As she sat there, a powerful emotion was mounting inside her—something she didn’t recognize for several seconds. Her heart was racing, and she was hot, overheated, and shaken. A sob escaped her lips, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to hold it in. Tears sprang from the corners of her eyes, and she made herself stand up, stomping one foot theatrically.

“No, goddamn it! I will not let myself be railroaded into—”

Into what, exactly? she wondered, her mouth snapping closed. Into doing exactly what I want to do? Going exactly where I want to go?

She was breathing heavily, still shaking all over, but she finally recognized the feelings cascading through her: exultation, happiness, relief, and hope—all in equal measure, and all so entirely overwhelming, she almost collapsed on the bed again. She laughed, a brief hysterical chirp, and then made herself stop, slapping her hands over her mouth, suddenly afraid that if she started laughing, she’d never be able to stop.

She checked her watch, realizing that her driver would be here in less than half an hour, and started toward her armoire, pausing only when she remembered that most of her clothes were in storage in the basement. She kept her work clothes here in her bedroom, and a couple of tracksuits for her workouts, but even in her big-for-New York apartment, she simply didn’t have space enough to keep everything in her bedroom. She laughed and dismissed this problem, grabbed her coat, a hat, and a bigger purse for her makeup and toothbrush before leaving and heading for the lobby, hoping, for once, that her driver would show up early. Now that she’d decided to leave, she didn’t want to wait a moment more.

* * *

“Welcome to Denver!” the voice on the train said, followed by a funny, country-western-style guitar riff.