He opened up another section of the Post, flipped through it, studied the ads, read the commentaries and drank his coffee.

Ten minutes ticked by. Where the hell was Alex?

Thomas glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes late. Any lingering amusement over the op-ed on Jo faded. Although he’d cleared his calendar for the entire morning, he was a busy man-as busy in his own way as Alex. But Thomas knew better than to compare himself to Alex, a lesson learned twenty years ago when he and his ambitious, overachieving friend were law students at Yale-long before Alex had taken up with his best friend’s wife.

In spite of that blinding act of betrayal, Thomas couldn’t hate Alex, and there was no gain to such negativity and strong emotion, anyway. Alexander Bruni was a respected diplomat on everyone in Washington ’s short list of “good people to know.”

And if his longtime friend had any fresh insights into what to do about Nora and her behavior, Thomas was willing to listen. He was convinced the combination of the early northern New England winter and limited funds would nip her sense of romance and adventure about life in Vermont in the bud. Alex and her mother had decided to help Nora out with cash and a car, a source of friction, but Thomas doubted it was what had prompted Alex to arrange this meeting. At least Carolyn, an expert on emerging markets, was in Hong Kong at a conference and wouldn’t be there.

Thomas’s newspaper moved, startling him, until he realized he’d put it on top of his cell phone, which was set on vibrate. He picked up the phone, flipped it open and saw that he had a text message.

Melanie.

Not Nora, of course. His daughter had stopped most communications with him after he had cut off her funds. He hadn’t been harsh-he’d hardly had a chance to say a word before she’d hung up on him. Nora was, technically, an adult. She’d made her decision to quit college on her own and only informed him, her mother and Alex after she’d already moved to Black Falls and gotten a job.

Thomas found his way to the text message and smiled as he saw that, indeed, it was from his fiancée.

Dinner set…c u tonite. Luv u. Mel.

After two tries, he managed to type in his reply.

Great. Love you, too.

He’d never get used to text-message shorthand, but Melanie was young, hip, beautiful and had no trouble whatsoever. She’d never have a YouTube moment like Jo or stick him with a fait accompli like his daughter.

A shriek jerked him half out of his chair.

More screams penetrated the quiet of the elegant dining room, and he leaped to his feet, his napkin falling onto the floor as his fellow diners responded in kind.

“Oh my God!” A woman’s voice, panicked, came from the adjoining lobby. “That car just ran him over! Call 911.”

“Get the license plate,” a man yelled. “Run…run, damn it!”

Thomas heard more urgent comments, orders, questions, exclamations. Once he was assured of his own safety-the hotel wasn’t under attack-he grabbed his cell phone and briefcase and joined a dozen or so people rushing from the restaurant to the lobby, where all the commotion was occurring.

A car accident? A hit-and-run?

In the glittering lobby, doormen and bystanders scurried, yelling, motioning wildly as they tried to come to terms with some kind of emergency outside on the sidewalk.

Thomas felt his step falter. He stood next to a polished round table with a massive vase of fresh flowers as its centerpiece and peered through the revolving doors.

People had gathered in front of the body of a man sprawled on the edge of the busy street. Thomas made out shiny black loafers and dark gray pants, but the man’s upper body was screened by two men crouched at his side, obviously trying to help.

I need to see his face…

But Thomas’s eyes fixed on a briefcase that lay, intact, on the sidewalk.

Bile rose in his throat. His heart pounded. No.

The scarred leather…the broken buckle…

“Alex,” he whispered. “No, no. No…please.”

A young woman with a long, tangled ponytail caught her breath in front of him. He’d noticed her burst into the lobby through the revolving door. She carried a messenger bag and wore bike shorts and shoes. “Do you know him?” she asked, gesturing outside at the street.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The guy who was hit-I can’t believe it.” Her entire body was shaking, her lips quivering as she held back tears. “This car came out of nowhere and just mowed him down. He went flying. I…” She seemed to gag.

Thomas pushed back his own panic. “Are you going to be ill?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay. I just want to get out of here. I heard people calling the police, and someone else must have seen-” She broke off abruptly, squinted tightly as if to gather her thoughts. “The car never stopped or hesitated. It was horrible.”

“You should wait and talk to the police-”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll just go deliver this package upstairs first.” Clearly in shock, she clutched the strap to her bag. “It’s supposed to be there in five minutes. Not that anyone will care if it’s late given the circumstances. I just don’t know what else to do.”

“The victim-he’s dead?”

Her face paled to a grayish white. “There’s no hope. He wasn’t a friend, was he?”

Thomas thought quickly. Alex wouldn’t have mentioned the breakfast to anyone. It wasn’t a secret, but why give people a reason to chatter? He was a regular diner at the hotel. No one would question his presence outside its doors.

“No,” Thomas told the young messenger. “He’s not a friend. I’m just in shock. What a terrible thing.”

“Pretty awful.”

“Maybe the driver didn’t realize-”

“Oh, no. It was deliberate. I mean, that’s what it looked like to me. I’m sure there were other witnesses.”

“I’m so sorry you had to see such a thing.” Thomas tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring look. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting I must get to.”

“Right. I’ll get this package upstairs. It’s so weird, to be flying down the street on my bike one minute, thinking this was the most important thing in the world, and then…” She blew out a breath. “Whatever. I have to go. Have a good meeting.”

She rushed toward the escalators, and Thomas fought back a choking sob.

Alex is dead. There’s nothing I can do now.

In Thomas’s place, Alex would protect himself, without question. He would protect Carolyn, protect Nora, protect his adult children from his first marriage. As difficult as he could be, Alex did care about the people he loved.

As do I.

Nora and even Carolyn, whom Thomas still cared about despite her betrayal, didn’t need the scandal, questions and scrutiny that his presence at the hotel would spark. The headlines screeching about this morning’s tragedy would be horrendous enough without mention of how the great Ambassador Bruni had been on his way to have breakfast with the longtime friend whose ex-wife was now his widow.

No, Thomas thought. He wouldn’t put any of them through such an ordeal.

Best just to melt into the crowd, go back to his office and pretend he knew nothing about why Alex was on his way into the hotel on that particular morning.

Thomas had lied to the young messenger. He had no meeting he needed to get to. His only meeting was his breakfast with Alexander Bruni, which had just been cruelly canceled.