CHAPTER 1

Mitzi LeFleur heard the phone ring in her office. She ran in, pushing the door hard, hoping to catch it before the party on the other end hung up. She had already missed four calls today. She just couldn’t be everyplace at once.

The title on her door declared that she was “Director of Public Relations.” She smiled as she thought of the irony of the name. The company was on strike, and she couldn’t even get the workers and the executives to agree on a time to sit down and try to negotiate. If she couldn’t get them to communicate, how on earth could she possibly get the public to relate to their computer products?

“Yes?” she said into the phone, her voice oozing with the anxiety she felt.

“Mitzi?” the voice asked. “Is that you? Are you okay, hon? You don’t sound like yourself.”

Mitzi sank into the big brown leather chair behind her desk. That was all she needed! As if she didn’t have enough problems of her own, Bob Jones—her “ex”—had the same perfect timing he had always shown.

“Of course it’s me!” she snapped. “Who did you expect? The Queen of England? Sorry, but she’s all booked up for the day.”

“No need to be so sarcastic,” he said. “I just had this really strange feeling. I needed to talk to you. You were always my favorite sounding board when I had a new idea. Sounds like you could use a good ear too.”

“I don’t need your ears,” she said, “or anything else you have to offer, for that matter.”

“I hope you will change your mind,” Bob said. “I’m flying into New York tomorrow. Please say you’ll have dinner with me. I really do need to talk to you.”

Under normal circumstances, Mitzi would never have considered such an offer. Not from Bob. But her life the last few days certainly couldn’t be shoved into any mold of normalcy.

“Well, okay,” she said, surprising herself. She hung the phone up and looked around the office. She had to be out of her mind. She wasn’t in any shape to deal with Bob. Not with her life as hectic and mixed-up as it was now.

She heard someone calling her in the outer office. She would just have to deal with Bob later. She could always tell him she couldn’t make it when he called her after he got in. After all, she reasoned, it isn’t like he is coming to New York just to see me.

****

It had been such a confusing day. Mitzi kicked her burgundy heels off and flung the gray and white pinstriped jacket from her suit towards the chair as she walked past it. The jacket slid onto the floor, but she was too tired to stoop over and pick it up. “Later,” she said as she glared at it.

It was only when she finally sat down for a few minutes that the realization of exactly how exhausted she was. It was an emotional exhaustion, not just a physical one. It had been a long time since she had done mere secretarial duties—way back at the beginning of her climb up the executive ladder of success. Now that she had arrived—after all, she was one of the five vice-presidents—she found herself thrust back into answering phones and making copies of memos. And all because the peons at the plant wanted more health benefits!

She reached for the phone, determined to cancel her dinner with Bob. She really wasn’t up to seeing him tonight. In fact, she admitted, she was never up to seeing Bob, even though they had parted on friendly terms.

Mitzi laughed out loud. Who ever came up with the term “friendly divorce”? Oh, sure, they acted civilized to each other when they met, but that was only because she did such a great job of masquerading her true feelings. It wasn’t bad enough that Bob had dumped her, just because she couldn’t give him any babies, but then he had to turn around and marry Barb.

She remembered, all too well, the day Bob told her about Barb. They were as opposite as day and night, as oil and water, as honey and vinegar. But Barb was already Bob’s wife by that time. It was too late for her to do anything about it, even if she could have. Besides, Barb was the one thing Mitzi could never be. Barb was pregnant!

The phone in her hand, Mitzi tried his cell phone. All she got was his voice mail. He hadn’t told her where he’d be staying, so she couldn’t call him if she wanted to. She had no alternative; she might as well get dressed and face the music.

Mitzi felt amazingly refreshed after she showered and changed for dinner. She carefully chose a bright blue full-skirted dress. It was, she remembered, Bob’s favorite color on her. The boldness of the color caught the blue in her eyes and made them jump out at you. As she put on fresh makeup, her cheeks seemed to take on a rosy glow of their own even before she dabbed them with blush. Her shoulder-length hair, naturally blonde, fell in soft waves around her face.

She stood back and checked in the full-length mirror on the closet door. She smiled in approval as she said, “If I were Bob Jones, I wouldn’t be able to resist you tonight.”

She slapped her face, striving to come back to reality. Bob Jones had no interest in her. He had proven that, more than once. First there was Barb. That ended in disaster. Then there was Jill. She had been far too slow for Bob. She could never keep up with his hopes and aspirations. But, like Barb, she had been fruitful and multiplied. Jeff and Kathy were living proof of her fertility. Finally, there was Peg. Mitzi really thought they would last together forever, especially when the twins came along. Two sets of them in just a little over two years! Peg was as bubbly and effervescent as anyone Mitzi had ever met. But that stupid land scheme of Bob’s out in California had seen to the end of their relationship.

Mitzi wondered why she was taking such pains to try to impress Bob. He knew her, exactly the way she was—her faults and her assets—and she had plenty of both! He was probably only coming to show off wife number five, anyway. Seemed like that was the only time he showed up in her life.

****

Bob sat at the bar, nursing his drink. He twirled the swizzle stick around and around, not even lifting the glass to his mouth. He wanted to be clear-headed tonight. There was far too much at stake for him to mess it up because of some dumb booze.

“Mr. Jones,” the maitre’d said, “your friend has arrived. I’ll show you to your table now.”

Bob got up from the bar stool and turned to face Mitzi. He took a long, deep breath. He had forgotten how gorgeous she was.

“You look sensational!” he said, suddenly aware of his own suit, wrinkled from the plane trip. He should have changed. His self-assurance disappeared as he offered his arm to escort her to the dining room.

“Thanks,” Mitzi said, blushing slightly. She hoped he wouldn’t notice. She wanted to be in control tonight, whatever his latest scheme might be. She looked around and didn’t see another woman. Score one for my side! she thought. She knew, instinctively, that meant that he must be after something.

If only it was me he wanted, she mused. She wished she could slap her face for even entertaining such an idea. She studied him as they walked. It had been too long since she had seen him. He was even more handsome now than when she had first met him—so long ago.

“Madam?” the maitre’d said, holding her chair out for her.

“Thank you,” she said, and took her place. Bob sat in the chair directly across from her. He rested his elbows on the table and stared at her. His eyes seemed to be glued to her every feature.

“Something wrong?” Mitzi asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” Bob said. “You look too good to be true.”

Here it comes, Mitzi thought. Whatever it is he wants, he’s trying to butter me up for it. Well, I’ve learned a few tricks over the years. I can be just as tough as anyone. I won’t let him get to me.

Bob ordered a bottle of wine, and as they waited, he asked, “How’s the job?”

“Great!” Mitzi lied, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Did I tell you that I’ve been promoted to vice president? And I am Director of Public Relations.”

“Sounds like they finally got smart and figured out that they had a gold mine in their own back yard.”

“Sounds more like they finally figured out how to make a work horse out of me,” Mitzi sputtered, not wanting to say that at all.

“Want to tell me about it?” Bob asked. “I could tell on the phone that things weren’t all that great.”

She hated that! He had always been able to read between the lines. Try as hard as she could, she had never been able to hide the truth from him. Well, she had come this far, she might as well tell him the whole story. She knew he’d get it out of her sooner or later anyway.

Mitzi told him about the strike at the company, and how she felt like it was all her fault. “After all, I am supposed to be in charge of public communications. Hey, I can’t even get the boss to talk to the laborers. And three of them are his own grandchildren!”

“I don’t read that as your fault,” Bob said, trying his best to sound reassuring. “Sounds to me like they are just all too stubborn to compromise.”

The waiter poured their wine, offering Bob a sample to approve. Bob nodded. He held his glass in the air to propose a toast.

“Here’s to old friendships—rekindled,” he said.

Mitzi almost protested. She didn’t need any rekindling. She had fought too many years to let even a spark fly free. She knew how dangerous it could be, how it could start a whole forest fire in her heart.

“To friendship,” she mumbled, just barely audible.

They spent the dinner hour making small talk. Bob did not mention any of his other wives. He didn’t say a word about the kids. He never gave any indication that there was anyone new in his life.

“You remember that piece of land I inherited out in California?” he asked.

Mitzi laughed. “You mean the one Peg divorced you over?”

“Yeah,” Bob said. “That’s the one.”

“Of course. You were so sure it would turn into something wonderful, and Peg was sure it would end up in the ocean during an earthquake.”

“Well,” Bob continued, a smug grin on his face, “turns out I was right. I have turned it into a real estate development. It is loaded with beautiful new houses, and even with the housing in a slump like it is, they are selling.”

“For how much?” Mitzi asked.

She had always been so practical. Bob could see that she hadn’t changed in that respect. That was why he needed her now, more than ever.

“None under two million,” he said, watching her closely for her reaction. He was pleased when he saw her sit up straighter and give him her undivided attention.

“Wow!” Mitzi said, obviously impressed. “That’s really something—especially for you!”

“Gee, thanks,” Bob said. “I think.”

Mitzi didn’t apologize for the half-compliment, half-insult she had just handed him. He knew her too well for her to bother.

“Yeah, I’ve finally found my niche in life,” Bob said. “I really love it. I’ve got some super people working for me, but I have one slight problem.”

“No, I won’t co-sign a loan for you,” Mitzi said, her eyes dancing as she teased him.

“I don’t need your money,” Bob said. “I need you.”

Mitzi could hardly believe her ears. Bob Jones had never admitted to needing anyone before. She wanted to run away. She didn’t need him. God knew, she wanted him, but she didn’t need him. She had never stopped wanting him, but she wasn’t going to admit that she needed him. If he wanted her, or needed her, there had better be some mighty good reasons for it, and then she would only consider whatever it was he needed after he’d groveled plenty.

“Why?” she asked simply.

“Because you’re the best business woman I ever met. For that matter, you’re the best business person I ever knew. I do great with the plotting, the drafting, the blueprints…everything except the business end of things. You know I’ve never been able to manage money worth a damn.”

“You’ll get no argument from me on that score,” Mitzi concurred.

“You don’t have to be so ruthlessly honest about it,” Bob said, winking at her. “A small nod of agreement would have sufficed.”

“Sorry,” Mitzi said, but her voice betrayed any hint of sincerity in her apology. “I still don’t get it. Where do I fit into the picture?”

“Simple,” Bob said. “They don’t know what a treasure they have here. They treat you like dirt, other than your paycheck, I suspect. Even so, I’m sure they don’t pay you half what you are worth. Now, especially with this strike thing going on, why don’t you chuck the whole thing and come out to California with me? You could be the head of public relations for my company. You could be the office manager. You just name the title you want, and that’s what you’ll be.”

“There would have to be some conditions agreed to first,” Mitzi said.

He was right. They did all take advantage of her. She was ready for a change. What better time to do it than in the middle of this whole strike mess?

“I’ll match your present salary,” he said, preparing for any argument he had to use to persuade her she belonged with him.

“I would want part of your stock signed over to me,” she said.

“In fact, I’ll raise your current salary by twenty-five percent,” he offered, unaware that she was even taking his offer seriously.

“You would have to promise never to argue with me if I thought something in the business could work better some way other than how you’ve been doing it,” she said.

“I’ll turn over the deed to one of the new houses to you,” he offered further, still too busy formulating more arguments in his head to even listen to what she was saying.

“You will have to let me approve all purchases for the houses,” she said, smiling at his persistence, even when it was not necessary.

“I’ll hire you as many secretaries as you want,” he said, “and the budget for advertising is open for anything you want or need.”

Mitzi grasped Bob’s hand and squeezed it.

“I said ‘Yes,’” she said.

His mouth dropped open and he looked at her in total disbelief.

“You did?” he asked.

“I did,” she replied.

“When can you come?”

“Well, I’ll have to let them know at the office. I’ll give them ten days notice. Under the circumstances, that is more than fair. I never bargained for the mess they’re in. Then I’ll have to pack and hire a moving van. I’ll want to take my own things, of course.”

“Of course,” Bob said, still in a state of shock at how easy this had been. He had been ready for a real fight.

“When will you be finished with your business here?” Mitzi asked. “I’ll make a list of what I expect. I just told you, but you were so busy arguing with me that you didn’t listen to any of them.”

“I’m finished with my business here,” Bob said.

“But you didn’t get in until tonight,” Mitzi said, confused by his answer.

“No, Mitzi, my dear, but you were my only business. I was prepared to stay for a day—a week, if I had to—to talk you into it. But now that you’ve agreed, my business is complete.”

“Maybe not, once you see my list of demands,” she said.

“You’ve learned from the strikers, I see,” he said, laughing. “Well, whatever it takes, you’ve got it, hon.”

He got up and walked around the table to her. He bent over and kissed her warmly, right there in the middle of the restaurant. She had never been kissed in public before! In spite of her embarrassment, she liked it. It made her feel secure, even if it was only from her ex-husband.

“I’d better get home,” Mitzi said abruptly. “If I’m going to leave the company in a few days, there are a lot of things to be finished up. Besides, I have to start packing.”

Bob motioned to the waiter for the check. He gave him his credit card for the bill, then waited for him to return with it. He signed the slip and smiled at Mitzi.

“Do you know how happy you’ve made me?” he asked her.

Not half as happy as I wish you’d make me, she thought. Careful, kiddo! she warned her heart. This is strictly a business proposition. That kiss was just to show his appreciation for my bailing him out—one more time.

“I’ll walk you home,” Bob said, knowing that her apartment was only a few blocks away.

“No,” Mitzi protested. “I’ll get a cab.”

I don’t trust myself alone with you, she argued silently. She knew if he got to the apartment he would want to come in. She would want him to come in. And who knew where that might lead? You can’t let yourself think like this, she scolded herself.

The cab slowed to a crawl as she flagged it down, then it came to a stop. Mitzi climbed in, then called back to Bob, “When are you leaving for L.A.?

“Not yet,” he assured her. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

****

Mitzi glanced for just a minute at her suit jacket, still lying on the floor. She would usually have picked it up and put it on a hanger, but tonight it seemed so trivial, so unimportant.

She went to the refrigerator and took out a can of cold orange juice. She sat at the kitchen table, her head resting on her hands.

The reality of the bargain she had just entered into—with Bob, of all people—hit her square in the face.

“Whatever have you done?” she asked herself. “I sure hope you don’t live to regret this decision. It is just about the most foolish thing you have ever done in your life. It was bad enough when you married Bob the first time, but you were young and it seemed so glamorous. You were so much in love.”

“You’re still in love,” she heard her own voice say.

“That’s the most stupid thing you’ve ever said!”

Mitzi jerked her head up, looking around the room. She was right. She was alone. She had never had a conversation with herself before. At least not out loud! She must be crazy. Of course she was crazy! She had just agreed to move all the way across the country, practically next door to her ex-husband, the only man she had ever loved.

“No!” she warned herself. “This is strictly a business proposition. You are a professional. He’s a professional. You can make this work. Besides, he just wants you to bail him out. Nothing has changed at all. He’s always known he could come running to you when he was in trouble. Just like his other three marriages. Where did he go when they collapsed and he fell flat on his face? Why, of course! He came running to you for help. No, nothing has changed. The only thing that is different is that this time he has agreed to your terms.”

Mitzi picked a sheet of paper up off the table and began writing on it.

1.      One-third of the stock in…