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damned plaid bell bottoms she hated so much. She loved his thick curly hair and how he’d kiss her in greeting, not a care for who might be watching. Her memory flashed to long nights studying in his apartment, distracted by the delectable aromas from the Greek restaurant two floors below. The two of them in twisted sheets, exhausted from love-making yet determined to stay awake to whisper promises of forever while Michael Bolton crooned on the stereo. She heard Tim was a baker now. Somewhere in Massachusetts. Meredith breathed deeply and forced her focus. She’d made her decision and her calendar held no room for might-have-beens.
    As university president she was responsible for the financial viability of the entire institution. Meredith enjoyed tremendous success during her four years as president of Washington’s premier university. Under her guidance the endowment had grown nearly sixty percent. Research grants were up, graduate programs had become more competitive, and the basketball team, under the direction of her hand-picked coach, had gone to the NCAA Final Four for the first time in a quarter century. Some of the faculty disliked her leadership style, but she knew academics were malcontents by nature. The Board of Trustees liked her, and they were who she served. Meredith smiled at the idyllic tableau outside her window. Life, for the most part, was damned good. Still, the sight of sweatered students and tumbling leaves could make her wistful for life as a baker’s wife.
    Especially with Bradley Wells hounding her.
    She’d made it her mission to increase his financial support to the university. When Meredith was first named president, Wells gave virtually nothing to the system that provided him with the bulk of his work force. The development office seemed intimidated by the home town billionaire and spent their efforts groveling for whatever crumbs Wells threw their way. Meredith worked her plan to bring him into the fold and now Bradley Wells’ annual contribution to the university was in the mid-six figures. She was grooming him to accept a seat as Trustee, thereby insuring millions of dollars in annual support. She hoped he would endow a chair and perhaps build a state-of-the-art building for the school of business.
    But Bradley Wells wanted too much in return.
    Meredith knew Wells had a never-failing eye for money-making projects, and that eye had fallen on one of the most beloved sites at the university. Two hundred acres of virgin woodland along Lake Washington. Home to undisturbed wild life and vegetation. An oasis of solitude in the middle of Seattle. A place students, residents, and tourists hiked and picnicked. Fished and frolicked. The fondest memory of any alum and a charming lure for recruiting new students and faculty.
    Wells wanted it.
    He promised tasteful development marked with low rise condominiums and high-end retail, restaurants, and entertainment. Boardwalks to keep “an adequate” amount of water open to public access. Discrete parking ramps for the thousands of people who would enter the area daily. In return for full development rights, Wells was willing to pay seventy-five million dollars.
    She refused to even consider his offer at first. The land was too well-integrated into the identity and character of the university. But Wells was persistent. His attorney visited her last week, upping the offer to eighty million. Meredith was irritated Bradley hadn’t come himself. She knew his introduction of an intermediary was his signal that this was strictly business. He didn’t care about whatever relationship she may have fantasized they’d built over the past four years. She also heard the quiet undercurrent the attorney offered as he left. He said this would be Wells’ final offer. She knew if she didn’t have the sale of the land on the Board of Trustee’s spring agenda, with her full endorsement, Wells’ involvement with the university was over.
    A gentle knock shifted