LACEY SAT at her desk in the little room Jake had designed just for her on the second floor of their lake house. The sun was streaming in the window onto her shoulders and she didn't lower the blinds to block it. It was April 1st, 2008, and she was reviewing her calendar for the month. Tomorrow, Tuesday, was free.

Good, I can use a quiet day! She had bridge with Danny on Wednesday, was going to a pot-luck fund raiser on Thursday, and Jake had a meeting in Toronto on Friday afternoon, so she was riding down with him and afterward they were having dinner with the Coles. And they had promised to look after the babies on Saturday.

Another week will fly by! She noted the big circle around the 20th to 24th - The London Book Fair, followed by two days in Paris. She had been going to the London fair with Jake for years.

This would be his last. At age sixty-five, Jake had announced his retirement, and was now in the midst of handing over the reins of BBI to Christopher.

Lacey stretched and gave a sigh of contentment. After one more wriggle of pleasure in the sunshine, she lowered the blinds so she could see her computer screen. She was supposed to be working on book number seventeen. So far, she hadn't even been able to come up with a title. Maybe I've said it all - emptied my literary vessel, unburdened myself totally. Lord knows, nobody could be more content. Anyway, I do not have to write any more books. I can do whatever I want in these, my golden years. Ruefully, she wondered where the term 'golden' had come from. The aches in her joints, and the things she lost and names she could not remember, tested her patience.