A Very Good Life by Lynn Steward Page A

wanted for a month or two to preserve his home and career? Would it really hurt anything as long as he was discreet?
    “What kind of protection are you offering?” he asked, hardly believing that the conversation had progressed this far.
    “I can get men’s attention rather easily. If I’m rumored to be dating someone other than you, people will learn about it and you’ll be in the clear. Since we work together, we can schedule a little time for ourselves once in a while without suspicion. Call it a little romantic sleight of hand.”
    Brett took a deep breath as Janice sipped her cabernet. “It’s a no-win situation.”
    “No, it’s just the opposite. You get to have your cake and eat it, too. At heart, that’s what Brett McGarry wants out of life. You want it all.”
    Brett looked sideways and exhaled slowly. “I need to think about this.”
    Brett excused himself to go to the restroom. He’d broken out in a cold sweat and needed to rinse his face and dry off. A few hours earlier, he’d been happy and confident, content to eat his honey buns and read the
Times
. Now a chance encounter with a virtual stranger had changed everything. Exactly how far was he willing to go to save his career and spare Dana a lot of nasty rumors that she might be inclined to believe?
    He exited the restroom to find Janice standing in the dim lights of the dressing room area, empty except for them. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips softly against his. He made no attempt to pull away.
    “Was that so bad?” Janice asked, stroking Brett’s cheek.
    “I need to get home,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. “I’ll leave first. We can’t be seen leaving together.”
    Brett left as Janice smiled broadly. “He’s already got the vocabulary down,” she said.

C hapter Nine
    N ina steered her VW into the gravel parking area on the side of an ivy-covered stone edifice that, when it was built in 1750, had been nothing more than a barn with an adjoining piggery. The three B. Altman employees had arrived at the Inn at Phillips Mill. The pre-Revolutionary War estate in Bucks County was now a charming inn with period rooms and fine French dining.
    “It’s beautiful scenery,” Nina remarked, “but give me the city on a day-to-day basis. Or a foreign country with a bustling population and hundreds of side streets lined with shops, stalls, and artisans. I like to feel the pulse of what’s going on in the world. I need color, movement, variety.”
    “What I need now,” said Andrew, “is a nice meal and a glass of wine.”
    “The wine’s on me,” Nina said. “I was introduced to some lovely vintages last year when I visited the Alsace region.”
    The trio was escorted to a private dining room with a stone fireplace and a roaring fire. Nina ordered poached salmon, Andrew the baked cod, and Dana the crab salad. Nina ordered a bottle of chardonnay to go with the seafood.
    “Nineteen seventy-five has been designated as International Women’s Year,” Nina said, moving straight from the menu to the topic of feminism. “It’s going to be our year, Dana. Thank God New York will soon have a woman as Lieutenant Governor. Mary Anne Krupsak is fabulous! She has already taken a stand for us. She won’t attend the Democratic Party’s mid-term convention because there won’t be enough women and minorities in attendance, nor will there be balanced geographical representation. She’ll be working closely with Bella Abzug, my congressional representative on the West Side. I know her well, and, of course, Betty Friedan. Betty started the whole idea of an international conference when she met with Kurt Waldheim at the UN last January. The topics we’re going to take on will be all-encompassing: equality in the workplace, voting rights, marriage equality, and reproductive rights, to name just a few. We’re shaking things up!”
    The wine had arrived, and Nina raised her glass in a toast. “To women