But once the door was closed behind him, Luke sat at his desk, caught a glimpse of their family photo, and suddenly it hit him. His mother was dying.

As healthy and vibrant as she looked in the picture, her body was not healthy anymore. It was riddled with cancer. The trip he and Reagan and Tommy were about to take wasn't a reunion at all; it was a farewell tour. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine all of them gathered around the Baxter house, finding separate ways to tell their mother goodbye.

Prayer, right? Wasn't that their only hope? Luke swallowed, nodding to himself.

Of course it was. They would all pray until 253 kingsb u ry smalley God answered them. Beg God night and day, if they had to. That was the answer, wasn't it?

Luke stared out the window at the building across the courtyard. What about the last time he'd begged God for something? It had been September 11, almost two years ago. Reagan's father, Tom Decker, had been working near the top of the twin towers when the terrorist attacks happened, and Luke had begged-absolutely begged-God that somehow Mr. Decker would live. But that didn't happen.

Reagan's father died along with three thousand other people, and the reality had shaken Luke to the core. He'd made so many bad decisions since that awful time; every one of his rebellious choices had come after that.

In some ways, Luke wanted to warn himself now, that begging God for a miracle would only set him up to fall again, to spiral into another dark chasm of unbelief and bad choices. How was this time of desperately begging God any different from that time?

A sense of peace washed over him.

It was entirely different. God had taught him so much since September 11, so much about the hard truths of life. That it was a fallen world, that terrorists had free will the same way any believer in Christ had free will, that death happened even to nice guys like Tom Decker.

Maybe even to his mother.

But still he would pray, because otherwise he had no hope at all. He would ask, because God loved him, and God heard his prayers. In the end, God would decide the number of days his mom had left. But no matter the outcome, Luke would never again lose faith in God. Never.

He shifted his gaze to his desk and the ten or so pictures he kept there. His father had been nothing but strong on the phone, but he had to be struggling.

Short of a miracle, his wife of thirty-five years was about to leave him alone.

And then what? Would 254.

R E U N 1 0 ", his father stay in the big house by himself? Sell it and take an apartment in Bloomington?

Luke shuddered.

It was impossible to think of his parents separated, one without the other. Yet that was the way of life, wasn't it? One day, decades down the road, he and Reagan would have to face that kind of loss the same way any couple who stayed together faced it. Time was a thief; that much was certain.

He let his eyes skim over the photographs, taking in the pictures one at a time.

It took a while, but eventually he realizd, something wasn't right. The black-and-white picture of his parents was missing, the one taken back when they first met. Maybe, it fell off his desk and got stuck along the wall.

He stood and pulled the desk out a few inches, but it wasn't there. The drawers, maybe? Sometimes things fell off his desk and into his drawers. He sat back down, pulled open the drawer, and searched inside. Nothing. The second and third drawers turned up nothing either.

Luke lowered his brow. Why in the world would one photo of his parents be missing? And who would've come into his tempo-rary office and taken it?

The answer was obvious.

No one. No one would go to his desk, sort through his pictures, and take just the black-and-white photo of his parents. Obviously it had fallen or gotten knocked over. He slid his chair back. The picture had to be somewhere.

Dropping to his hands and knees, he scanned the floor beneath his desk, and even the narrow bit beneath the bookcase. The picture was nowhere.

Slowly he lifted himself to the chair again and looked more around the office.

Only then did he notice the trash can. It sat just beneath his desk, directly below the place where his photos were arranged. Suddenly it was clear what had happened. The night cleaning crew must've been dusting his desk and knocked the picture into the trash can. Them when it came time 255 kingsb u ry s m c lie y to change trash bags, they must've wrapped it up with the garbage without ever realizing that the photograph had fallen inside.

A sick feeling came over Luke.

The photo wasn't a copy; it was the real thing. A keepsake his mother had given to him when he moved to New York. She had told him that she wanted the picture to remind him that his parents had loved each other a long time. And that in some ways as a young couple they were very much like Luke and Reagan.

The picture was gone, lost in the trash, probably in a landfill by now.

Luke opened the bottle of water and drank half of it down. He needed to make the phone calls and get home. That way he could pack and start counting down the hours until their flight back to Indiana. He could hardly wait to see his mother, to know for himself that most of what he'd already heard was exaggeration, the way a house full of women often exaggerate.

He could go through his parents' photo albums, find another photo like the one his mother had given him, and make a copy. The picture could be replaced; at least he hoped so. Time with his mother, that was priceless.

Especially now.

256.

257.

The Manhatten shoot was just about wrapped up, and Dayne Matthews could hardly wait. After his quick trip to Los Angeles, he'd placed both photos on the top shelf of the coat closet in his Manhattan apartment.

Out of sight, out of mind.

At least that's what he told himself when he showed up for work that Monday and every day after that. He had no idea what to make of the strange resemblance in the two photos. They couldn't be the same person; things like that simply didn't happen. The fact was, everyone had a twin. He'd heard people in show business talk that way more times than he could remember. Casting directors would want a Robert Redford type or a Ben Affleck look-alike. And always they could find them. Why? Because everyone had a double out there, someone who looked just like them.

That had to be the explanation for why his birth mother looked so much like Luke Baxter's mother. It would also explain the strange way he and Luke looked alike.

After all, Luke had to be ten years younger than him, at least. There was no way the resemblance was anything but coincidence.

258 sbury smalley His birth mother was probably in Alaska somewhere, no the area until he found Dayne. "And you, Matthews. York City. k I've seen from you yet.

Congratulations!"

Either way, as soon as he hid the photos in his closet pumped his fist in the air. Sarah Whitley was standing better, more able to concentrate on the matter at hand-a Iim, and he looped his ar,m around her waist and swung million-dollar picture, in which he was the star. At this p]iircle. "We did it, baby!' his career he couldn t afford to be anything but right thers began milling offthe set i different directions, but much as he was the media's golden boy today, they woulrked her fingers into his hair. 'Yes, we did!" She kissed on him in a heartbeat if he churned out a flop. ]are on the lips.

And it was up to him. He owed it to the director, the prol people hT, oted and howled as the kiss continued, but the supporting cast, his leading lady, Sarah Whitley. All ofayne drew back, he and Sarah were both laughing. were depending on him, and he wouldn't let them down.tHe gave a shake of his head.

He had decided one thing. The day the shoot was over, '11 teach you to forget to kiss me." She raised her eye-he headed back to Malibu and his place on the beach a uhry and suggestive, as she turned and walked toward other shooting they still had to do in California and in ;r. Looking back over her shoulder, she winked, and her Columbia, he would go to Luke Baxter's office once mcl look was replaced by the gold-mine smile he was more would return the photo he'd taken and explain the stranith. "See you tonight."

Luke's mother looked like the woman who had given bin lifted one hand and held it there, watching her go. No He would ask a few questions,just in case maybe the two Sarah Whitley had been playing with him these past were related somehow. And then he'd put the entire ord=s. She would linger next to him after a scene was over, of his mind forever. "ith him, teasing him, pushing him on to his best perfor Today was that day. "he director frowned on relationships during the shoot, Shooting would wrap up any minute, and Dayne hathat it was over...

from everyone on the set that this picture was going to m," he muttered. Then he turned and headed for his strongest yet. He glanced at his trailer. He had the photo inside his leather portfolio, waiting just inside the door. azas the hottest leading lady in Hollywood and maybe, if "Okay, people." The director stood up and brushed hilt his cards right, after tonight she'd belong to him. At together. It was the first time he'd smiled all week. "I'm h', while, a few months, maybe six. As long as most of his say that's a wrap." He pointed at a group of extras milling d relationships lasted. few yards away. "We need to take another go at that all(tter how great she was, his thoughts of Sarah vanished the one where you're the patrons running out of the ba.s he opened his trailer door. He'd had his agent call trance of the bar. It wasn't clean the first time, but I'm su3ier to make sure Luke's office would still be open early get it in the next hour or so." His grin inched its way cheeks. "The rest of you... . you're all invited to a dinner c' His agent hadn't sounded suspicious, just curious. the Marquis at seven o'clock tonight. You'll need your II-our interest, Matthews?" at the door." He clapped twice. "Good work, people." l:ng." Dayne had managed a lighthearted chuckle. 'Just 259 looked around him, opinions ;tions about his nc motioned to e people might Above the small fans, and took ching. "Sorry."

.r bill from his day. Thanks." pulled a slip of to Dayne. "For gh the lobby and aved him a bit of his head low and nerely nodded to toward the back )intment with Joe re on your way." ssed the office be-Luke Baxter's. He me, more sharply. toor and his heart .-ly cleared.

, or maybe he was n't sure what to do 260.

REUNION.

a personal touch. Wanted to thank Joe for making that last contract come together."

"I see." His agent clearly approved. "Public relations, then; is that it?"

"Right."

The arrangement was made for five o'clock, assuming the shoot was wrapped up by then. Dayne only hoped Luke Baxter would still be there. He could hardly have had his agent ask for Luke, when Joe was his attorney. He grabbed the portfolio and considered changing clothes. His black T-shirt and jeans weren't so bad, but he didn't have a hat handy.

He shot a look at his watch. Four-fifteen.

Forget the hat. He grabbed the portfolio, stepped around the side of the trailer and out onto the streets behind it. His personal assistant would box up his things and make sure they were sent to his Manhattan apartment. He didn't have time for a hat or any other disguise. If he wanted to find Luke Baxter, he had to go now.

His feet moved fast, keeping to the pace of commuter traffic along the busy street. Halfway to the attorneys' offices, three women walking toward him shrieked, "Dayne Matthews! Look, it's Dayne Matthews!"

He looked up, flashed his standard grin, and tried to keep walking. But across the street a group of tourists heard the cry and jaywalked over for an autograph. They were scrounging pieces of paper from their purses and wallets and looking for a pen when he realized it was better to stop and cooperate than to lead a parade of fans through Manhattan.

"Hi." He smiled at the women first.

"Sign something for us, Dayne." One of the women jumped up and down and grabbed his arm. "You're more gorgeous in person than on the big screen."

"Thanks." He felt his cheeks get hot. No matter how often this happened, he could never get used to the idea of perfect strangers coming on to him, acting as if they were old friends. He 261.

kingsbury smalley signed a receipt from the lady's shopping bag and looked around at what had become a small crowd.

All the people waiting had something to tell him, opinions about which of his films they liked best, and questions about his current movie, the one they'd just wrapped up.

The encounter took twenty minutes, and Dayne motioned to the nearest doorman when it looked like more people might cross the street to see what the commotion was. Above the small crowd he mouthed the word, "Help!"

The doorman nodded, parted the group of fans, and took Dayne by the elbow.

"You're needed inside, sir."

"Yes." Dayne shrugged at the people still approaching. "Sorry."

Once inside, Dayne pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and tipped the doorman. "You saved my day. Thanks."

The man was older, probably in his fifties. He pulled a slip of paper and a pen from his pocket and handed it to Dayne. "For my daughter?"

Dayne uttered a single laugh. "Sure."

When he was done, he made his way through the lobby and out the other side of the building. The move saved him a bit of walking, but it was almost five o'clock. He kept his head low and walked even faster.

This time when he arrived at the office, he merely nodded to the receptionist and gestured with his chin toward the back rooms. He never broke stride. "I have an appointment with Joe Morris."

"Very well, Mr. Matthews. I'll tell him you're on your way." "Thanks." Dayne turned down the hall, passed the office belonging to Joe Morris, and continued on to Luke Baxter's. He knocked once at the door, and then a second time, more sharply. When there was no answer, he opened the door and his heart sank.

Luke was gone, and his desk was completely cleared.

Maybe the guy didn't work there anymore, or maybe he was gone for the summer.

Either way Dayne wasn't sure what to do 262.

REUNION.

with the photograph in his portfolio. He couldn't very well leave with it or mail it back to the office later. After today he didn't want to think about Luke Baxter or the photo he'd taken from the guy's desk. Dayne glanced out the office door and down the hallway. No one was watching, no one was expecting him to be working a covert, possibly illegal, operation in the empty law office of some seasonal law clerk.

Moving quickly, he set the portfolio on Luke's desk, opened the flap, and pulled the picture out. He started to put it on the edge of the desk, where it had been the day he took it. But he stopped. It would look strange, standing there by itself. Strange enough that someone might connect his visit with the return of the photo. After all, Luke must have noticed it was missing. The entire office might be on alert looking for the picture of Luke Baxter's mother.

The shelf, that's where it would look more hidden. If he was lucky it would seem as if Luke had misplaced the photo, forgotten it in his attempt to clean out his office. Dayne checked the hallway once more and took quiet steps around the desk toward the shelf. He was breathing fast and he chided himself. The picture wasn't actually stolen-more of a loan, really.

He set it up on the shelf and started to back away. "Dayne?"

He jumped back and turned around. Joe Morris was standing in the doorway looking at him. "Morris!" Dayne hurried around the desk toward the door. "Hi... we wrapped up the shoot."

"The receptionist said you were coming back to talk to me." Joe looked past Dayne toward the desk, the shelving. He gave him a curious, partly comical look.

"I thought maybe you got lost. My office is back down the hall."

"I know." He forced another laugh. "I kinda hit it offwith that Luke guy.., thought I'd catch up with him."

"Oh." Joe shrugged.

"Yeah, we had a pretty good talk the other day." Dayne stud 263 ied his attorney. If the man was suspicious of Dayne's actions, he didn't say so.

"Luke's a great kid." Joe hesitated. "He's accepted a part-time job with us in the fall. Off for the summer though. I guess he's got a lot going on back at home."

"Hmmm." Dayne's heart rate picked up. "A lot good or a lot bad?"

"I don't know." Joe waved his hand toward Luke's empty desk. "A family wedding, and I guess his mom's pretty sick."

"His mom?" Dayne pressed his portfolio against his side. "He didn't mention that."

Joe uttered a strange chuckle. "You only knew the guy for ten minutes."

"Yeah, but.. 2' Dayne caught himself. The whole thing was crazy. Why was he here at the office of some law clerk, and why had he taken the kid's photograph?

Maybe Dayne needed a beach vacation, some time on a sunny stretch of sand without any directors or deadlines or movie shoots, no autograph seekers or paparazzi or any other distractions.

That way he could forget about the photograph and his birth mother and any resemblance she had to some stranger's sick mother.

Dayne gave a shake of his head and led the way out of Luke's office. "Anyway, I thought I'd stop in and thank you for the work on that last contract." He patted Joe's back and grinned. "Brilliant, man. Absolutely brilliant."

"Thanks." Joe rubbed his knuckles on the lapel of his suit coat. "That's my job."

The conversation shifted to the party tonight and Dayne's plans to hold on to the Manhattan apartment. After ten minutes, Joe gestured toward his office.

"Another hour of work before I can go." He gave Dayne a light punch in the shoulder. "Keep it up, Matthews. You're at the top of your game."

Dayne could hardly wait to leave.

Once out on the street, he kept his head low but he didn't care 264 REUNION.