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employees to the Barones, they were old friends. It made her feel happy that Leo had decided not to sell the company after all.
    * * *
    On Sunday Ana and Erik got back to the city in the early afternoon. After dropping Ana off at her loft and making plans to meet for dinner later, Erik continued on to his apartment.
    When Erik walked into this apartment, bags in hand, he dropped them in the foyer and walked back to the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. After drinking quickly he turned and went into the home office. The blinking light of the answering machine on the desk was like a beacon to him. Only his friends and family used his home phone number. Business calls went straight to his cell phone. He liked keeping them separate because on weekends, he ignored the office. He would never, however, ignore his friends and family.
    He listened to the first message. It was his father, John. He began with a tired sigh, so Erik instinctively knew the message would be about his grandmother, Drusilla. No one could get under his father’s skin quite like his grandmother. “Hey, son, your grandmother took another tumble today. She’s so hardheaded. We keep telling her to use her cane but she insists she doesn’t need it every day, just when, and these are her words, ‘I’m feeling wobbly.’” John sighed heavily again. “It’s Friday night and they’re keeping her in the hospital overnight for observation. A fall can be dangerous for an eighty-two-year-old.”
    Let her be all right, Erik prayed as he continued listening.
    “No need to come home, though,” his father said. “She’s fine. It’s my nerves that are frayed.” He laughed. “Thank God for Izzie. She remained calm and handled everything with her usual quiet efficiency.” Izzie was Isobel, Erik’s stepmother. She and his father had been married for three years and still behaved like newlyweds. Erik loved and admired her for how happy she’d made his father, who deserved a little happiness after all the heartache he’d experienced when Mari had left him for a French choreographer.
    He dialed the house in New Haven, Connecticut and waited. Isobel answered with, “Hi, sweetie. I hope John’s message didn’t upset you. Dru’s back home and is doing well. How’re you?”
    Erik smiled. Isobel rarely answered with hello. She anticipated your needs and got right into the conversation. “I’m fine, Mom, and how are you?” Both he and Belana referred to Isobel as “Mom.” They’d known her for years before she and their father had fallen in love and gotten married. She was the mother of one of Belana’s best friends, Elle, and consequently they were part of the same social circle. What’s more, Isobel, as far as Belana and Erik were concerned, had earned the title of “Mom” since she loved them like her own even though they were not related by blood.
    He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Just great. We’re all sitting around the kitchen table having lunch. Would you like to speak with your father or Drusilla?”
    “Put Her Majesty on, please.”
    When Drusilla got on the phone he could hear her clearing her throat. “Where are you that you can’t come see about your poor old grandmother?”
    “Who would that be?” Erik asked, “Because you are apparently as young and spry as ever! I’m told you don’t think you need to use your cane anymore. Is that right?”
    “It makes me look old and decrepit.”
    “You’re too vain. What would you prefer? To look your age, or break a hip, or worse?” he asked, being careful not to raise his voice.
    “I’d rather look good,” was Drusilla’s petulant reply. “What does it matter if I go out with a broken hip or not? The Grim Reaper has my number. I should have the right to choose how I live the rest of my life. After more than eighty years, I’ve earned it!”
    Erik sighed. She had a point. Eighty-two years on earth should allow her certain privileges. He’d have