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Authors: Danielle Steel
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expected it, and had cooked a simple dinner. Lindsay was out with friends, and the house was quiet. She knew he was planning to get up early to meet his Japanese clients for a breakfast meeting, followed by a day of golf and a fancy dinner, and he wanted to get some rest that night.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” Marshall said, with a kiss that grazed the top of her head after he thanked her for dinner.
“I figured you would. You look tired.” She smiled at him. “Tough week in L.A.?” He nodded.
“We had a lot of meetings. But everything seemed fine when I left.” Liz nodded and watched him go upstairs while she cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. She had been reviewing her Japanese phrasebook that afternoon, so she could greet their guests properly when they met them for dinner. She knew she would have to keep the wives entertained, while the men talked business. It was second nature to her, and she was looking forward to it. She loved being part of his business life, and doing whatever she could to help him. In the end, it had provided her a more interesting and rewarding life than if she’d become a lawyer. At least she thought so, and she knew how grateful Marshall always was for her help.
And as he lay down on the bed, before Liz came upstairs, Marshall sent a quick text to Ashley, just to tell her he loved her, and as soonas he had sent it, he erased it. She knew not to respond, while he was at the house in Ross. And by the time Liz came upstairs twenty minutes later, he was fast asleep. Ashley had totally worn him out the night before. Liz smiled as she got into bed beside him, happy he was home.
Chapter 5
Fiona met her sister, Jillian, for tennis on Saturday morning. They tried to play as regularly as possible, but at least half the time, one of them was busy. Fiona loved seeing Jillian, and they were both strong tennis players and enjoyed the exercise and the time together. Jillian was six feet tall, and as dark as Fiona was fair. Fiona looked like their mother, and Jillian was the image of their father. Jillian was six years older, lived in Palo Alto, and still saw patients at Stanford, as she had since she did her residency there twenty-five years before. She had had a solid and satisfying career and was successful and respected in the psychiatric community. She had published two books for laymen on psychiatric issues, one on the perils of marriage and how to avoid most of them and maintain a relationship that worked for both parties, and the other on navigating the shoals of depression in the modern world. And she was currently working on her third book, on the effects of power and success on both men and women, and how differently it affected them.
When they took a break, Jillian chatted with her sister.
“You realize that you’re my model for the female side of the book, don’t you? Or one of them anyway. I’ve been using you as a guinea pig for years,” Jillian said about her new book.
Jillian had never married and had never wanted children. She had several long-term relationships, and many short ones, and was rarely without an interesting man in her life. She loved men, but it had never even remotely appealed to her to turn any of her relationships into marriage. And usually, after a few years, she moved on, to someone even more interesting and better, after auditioning several new ones. The men in her life adored her, and she stayed friends with them long after they broke up. She had always said that her niece and nephew, Fiona’s children, were enough of a “kid fix” for her, and she was close to both, and called them regularly to see how they were. She was a terrific aunt, but had always been convinced she’d be a terrible mother. “I’m too self-involved,” she admitted readily. “I could never stop what I’m doing long enough to give a child enough attention. Or a man.” She had a busy, extremely independent life. And no matter how intelligent they were, she treated the
“I think I’ll go to bed,” Marshall said, with a kiss that grazed the top of her head after he thanked her for dinner.
“I figured you would. You look tired.” She smiled at him. “Tough week in L.A.?” He nodded.
“We had a lot of meetings. But everything seemed fine when I left.” Liz nodded and watched him go upstairs while she cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. She had been reviewing her Japanese phrasebook that afternoon, so she could greet their guests properly when they met them for dinner. She knew she would have to keep the wives entertained, while the men talked business. It was second nature to her, and she was looking forward to it. She loved being part of his business life, and doing whatever she could to help him. In the end, it had provided her a more interesting and rewarding life than if she’d become a lawyer. At least she thought so, and she knew how grateful Marshall always was for her help.
And as he lay down on the bed, before Liz came upstairs, Marshall sent a quick text to Ashley, just to tell her he loved her, and as soonas he had sent it, he erased it. She knew not to respond, while he was at the house in Ross. And by the time Liz came upstairs twenty minutes later, he was fast asleep. Ashley had totally worn him out the night before. Liz smiled as she got into bed beside him, happy he was home.
Chapter 5
Fiona met her sister, Jillian, for tennis on Saturday morning. They tried to play as regularly as possible, but at least half the time, one of them was busy. Fiona loved seeing Jillian, and they were both strong tennis players and enjoyed the exercise and the time together. Jillian was six feet tall, and as dark as Fiona was fair. Fiona looked like their mother, and Jillian was the image of their father. Jillian was six years older, lived in Palo Alto, and still saw patients at Stanford, as she had since she did her residency there twenty-five years before. She had had a solid and satisfying career and was successful and respected in the psychiatric community. She had published two books for laymen on psychiatric issues, one on the perils of marriage and how to avoid most of them and maintain a relationship that worked for both parties, and the other on navigating the shoals of depression in the modern world. And she was currently working on her third book, on the effects of power and success on both men and women, and how differently it affected them.
When they took a break, Jillian chatted with her sister.
“You realize that you’re my model for the female side of the book, don’t you? Or one of them anyway. I’ve been using you as a guinea pig for years,” Jillian said about her new book.
Jillian had never married and had never wanted children. She had several long-term relationships, and many short ones, and was rarely without an interesting man in her life. She loved men, but it had never even remotely appealed to her to turn any of her relationships into marriage. And usually, after a few years, she moved on, to someone even more interesting and better, after auditioning several new ones. The men in her life adored her, and she stayed friends with them long after they broke up. She had always said that her niece and nephew, Fiona’s children, were enough of a “kid fix” for her, and she was close to both, and called them regularly to see how they were. She was a terrific aunt, but had always been convinced she’d be a terrible mother. “I’m too self-involved,” she admitted readily. “I could never stop what I’m doing long enough to give a child enough attention. Or a man.” She had a busy, extremely independent life. And no matter how intelligent they were, she treated the
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