Waiting in the Wings

G.W. Steinblack is in Paris trying to lure the elusive Gwendolyn Flora to sign with the family's publishing house. While in a cafe for breakfast a young American, Piper catches her eye. A chance meeting allows the pair to talk and G.W. begins to fall for the woman. Unfortunately Piper is on holiday prior to getting married and reluctantly returns to America. A despondent G.W. finally lands Ms. Flora and returns to New Orleans where she finds out Piper again, only to find disappointment again… or does she?

The black coat swirled around her like a cloak, billowing open every so often just to remind its owner how cold it was that morning. Groups of people heading off to work sped passed her walking with a quicker gait, anxious to get to the metro stop at the end of the block. Every so often the blue eyes would look up to take note of something in one of the shop windows along the way, wondering what some of the French advertisements meant when the product wasn't easily recognizable.
If you're that interested, G.W., maybe a vacation in an English speaking country would be in order the next time you go author hunting. G.W. Steinblack pushed her shoulder length hair out of her face and smiled to the elderly man in the storefront who had greeted her as she walked down the street. She had been in Paris for three weeks, enjoying the sites, and chasing the elusive Gwendolyn Flora to sign to Steinblack Publications. But so far the Mona Lisa had been easier to get a look at than getting the writer to return her phone calls. Today's a new day, G.W., maybe Ms. Flora will grace us with an audience. If not there's always Le Louvre.

As the tall woman entered the café in the Latin Quarter for her morning coffee and plain breakfast, a petite blonde across the restaurant watched as the white cashmere scarf and black coat were stripped off and thrown onto an empty chair. The woman still standing was not what she would describe as pretty, but more handsome in a rugged sort of way, like she would have been at home in one of those cigarette advertisements. It was a surprise to find a cable knit sweater, jeans and Nikes under the elegant looking coat. Definitely an American, thought the admirer.

"Bon jour, G.W." The waiter who had taken her order for the past sixteen days came to the table with a cup of coffee fixed to her liking. The order never changed but he came with his pad at the ready in case this was the day his customer was ready to be more adventurous then a croissant.

"Good morning, Philippe. The usual please."

"You're going to get, how they say, rickets from such a limited diet, G.W."

"You and Ismarelda Steinblack would get along swimmingly." Before she could continue their daily conversation about her lack of adventure when it came to her breakfast selections, her coat pocket started ringing.

"Steinblack," she barked into the phone as soon as she flipped it open, barely being heard in the busy café.

The laugh coming through the line was immediately recognized causing G.W. to laugh as well. "G.W., you sound like a bulldog answering the phone."

"It's my way of paying homage to the bitch who bore me."

"One of these days, G.W., I'm going to rewrite the will and you'll be out on the street."

"Izzy, you love me too much to disown me." G.W. smiled at Philippe as he put her order down, shook his head and walked away. The laugh that had greeted her when she answered back was making G.W.'s smile bigger.

"True, my love, true. When are you coming home? The paper's in crisis again and your brother's at a loss as to what to do."

"Soon, mother. I've got a week of vacation left, not enough time for Joshua to kill the family's golden goose. With the addition of Ms. Flora to the publishing house I should have a good summer lineup of releases to fix his screw ups when he wanted to play publisher." G.W. heard her mother sigh at the other end because she could not find an argument to contradict what her daughter was saying.

"What does she write again?"

"Gay erotica. Think of Nin in modern times with a rainbow sticker on her mini car. Anything else of interest?"

"All in good time, dear. Tell me when we're going to sign Rio Rivers to our house?" Ismarelda waved off one of her assistants holding up papers for her to sign wanting not to be distracted from her call. G.W.'s absence was starting to make her days longer since she had no one to verbally spar with that was as fun as her daughter.

"Mother, we've had this conversation before and it always ends the same. Rio will stay where she is for all the reasons I've given you in the past."

"It sells, G.W., and it should be selling for us."

"It all ends up in the same river, mother, thus the name. Tell me what has you still at the office so late in the afternoon? Don't tell me you're becoming a workaholic while I'm wasting away in Paris brushing up on my art appreciation?"

"Bite your tongue, love, that's what I have you for. My own personal working stiff who keeps me in caviar and ripple as my father used to say. I want your promise that you'll be home before the end of the month, new writer or no new writer."

"What do you have planned, old girl, or do I have to fly home and beat it out of you? I can hear those devious wheels of yours turning from here."

"Trust me on this one, dear, it's the last thing you would expect. It goes to show you, if you live long enough, even the most predictable things or people manage to do the unpredictable and shock the hell out of you." G.W. was about to ask more concerning what Ismarelda had alluded to when she heard the muffled voice of someone else on her mother's end. "I'm sorry, dear, but duty calls. Hurry with your writer and come home, I miss you terribly." The contract Fredrick was holding up now couldn't be ignored, so the family matriarch pulled out her pen and looked at her calendar again. If only wishing would make the end of the month come that much sooner.

G.W. snapped her phone closed and finished her breakfast as she perused the copy of the two-day-old New Orleans Tribune. It took every bit of willpower she had not to start circling mistakes with a red pen and send it back to her older brother who was listed as the publisher. What in the hell had the man done with the rest of the editing staff? Heaving a big sigh before draining the last of her coffee, G.W. got up and walked along the river for a while enjoying the robust traffic along the Seine.

The Steinblack marriage had produced two heirs, Joshua who had only recently gotten interested in the family business and G.W. who had grown up sitting at her mother's side from the moment she was able to hold a pen. Unlike most marital unions their father had let his children take the Steinblack name knowing Sol Steinblack would never let a Rogers run his publishing empire. It was up to Ismarelda now to hold together her father's empire until his handpicked successor was ready to take over the family business. Though most knew who Sol had trusted his legacy to when he put the red pen in G.W.'s hands when the child was only nine. The kid could spot a mistake in the sea of black ink like an arrow to the bull's eye every time.

Joshua's dabbling with the business was to encourage him to do something else besides playing the role of the family playboy. His mother was long past the time she expected great things out of him. She didn't love him any less than G.W., but a woman's heart could only be broken by disappointment so many times before permanent damage occurred. Ismarelda loved him now for who he was, and it was the defeat in her voice that finally got him to try. The shame of it came when even gaining his mother's admiration lost out to boredom only too quickly.

G.W. didn't really care who ran the business as long as she was one of the deciding voices of where it headed to in the future. Her mother would be around for years to come she was certain, but planning for the future was always smart business sense. Izzy herself had taught her that, as well as her grandfather Sol. If there was one passion she and her mother shared, it was a love for the written word and trying their best to get it out to as many people as possible.

The woman in the café who had been staring at G.W. stayed behind tracking the lean body as it crossed the street to the wide sidewalk along the river. Watching G.W. had been her guilty pleasure for the past eight days. Everyday she tried to work up the courage to talk to her, but the tall brunette looked so engrossed in whatever she was reading, the blonde just left her alone. The truth was she was in no position to be looking at anyone, but G.W.'s face and full-bodied laugh had drawn the blonde in. She called her waiter over and paid her bill not wanting to lose sight of her fellow countryman if she crossed one of the bridges and headed into another part of the city.

An hour and one metro ride later, G.W. was sitting in the large park behind the Louvre museum with her laptop balanced on her legs. The fast typing fingers stopped abruptly when she felt someone staring at her. A photographic memory pegged the blonde from the café standing a few hundred yards from her looking like she had lost a good friend. Being a Tuesday in the middle of winter, the popular Paris site was deserted except for the five other hardy souls who had decided to brave the cold. In more suitable temperatures the park was filled with children sailing small boats in the large fountain at its center.

The laptop clicked closed when the blonde started moving closer heading right for her. G.W. could only make out the shape of the woman's face since the body was hidden under a large coat, and sunglasses obscured her eyes. As often happened, G.W. started a manuscript in her head as to what this woman's story might be.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" G.W. looked up at her and wondered why with at least five hundred empty chairs to pick from, the woman wanted to occupy the one next to hers?

"Sure. I'm not French, but I'm fairly certain it's a free country," teased G.W.

"I don't want to bother you but I heard you talking to the waiter this morning and thought it would be nice to talk with another American."

"Sure I'm always up for some stimulating conversation, what would you like to talk about?"

"That really doesn't matter. I've been here for a couple of weeks and I just miss talking to someone. Paris, I've found, is a city better enjoyed when you visit with someone else." The blonde sounded so despondent that G.W. set the computer aside and turned a little to look at her profile.

"You sound like a woman who's lost a great love."

"No, just a woman who's enjoying a little escape before I return to real life and everything that entails." The blonde's smile was so melancholy it made G.W. want to know what color her eyes were.

"I don't know you, but you seem like good company. Maybe you should realize that and stop wishing for someone else to complete what should be a wonderful experience."

The woman looked at the face that had drawn her attention for so many mornings and laughed. "Are you telling me, you're your own best friend?"

G.W. laughed with her before answering, still having a mental debate as to the eye color. "Of anyone else I know, I find myself the most agreeable on all subjects I find interesting. Not to mention I'm incredibly funny, well versed in a multitude of subjects and somewhat charming, or so my mother tells me."

"That sounds just a tad bit conceited." She put her thumb and index finger close together and smiled to show she was kidding.

"No, just honest. Alone is something I've never feared."

"That sounds lonely."

"Miss…"

"My name is Piper."

"Piper, a pleasure to meet you. I'm G.W., and there's a difference between alone and lonely."

"What?"

"One's a choice you make for yourself. The other's the power you give to someone else to make for you."

"That sounded very profound."

"I've been known to dabble in a little bit of philosophy after breakfast every so often, given the right inspiration." G.W. started to pack her things away, and acting out of character, went with a whim. "How about a crepe?"

"I'd love one. If I'm here for much longer I'm afraid I'm going to gain sixty pounds because of the little kiosks on every corner."

They stood close together as the slim man wearing a beret swirled the batter onto the hot plate with a wooden implement fashioned to spread it thinly over the surface. When he flipped it to the other side he coated the cooked side with butter and sugar before rolling it and wrapping it in a napkin. G.W. pulled out enough francs for the treat and a tip before Piper could move to reach for her wallet out. Armed with the warm pastry, they continued their walk.

"So what's your story?" asked Piper.

"I don't know if I have one actually. Not one anyone would write a novel about anyway. I'm just here on business with a liberal dose of pleasure mixed in. And you, what realities are you running away from?" G.W. threw the wrapper away after she bit into the last piece; enjoying the diversion Piper was giving her.

"Would it sound more romantic if I said I was running away from something or someone?" A large cloud obscuring the sun got Piper to remove her sunglasses revealing soft green eyes to her walking companion.

"That depends on if you want to tell me a story."

"Would you like for me to tell you a story?"

"Piper, you'd be surprised how many people ask me that in a day. But no work for me today." They stopped at the side of the large famous museum; the larger glass pyramid that had caused so much controversy when it first went up was to their right letting just a little light into the room below.

Want to look at some art?" Piper was feeling light for the first time since her plane landed and didn't want to relinquish her new acquaintance just yet.

G.W. readjusted the strap of her laptop and nodded her head. "That'd be nice and it'll get us out of this weather. I'm thinking French weathermen are about as accurate as American ones. It was supposed to be sunny and more bearable today." The two new friends checked their coats and bags before heading towards the treasures the museum held.

The afternoon melted away for Piper, viewing the masters whose timeless talents graced the wall of the Louvre and listening to G.W. give a brief history on the pieces she stopped to admire. No matter how many Piper picked, G.W. gave her a running commentary. The blonde was sure when the artists painted a bit of their heart onto the canvases, it was for people like G.W.

After three hours Piper followed G.W. to the balcony overlooking the statue 'Winged Victory.' The blonde looked up at G.W. and then at the artwork before them. The tall woman was looking at the piece with such reverence; words seemed inappropriate and would only intrude on her enjoyment. G.W.'s spell was broken when the small hand of her fellow tourist covered her own. It was then she noticed the engagement ring.

"On the correct finger, and it's very nice. When's the date?" The tone held no judgment and no malice since the time they had spent together didn't have anything to do with the promise of anything more.

"In two months. Perhaps you've stumbled on what I'm running away from," said Piper in a teasing voice. She had not removed her hand and G.W. had not moved away from her.

G.W. chuckled making her face look almost child like as she squeezed Piper's fingers gently. "I think, my dear, you're a woman who knows her own heart and has never run from anything." G.W. looked at her intently as if trying to read her mind, getting Piper to smile.

"No, this is more of a last fling before the shackles of matrimony are in place. There's that, and like you, I'm here on a little business."

"My you do have a way of coloring things, Ms. Piper. I'd think marrying someone would be sort of like visiting Paris. So many different parts of the city to appease every mood your in, but infused into every one of them is the undercurrent of romance. You should be happy to be chained by love, not sound like your life is about to take a drastic change for the worse."

"You make it sound so romantic and down right appealing with the iron bars slamming closed behind me every night. I see no shackles on you, you're too big to be afraid of commitment." Piper pulled the other big hand forward, and it too was missing any meaningful jewelry.

"This isn't about me, and I wear big sweaters to cover the feathers, thank you." G.W. thought of all the women she had known in her lifetime and shivered. Most of them were more interested in her bank account and last name than in her interest or her heart. The afternoon with Piper had been refreshing in that aspect. The blonde listened to her talk with no expectations of anything else than just to enjoy her company.

"Don't you believe true love exists?" Even the softest level of Piper's voice carried in the marble stairwell where the beautiful statue they had been studying was located. It wasn't a holy place but with the atmosphere it might as well have been.

"Of course it does, I read about it all the time."

"Good way to avoid the question. Well, if this is my last fling as a single woman, how should I spend it?"

"Depends on how you want to look back on this time, Piper."

The blonde thought about how she had spent the afternoon and was interested in ending their time in the museum with one more lecture so she lifted her free hand and cupped G.W.'s cheek. "Tell me about her?" After she voiced the question, Piper turned to the statue again to listen to whatever G.W. was going to tell her about the piece. With the way she'd been looking at her when they walked up, Piper was guessing it would be the most interesting telling tale the woman would share up to that point.

"Her name is Nike, which means victory in Greek. Thus the name 'Winged Victory of Samothrace.' To me it seems apt since she's now 2200 years old. To persevere for such a long time has been a victory in and of itself. For years she stood overlooking the Aegean on the island of Samothraki, built to commemorate some great naval battle. The sculptor designed her with her wings spread to remind the people victories are always uncertain and can fly away at any moment." Like she had all day, Piper listened to the walking encyclopedia of art knowledge and tried to capture the essence of who G.W. was. One thing she had figured out was that whatever G.W. did for a living, it had to involve writing of some kind. No one was this articulate and knowledgeable without getting lots of practice at putting it all on paper at some point.

"That doesn't tell me why you seem to love her? I could see it when we walked up."

"I love her for many reasons, but mostly because my favorite shoes are named for her." Piper let go of one of her hands and playfully slapped her arm, so G.W. gave her the answer she was looking for. "Look at her and tell me she does not personify what the artist was trying to teach his fellow citizens. Life is a multitude of battles, most of which, and the most fierce I think, we fight with ourselves. Those battles are the hardest fought, and usually the wisps of victory lie in the parts of our mind we at times like to turn away from or face as a last resort, and that's the truth. Nike reminds me to enjoy my sweet but brief victories before she flies away to the next battle to wait for me to find my way back to her. She is, to me, the symbol of the perfect woman."

"But she has no head, G.W." Piper cocked her own and smiled up at her teacher. It was her eyes and the feel of Piper so close that caused G.W.'s heart to open up in that one moment and fall love. There was no reason for it and for someone who was firmly entrenched in order and truth, it made absolutely no sense. The reality of it made G.W. stumble and stutter over her words and she had to look away to compose herself.

"Ah, that just let's me find my own image of what she should look like. I'm sure her sculptor gifted his people with his own image of what she looked like, but now he has gifted me, with not only his beautiful work, but with the added bonus of imagination. I learned all I could about her except for her face."

"Do you fight many battles with yourself?" Piper kept looking at the statue and imagining what it would look like with G.W.'s head on the shoulders.

"I fight hard to always try and do the impossible, and that helps me live with my less than perfect results."

"What's impossible as defined by G.W.?"

"The answer's easy, to live a life without regret. The concept's fairly easy to understand. It's trying to live up to it that makes it near impossible."

Piper retook G.W.'s hand and faced her. "You're right, I want never to look back at any part of my life and feel defeat because of regret. Can I confess something to you?"

"Sure, if anything I'd like to be your friend, so that's what friends do."

"I'd regret walking away from you now and not getting to know more about you."

"But will it cause you more sadness to look back and feel guilty because you feel that way, because of this?" G.W. held up Piper's ring finger where the diamond sat sparkling despite the dim lighting in the stairwell. Finding it there made G.W. feel her bit of sadness. In one afternoon she had found someone who she could see herself knowing fifty years down the line, only to have fate pull her away leaving only the longing losing Piper would bring.

"I have to be honest and say no. I saw you this morning and I just wanted to know what it would be like to be the center of your attention if only for a short time. Does that make any sense at all or make me a bad person?" Piper left out all the other days she'd spent looking but failing to act so G.W. wouldn't peg her as a stalker.

The sadness G.W. had first noticed was back in the pretty eyes and she could no more condemn the woman than she could turn away from her. "It makes you human. So allow me to be the one who helps you prepare for your future without regret and without defeat."

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After separating at the entrance to the museum so they could both get ready, G.W. found herself a short time later in a cab heading towards Piper's hotel to pick her up for dinner. What had started as a serious conversation had turned into bit of a light bet of sorts on what G.W. could do to help bid the young woman's single life goodbye. The other surprise of the day had been the message waiting for her at the apartment she was renting, from the reclusive writer she had been searching for. Gwendolyn Flora would be waiting for her in the hotel bar where Piper was staying an hour before G.W. had to meet the blonde for dinner. It was a relief to have the writer finally respond and agree to meet with her after so many days of trying.

The bar was off to the left of the entrance with large lead glass windows that overlooked the Champs Elysees. At one of the small tables sat the woman G.W. recognized from her book jackets with a Cosmopolitan keeping her company.

G.W. walked up to her and offered her hand in greeting. "Ms. Flora, I'm G.W. Steinblack."

"Oh my, aren't you a tall drink of water." Soft brown eyes swept over six feet of black Armani and seemed ready to take the trip again. "Why don't you have a seat and quench my thirst?"

"Thank you, ma'am. Why does an Oklahoma girl come to live and work in Paris?" The waiter came over to take G.W.'s order, giving Gwendolyn a chance to study her again.

"You must be a reporter at heart despite your current job title," teased Gwendolyn after G.W. forwent the small talk and launched right into a conversation. "To survive. Unless you find stories about dusty flat lands riveting, and the 'Grapes of Wrath' has already been written. I had to come some place where muses are easy to find and keep entertained. The main impetus of my work centers around the physical side of love, and sometimes my inspirations come from simply looking out the window of my tree house. Trust me that never happened to me in Oklahoma. Tell me why you've dragged me away from my typewriter, Ms. Steinblack?"

A small brandy snifter of amber liquid was put in front of G.W. before anything else was said. "To try and talk you into having my house publish your next work would be the most appropriate answer I guess, but on a more selfish note, it was so I could tell you in person how wonderful I think you are. We've never met but your writing speaks to me in a way few others ever have, ma'am. My grandfather left me his journals as part of my inheritance, and in those linen pages I found the true depth of the man I only thought I knew. He showed me through words how you can make the human spirit sore. I'm sure Sol would be sitting here telling you this if he were still with us. So even if you turn me down, I feel better for having the opportunity to tell you something I've wanted to from the first line of yours I ever read." G.W. lifted her glass in salute and took a sip of the smooth liquid.

"Does your mother pay you by the sentiment or by the word?"

"Do you know Izzy?"

"I've heard of her, and like you wanted to meet me, I'd like the opportunity to meet the woman who's done so much for female writers over the years. How about you and me have dinner and discuss the possibility of a relationship?" The publisher couldn't believe it. There was the line she'd been waiting to hear for weeks and she couldn't get the look of disappointment out of her mind that would be sure to appear on Piper's face if she called upstairs and cancelled now.

"I'd love to have dinner with you, but I'll have to decline. Please don't hold this against Steinblack Publishing, but I promised a friend to help her over a rough spot and I'd hate to disappoint."

Gwendolyn looked at the suit again and could just about imagine the disappointment if it were she who would be getting the phone call and decided to cut the woman some slack. "How about a nightcap with me once your chivalrous acts for the evening are done?"

"Even the dewy new feet of dawn could not keep me away if it is you who calls me. It would be so even if the call comes from beyond the grave. I would answer with a rush of emotion and a fast beating heart, if it is only to sit by your side and hold your hand to listen to your silence." The author smiled amazed, that G.W. quoted a line from one of her longer stories from one of her first anthologies.

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Piper was standing at the window of her room looking out at the large boulevard that had been at the center of so many movies and stories. On her last night she wished for the first time that her visit to Paris wasn't coming to an end. In one afternoon she had forgotten all the plans she still needed to finalize and the decisions waiting for her when she stepped off the plane back home.

Her fiancée hadn't really cared about her explanation about the need for time apart and had readily agreed, wanting time alone as well. The fact he had even asked her to marry him at all still made her wonder what about her made him want to take the plunge. She knew all to well why she had accepted. All those fantasies she'd spun as a child about her upcoming wedding were dying one by one. To commit to someone should have been about love not obligation, but sometimes you didn't have a choice. Just as quickly the memory of G.W. telling her she was special came to mind and put the smile back on her face just in time to answer the door.

"Wow, you look incredible in that dress." G.W. stood in the hall and took in the black mini dress Piper was wearing and filling out in the most delectable way.

"Thanks for the compliment, but I've already agreed to have dinner with you. In fact, it was my idea so you don't need to butter me up."

"Lady, any buttering up on my part now won't have anything to do with having dinner with me, but alas you're taken so dinner will have to placate any other thoughts I may have tonight. Shall we?" G.W. helped Piper with her wrap before she offered her arm and waved her other hand toward the elevator.

"We shall."

The cabdriver, per G.W.'s instructions, set out on a leisurely pace for one of Paris's most famous landmarks. Seen as a backdrop in so many pictures of the city of lights, it was an awesome sight to stand at the base of the Eiffel Tower and look up and through its intricate structure made of steel held together by bolts. Such a marvel of modern engineering was forgotten when the two women looked at it as a large piece of beautiful art.

"My lady, your evening awaits." G.W. buttoned her coat and took hold of Piper's hand leading her toward the private entrance that would take them to their first stop of the evening. The elevator opened to the elegant dining room of the Jules Verne Restaurant a hundred and twenty five meters off the ground. Around them the city was coming to life as the sun went down and Piper just marveled at the excellent, almost three hundred sixty degree, view the space offered the diners.

Head chef, Alain Reix stood with some of his crew to greet the daughter of an old friend. "G.W., 'ello and welcome. I was so glad you called; it's nice to see you again. We 'ave a special table waiting for you, so please sit and let me feed you, no." He led them to the table he spoke of and enjoyed the look of delight that came over Piper's face when she took in the intimate setting away from the eyes of all the other diners.

"Alain, thank you for squeezing us in on such short notice."

"Nonsense, mon amie, you and your lovely lady enjoy my 'ospitality" he said to G.W. before turning to his staff and shooing them back into the kitchen leaving their head waiter to do his job. The tuxedoed gentleman asked politely if Piper objected to any type of food as he poured their beverage of the evening. When G.W.'s champagne flute was full he disappeared into the kitchen to alert Alain he could start creating whenever the chef was ready, leaving the women alone.

G.W. held her glass up and waited for Piper to focus on her. "Here's to the beginning of your life, Piper, as one phase of it comes to an end. May the man you've chosen know for a lifetime just how lucky he is to share that short span of time with you. I envy you the finding of a love you want to share like that. To you and to your happiness." The crystal sounded almost too loud when the brunette tapped her glass to Piper's and she smiled even though for some reason she had to force it. G.W. thought of all those paintings they had viewed together that afternoon and compared her attraction to Piper in the same way. She had found a treasure who was more than just her outward beauty, but like those paintings, Piper belonged to someone else so looking and admiring were all that were left to her.

"Thank you for tonight and for those lovely thoughts. I predict they'll get me through the rough times. And how do you know it's a man who gave me this ring? I'm here with you after all." Piper tried teasing to get her mind back from where it had wandered off to in its musings about G.W.

"Hopefully there won't be too many rough times, and just a hunch on my part, it's a man all right." G.W. took another sip and thought a long moment before asking the question that had popped into her head. "You haven't settled have you, Piper?"

"In love you mean?"

"In anything. It isn't too late to decide on another path if you're having second thoughts. I'm sorry, please ignore me; this really isn't any of my business. You know yourself better than anyone so I'm sure you're more than sure of your choices."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Because you seem so sad sometimes when I look at you, and it makes me sad in return. I may not have the luxury of history with you, but I don't want to see you settle."

From the corner opposite where they were sitting a small band started playing making Piper want to change the direction their conversation had taken. "Dance with me?"

The world was blissful for the moment as Piper felt G.W. take her in her arms and start to sway to the soulful sounding song she didn't understand the words to. With the lights of Paris before her and G.W.'s chest under her cheek, the blonde felt torn between sinking into the embrace more deeply and bolting toward the door before she got any more involved.

With his usual flair, Alain served up a wonderful meal to go with the beautiful location in which to enjoy it. Before they left he embraced G.W. and kissed both her cheeks, whispering in her ear to bring back the delightful Ismarelda before the year was out.

"Thank you, G.W., that was truly a wonderful way for me to spend my last night in Paris." Piper sat in the back of the cab and held G.W.'s hand thinking they were headed back to her hotel. The time for fantasies was over.

"One more stop and I promise to get you home before I turn into a rat and the cab into a pumpkin." They stopped in front of a massive building that was mostly dark. The banners flying close to the building alerted the passerby to location of the Musee Rodin. As much as G.W. admired the great painter and sculptor, they were there to see another artist's work, which was on loan from its home in Vienna for a short time. She was only glad their timing was right so she could share it with Piper before she left the city.

"Isn't it closed?" Piper stood next to her date and wondered if breaking and entering was something G.W. usually dabbled in.

"To the mere mortal maybe, but tonight think of yourself as the special woman you are." A guard opened the door for them when they neared the entrance and waved them in. Another took their coats and pointed G.W. in the right direction.

"Please take your time, G.W., Petri insisted."

In a room toward the front of the museum on the second floor hung the masterpiece 'The Kiss' by Gustav Klint. The couple he'd painted were suspended for eternity in the passion of a kiss. The man draped in a cloak of squares, the woman in one of circles seemed lost in their own world not caring who was looking on at the love they shared.

"This is one I won't tell you anything about. I'll let you come up with your own story to why Klint painted it and who they might have been. Your education will come this time not from the telling but from the showing."

"I see you do believe true love exists." Piper's face was almost glowing when she turned to G.W. and grabbed her hands to pull her closer.

"I see you're no longer afraid." The blonde didn't repudiate the statement because she wasn't afraid she was just enlightened. Wise now to the fact she did know true love existed, only the thought would never bring her comfort since she would step on a plane tomorrow and walk away from her discovery. In one glance across a café, she'd found someone who made her feel more than Piper could have ever thought she was capable of. Now though, she would have to lock those feelings away and save them for times the unfairness of life would seem insurmountable.

G.W. turned Piper around and stepped up behind her so she could admire Piper instead of Klint's work. The soft blonde hair that rested on Piper's shoulders made her want to run her fingers through it and see if all those insipid lines in romance novels about spun soft gold were true. There had been women before Piper, G.W. didn't exactly live like a hermit, but why hadn't any of them made her ache inside the way she had when they'd danced earlier. The publisher moved to put her arms around Piper when the blonde tried to discretely wipe away a tear. What secrets do you hide behind that quiet sad façade, Piper? The question almost made G.W. tear up as well but she never opened her mouth to ask it and just enjoyed the last of their time together.

Their night ended where it had begun, at Piper's hotel room door with G.W. standing in the hallway. "Good night, Piper, and good luck."

"Wait, I don't want to see you go just yet. I leave tomorrow but I want to see you again, please tell me you want at least that."

For the first time Piper could see the indecision in G.W.'s features. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. It's time for us to stop before we do something that'll lead us to the regret we talked about this afternoon."

"Something like this?" Piper pulled G.W. down by the lapels of her coat and pressed her lips against the taller woman's. They yielded quicker than they should have and G.W. pulled Piper into her body with a quick intensity, before just as quickly, coming to her senses.

"I'm sorry, Piper, but I won't do this to you or to myself. If you want I'll be here in the morning to drive you to the airport, but I won't stay here tonight."

"I want anything you're willing to give." G.W. left before the green eyes got any sadder and she got any weaker. In one afternoon, Piper had left her wanting and G.W. did not like the feeling at all.

************************************************************************

"Just the person I was waiting for," said Gwendolyn when she opened the front door of her flat to the almost haggard looking publisher. G.W. looked around finding the space surprising considering the writer's success.

It was a large space with one wall of solid glass with the bathroom being the only space that seemed to be completely private. In one corner stood a four-poster bed and near it a beautiful desk covered in a sea of paper with a typewriter looking like an island in the middle. But the one part of the room that drew G.W.'s eye was the little reading nest Gwendolyn had created near the windows.

A large comfortable chair sat facing the view of the Seine with a small table next to it. There was a stack of books piled next to a chipped teacup, and from the look of the space it was also the writer's favorite spot.

"Please come in." Gwendolyn stepped aside and let G.W. into her home, glad for the break from her writing.

"Thank you, this place is great." The heavy coat and scarf were discarded over a kitchen chair as was the suit jacket letting Gwendolyn know G.W. felt comfortable.

"I have a more traditional home outside the city, but this place felt almost like I said earlier, a tree house the first time I walked in."

G.W. walked to the chair she had been admiring and sat down. To her great amusement the top book in the stack was "Murder in the Mayan Ruins" by Rio Rivers. The bookmark showed Gwendolyn had only about twenty pages left before the end.

"Are you a fan?" G.W. held up the book getting Gwendolyn to look almost bashful when she blushed. Considering some of the passages the woman was able to pen, it was an accomplishment on G.W.'s part.

"Would my allure fade somewhat if I said yes?"

G.W. put the book back on the stack and laughed. "No, Rio's like a Snickers candy bar in a Godiva chocolate store. The way I feel is every so often, in a world that thinks the more expensive something is the better it makes it, that kind of treat's what it takes to hit the spot. Just a bit of fluff so the noodle can take a vacation." G.W. tapped her finger to the side of her head and laughed. "Your allure is safe."

"Thanks, now that my secret's out I can readily admit I'm a big fan. And now that you're here and comfortable, what would you like to talk to me about?"

G.W. gave her the standard Steinblack Publication contract pitch with some extra incentives to get the woman to sway her loyalties. Gwendolyn listened as she sat on the arm of her reading chair realizing she had made up her mind in the bar earlier that night. Her current publisher was eager for any of her new works because they sold well, but here was someone who could give her not only an avenue to bring her writing to the public but could also quote passages from her books. People usually didn't do that unless they read them and enjoyed them enough to remember some of the lines.

"Do you have any questions?" When G.W. stopped talking, Gwendolyn looked at her displaying the guilt of someone who had not been paying attention.

"I'm sure my agent will iron out any problems for me, but if you really want to publish the book I'm working on now, I'm all yours."

The smile was hard to tame on G.W.'s face after hearing the agreement. In the time she had been explaining the contract the traffic on the river had slowed to the occasional boat headed toward its safe harbor for the night and along her shores a few late night lovers strolled hand in hand. From the dark apartment it was easy to see why Paris had dubbed the city of lights as well as the city of romance.

"Thank you, with you at the top of my releases this summer, Steinblack will be back at the top of the charts, and you'll have another best seller to contend with."

Gwendolyn cupped G.W.'s cheek and smiled at her enthusiasm for the process. "For you I'd almost be willing to tour, but enough about work for one evening. Let's celebrate our new partnership, shall we?" After G.W. nodded, Gwendolyn got up and walked to the small refrigerator in the back corner of the apartment. Inside was a cold bottle of champagne waiting to join their little party. With a walk, which could almost be described as gliding, the writer moved back to G.W. with two crystal flutes and the bottle.

G.W. loosened the cork with a small pop and filled the two glasses. The clink the flutes produced was the perfect pitch achieved with fine crystal, and the only thing better was the taste the rush of bubbles produced on their tongues. Gwendolyn took one more sip before she put her glass down on the table and slid into G.W.'s lap. She liked this woman who had come into her life and there was nothing she wanted more than to spend a night looking at the view that all too often went forgotten when she got engrossed in her work.

The best treasure you can find at times is someone you can talk to about the things that interest you. Better yet, is finding someone you can be silent with and find it a comfort. That night the two lone souls sitting in the darkness found silence was as comfortable as the chair they were sitting in.

Gwendolyn woke the next morning, confused as to how she had gotten to her bed. Next to her was a note with G.W.'s number and a thank you for the lovely company and view. She smiled as she tugged a strand of hair behind her ear for the fact she had perhaps found more than just a publisher.

Across town Piper opened her door to a brightly wrapped box that was hiding the person holding it. When she laughed, G.W. lowered the box and accepted the invitation to step into the room. There was a stack of luggage piled at the foot of the bed, reminders the beautiful woman she had just found really was leaving.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" G.W. stood in the center of the room still holding the gift she had brought.

"It took a while. Some good-looking thing wined and dined me, returned an extraordinary kiss, then left. Got me all worked up so sleeping was the last thing on my mind when I first went to bed. How about you?" asked Piper as she stepped closer to G.W. She was trying to keep it light, so the tears that had been threatening all morning, wouldn't come until she was surrounded by strangers on the plane ride home.

"It was sort of a strange situation, but I managed a few hours, thanks. I know we have to leave in a few minutes to get you to the airport on time, but I got you something. Think of it as a memento to show your grandchildren when you tell them about your wild fling in Paris." G.W. handed over the surprisingly heavy box and watched Piper rip the paper and ribbon off. "I hope you like it."

Piper lifted the top and reached inside for the tissue wrapped item eager to see what G.W. had picked out. Her eyes lost the battle and misted when the last of the paper came off and she looked at the small replica of 'Winged Victory.'

"It's crystal instead of stone but I hope she will be a symbol that no matter what life throws at you, victory's perched waiting for you. Do you like it?" To answer G.W.'s question, Piper put the gift down on the bed and walked back to the giver. Like the night before she pulled G.W. down by the lapels and kissed her.

"I can never sleep on planes anyway, so I might as well have something to think about," Piper said explaining the kiss. "And I love my present. Thank you so much." She rubbed off all the traces of her lipstick she'd left on G.W.'s face enjoying the feel of her skin under her fingers.

"I'm glad you like it." G.W. put her hand to the side of Piper's face before sliding it into her hair. Maybe there is something to that spun gold thing after all. Holding Piper so close made it so clear to her that she had fallen in love with this woman. If a relationship with Piper were possible, maybe she could feel the balance she was missing. G.W. had her job she loved and was passionate about, but there were only so many hours she could spend putting together deals and writing editorials, Piper would have given her a reason to want to go home.

"No, not just for the gift, G.W., but for the reminder that just because I'm getting married doesn't mean I'm going to lose who I am. Because of you I'm not as afraid of fading into oblivion."

The bellhop arrived to take the bags down giving them time to repack Piper's gift. At the airport they got all the paperwork and gate information out of the way first so they would have time for a cup of coffee.

"When are you going home?" asked Piper.

"It shouldn't take me too long now that my business is complete. I should be able to head stateside within a couple of days."

"Where's home when you cross the big pond?" Piper ran a finger around the rim of her coffee cup in an effort to keep from touching G.W.

"New Orleans."

"Really? That's where I'm headed in a few days, so that means I'll get to see you again, right?"

"Piper, I don't think that's such a great idea. You're getting married in two months. Concentrate on that and how great your life's going to be. This guy had better know what a great woman he's getting in the bargain. Be happy and know I'll think of you often."

"But I just found you," said Piper softly.

"You loved him enough to take his ring, give him the chance to show you again why you chose to take it. By tomorrow you won't remember me, I promise." G.W. pulled Piper out of her chair and walked her to the international security gate. She kissed the blonde goodbye when the final boarding call was made and came close to asking Piper to stay a few more days. G.W. headed for the exit without looking back because she knew doing anything else would only make it that much harder to let go.

Behind G.W., Piper stood watching her go and feeling like her heart was dying a little more with each step the tall woman took. When the doors of the airport opened, G.W. stepped out, her coat swirling around her like it had the day Piper had seen her stepping into the café for breakfast. Not seeing G.W. again was a promise Piper did not intend to keep.

As soon as Piper got back finding her tall friend would be a priority for her. Granted it would've been easier, Piper, if you had bothered to get her last name instead of staring into her eyes at every given opportunity. On the other hand maybe G.W. was right and all she needed to do was get back and get into the swing of why she had decided to settle down and get married. If she could only get the wish out of her head that it was G.W.'s ring on her finger instead of someone else's.

************************************************************************

"You seem a million miles away tonight, is it something I said?" Gwendolyn leaned back in her chair and looked at her dinner companion over the rim of her wineglass. The little Italian place around the block from her flat always prepared excellent food so she knew it wasn't why G.W. kept pushing her pasta around her plate like she was trying to kill it.

"Sorry, I'm being a horrible date aren't I?"

"Granted at any other time I'd be content to just sit here and look at you, but I've found you to be such a great conservationist that I feel cheated. You want to tell me about her?"

The Steinblack smile she'd inherited from Sol was back and G.W. dropped her fork and mirrored Gwendolyn's relaxed posture. "So sure of yourself are you that I'm suffering from a broken heart?"

"Honey, I've written enough books about female romance to think I'd recognize all the symptoms. The droopy lip, the slumped shoulders and the heavy sighing are all classics trust me on this. Tell me your story and who knows, you may end up as a chapter in my next work." Gwendolyn reached across the small table and picked up one of the big hands trying to offer quiet encouragement for G.W. to start talking.

The teasing broke through the haze of depression G.W. had been walking around in all day after watching from the curb of the airport as Piper's plane left for the states. "It might just be interesting to see how you might pen me if given enough ammunition, though you might not have enough subject matter to work on with this tale. To be honest, I'm not real sure why I'm so torn up about a woman I've only known for less than forty-eight hours, and who is getting married to someone else. Did I mention she's marrying a man?"

Gwendolyn's face pinched up like she was in pain in sympathy for what G.W. was going through. "Ouch, honey, when you go out there and find someone, you sure like to make it hard on yourself don't you? Don't discount the amount of time when it comes to your heart though. Some of my best friends have been married for over twenty years and professed undying love for each other after only twenty minutes. But back to you, do you want Dr. Flora's advice?"

The wineglass in G.W.'s hands went up toward Gwendolyn, "Please, I can use all the advice I can get."

"Pay the bill, take me back to my flat and let me hold you tonight on that great bed in the corner. I promise to drive all other thoughts out of your head morose or otherwise, and that's what I'll write about." Gwendolyn leaned forward and pulled G.W.'s hand closer to her. "Only there's a catch."

"What, I ravish you or else hit the road?"

"No, I get to use the name Rio Rivers in the chapter." She pulled the hand further towards her so that G.W.'s fingertips were grazing her nipple.

The stiffening against her fingers was hard to ignore as Gwendolyn leaned further into her. "Why ask me that?"

"Because I've enjoyed the adventures you've taken me on as much as my writing has made your evenings more enjoyable, Rio."

"How'd you guess?"

"Just like you got to know your grandfather through his journals, I've gotten to know you through your words. I happen to be in New Orleans when you started at the Tribune and one of your first editorials ran. It was a piece on the state of politics in a state known for corruption and kickbacks. I read it through twice before calling the paper and asking about you. Imagine my shock when they told me you were only twenty-four. Your prose mixes so well with your sense of humor and sense of honor. That's hard to find in even the most seasoned writer. Then I was on a plane to promote 'Totem' and I picked up my first Rio Rivers adventure on a whim. I was expecting mind numbing and what I found was you, funny and passionate, only instead of a short editorial it was a whole book."

G.W. sat back and looked at Gwendolyn like she didn't know what to say. Besides her mother, the writer was the first to guess the identity of her pen name. "Wow, you're good."

"You'll never find out if you don't get out of that chair. How about it, we have a deal?"

"I'm flattered you'd even do this for me. This might be an entry for my own journals, the night I spent with Gwendolyn Flora."

"How about you come with me and we'll change that sentiment to interesting? I promise only one night is all I'll ask for, which is completely against my nature." When G.W. arched a dark brow Gwendolyn slapped her hand. "I know I write steamy stuff but it doesn't mean I can't be compassionate. I'm just picky about who I show my mother hen side to, and tonight I pick you. I just want to hold you, G.W., that's all. You shouldn't be alone, it'll just make you feel worse."

True to her word, Gwendolyn made G.W. forget Piper for the night. In the morning her only regret was not returning the publisher's calls sooner. Had she done so maybe it would have been her G.W. would be lamenting about on the flight home today, driving her back to Paris sooner.

"Thank you, for everything." G.W. sat on the edge of the bed and moved a lock of hair out of Gwendolyn's eyes. A cab was waiting downstairs for a trip to her apartment to load up the luggage then on to the airport.

"Thank you for not saying goodbye." When Gwendolyn sat up the sheet covering her fell away and she smiled when blue eyes did a little covert roving. "Unlike my promise last night, I have a feeling this isn't our last chapter, G.W., so you go, but I expect you back."

"That's a promise I'll gladly make." With a soft kiss, G.W. turned and walked out. When Gwendolyn rolled over to watch her go, the white rose on the nightstand made her smile. Whoever the woman was who had walked out on G.W. the day before, she was a fool.

************************************************************************

"Waiting in the airport for me. Did someone die while I was gone?" G.W. looked at the perfectly coiffed woman standing in the terminal and arched a brow. "Thank you, Walter," she said to her mother's driver who relieved her of all her bags.

"Can't you accept the fact I might've missed you while you were gone. A month's a long time for me to not see that beautiful face."

"Izzy, I love you, you know that, but you're full of shit. You called me too much to miss me. What's wrong?"

Ismarelda laughed the same robust laugh G.W. had when she found something highly amusing. The arms that engulfed her felt good, her daughter always had a way of making even the bleakest of moments lighter and more palatable. "I did miss you, G.W., accept it and move on, and yes there's a little problem at the paper and I wanted you to head over there before we go to print. There's a major senate race on and I feel we've missed the boat on most of the story."

"You are so predictable it's almost scary. I do believe you were able to run the paper just fine without me before my birth, what's happened to that brilliant mind so many people love to brag about?"

"Stop being bitchy, G.W., and let's get a move on. How was your trip? The fact you're here leads me to believe you've been successful in your quest. I read a few of Ms. Flora's books since our last conversation about her and let me tell you, I was quite surprised. The fact anyone can make me blush at my age was thrilling to say the least. The woman can turn a phrase when it comes to matters of the flesh." Ismarelda accepted G.W.'s hand to get into the back of the car when they reached the curb. Storm clouds were starting to gather and with the clouds the temperature was starting to drop.

"Izzy, you're anything but ancient, so stop acting like an uptown matron. As for Ms. Flora's writing, just wait until the next book and the chapter containing Gwendolyn's own adventure with Rio Rivers. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, really."

Her mother's laugh was back and it made G.W. feel better to be in her best friend's company again. Blue eyes, twins to G.W.'s, looked at her and crinkled at the edges messing up Ismarelda's makeup a bit. Daddy, for as much as you molded her in your image, there's still a lot of her father in her. Women never could resist him either, and he had his own problems along that score. The older Steinblack thought of the man who had swept her heart away, then proceeded to kill it a little at a time until she had called an end to the carnage. As difficult as the decision to kick Stephen out of the house was, Ismarelda was glad to have her father take over as the main male influence in their lives.

"Darling, would you be terribly disappointed in me if I decide to skip that chapter? I may have to go and say a prayer of atonement at your grandfather's grave to keep him from coming back to haunt me. I never did believe in such things, but in this city nothing's beyond the realm of possibility. Though I would think Sol would come back simply to pat me on the back because you've turned out the way you have. He always was your biggest fan aside from me."

"Izzy, I'd think you'd want to peek into my bedroom every so often if only to see what you're missing by not trying the forbidden fruit of having a woman as a lover."

Ismarelda leaned against G.W. and reached for her hand. "Trust me there are certain things a mother never wants to know, and I'm perfectly happy with my life, thank you. I don't need the complications that come along with having anyone as my lover."

"Well you'll be happy to know that whatever Ms. Flora decides to write will be a fictional encounter. I did spend a clothing optional night with her, but we kept our body fluids to ourselves as it were."

"Losing your touch, dear?" The car pulled to the front entrance of the Tribune and the management staff was waiting outside for them after a call from Walter when they were a couple of blocks away.

"Wow, I should leave the country more often." The welcoming committee was a sign G.W. would be there way past press time, and gave her a perfect excuse to ignore her mother's teasing question. "I haven't seen them this anxious looking since the main fuse box caught fire in the middle of a run."

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone but circulation's been off by twenty percent for the last two weeks. The public loses a little confidence when you misspell the name of the state in the headline."

G.W. shook her head and wished Joshua had spent some time with Sol before their grandfather died. Anything remotely wrong with the final paper was like an affront to his honor, a misspelled word in the headline of his leading story would have killed him sooner than the heart attack that had finally claimed him on the press room floor. As her final act of respect for the man who had given her the world, G.W. had slipped his beloved red pencil into his shirt pocket before the casket had been closed.

"If you're going to say a prayer of atonement, it had better be for Joshua. Letting something like that run will get you haunted before any exploit of mine."

The car had barely stopped rolling when G.W. opened the door and stepped out. One of her assistants took her coat and her shirtsleeves were rolled up by the time she got into the bull room. The reporters were culling through their stories trying to decide placement in the run which would begin printing at two o'clock. G.W. took the seat at the head of the table and started pasting together the day's news. Once she took over, all of the staff breathed a sigh of relief to have her back if only for a short time.

"Madelyn, get me one of the candidates on the phone and see if you can setup an interview." G.W. dropped into her office chair and picked up the phone. Even though she had taken over at Steinblack publishing, which was located in one of the posh office buildings downtown, the paper kept her office and support staff on standby.

"Which one, boss?"

"Call Landrieu first and see if she's in the city, then get me some of the issues that have been big press while I was gone. I read the paper in Paris, and this thing has turned into a mud fest of major proportions. We'll get the incumbent's take first then go after the puppet the other's sides has put up."

"I thought the news was supposed to turn a blind eye?" Madelyn, G.W.'s longtime secretary, asked in a teasing voice trying to get a rise out of her boss, getting instead a long index finger pointed at her in warning.

"Blind doesn't translate into stupid and misinformed, my dear. Get moving and tell Ralph to save some space on the editorial page. Depending on what I get today this might turn into a weeklong series on the state of politics in today's world." Numbers were rapidly punched into the phone after referring to the thick Rolodex on the desk getting the first of her political analyst friends to give his take.

At one, the first draft of the paper was starting to take shape. From the glass wall framing one side of G.W.'s office on the third floor, Ismarelda looked on as her daughter started to put together the type of product the Tribune was known for. The three local television stations had already called and asked G.W. to appear to give her views on the state of the election and what the outcome would be. If jetlag had been a problem for the publisher, it wasn't showing as she picked up items and moved them around like she was playing a game of chess.

When G.W. got to the section that ran pretty much like it was laid out, it was the first time in the long day she'd thought of Piper. Pictures of young brides to be were listed with a bevy of information on them and their betrothed, including the particulars of the planned nuptials. I hope you're doing ok and in two month's time you'll be thrilled with your decision. It had only been one afternoon and one dinner, but the blonde had gotten into G.W.'s head and refused to leave. I should be thinking about Gwendolyn and when I'll see her again. Why must you make everything difficult, G.W., wishing for things that'll never be? She asked herself the question as she moved to the sports pages.

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