Miriam Spenser-Forbin perched on the wrought iron garden chair, resembling an image from a classical painting with her flowered print dress primly tucked around her legs, feet encased in slender, strapped heels, pointing just so; the fragile china teacup held daintily in one hand with the other supporting the saucer. The scene was of a living water colour, perhaps by Turner.

Small birds alit on the emerald lawn, pecking at unwary insects; a yellow butterfly flitted close to her flowered teapot, probably attracted by the pattern. She lifted her chin as a cool breeze swept through the tendrils of the weeping willow tree shading her from the noon sun, eyes closed and a faint smile teasing her carefully painted lips.

Miriam loved to sit in her garden enjoying the peace, quiet and the tranquility of her own company -- her own company, which was also the downside. There was nobody available, or in her mind suitable, to share her longing for another era, a time when a setting such as this was the cultured norm and a time where she could employ the lessons of civility and grace drilled into her as a youth.

Raised an only child in a wealthy, matriarchal family, Miriam diligently learned all the rules of etiquette and the boundless advantages of courtliness when applied in combination with feminine wiles. Miriam's domineering mother, Gabriella Spenser, in another age, would have been a king's courtesan, except it would have been she that wielded the mace and scepter.

Her father lived his life as a mere shadow in the presence of his wife and daughter, providing handsomely for all their needs and wants and conveniently passing on before requiring any manner of care giving.

When mother decided that Miriam was ready for marriage, a search was conducted much as one might undertake when looking for good help. Suitors applied, were interviewed and were rejected in abundance; Miriam was after all a very handsome young woman and not just any petitioner, regardless of wealth or pedigree, went unchallenged. Myles Forbin appeared to Gabriella as if wished by a genie.

He was wealthy, well schooled in the social arts, had a family name that resonated in certain corridors and was a successful lawyer. His most appealing aspect, to Gabriella, was his patent fear of her and his penchant for groveling when in her presence. Myles was terrified of Gabriella and only the ceaseless prodding of his own mother, who was no slouch herself, drove him to ask for Miriam's hand. They were rushed into a magnificent but hasty wedding, with Myles obediently signing a prenuptial prepared by Gabriella that removed any rights he thought he might have to the Spenser money or property. In return, Myles would never want for the amenities of life.

He reasoned that to have done otherwise would have eliminated him from any chance at the societal strata his own family wanted for him. An allowance was far better than the proverbial kick with a frozen boot.

Accepting her mother's guidance and instructions, Miriam assumed the role of Mrs. Spenser-Forbin with husband, and took her rightful place in the moneyed community. As far as it went, her marriage to Myles was fine, although not the style she dreamed about during her musings in the garden. Unlike her mother, she sought something a little more carnal than chaste kisses before bed and before work in the morning.

She also realized that unless she escaped from husband and mother, to some sun-drenched villa in the Tuscan hills or an ivied pension somewhere in Provence, her present home was, unfortunately, as close as she would ever come to satisfying that dream. To vary her rather regimented existence of lunches and volunteer work with the ladies guild, idle shopping and the dreadful boredom of TV soap operas, Miriam developed an interest in the business news and became an avid reader of all business related publications.

Myles had accepted a new position with the high profile, WesCat Alliance firm, and enjoying the novelty, he shared all the bits of office gossip and goodies with Miriam. It was like reading a novel, she discovered, listening to and studying the maneuvering behind the corporate doors and gleaning important facts from the various scandals as they were uncovered.

As she absorbed the wealth of data and examined the fatal mistakes made by both crooks and angels alike, Miriam began to see her visions of Tuscany or Provence become more delineated. She began to toy with an assortment of deliciously unethical ideas, ideas that grew and took shape far more quickly than she might have imagined.

When she started to question her considered actions, she realized how foolish it all was -- at least until recently -- when Gabriella succumbed to a terminal bout of high blood pressure and clogged arteries. Miriam's life changed gears and she began to focus more and more on the means to achieving her long dreamed of goal.

*********

The ladies guild luncheon was held in the sprawling garden of one of the city's most successful bankers, its purpose, to discuss raising funds for the new library extension. This was one event Miriam didn't mind as she was becoming such an avid reader and a popular visitor to the current structure. It also presented opportunities to pump the various wives regarding their husband's businesses, adding important information to her growing database.

"Miriam, dear, would you place the flowers on the table, my sense of arrangement is ghastly."

"Hilda you know better than that. Someone whose paintings hang in our civic centre is more than qualified for such a mere task. But then you wanted a compliment, didn't you, dear?"

"You're just too perceptive by half, Miriam." Hilda waddled off in her Monet-styled flowered dress to harvest her accolades from some of the less discerning of their group.

"If she hadn't married Gilbert, Hilda would know the real worth of her artwork." Spoken acrimoniously by another woman standing close by. Miriam continued down the table, dropping off small bowls of flowers without much interest as to décor appeal, her new companion following casually. "Frankly, I don't know why we have to have these fundraisers for things like this. If we need an extension on the library for heaven's sake just write a cheque, raise funds for the books instead. By the time the thing gets built the demographics will have changed and they'll probably have to close the new wing down."

Miriam finished with the flowers and settled into a white wicker chair beside a table beneath a translucent umbrella. Her shadow joined her.

"Fundraisers are Hilda's life." Miriam observed. She studied the woman across from her. Sylvia Chang probably had more money than Gilbert's bank. Shorter than average. Ebony black hair pulled so taught the unbleached, paper plate coloured skin on her face and neck resembled an over inflated balloon. Undo that hair, Miriam thought, and Sylvia would look like an apple doll.

"She should get a new one." Sylvia leaned onto the table and lowered her voice, almond eyes peeping from beneath heavily made-up, conspiratorial lids. "Your husband works for Barton Weston, no?"

"Yes." Miriam hailed a passing service person and asked for a tall gin and Collins. "Would you like anything?" Sylvia shook her hand no.

"My husband is Cybrus Corporation."

"He works there?"

Sylvia's eye became suddenly round with astonishment. "He owns it! He is Cybrus Corporation!"

Miriam blushed and fanned her cheek with spread fingers. "Forgive me, Sylvia. I didn't know. I guess it has never come up."

Actually, Arnold Chang, and Cybrus Corporation were very familiar to Miriam. She had paid particular attention to both the company and the owner as it posed the greatest competition to her husband's employer, and was a generous donor to this very ladies guild.

"He is here today. I would like you to meet him." Without waiting, Sylvia left the table and disappeared up the steps into the house.

Well, well, isn't this fortuitous? She accepted her drink from the server and watched as the Changs descended the steps to the garden together. Interchangeable, except for the hair and the clothes.

Arnold came quickly around the table and took Miriam's hand, brushing lightly with dry lips ala French custom.

"Would you care to join me in a stroll about these lovely gardens, Mrs. Forbin?"

"Spenser-Forbin, but call me Miriam, please. And yes, I think that would be lovely indeed." Up close, Arnold was very interesting, Miriam observed, taking his arm.

They wandered alone for more than an hour out of sight in the flower garden behind the dining room patio where the luncheon took place and during that wander, casually discussed Arnold's company and the technology field in general. Miriam intuitively sensed great possibilities as Arnold delicately probed for information on WesCat, assuming that she knew a great deal from her husband.

Shrewdly, and with a daring spontaneity, Miriam floated the skimpiest of rumours about shareholder interest in forming some kind of merger and watched with sly pleasure as Arnold Chang all but slurped aloud. Now, sitting in her garden at home, peacefully enjoying the breeze, the quiet and her tea, she considered the eminently possible scenario for beginning her dream.