“Ah, well . . . all I know about women is that when you’ve found the right one, you know, and you don’t need to go looking anyplace else. If Virginia is the right one, then you’ll know it.”

Theo moved over to the bed, perching on the edge so he could look his father in the eye. “But what if she isn’t? What if you think the right one might be someone else?”

“Hmm,” his father said, pressing his lips together and looking down as he rearranged the bedclothes. “Well, then you’re going to have to take a chance. You’re going to need to tell the ‘someone else’ how you feel.”

His father was right. He’d never told Alice how deeply he felt about her, because he already had a fiancée—although he’d never hid his feelings for her. Even here in New York he was doing things for her; he’d been to see Ike to make sure the Fourth Avenue Booksellers’ Association had got their sidewalk bookstands back, and he’d spent the whole morning searching for a book for her. He’d come across an article in The Washington Post some time ago, about the mysterious Ethel Vance. She was the author of the bestselling novel Escape, but Ethel Vance was a pseudonym and her true identity was one of the publishing industry’s most closely guarded secrets. It had caused quite a stir, and wagers were lost in literary circles when the real identity was revealed to be Grace Zaring Stone, the wife of a captain in the US Navy and the author of four previous books, one of which coincidentally was included in the first series of ASEs.

“I take it this ‘someone else’ doesn’t live in New York?”

Theo shook his head.

“Then I assume she lives in London?”

Theo nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“But what about your job?”

“I don’t know, Pop . . . I don’t know if I even want it anymore.” He didn’t want to worry his father with the details, or his concern over what Walter had asked him to do, but they both knew it was unlikely there would be a job for him if he forsook his daughter.

“So, you’re leaving us again.”

His days in New York had passed so quickly—meetings with the council, long days in the Partridge offices and with his parents, and only a few outings with Virginia and her friends—but now he wanted to go back. He’d decided on the taxi ride over that he would try to convince Walter to give him another chance before selling: just three more months. He had told his parents that he wouldn’t leave until his father was getting the right treatment and the best available team of specialists, and now he was.

“Only if you’re okay with it,” he said.