The midnight blue Audi swept up the long drive, crunching to a halt in the gravel beside a short fieldstone wall that held architecturally designed iron planters filled with brilliant flowers. He shut the engine off and sat in the car, staring blankly out the window. If there was a merger and it were to go through and the new board displaced him, Myles calculated that the value of his five shares, while undoubtedly taking a leap in value, would hardly compensate for the possible loss of a regular income. Parachutes and handshakes aside, he would be relegated to living off Miriam's personal wealth even more than he was already.

The prospect was bleak indeed. It required some thinking, outside the box, as they say. He climbed out and pushed the door shut, pressing the remote lock on his key ring, sucking in a huge breath and looking with rueful pride around the property he loved so much. He loved this house. Loved the ego polishing fact that it was big, expensive and situated in an area that few even traversed.

Most of all he loved the fact that it was large enough to permit space and privacy from his wife Miriam, the one feature of his life he did not enjoy, the one feature that is, since her harridan of a mother passed away. In retrospect, he realized with reluctance, that it was the sizeable inheritance from Gabriella to Miriam that permitted such a lavish lifestyle.

He poked a finger in the dark soil around the plants, nodding with satisfaction that it was damp then straightened his tailored sports jacket and hopped up the front steps into the house. Abatha, the Forbin's maid cum chef cum factotum greeted him with her usual dour hello and took his jacket and briefcase.

"Mrs. Forbin in atrium is, sir." She announced in her peculiar brand of English.

"Thank you, Abatha." Myles made a beeline for his library and closed the door only to find that Miriam was nonchalantly watering the flowers beside his garden window.

"Myles, darling, you're home."

No, I'm an apparition. "Hello darling, busy watering I see. Abatha said you were in the atrium."

"Oh, did you look for me?" She smiled to herself at his obvious annoyance and continued without waiting for an answer. "The plants won't last if you don't look after them, dear." She set down the dainty watering can and came to him, presenting her cheek for a kiss. Myles obliged and went directly to his drinks wagon, pouring himself a stiff measure of scotch and sipping it gratefully.

"Would you like something," he asked, knowing full well she would refuse, which she did.

"Dinner will be in about twenty minutes, dear, I'm meeting with the woman's guild tonight at Marjorie's. I thought we might eat in the atrium. It's such a lovely evening."

"Fine. Atrium's fine, Miriam. Right now I have some business to finish so..."

"Did you think any more on our chat in bed the other night?"

"Aah... I really can't see how-"

"You underestimate yourself too much, Myles. Mother took great advantage of that."

The mention of Gabriella mad him seethe internally and he bristled unintentionally. "Your mother- I am quite confident with who I am, Miriam. I don't need to joust with any windmills to prove it either."

"Windmills generate power, Myles, and power generates wealth and wealth-"

"I know. Wealth generates freedom."

She smiled sweetly and drifted from the room like a wraith.

Myles slipped the bolt on the door and went to his desk, taking the bottle from the cart with him. With his feet propped comfortably on the leather blotter, he leaned back in his chair and gazed complacently out into the garden, topping up his glass at regular intervals. Maybe I should sound out dear old Moira he considered, letting the scotch soothingly warm his innards.

A sudden picture of the two of them hanging on to a rail on the windswept deck of a giant cruise ship, his free arm about her waist, her adoring eyes locked with his. Freedom didn't sound like a bad idea.

Miriam paused in the hall and heard the chunk of the bolt sliding into place. She held her position, gazing down at her hands folded in front before sighing and proceeding out to the atrium. Abatha had set the small glass table for two, including a delicate bud vase containing a single rose, and Miriam gave it a sad acknowledgement.

She went directly to the white French phone that sat atop a stand resembling a Corinthian column and dialed a number, placing the receiver next to her ear as she leaned against the cool brick of the wall.

"Moira? Miriam Spenser-Forbin here. How are you dear?"

***

Barton missed her with his passing kiss, trailing his ready-made excuses for probably being late home from work and slamming the door noisily as he left the apartment. Another typical start to the day, Moira brooded, sitting hunched at the breakfast counter.

Across from her was a mucky plate of unfinished egg and ham, toast crumbs scattered on the counter like fallout and the creased business section of the newspaper tucked under the edge of the plate, grease smearing the print. She set her coffee down and went to the living room and gazed down into the city below. Her day, on the other hand, may prove to be far more interesting.

Ever since Miriam called to discuss what she described as romantic gossip, Moira had noticed the men from the office treating her differently when she dropped by to meet Barton for lunch or discuss plans, and because of it, dropping by became a regular practice.

Moira returned to the kitchen and did a cursory cleaning, shoving the dishes in the automatic washer and wiping the counter with a damp cloth then she hurried off to have a shower and select her clothes; if there was a game to be played she might as well play at her best. She laughed aloud and began humming as she stood under the pummeling spray.

Cheating on Barton had never entered her mind before the merger rumours began but since that time he had become almost unbearable to live with. The constant late nights, the endless business discussions, his snappish temper whenever she made the slightest protest. Even the fact that she could be considered a deciding factor in the event of a vote didn't seem to give her any recognition; Barton took her loyalty for granted.

Peter was the first to see Moira as she exited the elevator on WesCat's managerial floor. He stopped and let his eyes do the walking as she strode purposefully through the lobby.

"Moira, what a delight to see you. Are you making a movie or something...?" He turned on his charm smile and walked along beside her.

"Are you trying to flatter me, Peter?"

"I hope I'm succeeding. You look marvelous." He took her elbow and slowed their pace. "Actually this is great. I was going to call you and see if we might have lunch soon. There are some bits of business I feel you should be aware of."

"Bits of whose business, Peter?" Her look was slightly frosty.

"WesCat's! Good grief, Moira, you don't think...?"

She blushed pink and continued to walk. "I'm free today and the day after tomorrow."

"Great! How about one o'clock at Drummers?"

"Fine." She bit her lip as she left him standing in the hall, hoping the bubbling inside didn't show through.

"Mrs. Weston, nice to see you. Does Mister Weston know you're coming in?" The pert receptionist manning the gateway to the senior offices flipped her hair, flexed her chest and flashed Moira her professional smile with the perfect touch of deference.

"No, I was hoping to surprise him."

"Oh dear. He's on a conference call at the moment and when he's done there he has a luncheon engagement with some clients at the airport."

Moira sighed and made a show of disappointment. "Ah well, some surprises work, some don't."

"I'll be sure to tell him you were-"

"Don't bother, dear. He's got enough on his mind without feeling guilty about me." She patted the polished wood counter and smiled bravely.

"Does he ever relax? He is just a machine... when it comes to working."

Moira felt her face heat up as she stared calmly at the young woman, catching the challenge in her comment. "I'll just see if Brian or Myles are around."

"Brian is on the call with Mister Barton but I think I saw Myles working in the boardroom a while ago. Should I call down?"

"Let me try another surprise first." They shared a calculating look and Moira moved away toward the boardroom.

Myles jumped up from his chair, tugging the corner of his moustache and reaching for his jacket. "Moira! Hello, is everything...?"

"Please, Myles. Don't go all manners and etiquette on me. Everything's fine. Sit down. Relax." He did sit but didn't relax. "I came to see Barton but that's not on so I thought I would just say my hellos before I left again."

"Aah, yes. Well can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?"

"No thanks, Myles." She looked at her watch and then at him. "Actually, I'm meeting Peter for lunch soon, he says he wants to discuss some bits of business." She waved a desultory hand.

Myles perked up instantly. Really? Did he say about what exactly?" Miriam's voice sounded in his head with an accusing, 'I told you so'.

"No, but I guess I'll find out." She turned and went to the door then turned back. "You and I should get together some time Myles. I'd like to hear your opinion of how the business is doing." His mouth dropped and he managed only a dumb nod as she left with a flourish.