She had more or less forgotten about her own career—she just wanted to help Marcus. Only … what would Marcus think if she exploited his personal life for a story? He’d always wanted her to write about something serious, but she doubted he meant himself and his personal life. He’d be hurt enough once he knew the truth about Deirdre. What would an exposé like this do to him—to them?
Clara winced. There wasn’t a them anymore.
And yet she still felt she owed him something. “Parker, I don’t think I can do this to Marcus. I’m already going to ruin his wedding day. Do I really need to make things worse by showing up with an ex-con?”
“What makes you so sure he’ll even care?” Parker asked with a sneer. “I think he’ll be focused on the girl he’s marrying—not an old flame who always seems to want what she can’t have. When you were with him it was me, and when you were with me it was him. If I didn’t think this exposé would sell a heap of magazines, I’d tell Marcus he was better off with the lady criminal.”
Clara’s face flamed red. She glanced at Solomon, but his expression remained utterly blank as he lit yet another cigarette.
She pointed a finger at Parker. “A real man wouldn’t ask a woman he cares about to pretend to be an ex-con’s date at her ex-boyfriend’s wedding.”
Parker leaned back in his chair and gave her his best film-star smile. “That, my dear, is why I’m asking you. I’m over”—he looked Clara up and down—“ ‘us.’ Do you know how many women I turned down in the hope that you might come around? Real women, too, not immature girls still hung up on boys stupid and gullible enough to get themselves engaged to con artists.”
Clara stood in silent shock for a moment. How dare he! But then her lips twisted into a smile. “Well, I’m so sorry to have deprived the women of New York of a prize like you for so long. I hope none of them mind that you take longer primping in front of the mirror than they do.”
She turned to Solomon. “I’m sorry you had to witness this. I’m usually quite the professional.”
Then she flung the copy of the Manhattanite she’d been holding straight at Parker’s head.
One thing Clara loved about New York: It had endless sidewalks for a girl with too much on her mind to wander.
After she’d left the Manhattanite offices hours before, Clara had thought about going home to Brooklyn. But the lonely anonymity of the crowded city streets suited her frame of mind far better than an empty apartment. Here, among the thousands of people who walked the streets, Clara felt invisible. Hidden. The wind bit at her cheeks, and the fall leaves were scattered across the pavement in beautiful shades of reds and oranges and yellows. In a way, the colors reminded her of home—before New York, before Chicago. Home with her parents, when her concerns were so few and her life was simple.
Clara pulled her coat tighter around her waist, passing by shop windows full of furniture and clothing, and a bakery with the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the door as customers entered and left.
Then and there, on the street, she made a vow. Marcus had been set on Clara’s going to college before she pursued her writing career. At the time it had made Clara feel like he wasn’t confident in her abilities. But now she knew that even the best writers in the business admitted that there was always more to learn.
She left the crowds crammed outside the string of theaters on Broadway, moved a few avenues east, and turned onto Park Avenue. She passed upscale shops and stopped walking when she found herself outside Sherry’s Restaurant. Bushes flanked the restaurant’s entrance, softening the skyscraper’s appearance. She knew that inside there was a huge ballroom with crystal chandeliers and enough linen-covered tables to seat hundreds.
A lifetime ago, she’d attended a charity gala there with Marcus. He’d only just found out that Clara had been keeping her job at the Manhattanite a secret from him. Marcus had still wanted to make things work with her.
She stood across the street from the entrance, letting the memories of being in love with Marcus fill her body and soul, warming her on this cold fall day.
And then, out of nowhere—
One of the large double doors opened, and Marcus and Deirdre walked out