Francesca sat at her desk, thinking for a long moment before she picked up the phone again. She was feeling better after her conversation with her stepmother. Avery had helped her, just as Francesca hoped she would. She always came through, and had some truly good, solid ideas, which usually worked, just as they had for Francesca’s father. He had been so impressed with her in the beginning, and still was. She had wrought miracles for him, and the proof was in their very comfortable lifestyle. Avery had money of her own too. She’d had a lucrative career and invested well. And the idea of being dependent on anyone other than herself would have made her laugh. As she put it, she hadn’t worked her ass off all her life in order to be dependent on a man. She did what she wanted with her money-and always had. None of that had changed when she got married. Henry had benefited far more than she from their relationship. Financially, he had needed her, she didn’t need him. But emotionally, they were dependent on each other, which seemed like the way it should be to Francesca. She thought she had had that with Todd, but she didn’t. And now they were pulling everything apart, and it hurt. A lot.

Francesca’s next call was to her mother. Thalia barely asked her how she was, and launched into a long conversation about herself, what she was doing, who she was annoyed at, what a terrible job her decorator was doing, what bad investments her stockbroker had made recently, and what a worry it was for her.

“It’s not like I have a husband to support me,” she lamented.

“You don’t need a husband,” Francesca reminded her practically. “Don left you set forever.” Her two shopping malls had grown to ten over the years, and she had other investments as well. She wasn’t the pauper she pretended to be, by any means. And her small, chic penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue was ample testimony to that. It was a beautiful place with a splendid view of Central Park.