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to let things ride, and hope that misunderstandings would work themselves out, but in this situation time might be an enemy. He could feel the door closing on him with every piece of her memory that returned. She had brought into his life a glimpse of the kind of companionship that he’d been missing. How ironic, he thought, that the woman who had broken into his solitary shell was someone who didn’t even know who she was.
     
    T HE NEXT FEW DAYS PASSED without incident. Andrew worked at home and visited Trish in the evening. The exuberance of her first day had faded. On the fourth night, she’d experienced another one of the fearful nightmares.
    “Dr. Duboise says it’s a good thing.” She told Andrew as she suppressed a tremor. “Something in my subconscious is trying to come to the surface. Maybe when it does, I’ll remember everything.”
    Andrew didn’t tell her that he’d been endeavoring to find some clue to her identity on his own, but had come up empty-handed. Because he’d honored his promise not to publicize her story or whereabouts, keeping her situation a secret was like tying his hands behind his back. He read all the stories he could find about people reported missing.
    And then one noon hour, it happened. He had spread out a collection of papers on the table as he sat in his usual booth, eating his lunch. A bite of sandwich caught in his throat when he turned a page in The New York Times, and glanced over the news stories. He wasn’t prepared for the victory that met his eyes, and he read a small news item in disbelief.
    “Memorial service to be held for missing prominent New York investor and Realtor. Ms. Patricia Louise Radcliffe, a wealthy businesswoman and socialite, disappeared during the height of the recent storm. She is believed to have been in the company of her partner, Perry Reynolds, who is also missing.”
    The article was accompanied by a fashionable photograph showing a smiling Trish, her hair beautifully styled, a jeweled necklace circling her slender neck. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder gown, cutting daringly low to show the soft crevice between her full breasts.
    As he looked at the photo, her eyes seemed to hold a sardonic smile, as if she appreciated the trick that fate had played on him.

Chapter Five
    Andrew kept staring at Trish’s picture with emotions that defied definition. Excitement was there, and relief, too, but there was also regret, chagrin and disappointment. Even though he had suspected Trish came from an affluent lifestyle, he wasn’t prepared for the fact that she belonged in a world of high finance and money. At the back of his mind had been the hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be a continuing relationship after they discovered her identity, but he knew now that such a hope was romantic nonsense. Once she was drawn back into her own world, her emotional need for a hermit loner would be over.
    He read the article over several times, trying to decide the best way to handle the matter. Dr. Duboise would have be told first. The doctor would be the best one to give Trish the news that she was Ms. Patricia Radcliffe of New York City.
     
    T RISH WAS IN THE physical therapy room, working on an exercise machine, when a secretary from Dr. Duboise’s office informed her that the doctor would like to see her.
    “I’ve already had my therapy session this morning,” Trish replied, puzzled. Just the way the woman was looking at her created an instant quiver of uneasiness. “What does he want?”
    “He wants to talk with you.”
    “What about?”
    She hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
    The woman was lying, Trish was certain of it. Had the hospital decided they couldn’t keep her after all? Obviously, treatment was expensive and she’d made no progress at all in recovering her memory in the week she’d been there.
    “All right. I’ll shower and be in his office in about fifteen minutes.”
    Her mind whirled as she walked slowly across the grounds from