You belong to me by Mary Higgins Clark

the appointment, Mrs. Clausen had stayed at the office for another twenty minutes.
    Over a cup of tea, she had insisted that Susan keep the turquoise ring. "If something were to happen to me, it's important that you have it just in case the woman who phoned you contacts you again," she had said.
    She doesn't mean something happens to her; she means when, Susan thought, as she turned in to her own building, a three-story brownstone, and began the climb to her apartment on the top floor. It was a roomy place, with a large living room, generous kitchen, oversized bedroom, and small den. Handsomely and comfortably furnished with the items her mother had offered when she moved from the house the family had lived in to a luxury condo, it always felt warm and welcoming to Susan-almost like a physical embrace.
    Tonight was no exception. In fact, this evening the place felt particularly soothing, Susan reflected, flipping the switch that turned on the gas-burning log fire in the fireplace.
    An at-home night, she decided emphatically as she proceeded to change, slipping into an aging velour caftan. She would make herself a salad and pasta, and pour a glass of Chianti.
    A short time later, as she was rinsing watercress, the phone rang. "Susan, how's my girl?"
    It was her father. "I'm fine, Dad," Susan said, then grimaced. "I mean, I'm fine, Charles."
    "Binky and I were sorry you had to leave so soon yesterday. Party was a blast, wasn't it?"
    Susan raised an eyebrow. "A real blast."
    "Right."
    Oh Dad, Susan thought. If you only knew how phony you sound.
    "Susan, you certainly caught Alex Wright's eye. He kept talking to us about you. Guess he was praising you to Dee as well. Told us Dee wouldn't give him your home phone."
    "My office number is in the book. If he wants to, he'll call me there. I thought he seemed like a nice guy."
    "He's a lot more than that. The Wright family is up there with the best of them. Very impressive."
    Dad's still in awe of important people, Susan thought. At least he hasn't managed to convince himself that he was born with a silver spoon. I just wish he didn't need to pretend that he was.
    "Let me put Binky on. She wants to tell you something."
    Why me, Lord? Susan thought as she listened to the phone being handed over.
    Her stepmother's trilling "Hello" grated on her ear.
    Before she could respond, Binky began to sing the praises of Alexander Wright. "I've known him for years, darling," she chirped. "Never married. Just the kind of man Charles and I envision you or Dee with. You've met him, so you know he's attractive. He's on the board of the Wright Family Foundation. They give away tons of money every year. The most generous, most philanthropic person you'd ever want to meet. Not like these selfish people who only care for themselves."
    I can't believe you said that, Susan thought.
    "Darling, I did something that I hope you won't mind. Alex just phoned and practically demanded I give him your home number. And I'm pretty sure he's going to call you this evening. He said he didn't want to bother you at your office." Binky paused, then coaxed, "Please tell me I did the right thing."
    "I'd rather you didn't give out my home number, Binky," Susan said stiffly, then softened. "But in this case, I suppose it's all right. Just please don't do it again."
    She managed to cut short Binky's gushing reassurances and hung up feeling as though her evening had suddenly turned sour. Less than ten minutes later, Alexander Wright phoned. "I put the hit on Binky for your home number. I hope that was okay."
    "I know," Susan said, her tone remote. "Charles and Binky just called."
    "Why don't you refer to your father as 'Dad' when we talk? It's okay with me."
    Susan laughed. "You're very perceptive. Yes, I will do that."
    "I made a point of catching your program today and thoroughly enjoyed it."
    Susan was surprised to realize that she was pleased.
    "I was seated at the same table as Regina Clausen at a Futures Industry dinner six