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PROLOGUE

It was in the fifth grade, when they were ten, that Fiona Chambers crossed the soccer field to stand with, and for, the new girl. Skinny, awkward, out of place at the posh prep school in New York, Hayley Martin had become a target for the school’s wellheeled bullies.

She was taunted about everything: Her clothes, an unruly tangle of auburn curls, her status as a scholarship student, and the street slang that popped out of her mouth at inopportune times.

After a paper Hayley wrote for English class, about her time living in a homeless shelter was deemed best in the class, and published in the school paper, the torment became almost intolerable.

Then one day Fiona walked over to the embattled girl, put an arm around her, and asked if they could sit together at lunch. That act of compassion changed everything for Hayley.

Fiona Chambers was a superstar. It wasn’t simply her classic blonde beauty, or her sense of humour, or the fact that she was very smart that drew people to her. Fiona had an inborn shimmer that cannot be counterfeited. It was called charisma. From that day forward, if anyone wanted to hang out with Fiona, they had to put up with this

“rescue” girl of hers. And just like that, Hayley was part of the in-crowd. In exchange, Fiona garnered the lifelong devotion of her new friend.

Well, lifelong is perhaps an overstatement. There would come a time when Hayley Martin’s raison d’être would be the complete and utter destruction of her former idol.

The transformation from acolyte to enemy was complicated. And perhaps it was inevitable.

Fiona stiffened at the mention of Hayley’s brother. Mikey was trouble. But Hayley could not see it... in her eyes he could do no wrong

CHAPTER 1

‘‘ I just don’t see how we can do it, Hayley,” Fiona said. “We have the Met Costume Gala that Saturday, Cancer the following week, and the Whitney wedding two days later.” “For Luke Thompson, we’ll find a way. And could you say Cancer Benefit, please.” Hayley wrinkled her nose. “Cancer next week doesn’t sound that festive. Just the opposite.” Fiona laughed. “Point well taken.” “Listen, I’d set my hair on fire if Luke asked me to. He wants us to do this party, so we do it. And that’s that.”

Still shy as a fawn in public, Hayley was a different person when she and Fiona were alone. Smart, accomplished and irreverent. The two girls had become inseparable at Miss Porter’s School, and beyond. They were roommates in college, had backpacked around Europe after graduation, and eventually landed in a tiny apartment in St. Marks Place on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

It was an ancient railroad flat, which meant that in 1910 three rooms were lined up in a row, like train tracks, and the bathtub was in the kitchen. It was a quirky little place but the girls loved it. The combination of Fiona’s creative ideas, and Hayley’s uncanny ability to transform dreams into reality, changed an eyesore into a charming little gem. That rare blend of skills was to prove invaluable, when later they launched their joint venture from the fifth floor walk-up. They started an event planning company which they called Celebration.

Outsiders wondered what kind of glue made these two disparate personalities into such a cohesive team. It was simple really. Fiona admired Hayley’s grit and determination to overcome a background Dickensian in its bleakness. She took hard work and perseverance to a new level.

Hayley, on the other hand, was in awe of Fiona’s seemingly effortless ability to accomplish whatever she set out to do. And instead of being full of herself because of it, Fiona had a huge heart. She was capable of acts of profound compassion; such as taking a lonely young girl under her wing and changing her life.

This morning, 20 years after that event, the two women were sitting at the cluttered round table that served as an operations centre for Celebration. It was the spring of 2013, and they had a burgeoning business.

“Could you not set your hair on fire, no matter who requests it,” Fiona begged. “That blue tint you thought was so cool has almost grown out.”

“If we do this for Luke, I promise I’ll only dye it colours found in nature,” Hayley answered. “He’s family, Fiona. We taught each other how to kiss, underneath the stairs at that shelter on 86th Street.”

“You never told me you were romantically involved with the hunkiest newsman on the air!”

Hayley laughed dismissively. “Hardly. I was eight, he was nine. And it wasn’t romance, it was a science experiment. When I was sent to Miss Porter’s, we swore to be friends for life, and we have been. Plus he looked after Mikey the best he could, after I’d gone.”

Fiona stiffened at the mention of Hayley’s younger brother. Mikey was trouble. But Hayley, who usually had an infallible radar about people, could not see it. She had practically raised the boy, in the absence of their will-o’-the-wisp mother, and in Hayley’s eyes he could do no wrong.

Fiona had an urge to say that Luke Thompson would have done better to watch out for the people Mikey conned, but she thought better of it. It would only upset Hayley. Instead, she said, “When am I going to get to meet this wonder?”

The investigative reporter was a household name, and Fiona admired him for the work he did. And he was a champion of the underdog, which made him extra special to her.

“He’s hard to pin down. He’s always flying around the globe, covering disasters. Or exposing corruption,” Hayley replied. “But when we plan this party for him, which we absolutely, positively must, you’ll finally meet him.”

Hayley, who was usually cool about such things, was growing agitated. “His television team is getting the Edward R. Murrow Award for their reporting on Human Trafficking.” “Talk about festive,” Fiona murmured, raising a brow. “Figure it out, Fiona. Please.” Fiona studied her friend. “You’re practically shaking, Hayley. Are you sure you don’t have strong feelings for Luke?”

“Of course I have feelings for him. But not the kind you’re thinking. He’s like a brother. Romance would be like incest! Ick.” She made a face, grimacing. “Okay, okay. Got it,” Fiona said, examining the huge calendar that was displayed on the wall opposite. It was covered with neat printing which denoted events scheduled well into the next year. It hadn’t always been that way.

For the first few years, Celebration’s calendar was practically blank. A small wedding, a party on election night. They had even agreed to do a child’s birthday party. Anything to get them noticed by the people who gave the glittering events for which New York was famous.

The girls had supported themselves, and the fledgling business, by taking on any job they could get, sometimes two jobs at a time. They did telemarketing, dog walking, were even cocktail waitresses in a club that catered to ‘gentlemen in the sanitation removal business.’ More precisely, wise guys connected to the mob.

No one had told them this, but it took Hayley, with her street background, only a few seconds to make that call. But even though the guys were connected to the Mafia, they were good tippers, and treated the girls with their version of respect. So they stayed and worked at the club.

There was one job Fiona had taken which was never, ever discussed, even by the two friends who shared everything. At one moment in time, Hayley stumbled on the truth of what Fiona had been doing on weekends, and it staggered her. “Why, Fiona? Why would you, of all people, do something like that?” She had sounded horrified.

Fiona’s response had been dramatic. She had walked out of the apartment and disappeared for two days. The subject was never broached again. Some things, Hayley knew from experience, were best not spoken about.

There was no need for second jobs to pay the rent these days. When someone was planning a grand event in New York City, Celebration more often than not received the first call. They had even been able to move their company uptown, to a building with an elevator in the more socially acceptable East Sixties.

Oddly enough, it was the birthday party for a ten year old that had put them on the map. The child’s grandmother was a well-known socialite. She had a wonderful time playing the old fashioned carnival games the girls had rented and, with a word from her, the bookings started to come pouring in.

“If it’s so important to you, Hayley, that we do Luke’s party, I’ll make it work.” Fiona was moving things around on the board. “Who do I speak with to confirm?” “Oh, I already told them we’d do it.” Hayley smiled innocently at Fiona. “I knew you’d make it happen.” “You’re incorrigible.” “So I’ve been told. Anyway, all you have to do is meet with Luke, and find out what sort of evening he’ll be comfortable with. He doesn’t like a lot of fuss.” “Hayley, he’s your friend. You should meet with him.” The colour drained from Hayley’s face. “You know I can’t do that! I don’t do meetings. That’s your department.”

Hayley and Fiona were equal partners in their business, but the roles carved out in that school yard long ago never changed. It seemed natural that Fiona, with her inventiveness and easy way with people, would be the face of the business. She was the one who met with potential clients to plan the event, was photographed accepting thanks from socialites, senators and honourees for a perfectly planned occasion.

It was Hayley who, by choice, laboured in the background, executing that perfect planning. While Fiona escorted the guest of honour to his seat, Hayley was in the kitchen making sure the caterer remembered which of the guests was lactose intolerant or had other food issues.

Fiona never meant to steal the spotlight. Like most truly magnetic people, she just walked into a room and dazzled. Hayley, on the other hand, walked into a room and disappeared. And she was content with that arrangement. Until one day she wasn’t. And then everything changed.

“All right, don’t panic,” Fiona now said. “I’ll meet with the great man. Who knows, maybe he’ll teach me how to kiss, too. I could use a little help in that regard. I haven’t had a date in three months.”

Fiona had turned away, studying the calendar, and didn’t see the stricken look settle on Hayley’s face.

CHAPTER 2

It was late when Hayley let herself into her apartment on East 86th Street. The building was a luxury high rise with a doorman. It was a far cry from the shelter down the street where she, Mikey and Luke had spent far too much time as children. She always shrivelled inside when she thought of that place. Once Celebration started making money, she and Fiona had

Luke’s dark hair was prematurely greying at the temples, but it only served to make him look sexier, if that was possible

decided to have separate apartments. When they lived together they would come home from the office and talk business until it was time to go to bed.

Even now they’d spend half the evening on the phone, going over details of whatever event they were planning. But this new living arrangement allowed them to think about something else, at least for a few hours every day.

There was another reason Hayley wanted her own place, but she would never admit it to Fiona. She needed to have somewhere for her brother to crash when he got into one of his scrapes, as he called them. Like getting evicted, or beaten up for not paying a debt to the wrong people. She knew Mikey was a mess, but he was her mess. And she wasn’t about to run away from her responsibilities, like their mother had done.

Fiona was well aware that Hayley was constantly rescuing her brother, and Hayley knew she knew, but it was another one of those things they never discussed.

Hayley poured a glass of wine, clicked on the television and curled up in her favourite spot. It was an enormous wing chair, more suitable for a wrestler than a slender slip of a girl who was all of five foot two with shoes on. She had paid $32 for the chair at one of the charity thrift shops that dotted First Avenue, and managed to get it home tied on top of a yellow cab. She had reupholstered it herself in rich emerald green velvet, the colour of her eyes. When she had lived at the shelter down the street, she had dreamed of having a real home one day, and a special chair. Now she had both.

She was later than usual, and Luke’s news show was almost over. She watched him every night. At the end of every broadcast, he looked into the camera and said “I’m Luke Thompson and I wish you a goodnight.” She liked to fantasise that he was talking only to her. “I wish you good night too, Luke,” she said to the screen. She froze the frame and studied his face. His dark hair was prematurely greying at the temples, but it only served to make him look sexier, if that was possible. He had grey eyes with thick lashes, but he was all man, cut from the same cloth as old-time movie stars like Clark Gable. She tried to fathom what his home was like, who he would have dinner with tonight, and who he loved.

She hadn’t seen him in person for more than five years. When he called her to say he was getting an award, and would she like to organise the party for him, it took her almost an hour for her to stop trembling after she’d hung up. Life had made her tough, but there was something about Luke Thompson that made her knees turn to jelly... when she was eight. And now at 30. “Having a drink with your lover, I see.” Hayley almost jumped out of her chair. Mikey was standing in the doorway of the bedroom watching her intently. “Mikey! You nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?” “Well I was sleeping until you turned on Captain America.” Mikey looked at the face frozen on the television screen. “Who would’ve ever guessed he’d end up on TV?”

“He always wanted to be a newscaster,” Hayley exclaimed, sounding annoyed.

Mikey picked through the refrigerator and settled on a piece of cold pizza. “Wanting and doing are different things. I wanted all kind of things,” he said through mouthfuls of food.

“You could be anything you want, if you just worked at it.” She went to the kitchen and gave him a piece of paper towel to use as a napkin.

He stuck it in his pocket and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, studying the screen. He threw himself down in Hayley’s chair, sprawling in it. “Did old Luke ever get married? Or is he waiting for you?”

“Don’t be disgusting.” Hayley’s voice was harsher than she had meant it to be. “And no, he’s not married. But we’re not that kind of friends.” “If you say so.” “Would you get out of my chair! You’re going to get pizza sauce on it.” “Oooohhh. The queen’s throne” He playfully pretended to wipe his hands on the chair.

Hayley swatted him, but couldn’t help smiling. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I quit. Night watchman is a joke job. I need to get something that suits me better. Maybe I’ll be a TV star, too.”

“You got fired, didn’t you?” It was a statement, not a question. Hayley knew him only too well.

“It’s better to get fired than quit. I keep telling you that. Then you can collect unemployment.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Since you asked... can you lend me a few bucks to hold me, till my unemployment kicks in?” “Mikey, I just gave you five hundred dollars.” Mikey looked stricken. “That was a week ago. I know you’re a penny pincher. Well, I guess I can get a loan. I know some people.”

“No!” Hayley went to find her bag. “Stay away from those guys. They charge a hundred per cent interest, and you know what happens when you don’t pay. I’ll give you what I have.”

Mikey counted the money. It was a hundred and twenty dollars. “Maybe you could cash a check?” “Out! Go home before I take that money back.” He playfully lifted her up and whirled her around. “Thank you, big sister.” He indicated Luke, whose face was still frozen on the television screen. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Go!”

Mikey blew her a kiss, and let himself out. Hayley collapsed in her chair. She stared at the screen and smiled. “You were right, Luke. I’m a patsy. But he’s so damn loveable I just can’t help myself.”

She snapped off the television set and poured herself another glass of wine. After a moment she locked and chained the door and moved to the desk near the window. She unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled out an ancient scrapbook full of clippings and photos. Handling it with care, she took it with her to the giant chair and opened it.

The book was all about Luke Thompson. There were school pictures of him when he was eight and nine. Old clippings about his sports triumphs, and a catalogue of his progress from roving reporter to anchor of his own national television show on a major network. After a moment, she found what she was looking for. It was a yellowed letter in a child’s hand, which Luke had written to her shortly after she got the scholarship to Miss Porters. Dear Hayley, It’s boring here without you. Mrs. Barrett in the next room still snores like a rhino. Remember when you sneaked in and put a clothes pin on her nose? I think Dad got a job, so maybe we’ll be moving on to our own place soon. Do you like your school? If those snotty rich girls give you a hard time, let me know and I’ll come up and take care of them for you. No one’s going to mess with my girl. That’s all for now. Luke P.S. Your brother got sent to the principal’s office again yesterday. I hear he got caught smoking in the teacher’s bathroom.

Hayley smiled wistfully, carefully refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. She held the scrapbook to her heart as if it were a sacred relic.

Or the chronicle of the man she loved.

CHAPTER 3

Fiona was tearing through her closet, wishing she had Hayley’s talent for saying no to people. She had an hour to change and then meet the famous Mr Luke Thompson at Penn Station. She had already visited with the committee hosting the award dinner, and had worked out most of the details. But, as guest of honour, Luke was entitled to a courtesy meeting to approve the plans.

She had scheduled the meeting at the office for 4pm today, but then Luke had called with a change of plans. Something had come up, a lead on a story he was working on. He had to take the 4pm Acela, the express train to Washington, DC, for a meeting at the State Department. He would then leave for Thailand in the morning. If she cared to ride along on the train, they would have two hours and 48 minutes to work out all the details of the award evening. He would be happy to send her back by plane, and she would be in New York later the same evening.

The last thing Fiona wanted to do was sit on a train for three hours, but this was Hayley’s friend and she felt she had to say yes.

Tall, with a voluptuous body and long shapely legs, this combination evoked a strong reaction from men and women alike. Today Fiona didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she dressed to downplay the curves, especially for a business meeting. Although she wasn’t aware of it, her efforts did not work. She had the kind of allure and beauty that were impossible to disguise.

Finally she settled for cream coloured slacks and a short-sleeved lavender sweater. It was spring, but weather in mid-April was quixotic on the East Coast. And Washington could be a steam bath, even at this time of year. Layers, she reminded herself. She went back into the closet and found a

Fiona didn’t think about the consequences or the danger, she just jumped. Luke caught her, as he had promised, and didn’t let go

fitted blue jacket trimmed with bone buttons, and selected a vintage Hermès scarf. She slid her feet into beige patent LK Bennett pumps; the ones favoured by the Duchess of Cambridge, and examined herself in the mirror. With her cream-coloured trench coat she would be ready for any eventuality the day offered.

Or so she thought. But then, no one could have predicted what this day had in store for Fiona Chambers.

She sat at her dressing table and studied her face. She had the creamy complexion of her English ancestors, wide-set blue eyes and straight blonde hair that Hayley, always fighting with her wild mass of curls, openly coveted.

On a whim, Fiona opened a drawer, took out a cosmetic pouch, and emptied the contents on to the table. She began to apply makeup, something she rarely did. She was basically a soap-and-water kind of girl but now, she decided, she would gild the lily a bit.

What is wrong with you, Fiona Chambers? she thought, staring back at herself. You’re meeting a client. Why are you acting like a schoolgirl going on her first date?

She wiped her face clean, purposefully put her makeup bag back in the drawer, and pulled her hair into a severe pony tail. She was annoyed with herself.

For a reason she could not explain, when she had called to arrange the meeting and had heard Luke’s voice, butterflies seemed to take flight in her stomach. This unbidden thrill of anticipation was completely inappropriate but she was powerless to control it.

Are you becoming starstruck all of a sudden? she asked her reflection. It was not as if she hadn’t had to deal with celebrities in her work. And she was going to join Luke Thompson on the train from New York to Washington, DC, not the mysterious Orient Express to Istanbul.

She had made her reservation at the Jefferson, her favourite DC hotel, and now all she needed to do was to throw a few things in an overnight bag, then call Hayley to let her know the plans had changed. She did not need makeup.

CHAPTER 4

Hayley’s phone lay on the polished counter covered with bits of blue hair. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her life and was silently castigating herself for making this appointment. God only knew what it was going to cost.

She finally found the courage to look in the mirror, and then sneak a peek over her shoulder where the master was plying his trade. Frederick, hair stylist to the rich and famous, was a blur of flying hands and scissors. Hair fluttered everywhere in a cloud of multicoloured curls, and was immediately swept up by an assistant dressed all in black.

Frederick was flanked by two more black-clad assistants, hands behind their backs, leaning this way and that with his every move. They could have been watching a tennis match, she thought.

He was finally behind her. Ready to do her hair. “If you must have blue hair in future, please promise me you will have a professional colour it for you. You are lucky not to be bald.”

All Hayley could manage was a nod. She was grappling with the image in the mirror. She hardly knew herself. The blue tint which she had so carefully applied to her hair was gone, replaced by her own colour, auburn. She hadn’t seen it in years. The long tangle of messy hair that she thought of as her trademark was gone. In its place was a pixie cut, which one of the assistants was now coaxing into place with a round brush and a blow dryer. Anne Hathaway on a bad day, she decided, thinking of the actress. She was also fighting the urge to burst into tears and run away from this place.

“Very chic! Very you,” the famous hairdresser said, although Hayley had never met him before, and he had no idea who she was.

Frederick’s fingers were flying through her hair now that the assistant had finished his work. He smoothed it, then spiked it, then messed it up completely, and called it perfection. “You have something special to do today, yes?” the hairdresser asked. In spite of herself Hayley blushed. “Maybe. Yes. I’m going to see a friend, a man. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” “You love this man.” It was a statement, not a question. “Oh, no!” Hayley was adamant. “Nothing like that. He’s a friend, as I said.” He laughed. “I am French. I know such things! And when he sees you today, he will love you back.”

Frederick made a little bow, and, trailed by his entourage, floated off to the next client.

Hayley had frequently Googled Luke and knew he was still single, knew he had no significant relationships. She stared at herself in the mirror and dared to hope.

CHAPTER 5

Fiona was late. She had left the brownstone in Gramercy Park, where she lived, in plenty of time and, miraculously, a taxi was just dropping off a passenger on Park Avenue. Her luck ended there. Bumper-tobumper traffic was everywhere. Her driver crawled up and down side streets only to be greeted by another snarl of cars.

Finally she thanked him, stuffed $20 into his hand, and jumped out of the cab on Sixth Avenue and 32nd Street. She ran the four long blocks to the railway station, her overnight bag banging against her leg. Fiona raced into the 34th Street entrance, her ponytail flying. Penn Station was crowded even at 3.45pm. She breathlessly asked the first person she saw where the Krispy Kreme Donut Shop was. Luke had suggested they meet there, because every employee in the station would know where it was.

He was correct. But by the time she had pushed her way through the crowd to the entrance, it was 3.50pm. The train left at 4pm, and she feared Luke might have gone ahead without her. Then she spotted him. There he was, holding a bag of doughnuts, looking impossibly handsome, as he searched the crowd for a woman he had never met.

“I know what you look like,” she had told him, but she had been wrong. He was better looking in person than he was on air, if that was possible. He wore jeans, a pale-blue cashmere sweater topped with a blazer and a vest. A long scarf of some exotic weave was wrapped around his neck.

Layers, Fiona thought. Like me. He looked more like a professor from the Ivy League college where her father taught, than one of the most respected television journalists on the planet.

“Hi,” she said, gasping for air like someone who had just completed the New York Marathon. He turned around and smiled at her, which did nothing to slow her breathing.

“Sorry,” was all she could choke out. That giddy feeling she had been battling all day came rushing back. This, coupled with shortness of breath from the run, and the insane physical attraction she was feeling for this perfect stranger, was making her feel faint. “No worries,” Luke said, taking her bag. “We’ll make it with time to spare.” He grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her along behind him. His hand was strong and warm as he rushed her through the throng of commuters. They sprinted down the stairs to the track. “Board! All aboard for Washington DC” The conductor stepped on to the last car, swung his light to signal the engineer, and slowly the train began to move down the tracks. “Oh no!” Fiona gasped. “I’ve made you miss it.”

Luke was undaunted. Hanging on to Fiona’s hand, he raced down the last few steps toward the train. He let go of her hand for a second, and leapt, still holding her luggage and the doughnuts, and was on the moving train. He reached out his hand to her, as the train began to speed up. He was pulling her, forcing to run alongside the train. “Jump!” he cried. “I won’t let anything happen to you!” And so she jumped. She didn’t think about the consequences or the danger, she just jumped. He caught her, as he had promised, and didn’t let go. They held on to each other, there in the vestibule of the train, panting and wheezing and gasping for air. Fiona started to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, which made breathing all that much harder. Then he began to laugh, too, and soon they were gone in paroxysms of hysterical laughter. Fiona slid to the floor, and Luke joined her. When, finally, she could breathe enough to speak, she panted, “I’m Fiona,” and extended her hand. “And I’m Luke.” He grinned, taking her offered hand. He did not let go right away, and Fiona, the laughter gone now, made no move to pull away. They just sat there, holding hands. And looking at one another with a kind of wonder.

CHAPTER 6

You’ll have to move inside the carriage.” The voice of the conductor startled both Fiona and Luke. They were sitting where they had landed, on the floor of the vestibule of the Acela fast train, munching

The train car shimmied violently... Fiona was thrown from her seat as the train left the tracks. And then they were falling... falling

on the Krispy Kremes which Luke had miraculously saved. “It’s very pleasant right here,” Fiona murmured, finishing off a powdered-sugar dusted espresso donut.

“As a matter of fact,” Luke said, offering the conductor the bag, “I believe I booked these seats.”

“Must have been a glitch in your reservation, Mr Thompson.” The conductor grinned, helping himself to one of the doughnuts. “My records show you’ve got your usual seat in the first class car. I thought you’d missed the train.”

“It was close, Charlie. But the lady here is an Olympic sprinter, and she got me here in time.” Luke scrambled to his feet and offered Fiona his hand.

She laughed. “I believe for my next race I’ll choose a different kind of track shoes.” She flashed her four-inch platform heels. “I couldn’t walk two steps in those.” Charlie said. “Women are amazing.” “Some more than others,” Luke replied, carefully removing a speck of powdered sugar from her cheek.

The gesture felt strangely intimate to Fiona, and the butterflies circled back. She smiled up at Luke, and the electricity between the two of them was so potent, Charlie felt the need to turn away and open the heavy door. He cleared his throat.

“Not far to go,” the conductor said, breaking the mood. “I’ve got you in the middle of this car, where there’s less rocking and rolling.” He led them to an empty four-seater.

“And your usual is all ready to pour, Mr Thompson. Vodka martini, extra dry with a twist. And what can I get the lady?” Fiona grinned. “What goes well with a doughnut?” “Champagne, of course,” Luke responded. Charlie nodded and lurched away down the aisle of the speeding train. Luke helped Fiona to sit down in a cushy leather chair by the window. “Apparently you take this train a lot,” Fiona said. “Too often,” Luke answered, stashing her bag overhead. “If I’m not on location, I usually broadcast from DC.” “But you live in New York City?” “Technically,” Luke said, slipping out of his sport coat, and hanging it on the hook by his seat. “I keep a small apartment in Chelsea. But I really live wherever the news is breaking.” “Do you ever miss having a home?” “To me,” Luke said, “home is a place you share with someone you love. I haven’t found that person. Yet.”

He sat down opposite her. “I like to ride backwards.” He grinned. “Then I never forget where I came from.”

Fiona studied him thoughtfully. “Hayley told me a little bit about how you two grew up together.” “Living in a shelter was no party, I’ll say that. But we both survived.” “You did a lot more than survive. You’re at the top of your profession, and Hayley, well, Hayley is one of the most amazing, resilient people I’ve ever known.”

“She wrote to me about you,” he said, smiling at her. “About how you threw her a lifeline, when she was drowning up there at Miss Porter’s. She said she would never have survived without your help.” “She gives me too much credit,” Fiona answered. “She’s a great kid. Always was. Don’t ever cross her though.” He laughed. “She’s a take-no-prisoners kind of girl.”

“I saw that at school. Once, she found another pupil in her room, snooping through her desk. Hayley didn’t say a word to her, just smiled pleasantly and asked if she’d found everything she’d been looking for. But two days later, a term paper the girl had been working on, and for most of the semester, was mysteriously erased from her computer.”

“That’s Hayley,” Luke said. “But if you knew how she was raised, you would understand why she’s a little hard about protecting what she believes is hers.”

“I get that. Lucky for me. In all these years we’ve never even had an argument.”

Luke laughed. “We used to fight all the time. Over important issues like which football team was better... the Giants or the Jets. And, of course, about Mikey.”

Fiona had to keep herself from flinching at the mention of his name. “Ah yes, Mikey.”

“Is he in prison yet?” Luke shook his head. “That kid was a criminal-intraining back then.”

“Jailed a few times, maybe. In and out. Misdemeanours.” Fiona tried to keep her voice light but her feelings about Mikey were hard to mask. “He’s a rascal, and he probably has something bad to look forward to in the future.”

“Is Hayley still oblivious?” Fiona was uncomfortable with this subject, and wanted to change it. “Pretty much. Mikey means the world to her, so we don’t discuss him.” “Good plan. I guess we all have our blind spots.” The conductor returned with their drinks, and some snacks, and placed them on the tray tables. “I’ll be back to take your dinner orders in a while.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” When the conductor was gone, Luke looked into Fiona’s blue eyes and raised his glass. “To new friends.”

Fiona smiled softly. “To new friends.”

CHAPTER 7

Fiona and Luke were sipping their drinks and talking as easily as if they had known each for a lifetime.

“I grew up on the campus of the college,” Fiona told him. “And because my father was the Professor of Ethics every time I got into the tiniest bit of trouble, whoever caught me would administer a lecture on my extremely non-ethical behaviour. My parents finally took pity on me, and let me go to Miss Porter’s.”

“It’s funny how people think you’ll be like your parents.” He laughed sardonically. “Of course, in my case, my mom took off when I was four years old, and my dad was a drunk who couldn’t keep a job. People didn’t have great expectations for me.” Fiona studied him. “I guess you showed them,” she said quietly. “Was that important to you? To prove you weren’t like your father?”

“I think it was.” Luke looked out of the window, thinking about it. “Sure. It has to be why I am so driven.”

“You can take a break now,” Fiona said. “This award you’re getting is about the highest recognition a television journalist can get.”

“It was a tough story to do. Dangerous too, I suppose. But we managed to relocate over 200 women and children, who had been brought here from the Far East with the promise of a better life.” Luke’s jaw tightened. It was the kind of story that stayed with you. “Instead, they were being held against their will, and sold to the highest bidder.”

“I saw part of the series,” Fiona told him. “It took a lot of courage for those women to come forward, to be interviewed.”

“They’re the ones who deserve this award,” Luke said, “not me. The sad part is that even though we got a couple of hundred to safety, more women, more children are brought here every day to take their place.” “Isn’t there anything that can stop it?” “Yeah. Getting to the kingpin, the guy who makes it all work,” Luke said. “Everyone knows who it is, but without hard evidence he can’t be touched.” “How awful. So he gets away scot-free?” “So far. But it’s only a matter of time until he bullies the wrong woman. I’m not going to stop until I find a way to nail Mr Eddie Rivers.” Fiona froze. “Eddie Rivers? He’s involved in this?” Luke gave her a hard look. “How do you know about Eddie Rivers?” Fiona stared out of the window, trying to get her emotions under control. “We’re about to cross the Delaware River. We must be heading into Pennsylvania.” “Fiona? Do you know Eddie Rivers?” Luke pressed. Fiona continued looking out of the window as the train sped on to the bridge without slowing down. “Look how the river is churning, seems threatening somehow.”

Those were the last words either of them said before the train car began to shimmy violently. Fiona was thrown up from her seat, but Luke managed to grab her and keep her from hitting the floor. He held her tightly as the train rocked violently from side to side. “What’s happening?” Fiona’s words were drowned out by the terrible screeching of brakes. People around them were screaming.

Fiona clung to Luke, filled with fear as the train car left the tracks. And then they were falling... falling into empty space.

CHAPTER 8

The empty wine bottle lay on its side next to the bed. The curtains were closed. In the darkened room Hayley’s slender body barely made a ripple under the down comforter. “Hayley!” The door to the bedroom burst open and the tranquillity was shattered by Mikey’s booming voice. “Hayley! Where the hell are you?” He turned to go back to the living room when there was a moan from under the bed covers. “Hayley?” Mikey unceremoniously threw off the

People were screaming. Some were crying softly. Others prayed. She heard sirens, lots of them. Men shouted in the distance

bedclothes to reveal his sister, a tiny lump of misery, curled up on the bed. “Go away.” Hayley pulled the duvet back up over her head. Mikey plopped down on the bed, munching on a chicken leg he had purloined from her refrigerator. “What are you doing in bed? It’s only 7.30pm!”

“Just let me die in peace.” She groaned. “But first, can you get me some water?”

Mikey picked up the empty wine bottle, and laughed. “Somebody got themselves sloshed! Hayley, girl, I’m proud of you!” “Shut up. Water.” “Say please.” “Go to hell.” “That’s better.” He laughed. “Now you’re showing signs of life. Water coming up.”

He went into the bathroom and returned with water in a toothpastetinged glass. “What you really need is a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, and a coke. Best cure ever for a hangover. I know these things.”

“Please don’t discuss food with me right now,” Hayley said, emerging from under the covers. She drank the glass of water in one gulp. He stared at her. “My God! What did you do?” “What?” “Your hair is gone! You had it cut off. I like it. It’s like that movie star, what’s her name? Hiawatha.”

“Hathaway. Anne Hathaway. You think?” Hayley tentatively touched the strange new arrangement on her head. “You’re prettier.” Hayley managed a smile. “Thanks, Mikey.” “So how come you got smashed?” “It’s a long story.” She sat for a moment, hoping the room would stop spinning. “I don’t feel so good. Do you think that grilled cheese thing works?” “Like a charm.” “Order me one from the deli, would you? I’m going to take a shower. There’s money in my purse.” “Speaking of money...” “Don’t even ask!” Hayley replied. “I emptied my savings account today. I can’t help you this time.”

“I got myself in a bit of a bind, or I wouldn’t ask.” Mikey gave her his most doleful smile.

“I’m cleaned out, Mikey. I’m not kidding. I barely have enough cash to get through the week. Now order that cheese thing for me, before I die.”

“Okay, okay. Just asking,” he said. “You shower. I’ll order the cure for you.”

Once Hayley was in the bathroom, Mikey picked up her bag. He took out a twenty dollar bill for the sandwich. Glancing over his shoulder, to make sure she had closed the door, he searched through her bag, until he found what he was looking for. Inside the flap of her checkbook he found a stack of one hundred dollar bills, as he knew he would. He removed four, stuffed them into his pocket, put the rest back in the checkbook.

“I’ll order you a coke, too. With lots of ice,” he called to the closed door and headed for the phone.

CHAPTER 9

Fiona could not move, and she didn’t know why. She tried to sit up but something was holding her down. Not an inanimate object, but something warm that carried with it hope. The noise around her was deafening. People were screaming. Some were crying softly. Others prayed. She heard sirens, lots of them. Men, somewhere in the distance, were shouting things she couldn’t make out. The sound that was loudest of all was the creaking and grinding of twisted metal, as the train carriage seemed to be moving, inching along toward what she had no idea.

She coughed, choking on the dust and smoke that filled the carriage, making it difficult to see anything or breathe.

“Fiona. Are you all right?” The voice was so ragged, it took her a moment to make the connection. Then she realized the rasping tones were actually the voice most Americans connected with Luke Thompson. It was not as mellifluous as it usually was. “I don’t know,” she said, sounding like she’d swallowed gravel herself. “Move carefully,” Luke said. “Very carefully.” When he pulled himself off her it was only then that she realised Luke was the warm thing that had been holding her down, keeping her safe. Apparently he had thrown his body on top of hers, to protect her from the shattered glass that was everywhere. On the seats, under her body, in her hair.

Fiona tried to pull herself into a sitting position and realised the train was on its side. She was not on the floor of the carriage, but on one of the few windows that had not been shattered in the crash.

It seemed just minutes ago that she had been looking at the powerful Delaware River through this very window. Now there was nothing but blackness where the window rested on the rugged ground.

Something was brushing against her hair. She reached up to push whatever it was away, and discovered, to her horror, that she was touching a hand. It was a cold, dead hand dangling at an odd angle from the seat above her.

Fiona began to shake. A scream was forming deep inside her. Seeing panic overtaking her, Luke slid down next to her, held her face in his strong hands. He looked straight into her eyes. “Breathe. Just breathe,” he instructed, his voice beginning to normalise. She looked back at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying and comply. She couldn’t stop shivering.

“Listen to me. Slow breath in, slow breath out. Just breathe with me. That’s it. Nice and slow.”

Fiona never took her eyes away from his, and eventually her breathing slowed. And the shivering began to subside. “That’s better. We need to think clearly. We don’t have much time.” After a moment the tension, the panic, began to leave her body. “Okay, I’m okay,” she said. “In and out. Deep breaths,” Luke whispered. “You smell nice,” she said absently. Her comment made him smile. “And you smell like Krispy Kremes,” he replied. “Delicious.” She forced a laugh.

“Start moving things. One at a time,” he suddenly ordered. “Fingers, arms, ankles. Not too much. Just make sure nothing is broken, that you can walk.”

Fiona did as she was told. “Good to go,” she said. “Except that I’m very thirsty.”

“Fear does that to people. Sorry to say, my martini spilled, so you’ll have to stick it out. We need to move on, leave here as fast as we can.” “What happened?” she asked in a low voice. “The best I can make out is that the train derailed, and just as we crossed the Delaware from New Jersey into Pennsylvania,” Luke explained, speaking casually so as not to further panic her. “Most of the railway cars made it to the other side, but we are in the last car.” “So we’re still in New Jersey? Bummer.” Luke laughed out loud, in spite of the situation. “Do you know,” he said, “that I just might fall in love with you?” There was a moment of electricity as their eyes met. “Happens to me every time I’m in a train crash,” she said lightly, trying to break the intensity of the moment. She licked her fingers, and wiped a dried patch of blood from his forehead. “So what’s the plan?”

Before Luke could answer, the car shifted and they were sliding. The train car was twisting, and turning over, as it slid downward toward the river taking a stand of willow trees with it. She clung to Luke, shaking, swallowing the scream in her throat. He held her against him, his arms tight around her.

People were screaming again. And then, miraculously, the car bumped up against something, a tree, a rock, or a small clump of bushes. It stopped with a jolt. The carriage had somehow managed to right itself in the process.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Luke said. “But you must stay put. Don’t move.” He crawled to the other side of the car, where the window was partially shattered. Pulling himself up onto the seat, he lay on his back. Using both feet, he kicked out the rest of the glass.

“Come on.” He held out his hand to Fiona who started crawling up toward safety. “Small, careful movements. Nothing big. Just work your way to me.”

She kept her eyes on him, and did as he said. Just as she reached the window, a baby cried somewhere behind them. Fiona froze. The cry was not loud enough. A baby in this situation should be screaming its head off.

Without a word, both Luke and Fiona started crawling on their bellies, marine style, toward the whimpering. Hands clutched at Fiona.

“Under the seat,” a woman’s voice said weakly. “She’s under the seat. I couldn’t hold on.” The baby’s mother was pinned under the crushed wall of the carriage.

“I’ll get her,” Fiona told the desperate woman. “Don’t worry. I’ll get her.” And she inched her way toward the baby sounds, brushing broken glass

Fiona cradled the baby in her arms, gingerly picking shards of glass from the blanket. Astonishingly, the little girl smiled at her

away from her path as she did. Luke stayed with the woman. It took almost super-human strength, but somehow he managed to pull her out from under the twisted metal of the train wall.

The baby gave another little cry, and Fiona slid under the seat. “There you are! Hi. Hi, baby. Don’t be afraid. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She reached out, and carefully, very carefully, using the blanket the baby was wrapped in, pulled the little girl toward her.

The baby gave another cry, and Fiona started singing softly, some longforgotten song from her childhood. She pushed herself backwards, holding the child, until they were both out from under the seat. She cradled the baby in her arms, gingerly picking shards of glass from the blanket.

“Here you are, little lady. It’s okay.” She looked down at the beautiful little girl, who looked back at her and, astonishingly, smiled.

“What a brave girl you are.” Fiona cuddled the baby to her, and slowly began to work her way toward the window Luke had opened.

Luke had already managed to get the baby’s mother out of the train through the window. He took the baby from Fiona and put her into the outstretched arms of the grateful woman, who began to cry with relief, thanking them through her tears.

“Get away from the train,” Luke ordered. “As far away as possible. It could move again any minute.”

“Now you,” he said to Fiona. She slithered toward him, was halfway out the window, when from the other end of the car they heard a muffled cry for help. They froze, lifted their heads, listening, hoping to locate the source of the sound. “It’s coming from the front of the car,” Fiona said at last. “You keep going,” Luke said. “I’ll check it out, catch up with you in a minute.”

Fiona climbed back inside the train. “We can do it faster together,” she said, moving slowly toward the sound of the man’s voice. Luke was right behind her.

CHAPTER 10

Hayley was curled up in her favourite chair, cocooned in a terrycloth robe two sizes too large for her. She took the last bite of her sandwich, wiped the grease off her hands and washed it down with the last drops of her coke. “A perfect meal,” she said. “Fat, salt, nitrates,

Before they had time to move away, the train carriage wrenched free from the cliff edge and began to slide down to the river

and whatever they put in Coca-Cola to make it so yummy. You may be a genius.” “I keep telling you that, but you don’t believe me,” he said, winking at her.

“At least your wasted youth taught you something. And, of course, if I ever need a car hot-wired I know where to go.”

“It’s a gift.” Mikey said, flipping through television channels with the remote. “How do you feel?”

She thought for a moment. “Actually, I might live. You should have ordered something for yourself.”

“I don’t feel right about you spending money on me, if you’re that hard up.” He gave her his sweetest, most sincere smile. “I can afford to buy my little brother a sandwich.” “I’m fine,” he said. Hayley sat quietly, thinking about the debacle the day had become. She tentatively touched her hair, or what was left of it. Although she thought no haircut was worth $800, she had to admit it was easy to handle. After her shower, all she had had to do was towel it dry and it fell back into place. What does it matter, she thought. No one looks at me anyway. “What’s up, kiddo?” Mikey had been watching her keenly, attuned to her moods. She didn’t respond. “Hayley, you okay? You look like you lost your last friend.” “Maybe I did,” she said, “Now that I think about it.” “You and Fiona have a falling-out?” “Would you shut that thing off? It’s making my headache come back.” Mikey snapped off the television, looking hurt. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you just going to bark at me?” “Let me ask you something,” Hayley said. “Do you think I’m sexy?” “Jeez, Hayley, don’t be gross. You’re my sister.” “I’m talking in general. Do you think I’m a woman a man would find attractive? “What man?” “Any man, you idiot.” Hayley stormed into the kitchen with the dishes.

“Don’t get mad,” Mikey said, following her. “You’re pretty. And you’re funny. What’s not to like?” Hayley had her back to him and didn’t respond. “Did some jerk make you feel bad? Cause if he did...” “Let’s drop it, okay?” Hayley cut in and tried to get past him to the living room, but he blocked her way. “Are you crying? Hey, you’re crying. You never cry.” “That’s right, Mikey. I never cry. I never feel anything. As a matter of fact, I’m a robot.” “Jeez, is it that time of the month or something?” “Michael. Close your lips, OK? Do not speak. Just go back to your wrestling match. Forget we ever had this conversation.” She marched past him into the living room, and turned on the television, with Mikey on her heels. “Women are weird. What did I do?” “Nothing. You did nothing. Now sit down and watch your show.” She tossed him the remote, and he immediately started channel surfing. “I know what will cheer you up. It’s time for your boyfriend’s programme!” “Turn that off! I don’t want to watch Luke right now,” she exclaimed, heading for the bedroom once more. “I’m going to bed.” She slammed the door behind her, and had just curled up on the bed, when Mikey started calling her. “Hayley! Hayley! Get in here fast!” Something’s happened to Luke!” Hayley jumped out of bed and rushed past him into the living room. It was the desk Luke always sat at, but another reporter was in his place. Her heart clenched as she stared at the screen.

“...and we have a helicopter over the scene now. Here’s what we know. The 4pm Acela, from Penn Station in New York City, to Union Station in Washington DC, derailed just as the train crossed the Delaware River, from New Jersey into Pennsylvania.”

The images on the screen made Hayley stiffen. She was rigid as the aerial shots showed train cars scattered all over the landscape. The scene shocked her. It looked like a toy train had been tossed in a fit of anger by a five-yearold. Nobody had lived, she was certain.

Some of the cars were on their side, a few were completely upside down. One car, the last one apparently, had not made it off the bridge. It was now resting precariously on a small cliff that hung over the rushing river below.

The reporter’s voice penetrated Hayley’s numbed brain. “It is believed that our own Luke Thompson was aboard that train. Staff members report he always rides in the last car.”

Hayley let out an anguished scream. “Oh God! Oh, God! No, no, Luke can’t be dead. He can’t,” she wailed.

“He’s been in tough places before,” Mikey answered, but not too convincingly. He was also worried. That wreckage he saw on the screen was enormous.

“Rescue workers from surrounding cities are converging on the scene. Unfortunately, their efforts are being hampered by the fact that this is farmland. There are few roads the first responders can take, to reach the crash site,” the TV reporter continued. “Fiona!” Hayley whispered. “Fiona is on that train too.” She began to sob. Mikey endeavoured to console her, without much success. His sister was growing more distraught by the moment. And when the reporter brought up the suggestion this might be an act of terrorism, she began to shudder, and her sobs grew louder. Mikey was frightened himself and tried to comfort his sister. But the situation looked hopeless to him. Nobody could’ve lived through that, he thought, not even Luke.

CHAPTER 11

Fiona and Luke had worked out their own triage system. People with the most serious injuries went first. After that they took those who were seated closest to the window Luke had kicked out. The dead were left where they were, until the living had been helped.

They worked seamlessly together, with few wasted words. It went unspoken, but they knew it was only a matter of time before the train car lost its fragile grip on the cliff. Thankfully, the first-class carriage had not been crowded.

They had a routine in place. Fiona would take one arm and Luke the other, and they would slide the injured person on their back, as gently as possible, until they reached the window. There was no time to follow standard procedure with accident victims - to make sure moving them wouldn’t be harmful. Staying aboard this train was far more dangerous than any injury caused by getting them out.

Charlie, the conductor, and several of his co-workers, had made their way to the cliff where the last train carriage rested. When Fiona and Luke could get a person to the window, these crew members could pull them through.

Every move Fiona and Luke made had to be properly co-ordinated. The train car was perched so precariously on the cliff that one wrong move could unseat it, send it plunging into the river below.

They were moving an elderly man to the window very gently; he appeared to have multiple fractures. He was so frail that it felt like he could splinter into a hundred pieces at any moment. “Leave me,” he whispered. “I’ve lived my life. Help the others.”

“You’re the last one,” Fiona said gently. “And what a story you’ll have to tell your grandchildren.”

“You and your husband make a good team,” he said. “It’s lucky when you fall in love with your soulmate.”

Fiona and Luke looked at each other. Neither bothered to correct the man’s impression of their relationship. At the window, Luke was able to pick up the fragile man and hand him out to Charlie. “That’s the last of them I think,” Luke said. “It’s a wonderful thing you two have done. Amazing,” Charlie said, holding the old gentleman carefully. “Let me pass him down the line, and then I’ll come back for you.”

“I’m just going to make one last search, to make sure we didn’t leave anyone. Fiona, you go. I’ll be right behind you.” “No. I’m staying. You check the front. I’ll check the back.” Before they had time to move away, the train car wrenched free from the cliff edge and began its slow slide down the hillside toward the river. A scream involuntarily escaped Fiona’s lips. The train workers were running after the carriage but were powerless to stop its deadly progress downwards. “Give me your hand!” Luke shouted. Fiona was just able to grab hold of his wrist, and he began pulling her up toward the end of the car, toward the vestibule where they had shared Krispy Kremes. A lifetime ago, it seemed. The carriage continued to slide down. Luke and Fiona were at the door to the vestibule now. It took both of them to push it open. The door was bent from the accident, but they managed to crawl out into the vestibule. “Now what?” Fiona gasped. “We’re going to jump,” Luke answered, leaning out of the carriage door. “Are you crazy?” she asked. “We’ll land in the river.” “It’ll be fine. Haven’t you ever seen Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?” And with that, the carriage suddenly started to freefall. He reached his hand out to her, just as he had earlier at Penn Station. “Jump,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” And so she jumped...