Then gasped.
“You kissed him.”
Maggie dropped a spoon.
“Tessa!”
“You did!”
“Lower your voice.”
Tessa danced around the kitchen.
“Oh, my God!”
“Will you stop?”
“Was it good?”
Maggie tried to look stern.
Failed.
And smiled.
Tessa stopped dancing.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“What?”
“You're in trouble.”
Maggie leaned against the counter.
“I know.”
Her roommate's expression softened.
“Do you love him?”
Maggie looked down.
It was too early.
Too complicated.
Nicholas was wealthy, powerful, and accustomed to a world in which doors opened when he approached.
She was an independent designer with very little money and a project whose future depended partly upon his judgment.
She had promised herself not to become another woman whose achievements were explained by the man she was dating.
Yet when Nicholas looked at her, she did not feel diminished.
She felt seen.
“I don't know,” she admitted.
Tessa smiled gently.
“Then don't decide yet.”
Maggie looked up.
“Since when are you sensible?”
“Since I started paying the rent.”
They laughed.
Then Tessa took her hand.
“Just promise me something.”
“What?”
“Whatever happens, don't forget who you were before he walked into that elevator.”
Maggie nodded.
“I won't.”
Nicholas, meanwhile, was discovering that falling in love could turn even the most disciplined businessman into a complete idiot.
He began finding excuses to telephone Maggie.
He sent her a copy of an architectural book she had mentioned in passing.
He purchased a cassette of old jazz recordings and left it at the theater with a note suggesting she might enjoy it.
When Frances discovered him smiling at a letter on his desk, she looked toward the heavens and muttered something about miracles.
But happiness did not erase the problems waiting beyond Nicholas's office.
The Starlight redevelopment was approaching a critical decision.
Sterling Properties had acquired the building using borrowed funds.
The lender expected a commercially viable plan.
The company had already spent substantial money on preliminary development work, and several board members believed a new office building offered the only sensible return.
Chief financial officer Graham Pike was particularly opposed to restoration.
He was forty-six, impeccably dressed, with steel-gray hair and a cool manner that made his observations seem more authoritative than they sometimes deserved.
He had worked with Walter Sterling for nearly twenty years.
He understood the company's finances better than almost anyone.
And he believed Nicholas was allowing sentiment to interfere with judgment.
One Friday morning, Graham entered Nicholas's office carrying a thick file.
“We need to discuss the Starlight.”
Nicholas looked up.
“I'm aware.”
“The board meeting is in twelve days.”
“I know.”
“And we're still entertaining a restoration proposal from an inexperienced independent designer.”
Nicholas set down his pen.
“Margaret Bennett is a qualified restoration designer.”
“She has no established firm.”
“She has an engineer, contractors, operating partners, and a credible phased plan.”
“Credible?”
Graham opened the file.
“Her latest estimate is two point eight million dollars, excluding several unresolved structural risks.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Which risks?”