A short story inspired by close friends. Copyright 2010 Meredith Greene – All Rights Reserved. Entering the sprawling park, a young woman walked briskly down a well-groomed path. Checking her watch she quickened her pace. In one hand she clutched a water bottle and a blank notebook. A park bench with a single occupant came into view; book in hand, a woman reposed on the polished, wooden bench, her face shaded well by the wide brim of a chic sun hat. Spying the figure on the bench, the pedestrian seemed to relax, a little; she smoothed her suit-coat and tucked a stray piece of her long, blond hair behind her ear. The woman on the bench looked up at the sound of approaching steps. The approaching young woman smiled, nervously; to her, the lady on the bench possessed a face of aging beauty. Her serene expression did not appear staged but as natural as one would wear clothes. “You must be Miss Varen, from the Tribune…” the woman on the bench said, at last. The reporter nodded and habitually stuck out her hand, then retracted it; her boss had often warned her that many celebrities did not like to shake hands. “Er… yes, Candace is fine,”
