But she didn't know how to do that. The year before she'd graduated from high school and had refused to go to college. The teachers at her school had been appalled. “You're such a good student, Rose,” the headmistress had said. “I was hoping you'd get your Ph.D. and teach on a college level.” But Rose didn't want that kind of daily grind. She'd wondered about getting a job, but she didn't need the money, and working just to keep busy seemed rather depressing. There were times when she thought about Sister Phil and the rummage sale for the orphans and she wished the nuns at St. Mary's had been successful when they prayed for a religious vocation for her. Maybe if she had stayed in Catholic school she would have felt the call. But she'd refused to go to the parochial schools her mother suggested—mostly to spite Lu, she now realized—and she'd been exposed to a much freer life. She might feel nostalgic for Sister Phil's world, but Rose knew she couldn't live in it. Not now. So when you summed it all up—and Rose believed in summing things up—she didn't need a job, didn't want to teach, and it was too late for her to become a nun. That left her with one option.

The most obvious choice for any girl was to get married. That was what Nonna had always wanted for her. And there had been plenty of men eager to date Lu Lawson's beautiful daughter. But they hadn't gotten much encouragement from Rose. She didn't want a man who wanted to date Lu Lawson's daughter. She wanted a man who didn't even know who her mother was—as impossible as it would be to find someone like that in Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs.

Besides, none of the men who took Rose dancing and sent her flowers was extraordinary. Rose wanted an extraordinary man.

THERE WAS A teenager up ahead who was tying up the flow of traffic by trying to skate backwards. Rose swerved toward the barricade to avoid him and stopped for a second to catch her breath. She was definitely out of shape.

“Wow!” said a voice behind her. “You're even more fantastic up close than you were out in the middle of the ice.”

She turned to see a man grinning at her. His thick dark hair was unfashionably long, so it curled around his face. His mouth was full, and his eyes were large and dark, with thick lashes any woman would envy. If his nose hadn't been just a little too long, he'd have been movie-star handsome. He stuck out his hand. It was a big hand, and it looked strong, although the long fingers were slim. “Hi,” the man said. “I'm Bobby Manning.”

Chapter 19 - New York 1962

ROSE IGNORED THE outstretched hand. “I don't believe I know you,” she said in the frostiest tone she could muster.