You belong to me by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

or seven years ago. She struck me as a lovely person, a very intelligent lady."
    Wright hesitated, then said apologetically, "I know this is last minute, but I just finished a board of directors meeting at St. Clare's Hospital and I'm hungry. If you haven't had dinner and don't have plans, could I possibly interest you in going out? I know you're on Downing Street. Il Mulino is minutes away."
    Susan eyed the watercress she had been washing. Somewhat to her surprise she heard herself agreeing to be picked up in about twenty minutes.
    As she walked to the bedroom to change to a cashmere sweater and slacks, she convinced herself that the real reason she was going on this impromptu date was to hear any impressions Alex Wright might be able to offer about Regina Clausen.
    17
    Upon reflection, Douglas Layton acknowledged that Jane Clausen would not take kindly to his failure to stay with her at Dr. Susan Chandler's office.
    As a lawyer/investment broker, for the past four years he had been working for the firm that handled the Clausen interests. He had begun his career there as assistant to Hubert March, the senior partner who had known and tended to the Clausens for some fifty years. As March approached retirement, Layton had become the on-the-spot person whom Jane Clausen clearly favored to replace her failing old friend.
    To have been named a director of the Clausen Family Trust after so short a time with the firm was an awesome coup, one which Douglas Layton fully appreciated, and with it came significant obligations.
    But I had no choice this afternoon, he reminded himself as he entered the elevator at 10 Park Avenue and smiled pleasantly at the young couple who had just bought an apartment on the ninth floor of his building.
    He still rented, although with his income he easily could have afforded to buy his own place. As he explained to his friends, "Look, I'm thirty-six. At some point, believe it or not, I'm going to find the right girl and settle down. When I do, we'll shop together.
    "And anyhow," he would point out, "while I don't know the guy who owns this place, I sure do like his taste. And even though I could buy my own co-op, I couldn't afford one quite like this."
    His friends could not deny the truth of that observation. Without the headaches of ownership, Layton lived in an apartment with a mahogany paneled library, a living room with a dazzling New York view that included both the Empire State Building and the East River, a state-of-the-art kitchen, a large bedroom, and two full baths. It was comfortably furnished with deep couches, inviting club chairs, sufficient drawer and closet space, tasteful wall hangings, and excellent reproductions of fine Persian carpets.
    Tonight, as he closed and locked the apartment door, Douglas Layton wondered how long his luck would hold out.
    He checked the time; it was quarter past five. He made a beeline for the phone and called Jane Clausen. She did not answer, which was not unusual. If she was going out to dinner, she often would nap around this time, in which case the phone was always turned off. The gossip around the office was that she used to leave the phone on the empty pillow next to her, just in case a call from her daughter Regina came in the middle of the night.
    He would try Mrs. Clausen again in an hour or so. In the meantime there was someone else he hadn't spoken to in at least a week. His face suddenly softening, he picked up the phone again and dialed.
    His mother had moved to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, ten years ago. Long separated from his father, who had disappeared from their lives, she was much happier to be back among her own numerous cousins.
    She answered on the third ring. "Oh, Doug, I'm glad you caught me. In another minute I'd have been gone."
    "The hospital? The homeless shelter? The Emergency Hotline?" he asked, his tone affectionate.
    "None of those, smarty. I'm going to the movies with Bill."
    Bill was her longtime friend, an amiable bachelor whom