Friday, October 5

Constance's head was overflowing with thoughts. Too many things all at once. For starters, there was the reorganization of the family business coming up in a few weeks. The last financial trick from good old Dad. He loved this stuff, sweeping huge fortunes around like sand at the beach.

Another thing that had come up unexpectedly pertained to her friend's hundred-million-dollar bet. He had come by yesterday and taken up too much of her time. Time that then got stolen from her public defense work, which in turn got taken from every other moment in her day.

And then there was one other item that filled her head. Nick. Here in the flesh after a ten-year dream. Accused of a scandalous crime and locked in a cell. What kind of bizarre message was she supposed to get from that? First the cosmos hands her the man of her dreams and then it makes him unsuitable for her in nearly every way.

Life can certainly be strange. Whatever meaning these events were supposed to have, she was committed to pursuing them with all of her energy. And that included a lunch meeting with Nick's brother.

Constance arrived at a local café for her meeting with Don. She hoped she would like this man because he might have a role in her life if there was any possible future with Nick. Collapsing into her seat, she examined him. As expected, he looked nothing like Nick. Don was rounder, less built, and shorter. He was a good-looking man, but like every other good-looking man she'd met over the past decade, he couldn't compare to Nick.

Don looked up at her and stared with huge eyes and an open mouth. "Wow! It's really you." He seemed flustered and quickly went on. "I mean, you're the real Constance Westerley." He closed his mouth and calmed down a little. "I'm sorry, where are my manners. I'm Don Veseli." He offered his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Don." They shook hands.

"Forgive me for snooping, but when you called me to set up this meeting, I looked you up and found a picture of you. I have to admit that I'm shocked to be having lunch with the Silent Sister."

I've always liked that name. Constance laughed at the mention of her moniker. "Yes, that's me."

Years ago, the press couldn't learn enough about her. But since she refused to talk to them and didn't lead a high-profile life, they had little to write. Starved for news one week, they dubbed her the Silent Sister and made up their own stories. Over time, they even got bored with that. What good was an heiress if she didn't do outrageous things with her life? Their interest in her soon dwindled.




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