“That’s my skill,” he said cheerfully. “But this? This is solid, shiny gold.”

“Maybe. Maybe. I’ll think about it. Watch the rest and consider it.”

And he was right, she thought. She knew he was right. She just didn’t want to give in too easily.

“If you hadn’t gone home and dropped by … Which irritated the hell out of me,” she added, “you taking those two days.”

“I needed to keep an appointment, which I told you before we left.”

“Deserted in Denver.”

He smiled as she’d meant him to. “It was important.”

“And apparently a deep, dark secret.”

“Not anymore.” He blew out a breath. “Marshall and I have a surrogate.”

“A surrogate?” She’d lifted her water glass and now set it down with a clink. “For a baby?”

“Yeah. And before you start, we agreed not to say anything until she hit twelve weeks. It’s like the line. We want a family, Lina, so we have a surrogate, and Monday morning, we went with her for that twelve-week check. And we—we heard the heartbeat.”

His eyes teared up. “We heard the heartbeat and …”

He pulled up the briefcase at his feet, opened it to take out an ultrasound. “It’s our baby. Mine and Marsh’s.”

Lina leaned over, studied it, blinked at her own tears. “I can’t see a fucking thing in there.”

“Me either!” On a watery laugh, he gripped Lina’s hand. “But that’s my son or daughter—somewhere in there. And on or about April sixteenth, I’m going to be a father. Marsh and I are going to be daddies.”

“You’ll be great ones. You’ll be great.” She signaled the flight attendant. “We need champagne.”

“I want to tell the world, but you’re the first.” He gave her hand a hard squeeze. “Give me a present, and produce Adrian’s DVD. You won’t be sorry.”

“Tricky of you to get me when I’m emotional.” She let out a sigh. “All right.”

That didn’t mean she didn’t have things to say to her daughter, advice and demands she expected to be heeded. When she walked back into the apartment, tipped the bellmen for taking her bags into the master, she wanted nothing more than a long shower and the eight hours’ sleep she found impossible on tour.

But first things first. She couldn’t seem to help putting first things first. She unpacked, separating laundry from dry cleaning, putting away her shoes and the small selection of jewelry she allowed herself on the road.

She hung up the scarves and jackets she’d needed in the cooler cities.

She went downstairs, poured herself a sparkling water, added a slice of lemon. And decided she’d timed it very well when she heard the door open.

She walked out to see her daughter in her school uniform with a light jacket, as the weather had cooled enough, a backpack on one shoulder. And a careful expression.

“George said you were back. Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

They crossed the room to each other, exchanged light cheek kisses.

“Let’s sit down and talk about this project of yours.”

“I spoke with Maddie, and since you approved, she’s willing to represent me and my friends. She said the contract should be ready soon.”

“I’m aware.” Lina sat, gestured for Adrian to do the same. “You can thank Harry for cheerleading you through this.”

“I do thank him.”

“Which wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d consulted with me.”

“If I’d consulted with you, it would have been a collaboration. I wanted to do it myself, and I did. Or I did it with Hector, Teesha, and Loren.”

“Whom I’ve never met, and know little to nothing about.”

“What do you want to know—that you haven’t already looked into?”

“We’ll get to that. If you’d wanted to do a project like this, I could have provided you with some guidance, a studio, professionals.”

“Your studio, your professionals. I wanted something else, and I did it. And it’s good. I know it’s good. Maybe it’s not as slick and polished as it would have been with your studio, your professionals, but it’s good.

“You started from scratch,” Adrian continued before Lina could speak again. “I know I’m not. I know I’ve got advantages you didn’t because you built something important. I know there are people who’ll say I have it all easy, breaking in, because you held the door open and boosted me up. Some of that’s true, but I’ll know I could do this. And I know I can build my own.”

“And how? On a rooftop with borrowed equipment and schoolmates?”

“It’s a start. I’m going to get into Columbia, and I’ll major in exercise science, minor in business and nutrition. I sure as hell don’t intend to get knocked up and—”

She broke off, shocked at herself, as Lina stiffened and sat forward.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was ugly and wrong and disrespectful. You make me feel like I have to justify everything I want or don’t, everything I do or don’t. But I’m sorry.”

Lina set her glass down, then rose to walk to the terrace doors. She opened them to the air. “You’re more like me than you realize. That’s a tough break for you. The video’s good—you have talent, we both know that. The concept and delivery are … interesting. Harry will hype the crap out of it, you’ll do whatever publicity he pulls out of his hat, and I’ll, naturally, endorse it. We’ll see where it goes.”

She turned back. “How long have you been working on this?”

“I’ve been working on the idea, the routines, the timing, the approach for about six months, I guess.”

With a nod, Lina walked back for her glass. “Well, we’ll see where it goes. I want a shower. We can order in for dinner.”

“I planned to make that chickpea curry you like. I thought you’d be tired of room service and restaurant food.”

“You’re right about that. That would be nice.”

New Generation, in association with Baby Yoga, launched About Time on January second. Adrian spent her winter break doing publicity, and so deeply missed spending Christmas with her grandparents she vowed never to do so again.

The sales for the first month told her she’d chosen the right path, and that she’d keep right on climbing it.

She started planning her next project.

She got her first death threat in February.

Lina studied the single sheet of white paper. The block printing, black and thick, composed a poem.

Some bring roses to the stone that marks the grave

As to their grief they are a slave.

But you will have no flowers and no stone,

For when I bring you death, you’ll be alone.

 

“It came in this.” With a trembling hand, Adrian held out the envelope to her mother. “It was in the post office box we got for the fan mail on the DVD. I picked it up after school. There’s no name or return address.”

“No, of course not.”

“The postmark, it says Columbus, Ohio. Why does somebody in Columbus, Ohio, want to kill me?”