilly October morning.
My journey is ending, she thought, then realized that Clay was expecting a response from her.
“Two weeks,” she said. It was not a question. She glanced at the antique clock on the bookcase behind Clay’s desk. It was ten minutes past nine. The first day of the two weeks-at least it’s the start of the day, she thought, glad that she had asked for an early appointment.