JAKE WORKED the phones for long hours during the next week, setting into motion the plans he had laid. He steeled himself to delay the one phone call he wanted to make above all others until Thursday, when he dialed Lacey's number, and in response to her abrupt 'hello' he said, "You sound harried. Are you okay?"

Lacey felt the quickening of her pulse, and the smile that reflected her happiness. "I've got to get this Marilyn re-write finished today. If I do not, Amanda Stein will hate me. And I will hate me too. It is not coming easily and I do not know why. But it's nice to hear from you. I had a wonderful time on Saturday."

"That's good. I did too. I wanted to phone you earlier but forced myself to concentrate on business calls. Things are starting to gel for BestBooks but, in actual fact, I can't relax too much. Soon total chaos will break out during the Christmas rush. I expect there'll be trouble in the ranks when the renovators are getting in the way of my people while they're trying to stock for the holidays. Anyway, can you join me for dinner this weekend?"

"I would love to."

Jake was fed up with the cat and mouse games that so many women played, and he liked Lacey's quick, open response.

ON SATURDAY a limo arrived at Lacey's house. I wonder what the neighbors think now, thought Lacey, recalling the years when she had been the pitied outsider. She was whisked downtown, her head turning from side to side to take in the views along the Don Valley Parkway. I never knew there were so many trees in Toronto. It is beautiful. Lacey was impressed by Toronto's magnificent skyline, which she could see from the Gardiner Expressway. Funny, I've lived in this city all my life but I never went to the CN Tower. As they pulled into the downtown core, the driver picked up a car phone. "We're about five minutes out, sir," she heard him say. When they drew up outside the Eaton Center Jake was waiting with a big paper bag in his arms. He got into the car and said, "Thank you, Frank. I'll go home, please."