Moving onto the balcony, a cup of green tea in hand, Yael watched the rising sun as it illuminated Central Park and mulled over why Haustin had clammed up when they arrived at her building the night before. She was anxious to see him again but doubted he'd call after his reaction. Scratch that. His overreaction. Did he really have such a strong prejudice towards her name? Surely he could tell by looking at her and spending time with her she wasn't some rich snob.

It was unfortunate because she found him intriguing as well as good-looking. His cropped hair and broad shoulders had remained the same over the years, but the lines around his mouth had deepened, and his moss-colored eyes spoke of hardships. Her attraction might be inappropriate or ill-timed, but Yael couldn't deny the connection between them. Despite their shared history, she was still a woman with a pulse, and he made it spike—a lot.

She hummed to herself as she got ready to visit Miriam and, while applying cat eyes in liquid liner, a random thought paused her hand.

What if she tried working at Malkah Enterprises?

Her heart skipped, not in fear, but anticipation. The company was her legacy. Should she walk away from it altogether? Didn't she owe it to her parents to try? She wouldn't have to start with anything serious, a small project to re-familiarize herself.

Blood thrummed through her veins, and she caught her reflection smiling, hope lighting her brown eyes. It'd been so long since she felt challenged in a positive way. Of course, Veronica would object, saying it was too much, too soon.

The idea picked up steam and, eager to speak with Miriam, Yael rushed to finish applying her makeup. Standing in front of the closet in her bra and panties, she remembered the awkward confrontation with Casey. Whether she liked him or not, they would have to interact on some level if she returned. So, she'd learn to deal with it. In case she went to the office later, and hoping it sent the message that she was there to work, she slipped into a slim pencil skirt and wrap-around blouse. After yesterday's outfit, these were the nicest pieces of clothing she had brought. It might be time for a quick shopping trip.

She ironed out her plan as she wrapped a loaf of zucchini bread. The previous night, she'd been too amped up to sleep, her mind busy with fate and the past, so she chose to spend some time in the kitchen. The familiar actions of measuring and baking helped her process her thoughts, allowing sleep to finally come. She left for her grandmother's, loaf nestled in her arms and flashing a grin at the doorman, sauntered from the lobby, for once not trailed by ghosts.

Dorota answered the door, an ever-present smile plastered on her face. "Morning, Yael."

"Good morning. I made this late last night. It's not much, but I wanted to show you I appreciate all you've done."

The nurse closed her eyes and breathed deep. "Oh my, this smells amazing. How long have you been baking?"

"For the last two years I worked at a bakery in Santa Monica. The owner was kind enough to teach me all about breads and pastries, but I love to experiment on my own." She patted the loaf, neglecting to mention Autumn's patience when Yael went to rehab or the many days she didn't show up at all. "It's organic. You said Miriam doesn't eat many solids, so I hope you enjoy it."

"She might be able to try a nibble. I'll slice some up." She smiled wide, revealing a gap between her front teeth. "You're in luck. Today's a good day for your grandmother."

Curious as to what a 'good' day consisted of, Yael stepped cautiously into Miriam's bedroom. Her heart soared at the sight of her grandmother sitting up in bed with color in her cheeks. Granted, the oxygen tube remained in her nose, but her hair was combed into a chignon, and she wore an elegant set of pearls.

"You look wonderful, Grandmother." Yael couldn't help herself; she leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry I didn't stop by yesterday. I needed a meeting."

Delighted surprise flashed through the woman's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "And you are too happy. Have you been snorting your drugs again?"

"Trust me, you'd know if I were. I simply had a good, sober evening."

"No doubt you met up with that liberal friend of yours."

"Be nice, and yes, I was with Wendy. I met her and her new boyfriend for drinks. Don't worry, I had water," she teased. "Also, I ran into someone I never expected to see again."

Yael wasn't sure why she let the part about Haustin slip. For so long, he'd been a secret she held close to her heart. She hadn't told Miriam what happened that day, never had a chance to. They were both too grief-stricken to do anything other than argue.

"A character from your sordid past?" A tiny smirk slipped, and Yael suddenly realized the older woman was enjoying their banter. Well, that's new, she mused.

"I saw the man who saved my life on September 11th." Yael's good mood evaporated when the woman flinched.

"Who? And what do you mean, 'saved you'?"

"Do you want to hear this? It ventures into forbidden territory and it's unpleasant, but I'd like to share it with you." Miriam gave a dainty shrug, so Yael continued, "When the first building collapsed, I was standing right at the base, in its shadow. Out of nowhere, a firefighter ran towards me and pulled me into a deli. We were trapped there until after the second building fell and shook loose the debris blocking the door."

"You saw this man last night? This same firefighter?"

"Yes." She paused, rubbing a thumb across her wrist. "Such a random, unexpected encounter."

"I... I had no idea you were there, too," Miriam said softly as the significance of the story sank in. "I assumed you were in class and ran down to the towers when you heard. You came home covered in dust and ash, with that broken arm, but you looked the same as everyone else on the news. And I ordered you to a board meeting of all things. A board meeting. How cold of me." Her last words faded into a strangled whisper.

Determined, Yael straightened in her chair. A familiar ache flared to life in her gut, spreading into her limbs and weighing them down. She touched her grandmother's arm. "We were both hurting."

"And my Michael? Hannah?"

"Mom and Dad were in the tower the entire time, the second one that was hit. Up until it fell, I believed they'd make it out." Yael's throat closed, but she had to get through this. Miriam deserved to hear everything finally. "After the first plane, I tried Mom on her cell and, after a couple tries, connected. A minor, blessed miracle. They were okay, had no power or working elevators, and were still on the 91st floor. They headed down with everyone else after a lot of indecision, but their progress was very slow. At one point, they were even told to wait, that there was no danger to their building, their evacuation would come as soon as the situation on the ground was safe. Can you believe it?"

"You talked to them?" Disbelief caused Miriam's voice to wobble.

"Just Mom. Dad was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Mom said they were stopping at each floor, checking for stragglers. Dad wouldn't leave anyone behind." Yael paused, wiped at her damp cheeks, and avoided eye contact with Miriam.

"And then?"

"They were gone. I lost connection when the second plane crashed. I've thought about it a million times and they must have been there, in the stairwells, in the area the plane hit. I mean, at least then they wouldn't have suffered."

She glanced at Miriam, her body was immobile, and tears ran down her face. It was the first time she had ever witnessed her grandmother cry, not even at her grandfather's funeral, and Yael shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The act, while completely natural, disturbed her. This woman had always been a rock.

"Countless families never learned what happened to their loved ones, didn't know where they were, the circumstances. I assumed I was one of them. I had no idea how my son died. It didn't occur to me that you were right in the middle of this catastrophe and I was terrible to you when you'd been through hell." Miriam's lips quivered.

"No one acted reasonably during that time. I wasn't exactly warm to you, either."

"Why did it take you so long to come home? I was frantic."

"I couldn't leave." Yael fussed with the hem of her skirt, swallowing multiple times to dislodge the taste of ash and concrete appearing from nowhere, the guilt for not letting anyone know she was alive. "There was this desperate part of me that assumed once they started pulling people from the rubble they'd find Mom and Dad, that they were in an air pocket and survived, trapped like I'd been. The police chased me off more than once, but I found ways to stick around. Eventually, I helped hand out water. I think I slept in a door stoop one night. Most of it's a blur."

"My poor Yael. No wonder you have suffered so much."

Miriam's quiet statement pierced her to the core, but she was too mired in the past to acknowledge it. Releasing a shuddering sigh, Yael's vision was filled with the memory of twisted metal and smoke.

"One thing I do remember, and I'll always remember, is approaching one side of the burning ruin that first afternoon, after the paramedics patched me up. There was this chirping. Constant. Coming right from the pile. I asked a police officer nearby what it was and he told me it was the PASS units for the firefighters, or something similar."

Seeing the confusion on her grandmother's face, Yael explained, "When a firefighter goes into a fire they have a device attached to their jacket. If one goes down, passes out from smoke inhalation or is in distress, this thing senses the lack of movement and sends a signal, a beeping sound." She shivered. "Hundreds of these devices were going off from inside the rubble, beneath tons of burning debris. So loud and eerie. Occasionally, I still hear it."

"Chilling," the older woman murmured. "I doubt anyone was the same after witnessing such horrors, civilian and firefighter alike."

"I know I'm not the only one who carries the weight of it with me, which helps. This fireman, the one I saw last night, he gets my demons in ways no one else can."

"I wondered countless times what drove you to leave and now I have a tiny understanding of why. I lost my entire family, including you."

Miriam's face paled, losing what little color it had when they began the conversation, and her breathing grew labored. Guilt slammed into Yael.

"I acted selfishly, too. I did the most selfish thing imaginable. I turned to drugs to numb the hurt instead of leaning on the family I had left. I can't imagine how my actions hurt you. Hundreds of people were able to move on, so why not me? Why was I different?"

"Have you learned the answers?"

"Some." Yael stared at her hands, fisted in her lap. "Drugs wiped my mind clean, swept away the nightmares and let me sleep peacefully. I realize now I suffered severely from PTSD, but without the help I needed, it spiraled out of control. The only way to stop it, and in a very strange way, keep myself alive, was to rely on chemicals. Of course, it nearly killed me anyway." Yael blinked away more tears threatening to fall from her lashes. "I was a coward. Drove myself to California, stopping only when my eyes refused to stay open. It's a parade of shabby hotels and nights where I felt the floor shaking underneath me, dust clogging my nostrils. Most times, I was too scared to sleep."

Miriam's tears returned, and with them, a coughing fit violent enough to lift her off the bed. Yael flew into action, offering water and napkins, her heart dancing a terrified rhythm. Slowly, her grandmother got herself under control.

"I can stop," Yael said.

"Nonsense. Today I feel decent, so I plan on taking advantage and speaking with my granddaughter. I'll survive. For now. As hard as this is to hear, I need to, before it's too late." Miriam drew in a rattling breath. "I just have to ask, have you given up your addiction, once and for all?"

"Grandmother," she took Miriam's frail hand in hers, "I'll always be an addict. I struggle with it every single day, regardless of how much time has passed. I wanted to get high so badly yesterday I literally tasted it, felt it, but I found a meeting instead. Some days are easier than others. Being in New York again is difficult, as is facing everything I ran from, but I'm taking it one step at a time. It's all I can do."

A determined spark manifested in the woman's eyes, chasing away the dark clouds. "If you have a goal, such as returning to Malkah Enterprises, it'll help you focus."

"I'm not sure what I can offer the company. And before you say anything else, let me explain. I discovered yesterday that many of the employees have heard what I was up to the last nine years. Maybe you were trying to be honest with the board when they asked or it filtered in through outside gossip, but you have to realize it negatively affects any chance I have of walking in there and being an authority figure."

"Nonsense, you are a Malkah." Her voice dripped with arrogance. "You need Casey Castañeda 's support. Did you meet him?"

Yael sank into her chair and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, I met him and he essentially told me, 'It's about time, your grandmother deserves better'. I hadn't said one word to him. Peter introduced us. That was it. He judged me over the course of two seconds and found me lacking."

Miriam frowned. "Well, I admit his comment was inappropriate. Casey can be a bit of a quick trigger. I'm sure once you get in there and start contributing, he'll realize the error of his judgment."

"There you go again, assuming I will do as I'm told."

She waved her hand. "Oh posh. What else are you going to do? You're home now, and it won't happen overnight, but there's a lot you can learn from him and Peter. I'm sure you still have some of the Yael I remember in there and you'll rise to the challenge. Better yet, return to college first, finish your degree. Perhaps you can use some of your parents' inheritance to pay for it."

"What?" Yael blinked rapidly, unsure she heard correctly.

"Michael and Hannah's will. They left you everything." Miriam pushed the morphine button, signaling the end of her so-called good day. "After learning the extent of your drug use, I had myself named conservator of the funds and properties. Didn't want you blowing it as you did your trust."

A memory surfaced. "You sent a lawyer."

"A summons, a show of force on my part, one that did not work considering how you never showed for the court date, but they did reward me the conservatorship."

"I sent him away, without even reading the papers. Too painful." Yael shook her head. "I don't know what to say."

"All in the past. It's quite a significant sum, as well as the house in the Hamptons and the condo in Aspen. The only thing I did was order the properties to be packed up and maintained. They've been vacant for years, except the penthouse. I let the company use it for out of town clients."

She started to tell Miriam she didn't want any of it, but it was as if her parents were continuing to take care of her in a weird way. Still, she voiced her concerns. "Not sure I deserve it. I haven't exactly honored them."

"Nonsense. I look at you and see a woman who is strong and responsible, especially after what you've told me today. I'll contact my lawyers and set it in motion."

"Thank you."

The statement surprised Yael and filled her with warmth. She tucked away the information about being rich again to digest later and redirected the conversation to her initial reason for the visit.

"To be completely honest, I do see working as a challenge." She scooted forward, recovering her excitement. "This morning I was considering what, if anything, I could do to prove myself to the naysayers and recalled something Dad planned that might be perfect. Remember how he talked about rehabbing old, historic buildings? He envisioned turning them into apartments and restaurants and shops. Besides being great for the city, it would be fantastic publicity and allow Malkah Enterprises to branch into a smaller market."

"I knew you had it in you." Miriam's face filled with pride. "Your father believed in the project and, after he died, it was forgotten. I brought all his papers here and stored them in the second floor study. Why don't you run up and have a look." She sighed wearily. "This visit has made me quite tired. Time to rest."

Yael bent forward to kiss her on the cheek, then stood. Already Miriam's eyelids were drifting shut, and she tiptoed out of the room. A weight had lifted from her shoulders as if she and Miriam had turned a corner. Giving Malkah Enterprises a chance meant putting her dream of a bakery on hold, for now. While her soul ached at the thought, she recognized the logic in waiting. Working would give her a chance to learn, to see what it took to run her own business—on a much smaller basis, of course—and give her the skills and confidence she needed. A minor delay, that was all.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor and shuffling down the hall to the study, passing photos and portraits of her ancestors, Yael stopped cold at the threshold, her emotions free-falling into despair. Her father's desk, bookshelves, and pictures were set up precisely as they had been in his office at work. She couldn't believe Miriam had kept it this way, a silent memorial to him.

She sat at the desk and ran her hand over the dust-free wood, almost warm to the touch. There were so many memories tumbling through her mind—him sitting behind this piece of furniture, running his empire, her standing in the doorway of his office being lectured about a file she'd misplaced, doodling next to him as a little girl. Listening hard, she swore she heard his deep voice and booming laughter.

Yael shut the doors on the past and dug through the filing cabinets. In the last drawer, she found what she was looking for, her father's notes on his pet project. She placed the files on the desk and settled in to read.

Sorry no chapter last week, the days are so hard to remember this year. I'll try and double up next week!