Daddy

They swam late into the night, and the children sang, and his father left eventually, and Benjamin had to get to work. Daphne helped Oliver clean up, and Aggie was back after a relaxing summer. And it felt somehow as though they'd all come a long way since the summer began. And it hurt only briefly when he remembered the year before when Sarah was there and life had been so simple and sane. Nothing was quite as simple anymore. And nothing was sure now. But life was sweet, and he was grateful for what he had. If he never had more than this again, even that might be all right.

He finally saw Megan at her place the night they got home, and after making love for hours, they finally talked things out, and she admitted to him that she'd gone to East Hampton with an old lover. It hurt to have her tell him that, and yet, he had suspected it anyway.

“It's over, isn't it?”

“Not really.” She lay languidly in her bed and looked at him. “I'd be happy to see you anytime. But I'm not going to play mommy to your kids, if that's what you want. And you don't have the kind of time for me you did when they were away. That's just the way things go sometimes, Oliver. But between us, nothing's changed.” She was so casual about it all, everything was easy and unattached and purely sexual. He had loved that about her at first, and yet now, it didn't seem enough. He didn't want to share her with anyone else, didn't want to have to have a life separate from his children. But it was too difficult being with someone who didn't really care about them, and whom they resented. And he knew now that she would make no effort for them. She really didn't want to. It was part of her all-out effort to stay unattached. In the end, she had won. But it was a losing game.

“I'm sad things worked out this way,” he told her honestly as he dressed, and this time she didn't fight to take his clothes off. It had changed for her, too, whether she admitted it or not.

“There was really no other way it could have gone. I told you that from the first. You don't need a woman like me, Oliver. You deserve better than that. You deserved better than Sarah. Don't settle for less this time, my friend. If you do, you'll always get hurt, and you don't deserve that.”

“Why don't you want more than that?” Why didn't she? Why were they so different?

“I'm not made that way, I guess, Priscilla was … but I never was. It's too painful, I suppose. I'm not willing to take those risks, to throw my heart out there, to take chances with my life and my heart. I just want to have a good time, Ollie. That's all I want. Simple as that.” And it had been that. A good time. A great time. A wild, wonderful time, and he could have gone on forever, except that eventually the moussaka would have gone stale. One needed more than that. At least he did, even if she didn't.

“What do I say as I leave?” he asked her sadly, as he stood in the hall, fully dressed, knowing he wouldn't be back again. “Thank you?”

“You say, ‘so long,’ ‘see you around,’ ‘thanks for a good time.’”

“Thank you for more than that … thank you for something very special. You're very special. Don't forget that. And maybe one of these days, you'll get brave.”

“Don't count on it.” She kissed him lightly on the lips and pressed the button for the elevator. And as the doors closed, he saw her for the last time, wrapped in a white satin kimono, smiling at him, the mane of dark hair ebony against her ivory face.

He knew he was going to miss her. And he felt sad for her as he walked home that night. Sad for what she would never have, for what she didn't want, for what she was afraid to reach out for. And far above, she stood on the terrace, watching him, and she gave a silent wave. She walked back into her living room, and turned on the music. She finished the brandy he had left, and sat down alone on the couch, remembering how his flesh had felt when she touched him.

“You would have liked him a lot,” she whispered to the memory of the twin who was long gone. He would have been perfect for her, and Megan would have teased her, about how decent he was, and how square and how tame. Megan smiled to herself, thinking of them both, and then she walked slowly back to her bedroom. She had work to do and another book auction to run the next day. There was no point thinking about the past. She forced them both from her heart, like furniture she no longer had room for, took a shower, brushed her teeth, turned the light out, and went to bed, knowing that it had been nice for a while, but it was over with Oliver Watson. She didn't cry, she didn't mourn. She was used to handling these things, and as she drifted off to sleep, she forced herself to think of something else. Her moment with Oliver was over.

Chapter 19

George Watson's wedding to Margaret Porter was exactly what it should have been. It was tender and sweet and simple, and there were tears in Daphne's eyes as the couple took their vows. Weddings always did that to her, probably because she'd never had one. But this one particularly so, because they were both such dear people.

The bride wore a simple beige lace dress and carried a bouquet of tiny beige orchids. She wore a small, elegant hat, and Oliver gave her away, as promised, and then stood next to his children with damp eyes, as the organ played.

The ceremony was brief and to the point, and afterward they all went to the house in Purchase for a small reception. Oliver had decided to do that for them, and he had invited a few of their close friends. Many of them had been shocked at first, and then, like Oliver, they had mellowed. It was difficult to deny them the joy they obviously shared, and plainly deserved.

It was a sunny September afternoon, and the bride and groom left at five o'clock to drive into the city. They were spending the night at the Plaza Hotel and then flying to San Francisco for two weeks. Margaret had relatives there, and they wanted to go to the opera. They were going to spend a few days in Carmel, and then go back to San Francisco and fly home. It sounded like the perfect trip for them, and Margaret hadn't said so, but she didn't want to be far from “civilization.” With George's heart, she liked keeping near places where she knew he could get competent medical care. But he looked in need of nothing but her kind hand, as they left for the city, with the guests throwing rose petals after them, as the two old people beamed and waved.

“It was perfect, absolutely perfect!” Daphne raved as they sat in the living room afterward. “Maybe I'll get married when I'm their age.” Oliver shook his head and grinned.

“You would do something like that. Maybe I'll join you.” He had told her about the end of the romance with Megan. And she wasn't surprised, although she was sorry for him. It had been a good distraction over the past two months, and now that it was over he had that lonely look again, although he claimed that he was happy.

“You just have to go back to the drawing board again.”

“What a pain in the ass.” The prospect of dating again filled him with despair. But he also recognized that the fling with Megan had been more than a little exhausting, and unusual to say the least. Someone who lived by more ordinary norms might be easier in the long run.

He drove Daphne to the station that night, because she insisted she had to get back. There was a luncheon she had to go to the next day, and her friend's wife was out of town, so she wanted to spend the night with him. He never accompanied her anywhere. He was careful not to be seen with her. But she accepted that, as she did everything else about him.

“He's a lucky bastard,” Oliver had said to her more than once, and she only laughed. She wanted nothing more than she shared with him. She loved him totally and was content to live with his restrictions. And Oliver had long since stopped trying to convince her to look for someone else.

Later that night, he was chatting with Mel, as they sat in the living room talking about the wedding, when the phone rang, and she grabbed it, convinced it was one of her friends. She looked surprised when it wasn't, and handed it to her father instead. It was Benjamin, and he had asked only for their father. So she handed him the phone, kissed him, and went up to bed.

“ 'Night, Dad.”

“See you in the morning, sweetheart. Sleep tight.” And then he turned his attention to her older brother. “What's up, Benjamin?” They had seen him only that afternoon at the wedding. He had taken the day off, and he had come alone. Sandra wasn't feeling well. She had the flu, Benjamin had said, which was unfortunate, given her condition. The baby was due in an- other ten days, and Benjamin was showing the strain. He looked absolutely awful.

“Hi, Dad.” Benjamin sounded terse. “She's in labor. We're at the hospital. We've been here since eight o'clock.”

“Everything okay?” It brought back memories of when they had been born, and how excited he had been, but Benjamin sounded scared more than excited.

“It's not going so great. She's not making any progress … and, Dad … she's having such a hard time. They gave her some stuff, but it isn't doing anything to help the pain.”

“What about your Lamaze?”

“She doesn't want to do it. And … Dad … they think the baby is having problems.” Oh Jesus. A damaged baby.

“Do you want me to come down?”

“Yeah … I … I'm sorry, I know it's late. Would you?”

“Sure.” Benjamin gave him the name of the hospital. “I'll be right there.” He hurried out of the house, grabbing his car keys on the way, and glad that Benjamin had called him. At least he was reaching out to him now, and maybe he could do something to help. He couldn't do anything to help Sandra, of course, and he was sorry for her. She had no family to take care of her, no mother to hold her hand. But at least he could be there for Benjamin, and the doctors could do the rest for Sandra.

When he got there, Benjamin was pacing nervously in the corridor, wearing green pajamas and a white gown over them, and a funny green shower cap on his head. His father smiled at the sight of him, remembering the Halloween he'd dressed up as a doctor. He'd been four years old then, and he hardly looked older than that to Ollie now. “You look like Dr. Kildare. How is she?”

“Awful. She was screaming and screaming. They asked me to leave so they could check her again and she kept begging me not to … I don't know what to do for her, Dad.”

“Relax, Son. It'll be all right. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

Benjamin shook his head, and Ollie went to get a cup for himself. He had had a lot of wine at the wedding, and he didn't want to get sleepy when Benjamin needed him. And as he came back with the steaming cup, there were two doctors in similar garb conferring with his son. Oliver stood at a little distance from them, and he saw Benjamin close his eyes and nod his head.

“They want to do a cesarean. The baby's in trouble now. I know she didn't want that, but they say there's no choice.” He pulled the shower cap slowly off his head. “They won't let me be in there with her. They're going to give her a general anesthetic.”

“She'll be all right, just hang in there.” He squeezed his shoulder in one powerful hand, and led him gently to a chair.

“What if the baby's not all right?” he asked miserably as he sat down next to him.

“We'll face that when the time comes, but I'll bet that baby will be just fine.” He wanted to ask him again about putting it up for adoption, but he knew this wasn't the time.

It seemed to take hours as they sat there. They watched the clock drag its hands. It was already after one. And then a nurse came out and asked if Mr. Watson was there, both men stood up, and then, feeling foolish, Oliver sat back down. It was obviously Benjamin they were looking for. And the boy hurried toward the door.

“Mr. Watson?”

“Yes?”

“There's someone here who wants to meet you.” And without another word, as he stood in the hallway in the middle of the night in his green pajamas, they handed him his son. He was swaddled in a tiny bundle, and he let out a wail as the nurse put him in Benjamin's hands, and then he pulled him gently toward his chest. He stood looking down at him in total amazement, as tears slid down his cheeks and he started to grin, and turned toward Oliver, holding tightly to the baby.

“It's a boy, Dad! It's a boy” Oliver hurried over to see him, and as he looked down at the tiny child, he felt his heart quiver within him. It was like looking into Benjamin's face only moments after he was born. It was the same child, the same face, the same red hair and surprised eyes, and so much of Sarah, and as Oliver looked at him he realized something that had previously escaped him. This wasn't just Benjamin's child, or Sandra's, it was his grandchild as well. It was a part of him, and all of those who had come before him … his father … his mother … and their parents before them. It was a part of all of them, and he could no longer deny that. There were tears in his eyes, as he gently touched the child that belonged to all of them now.

“How's Sandra?” Benjamin suddenly remembered her, feeling guilty. “Is she okay?” he asked the nurse.

“She's fine. She'll be in the recovery room for a while. And now, would you like to come to the nursery with us for a little while? You can hold the baby, while we check him.”

“Is he all right?”

“Everything's just fine. He weighs eight pounds, nine ounces, and his Apgars were perfect. That means he's an alert, healthy little boy.” She took the baby from Benjamin,' and led the way to the nursery as the new father beamed, and Oliver stayed behind. It was an amazing moment in his life. At forty-five years of age, he was suddenly a grandfather, but he was still struck by how much his grandchild looked like his own son. And then, needing to share it with someone, he walked to a pay phone, dialed the number, and charged it to his home phone.

When she answered the phone, he suddenly smiled to himself, and his voice was hoarse and gentle. “Hello, Grandma.”

“Who is this?” She thought it was a crank call and was about to hang up.

“You have a grandson, Sarah.” There were tears in his eyes again, as he remembered the children they had borne together.

“Oh my God. Is he all right?”

“He's perfect. Eight pounds, nine ounces, and he looks just like Benjamin when he was born.”

“How's Sandra?”

“Not too great, I suspect. They had to do a cesarean.

But she'll be all right. The baby is so sweet, Sarrie … wait till you see him.”

“They're keeping him, then?” She was wide awake now.

“Yes,” he said quietly, suddenly feeling something for the baby he had never expected to feel again, almost as though it were his own baby. “I think they'll keep him.” And it was impossible to disagree with Benjamin, now that he had seen his grandson.

“How's Benjamin holding up?”

“He was very nervous, but he looks like a proud papa now. Oh Sarah, you should see him.” He was proud of him, and happy for him, and sad all at the same time.

“You're such an old softie, Oliver Watson. You should be having more kids of your own one of these days.” It was an odd thing for her to say, but their lives were in separate worlds now.

“So I've been told. How are you, by the way?”

“I'm all right.”

“Your eyes okay?”

“Still a little colorful, but they'll do. Give Benjamin my love. I'll call him tomorrow.”

“Take care of yourself.” He sounded sad again. Sometimes it still hurt to call her, but he was glad he had anyway. It was her grandson too. And he had wanted to tell her.

“Congratulations.” She smiled into the phone, “Grampa.”

“Same to you. It makes us sound ancient, doesn't it?”

“I don't know. I think I kind of like it.”

He hung up then, and waited for Benjamin to emerge. He drove him back to the house in Purchase, and it was the first time in six months that he had slept in his old room. He had left in defiance, and come home a father. It was a strange world, Oliver thought to himself, as he walked to his room, thinking of the baby that had been born that night. He wished him an easy life, an easy berth, and an easier path into manhood than his father had just had. And in his own bed Benjamin had just drifted off to sleep at last, smiling about his baby.

Chapter 20

Oliver drove them home from the hospital to the dismal apartment in Port Chester, and no amount of pleading had induced them to come home to Purchase, He suspected that Sandra would have gladly given in to the idea, but Benjamin insisted they could manage on their own. He was going to take care of her, and the baby. He had taken two weeks off from work, and by then everything was going to be in control But whenever Oliver called them after that, the baby was screaming, and when he went to visit them the following week, Sandra looked dreadful. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and was in obvious pain. Benjamin looked as though he was beside himself, and the apartment was a disaster.

It was four days later when Oliver got a call in the middle of the night at the New York apartment. It was Benjamin. Sandra had been taken into the hospital, with an infection from the cesarean, and he was managing the baby by himself. He was in tears when he called, and Oliver went and picked him up, packed all the baby's things, and brought both of them home with him.

“Agnes can take care of Alex, and you can get some sleep for a change.” This time he wasn't going to argue with him. Benjamin had never looked worse. He seemed relieved to turn things over to someone else for once, and the next day, when he came back from the office, he sat Benjamin down for a long talk. The baby was screaming all the time, and Sandra was complaining. He couldn't find a second job, and they could hardly make ends meet. Suddenly it was all crashing in on him, and he was panicking. And no matter how cute the baby was, Oliver was sorry again that they had had him.

“Son, you have to think about this carefully. Is this really what you want to do with your life? Do you really feel you can keep the baby? And more importantly, what are you going to do about yourself? Do you want to work as a busboy for the rest of your life? And what about Sandra?”

These were all the questions that had been plaguing the boy for months, and now he was overwhelmed. He admitted to his father that he didn't love Sandra anymore, he wondered if he ever had, and if he had, it hadn't been for a long time. He couldn't bear the thought of spending the rest of his life with her. But what complicated matters now was that he loved the baby.

“He's my baby, Dad. I can't leave him. I couldn't do that to him, or to myself. But I just don't think I can stay with her for much longer … but if I leave her, then I have to leave Alex with her.” And he had serious questions about her ability to mother the child. She seemed to have none of the instincts that he had assumed she would have. And all she thought of, as before, was herself, and not the baby.

“Why don't you give her a chance to get on her feet again? Maybe what you need to think about is supporting her, but not staying with her yourself.” And just exactly how was he going to do that? Washing dishes? Pumping gas? “I'll do everything I can to help you. Why don't you just relax for a few days, and try to sort your thoughts out.” But when he did, he felt responsible again. Sandra came out of the hospital, and feeling sorry for her, he took the baby and went back. Aggie was heartbroken to see him take the baby, and Oliver was equally so to see Benjamin go back again to do what he thought was right. He just wouldn't let go of what he felt were his obligations, and it broke Oliver's heart to think of him there, with the baby and the girl. He insisted on giving him five thousand dollars, and Benjamin had fought him like a tiger to give it back.

“Think of it as a loan then. I'm not going to have you starving with three of you to support. Be sensible, for chrissake.” And finally, Benjamin relented, promising to pay it back to him as soon as he could manage.

And matters grew more complicated still only two weeks later. The head of Ollie's firm called him in and made a request that took him totally by surprise. The head of the Los Angeles office was dying of cancer. He was leaving within the week on permanent medical leave and someone had to take his place. More than that, they wanted to enlarge the office, and make it as important as the one in New York. They wanted “bicoastal equilibrium,” as they put it, to be close to the television industry that was so important to them, and acquire bigger, better clients on the West Coast. And the chairman of the board had decided that Oliver was their main man to run it.

“For God's sake … but I can't do that … I have two kids in school here, a house, a life … I can't just uproot them and move three thousand miles away.” And now there was Benjamin with his problems with his baby. He couldn't walk out on him, the way Sarah had done to all of them the year before. “I'll have to think this over.” But the salary they mentioned, the terms, and the participation made it a deal he would have been crazy to refuse, and he knew it.

“For chrissake, Oliver, come to your senses. Take it! No one will ever make you another offer like that, and one day you'll wind up chairman of the board.” Daphne tried to talk sense to him that night, as they sat in his office long after everyone else had gone home.

“But what about my kids? My house? My father?”

“Don't be ridiculous. Your father has a life of his own, and a wife who loves him. And Benjamin has his own life now too. He'll sort himself out sooner or later, whether you're here or not. He's that kind of kid. He's just like you. And Mel and Sam would love it out there. Look how good they were about moving to New York.”

“But Christ, Daph, that's different. That's thirty miles from Purchase. This is three thousand miles from home.”

“Not if you make a home for yourself out there. And Melissa is a junior. In two years she'll be away in college somewhere. Don't use them as an excuse. Go for it! It's a terrific offer.” But Los Angeles? California? This was his home.

“I don't know. I have to think this over. I have to talk it over with the kids and see what they say.”

They were both shocked when he told them, but not as horrified as he would have expected them to be. They even seemed to like the idea after they thought it over. They didn't like the idea of leaving their friends, and Sam was worried about how often he would see Sarah, but Ollie said he could send them back to visit her fairly frequently, and they could spend their vacations with her. But to Ollie, it was still a hell of a thought, and a frightening prospect. And what's more, they wanted him out there within a month, sooner if he could make it.

“Well, guys,” he asked them as they talked about it for days on end. He had until the end of the week to make his mind up. “What do you say? Do we go out to California, or stay here?”

Mel and Sam exchanged a long, careful look between them, and Ollie found himself hoping that they'd say no.

“I say we do it.” Mel astounded him, and Sam sat back and grinned.

“Yeah, Dad. Let's go. We can go to Disneyland every Sunday.”

He sat staring at them, still stunned by their decision. “Do you mean it?” They nodded, and feeling as if he were living in a dream, the next day he went to work and told them he would go. He flew to Los Angeles that Sunday, looked for a house to rent, spent three days looking at schools, another week getting to know the people at the office, and came back to wind things up in New York.

Faithful Aggie had agreed to go with them, and he had decided not to sell the house in Purchase, but to keep it until he knew everything was right for them on the West Coast. The hardest part of all was telling Benjamin they were going, but he made a deal with him that at least relieved his mind about his son. Benjamin and Sandra agreed to move into the house in Purchase with the baby. He told them they could take care of it for him/and it would be a load off his mind if they'd “help him.”

“You're sure, Dad? You're not just doing us a favor?”

“No, I'm not, Son. There's another alternative too.” He held his breath. “You could leave Sandra and Alex in an apartment here, and come to the West Coast with us.” But Benjamin only shook his head sadly. He wasn't leaving them. He couldn't. Sandra had no idea how to cope, and Alex was his baby.

“We'll be okay here.” He had found another job, and with free rent in his father's house, that would be one less expense for them.

It all happened like a whirlwind. They packed, they went. They cried, they waved. And the week before Thanksgiving they left for Los Angeles, to begin a whole new life in California.

As the plane set down at Los Angeles airport, Oliver looked at Mel and Sam and wondered what he'd done.

“Ready?” He grinned nervously at them, praying that they'd like the house he'd rented in Bel Air. It was an incredible place with a deck, a sauna, a Jacuzzi in every bath, and a swimming pool twice the size of the one in Purchase. It had belonged to an actor who'd gone broke, and was renting it until he decided to sell it.

They picked Andy up at the baggage claim in the big cage he'd traveled in, and Aggie straightened her hat, and smiled.

There was a limousine waiting for them at the airport, and the children got into it with wide eyes, as Andy barked and wagged his tail. Oliver wondered for the hundredth time if he'd done something totally crazy. But if he had, no one seemed to mind. Not yet, at least. He sat back against the seat and took both his children's hands tightly in his own.

“I hope you like the house, guys.”

“We will.” Sam smiled, as he looked out the window, and Mel looked suddenly very grown up, as they drove through the Los Angeles traffic to the new home their father had found them in Bel Air. It was a whole new world, a new life for them, but they didn't seem to mind it. And as he looked out the window, only Oliver was frightened by the prospect of what they were doing.

Chapter 21

The house was exactly what the children had drearned it would be. It was perfect for them, and Oliver was thrilled. In a matter of weeks, they had settled in, and all three of them were thriving. Even Agnes was in ecstasy over their new home, and after foraging around the local shops, she found everything she wanted.

Mel loved her school, and Sam invited two new friends to their pool to swim over Thanksgiving weekend. Only the holiday seemed a little strange for them, without Benjamin, or their grandfather, and they were a long way from Sarah too. They were going to spend the Christmas holidays with her. And it seemed amazing to them they had only been there a month, when they packed their things to leave to join her in Boston for their Christmas vacation.

Oliver drove them to the airport, and much as he knew he would miss them over the holidays, he was grateful to have a few weeks to work late at the office. He needed the time to dig into all the projects that had been waiting for him when he arrived. And the one person he really missed was Daphne. He missed her good eye, her bright mind, her clear judgment, and creative solutions to his office problems. More than once, he called her for advice, and express-mailed papers to her to see what she thought of his ideas for new campaigns, and presentations to new clients, He wished they had sent her to Los Angeles too, but he also knew she would never have gone. Her relationship with the man in New York was too important to her. She would rather have given up her job than the married man she had given up her life for thirteen years before.

The next few weeks flew by, and it was Christrhas almost before they knew it. The children decorated the Christmas tree before they left, and they exchanged gifts with their father, before flying off to spend Christmas with Sarah. And suddenly as he returned to the empty house the day they left, he realized that it was going to be his first Christmas alone, the first one without them, and without Sarah. It would be easier just forgetting about it, and plunging into work. He had more than enough to occupy him in the two weeks they'd be gone. And by the next afternoon, he was startled when one of his staff knocked hesitantly on the door of his office.

“Mr. Watson, Harry Branston thought you might like to see this.” The young woman put an invitation on his desk, and he glanced at it. But he was too busy to read it until several hours later. It was an invitation to a Christmas party one of the networks gave every year, for their stars, their staff, their friends, and major advertisers, and one of the biggest clients the agency had was that particular network. It seemed the politic thing to do to attend, but he didn't see how he could spare the time, and he wasn't really in the mood. He put it aside, and decided to see how his day went. It was four days hence, and the last thing on his mind that Friday afternoon, when he found the invitation in a stack of work on his desk, was to go to a party. He knew he wouldn't know anyone there, and he couldn't imagine that anyone would notice his absence. He put it aside again, and suddenly it was as though he could hear Daphne's voice urging him to go. It was exactly the kind of thing she would have told him to do, for the sake of the agency, and to establish himself as the new head of the L.A. office. “All right … all right …” he muttered, “I'll go.” And then he smiled to himself, thinking of her again and how much he missed their spaghetti dinners. That had been one of the hardest things about coming to L.A. He had no friends here. And surely no one like Daphne.

He called for the office limousine, which he seldom used, but on occasions like this it was helpful. The driver would know where it was, and he wouldn't have to worry about parking.

The party was being held on one of the huge studio sets, and as the limousine glided onto the lot, a guard checked a list for his name, and then waved them on. It was all still a little bit like a dream to him, or playing a part in an unfamiliar movie.

Two young women showed him the way, and the next thing he knew, he was in the midst of hundreds of people, festively dressed and drinking champagne, on a set that looked like a huge hotel lobby. There was a gigantic Christmas tree towering over them, and network executives were greeting everyone. He felt silly being there at first, like a new kid in school, but no one seemed to notice. He introduced himself several times, and was secretly impressed when he saw faces he knew, they were stars of successful shows, decked out in sequins and sparkles. The women were beautiful, and the men were handsome, too, and he was suddenly sorry that Mel wasn't there. She would have been awestruck by it all, and she would have loved it. He even saw the star of Sam's favorite show, a freckled-faced boy whose wisecracks Sam always repeated ad infinitum.

He turned away then to make room for someone coming through and inadvertently stepped on someone else's toes. He jumped aside with an apology on his lips, and turned to find the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen standing just behind him. Her face was flawless, her eyes were green, and her hair was the color of burnished copper. “I … I'm sorry … I didn't see …”He realized that he'd seen her before but he wasn't sure where. And when she looked at him, she smiled, exposing perfect teeth, but for all her incredible looks, she was perfectly at ease in a pair of red leather slacks and a simple black sweater. And she had the smile of a little girl, and not a movie star. She was surprisingly small, and everything about her seemed tiny and perfect. “I'm awfully sorry,” he said again, having landed full on her foot, but she just laughed as she watched the crowd milling around them.

“Crazy, isn't it? I come every year and I always wonder why. It just looks like they call central casting and say, Okay, Joe, send up a bunch of bodies for a party.' Then they stick a glass of champagne in their hands and tell everyone to have a good time.” She laughed again as she watched them, and then her eyes met Oliver's full on. This was a new breed to him, the perfect face, the beautifully groomed red hair, everyone in Los Angeles looked so “done up” to him, so studied in the way they dressed and made up. They made a lifetime of how they looked, and yet somehow he sensed that this girl was different.

“I know I shouldn't ask you this, I should probably know, but do you work here?”

“You could say that. You don't, though, do you?” If he had, he would have known who she was, but it didn't bother her that he didn't. In some ways, it was a lot nicer for her this way.

“I work for an ad agency.” He didn't want to tell her he ran it. “I just moved out from New York a few weeks ago. It's a lot different here, but I like it a lot.”

“Wait a while. It gets pretty crazy out here. I've been here for ten years, and I still feel like Alice in Wonderland.” It was a sensation he was beginning to know well, and he suddenly wondered what she would look like without the carefully groomed hair and expertly applied makeup.

“Where were you from before that?”

“Nebraska.” She laughed, “Would you believe? I came out here to go to UCLA and become a 'star.' And my folks still think I'm crazy for staying out here. Sometimes, so do I, but you get hooked on the action after a while. I love being in this business.” She looked excited as she spoke, and he liked the look in her eyes. She was alive and full of fun, and she didn't seem to be taking any of it seriously. And then, as they were speaking, someone came up to her and asked for an autograph. She signed it without making a big fuss, smiled, thanked them, and turned back to Ollie. He was looking frankly embarrassed by then, and realized that he should have known who she was.

“All right. Tomorrow I'm going to be mortified. I'm going to find out who you are and feel like a complete jerk. Why don't you tell me now so I can feel like an ignorant fool and get it over with?” He was smiling too. “Who are you?”

“Little Red Riding Hood,” she teased. “To tell you the truth, I was enjoying the fact that you didn't know me. I hate to spoil that.”

“I promise I'll forget as soon as you tell me.”

“Good.” She held out a hand to him in formal greeting. “In that case, I'm Charlotte Sampson.” She was the star of one of the network's major shows, a dramatic prime-time show that ran weekly. She had a male co-star and an audience of some eighty million viewers.

“Oh my God …” He did feel like a real fool, and Mel was going to die when she heard he had met her. “I can't believe it.”

“Now that we've gotten that over with, who are you?” He had shaken her hand and forgotten to tell her his name. He couldn't believe that he hadn't recognized her, but he had never realized that she was that small, and that young and vivacious and pretty. She was very serious on the show, and she usually wore her hair in a different style, but he was staring at her again, and he felt like a real hick as he introduced himself to her at last.

“I'm sorry. You really took me by surprise. I'm Oliver Watson. This is all very Hollywood for us folks from back East. I'm afraid I'm not used to running into stars every day, let alone trampling their feet.”

“Not to worry. Last time he was here my dad walked right up to Joan Collins on the set and told her she looked just like a Sunday school teacher he knew back in Nebraska. It was the first time I've ever seen her speechless. He just patted her on the back, and kept on going.”

“Maybe I should try that. But you don't look like a Sunday school teacher to me.” More like the girl next door. But an exceptionally beautiful one. She was really lovely, and her flame-red hair intrigued him. He could tell from the color of her creamy skin that she was a natural redhead.

“You don't look like an ad man to me. You look like one of the guys on our show.” She laughed, and he could see that she did that often. She was an easygoing girl, with none of the mannerisms or affectations of someone as important and successful as she was.

“I'm afraid I don't think so.”

“What brought you out here, by the way?” There were people she knew milling everywhere, waving at her, blowing kisses, making signs, but she seemed perfectly content to continue talking to Ollie.

“The agency did. Someone got sick, and they brought me in to fill in for him. It was kind of short notice, but it's worked out really well.” And then suddenly, he felt very guilty. “Miss Sampson, should I be keeping you? I imagine there are a lot more important people you should be talking to than the network's ad man.”

“I've already paid my dues. I came early, drank a glass of champagne, and kissed the head of the network. What more do they want? A little tap dance? I gave at the office. I'm on my time now. And I like talking to you. It's a lot easier than talking to a lot of nervous stars whose shows are slipping in the ratings.” But hers wasn't, that was for sure. She had been nominated for the Emmy that year, even though she hadn't won it. Which made him feel even more a fool for not knowing who she was when he first saw her. “What have you been doing in Los Angeles, Oliver, since you got here?”

“Work … work some more … more work … settle in … to tell you the truth, I haven't seen anything except my house and my office.”

“That doesn't sound like much fun. Have you been to dinner anywhere?”

“Not yet, except once with my kids. We went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which they loved. I felt four hundred years old, and as though I was losing my hearing.”

She laughed, she liked it, but it made her feel that way too, only because it was difficult to talk there. But the decor was fabulous, and she was particularly fond of looking at Elvis Presley's old car seeming to plunge through the roof. It brought out the kid in her every time she saw it. “Have you been to Spago yet?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“We'll have to go sometime.” It sounded like the L.A. version of “let's have lunch sometime,” and he didn't take her seriously when she said it. And then, looking interested, “How old are your kids?”

“I have a daughter who's sixteen, a son who's ten, and another son who stayed back East who's eighteen.”

“That sounds nice,” she smiled at him, with a faint look of regret. She really liked him. “How old's your wife?” She looked straight into his eyes, and he laughed at the directness of what she'd asked him.

“Forty-two, actually, and we're divorced.” Or as good as. The papers would be final in eight weeks, and in his heart, where it mattered, the bond had been severed at last. And Charlotte Sampson grinned broadly at him when he answered.

“My, that is good news! I was beginning to worry!” He was flattered by her words, and the attention she was lavishing on him. He really felt he didn't deserve it. Maybe she was just shy, and didn't like big parties. “Are your kids here now?”

“No, they just went East a few days ago, to spend Christmas with their mother in Boston.”

“I thought you said you lived in New York.” She looked suddenly puzzled, “And why aren't they with you for Christmas?”

“Because they live with me all year round. And we did live in New York. But she lives in Boston. She left a year ago to go back to school, and …” He looked at her, Hollywood or not, he was going to tell her the truth, even though he wasn't even sure she cared, but she acted as though she did, and she seemed like a nice person. “She left us … me and the kids … so they live with me now.”

She looked at him, soberly suddenly, brushing the long red hair off her shoulders. “That sounds like a long, painful story.”

“It was. For a while. It's a short story now. She's happy. We're fine. You adjust to things if you have to.”

“The kids too?”

He nodded. “They're doing fine. By now, I think they can weather anything. They're a good group.”

“And you sound like a good father.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” He took a brief bow and they both laughed and one of the network heads came up to greet them both. He kissed Charlotte on both cheeks, and shook Oliver's hand, and told him he'd been keeping an eye out for him for the past hour.

“I want to introduce you to some of our friends, but I see you've already met my favorite lady.”

“I attempted to trample her as I came through the door, and she was kind enough not to have me thrown out, or sue. She's probably too lame now to move, so we've been standing here chatting, while I bore her with tales of my children.”

“I've enjoyed talking to you, Oliver.” She looked almost hurt as the other man laughed, and then she turned to her network boss and almost pouted. “I suppose you're going to take him away now.”

“I should. I'll bring him back if you like,” and then he turned to Oliver with a supposed word of warning. “Watch out for her, she hates movie stars, she loves kids, and dogs, and she never forgets her lines. I don't trust women like that, do you? And what's more she's too goddamn good-looking. You should see her at four A.M., it'd make you sick, no makeup and a face like an angel.”

“Come on, Howie, knock it off! You know what I look like in the morning!” She was laughing and Oliver looked amused. She looked like a good sport, and he would have loved to see her at 4:00 A.M., with or without her makeup. “He's telling lies, all lies, I hate kids and dogs' But she hadn't sounded like it when they talked about his children.

“Okay, Charlie, go play, while I take Oliver around. I'll bring him back in a little while.” But when they left her, much to Oliver's regret, “Howie” introduced him to absolutely every human being of any importance on the set, and it was an hour before he got back to the spot where he had left her. And of course she was gone. He hadn't expected her to wait … not really … except that he would have loved it if she had. He quietly walked away, and went to look for his limousine, and then much to his amazement, in the distance, getting into a red Mercedes, he saw her. She was wearing her hair in two pigtails, and she had taken off her makeup, and she had an old black leather coat on. He waved to her, and she saw him and waved back, and then hesitated for a minute, as though waiting for him to approach her. He walked over to her then, wanting to tell her how much he'd enjoyed meeting her, and she smiled as he came closer.

“On your way home?” She nodded, and smiled up at him, suddenly looking like a kid. But a very pretty one as he watched her.

“I have two weeks off until after the holidays. We went on hiatus tonight. What about you? Finished with your duties in there?” She smiled easily at him and he nodded. He wanted to ask her out, but he didn't quite dare, and then he decided what the hell, all she could do was say no, even if she was Charlotte Sampson.

“Have you eaten yet?”

She shook her head, and then her face lit up. “Want to go for a pizza at Spago? I'm not sure we'll get in, but we can try. It's usually pretty crowded.” That was the understatement of the year. It was usually wall-to-wall bodies, willing to wait a lifetime for Wolfgang Puck's terrific meals, and a glimpse of the stars who hung out there.

“I'd love it.” He looked thrilled, and glanced over his shoulder at the limousine. “Can I give you a ride? Or should I follow you?”

“Why don't you just ride with me?”

“You wouldn't mind?” It would certainly be simpler.

She smiled warmly again. She liked the way he looked, and the way he sounded. She liked his easy air, and there was something quiet and confident about him. He looked like someone you could count on. “Of course not.”

He dismissed the driver quickly then, as though he was afraid she'd change her mind, and slid into the front seat beside her. And then suddenly she turned to him. “I have a better idea. Sometimes Spago can be pretty noisy. I know another Italian place on Melrose. It's called Chianti. It's dark and no one will see us there. We can call from here, and see if they'll take us.” She pointed to a small red phone hanging from the dashboard, and operated it with one hand as she started the car, while he watched with amusement. “Something wrong?”

“No. I'm just impressed.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “It's a long way from Lincoln, Nebraska.”

The restaurant answered on the first ring, and they would be happy to give Miss Sampson a table. And it was a perfect choice. It was small, and dark and intimate, and there was nothing “nouvelle anything” about it. It looked the way Italian restaurants used to look, and the food on the menu sounded delicious. The headwaiter took their order quickly, and they settled back side by side against the banquette, while Oliver tried to absorb it all. He was having dinner with the Charlotte Sampson. But this was Hollywood, wasn't it? And for the flash of an instant, he thought of Megan in New York. How different this was. That had been so sophisticated and a little decadent, and somehow this seemed so simple. But Charlotte was that kind of person. She seemed very real.

“This was a great idea.” He looked pleased, and they both dove into the breadsticks. They were starving.

“It's so wonderful not to have to worry about going to work at four o'clock in the morning tomorrow It really makes a mess of your social life sometimes. Most of the time I'm too tired to go anywhere at night, except home to bed. I take a bath, and then I crawl into bed with the next day's script, and by nine o'clock I'm out cold with the lights out.”

“What about all the famous Hollywood parties?”

“They're for morons. Except the duty calls like tonight. The rest of them you can have. The ones like the one tonight are dangerous not to go to. You don't want to get anyone mad at the network.”

“So I've heard. Is it really as tense as all that?”

“Sometimes, if your ratings aren't great. This is a lousy business.” And then she laughed. “But I love it. I love the excitement of it, the hard work, the challenges of doing difficult scripts. There are other things I'd like to do more, but this has been a terrific experience.” She had been doing the show for two years.

“What would you rather do?”

“Professionally?” It was an interesting question. “Shakespeare probably. I did a lot of repertory in college, and summer stock after that, when I couldn't get any other work. I like live theater. The pressure of it. The demand that you remember all your lines and do it right night after night. I think the ultimate, for me, would be a Broadway play.” He nodded, he could see that. It was kind of the pinnacle of the art form, but what she did had merit too. He admired her a lot for what she did. And it was harder work than it appeared. He knew that much.

“Have you done any films?”

“One.” She laughed. “It was a disaster. The only person who saw it and liked it was my grandmother, in Nebraska.”

They both laughed and their dinner arrived then, as they chatted on endlessly about their work, his kids, the pressures of their jobs, and how he felt about suddenly running the L.A. office. “Advertising must be rough. You screw up once, and you lose the client.” She had heard horror stories for years, but he looked surprisingly calm considering the kind of pressure he worked under.

“It's no different from what you do. They don't give you much leeway either.”

“That's why you need something else, so you never really care too much. There has to be something else that matters in your life.”

“Like what?”

She answered without hesitation. “A husband, marriage, kids. People you love, something else you know how to do, because one day, the shows, the autographs, the hoopla, it's all gone, and you have to watch out you don't go with it.” It was an intelligent way to look at what she did, and he respected her for it, but what she had just said suddenly made him wonder.

“Is there something you're not telling me, Miss Sampson? Is your husband about to walk through the door and punch me in the nose?” She laughed at the thought and shook her head as she dug into her pasta.

“No chance of that, I'm afraid. I was married once, a long time ago, when I was twenty-one. It lasted about ten minutes after I got out of college.”

“What happened?”

“Simple. He was an actor. Instant death. And I've never met anyone else I wanted to marry. In this business, you don't meet too many men you'd want to spend the rest of your life with.” She had also gone out with a producer for several years, but that had never come to anything. And after that, she had gone long periods without anyone, or dated people who weren't in the business. “I'm too choosy, I guess. My mom says I'm over the hill now.” She looked at him soberly, but there was a twinkle of mischief. “I'll be thirty-four next month. Getting a little ripe for marriage, I guess.”

He laughed openly at the remark. She looked about twenty. “I wouldn't quite say that, or is that how they look at it out here?”

“If you're over twenty-five, you're dead. By thirty you've had your first face-lift. At thirty-five, you've had two, and your eyes done at least once. Maybe twice. At forty, it's all over. See what I mean, you've got to have something else in your life.” She sounded as though she meant it as he listened.

“And if not a husband and kids, then what?”

“Something to occupy your mind. I used to do a lot of volunteer work with handicapped kids. Lately, I haven't had much time though.”

“I'll lend you mine.”

“What are they like?” She sounded interested and he was touched. It was hard to believe she was successful and famous. She was so real and so down-to-earth, and he liked that a lot. He liked everything he had seen so far. It almost made him forget the way she looked. Her looks seemed unimportant suddenly compared to the rest. She was beautiful inside, and he liked that even better. And as he thought about it, he tried to answer her question about his children.

“Mel is intelligent and responsible, and she desperately wants to be an actress. Or at least that's what she thinks now. God knows what she'll want to be later. But she wants to major in drama at college. She's a junior in high school. She's tall and blond, and a nice kid. I think you'll like her.” He suddenly assumed that the two would meet, and then wondered if he was assuming too much, but Charlotte didn't flinch when he said it. “And Sam's a cute kid, he's ten, and a little fireball. Everybody seems to love him.” And then he told her about Benjamin and Sandra and the baby.

“That sounds like a heavy trip. And it must be very rough on him.”

“It is. He's determined to do the right thing, if it kills him. He doesn't seem to love the girl, but he's crazy about the baby.”

“So you're a grandfather then.” She suddenly looked at him with mischief in her eyes. They were the same green as his, though neither of them had noticed. “You didn't tell me that when we met.” Ollie laughed at the way she said it.

“Does that make a big difference?”

“Tremendous. Wait till I tell my folks that I went out with a grandfather. They'll really wonder what I've been up to.” It sounded as though she was close to them, and he liked that about her. He even told her about his father and Margaret.

“They're coming out in January to see the kids. She's the best thing that ever happened to him, although I didn't think so at first. It was a hell of a shock when he married her so soon after my mother's death.”

“It's funny, no matter how old we are, where our parents are concerned, we're still children. Don't you think?”

“I do. I resented the hell out of her at first. But he has a right to some happiness in his last years.”

“He could live to a ripe old age.” She smiled.

“I hope he does.”

“I hope I meet them,” she said softly.

They finished dinner then, and chatted on for a while over coffee, and then they went back to her car, and on the way out two people stopped her for autographs. But she didn't seem to mind. She was friendly and kind, and almost grateful. He commented on it as they got back in her car, and she looked at him with her wide green eyes and a serious expression.

“You can never forget, in this business, that those people make you what you are. Without them, you're nothing. I don't ever forget it.” And the beauty of it was that it hadn't gone to her head. She was amazingly modest, and almost humble.

“Thank you for having dinner with me tonight.”

“I had a wonderful time, Oliver.” And she looked as though she meant it.

She drove him back to the house in Bel Air and when they got there, he seemed to hesitate, not sure whether to ask her in or not, and then finally he did, but she said she was really tired, And then, suddenly, she remembered something.

“What are you doing over the holidays, with your kids gone?”

“Not much. I was going to catch up on my work at the office. This'll be my first Christmas without them.”

“I usually go home too. But I just couldn't this year. I'm shooting a commercial next week, and I wanted to study the next scripts. We have a new writer. Would you like to do something on Sunday?” It was Christmas Eve, and he was trying not to think about it, but her offer sounded much too appealing to decline.

“I'd love it. We could have dinner here.” Agnes was around, even with the children gone, but Charlotte had a better idea.

“How about if I make you a turkey? The real thing. Would you like that?”

“I'd love it.”

“We can go to church afterward. And there are some friends I always go to visit on Christmas Day. Would you like to join me for that too?”

“Charlotte, I'd love that. But are you sure there isn't something else you'd rather do? I don't want to intrude. I'll be fine, you know.” Fine, but very lonely.

“Well, I won't,” she said with a soft smile. “I'll be really disappointed if you don't come. Christmas is very important to me, and I like spending it with people I care about. I'm not into fake Christmas trees sprayed silver and all the garbage that goes with it. Your typical Hollywood Yule.”

“Then I'll be there. What time?”

“Come at five o'clock. We can eat at seven, and go to church at midnight.” She scribbled the address down for him, and he got out of the car, feeling dazed, as she thanked him again, and drove off with a wave. He stood for a long moment watching the little red car disappear down the hill, wondering if it had really happened. It was all like a dream. But Christmas with her was even more dreamlike.

She was waiting for him in a white hostess gown. The house was decorated beautifully. It was in the Hollywood hills, on Spring Oak Drive. And it had the cozy look of an old farm. And she laughed and said it reminded her of Nebraska. There were rough-hewn floors, beam ceilings, and huge fireplaces, one at each end of the room, and in front of them huge, overstuffed couches. The kitchen was almost as big as the living room, with another fireplace and a cozy table set for two. And there was a Christmas tree blinking brightly in the corner. And upstairs there were two handsome bedrooms, one which was obviously hers, done in pink and flowered chintzes. The other a cheerful yellow guest room, where her parents stayed when they came, which she said wasn't often enough. It didn't have one-tenth the sophistication of Megan's penthouse in New York, but it had ten times the warmth, and he loved it.

She had chilled a bottle of white wine for him, and the turkey was roasting happily in the oven. She had made chestnut puree, mashed potatoes and yams, there were tiny peas, cranberry jelly, and lots of stuffing. And when they sat down to eat, it was a royal feast, which reminded him in a comfortable way of the Christmases he had shared at home with Sarah and, long before, his parents. He had expected to eat a pastrami sandwich in his office, or stop at Hamburger Hamlet on the way home. He had never expected this, or to be with Charlotte Sampson. It was as though she had fallen into his arms, like a gift from heaven. And as he sat down at the table, he put a small gift on the table for her. He had been so touched by her invitations that he had wanted to get her something nice for Christmas. And he had stopped at Cartier the day before to buy her a simple gold bangle. And she was deeply moved by it, and embarrassed that she hadn't gotten him a present.

“This is my gift, silly girl. A Christmas dinner right out of a fairy tale.” She looked pleased that it meant so much to him, and they chatted and laughed, and after dinner he used his credit card and called the kids at Sarah's. It was odd speaking to them, and not being there, but they sounded as though they were having fun. There was a lot of laughing and squealing and passing the phone around, and it wasn't even awkward when he talked to Sarah. He wished her well, and then got off the phone. He called his father, too, and his father sounded happier than he had in a long time. It was amazing, too, to realize that Sarah had left them exactly a year before. And he said as much to Charlotte. It was easy talking to her. And she had made mince and apple pie for dessert, which she smothered with whipped cream and hard sauce.

“Do you still miss her, Oliver?” she asked as they sat looking out at the view and finishing their Christmas dinner.

But he shook his head, honest with her. “Not anymore. It's weird even remembering being married to her. She seems like a stranger now, and I guess she is. But it was brutal at first. I really thought I wouldn't survive it. But I had to for the kids. I think they were what kept me going.” She nodded, it made sense to her. And she thought he was lucky to have them. “I guess we never wanted the same things, and I tried to ignore that for all those years. But she never forgot what she wanted.”

“Funny how sometimes that kind of persistence is a real virtue, and other times it's a real sin, isn't it?”

“In her case, I guess getting married was just a big mistake, but I'm glad we did, or we wouldn't have had the children.”

“They mean everything to you, Oliver, don't they?”

“They do,” he admitted to her, “maybe too much so. I haven't done much else with myself for the last year.” With the exception of Megan, and that had been a momentary aberration, a month of utter, total, and delicious madness.

“Maybe you needed the time to think, to figure out what you want now.”

“I suppose so. I'm not sure I have the answer to that yet, but maybe I don't need to figure that one out for the time being.” He smiled at her, and she poured him a delicious cup of steaming coffee. He felt as though he were going to explode, which was exactly what Christ- mas dinners were meant for. He was happy and sated, and totally enjoying being with this woman. He felt as though she had been made for him, except for the fact that she was Charlotte Sampson. “What about you?” He turned to her then. “Do you know what you're after, Charlotte?”

She grinned at him, “You know, I wish you'd call me Charlie. All my close friends do.” It was amazing to be considered one of them, but he had to admit that he liked the idea. “I always think of that at year end … where I'm going … where I want to be next year, and what I want to be doing. The same thing, I guess, as long as it works,” they both knew she meant the show, “and for the rest, whatever comes, whatever's right. I have my dreams, like everyone else, but a lot of them have come true already.” She seemed perfectly content with her life. She wasn't seeking, or striving, or wishing she had more than she did. “I'd love to be married and have kids one day, but if that's not in the cards, then I guess it was never meant to be. You can't make yourself crazy over things like that anyway, and they only happen if they're meant to.” She was strangely philosophical, and wonderfully peaceful.

He helped her clean up, and at ten o'clock they had another cup of coffee, and shortly before midnight, he drove her to Beverly Hills, to the Church of the Good Shepherd, and they sat very close to each other during the midnight service. It was exactly what it should have been, and at the end, with the lights, the trees and the incense, they all sang Christmas carols. It was one-thirty when they got out, and he drove her slowly home, feeling happy and warm and complete. So much so, he almost didn't miss the children.

He was going to drop her off when they got back, but when they got to her place, she suddenly looked at him strangely.

“I know this may sound weird to you, Oliver, but it's so lonely going home alone on Christmas Eve. Would you like to spend the night in my guest room?” They had met only two days before, and he had just shared Christmas with her, and now she was inviting him into her home, as a guest, not with the lust that Megan had shown, but with kindness and warmth and respect, and he suddenly wanted to stay more than anything in the world. He wanted to be with her, for tonight, for a week, for a year, maybe even for a lifetime.

“I'd love that, Charlie.” He leaned over and kissed her then, but it was a chaste, gentle kiss, and they walked into her house hand in hand, as she led him upstairs and turned the bed down. The room had a bathroom of its own, and she kept nightclothes and a robe for friends who stayed, and fussed over him like a mother hen, and then finally left him alone with a warm smile and a “Merry Christmas.” And he lay in her guest room bed for a long, long time, thinking of her and wanting to go to her, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of her kindness now, and he lay there like a child wishing he could climb into bed with his mother, but not quite daring.

And when he awoke the next day, he could smell pancakes and sausages and hot coffee. He brushed his teeth with the new toothbrush she had left, shaved, and went downstairs in the robe, curious to see what she was up to.

“Merry Christmas, Oliver!” she called as he came through the kitchen door, and he smiled, watching her work, and two minutes later, she had a sumptuous breakfast ready. There were all the things he had smelled, and more, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, and coffee.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie. You may never get me out of here if you keep feeding me like this. This is some hotel you run.”

She laughed happily at him. “I'm glad you like it, sir.

And then, without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. But this time the kiss was more fervent than he had dared to let it be the night before. And when she pulled away at last, they were both more than a little breathless. “My, my, Oliver, that's quite a good morning.”

“It's in keeping with the quality of the breakfast.” He took two bites of the eggs, and then reached for her again, suddenly unable to stay away from her any longer. She was too good to be true, and he was afraid she'd disappear before his very eyes if he didn't grab her.

“Be a good boy, Oliver,” she scolded with a smile, “eat your breakfast.”

“I'm not sure what I want more,” he suddenly grinned like a kid in a toy shop at Christmas, “this breakfast, or you.” He looked up at her again with a broad smile. “For the moment, you're winning.”

“Behave yourself, or Santa won't bring you anything. Eat up.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Actually, he still thought Santa had put her in his stocking, and the studio head had been right, without makeup, with her hair pulled back, fresh-faced and clean, she looked absolutely gorgeous in the morning.

And after they were through, she disappeared, and came back with a little blue velvet box and set it down next to him, She had remembered it after church late the night before, and now she watched him open it with pleasure. It was a beautiful antique pocket watch, with a smooth, elegant face and roman numerals, and he stared at it in amazement.

“It was my grandfather's, Ollie … do you like it?”

“I love it! But you can't give me something like this!” He hardly knew her. What if he were a rotter or a cad, or she never saw him again. It didn't seem right, but as he tried to give it back to her, she refused to take it.

“I want you to have it. You're a very special man, and for me, this has been a very special Christmas. I told you, I always go home every year and this year I couldn't. And with all the people I know, there was no one I wanted to spend Christmas with here, except you … that says a lot … so that's for you … hang on to it … and remember this Christmas.”

He felt tears in his eyes as he looked up to thank her, and instead he pulled her closer to him, and he kissed her even more gently this time. She tasted of orange juice and pancakes and sausages, and smelled of lavender and violets, and he wanted to hold her for a lifetime.

“I'm crazy about you, Charlie,” he whispered. “Does that make any sense to you after three days? … excuse me, four now.” They had met on Thursday, and it was now Monday.

“No,” she whispered back, “and it scares me to death … but that's how I feel too, and I love it.”

“What are we going to do, acting like two crazy kids? I just met you, and I'm falling in love with you. And you're a famous television star, what the hell are you doing with me? What is this all about?”

“I don't know,” she looked pensive and almost sad, “but being on TV doesn't have anything to do with it. I know that much. I think we're just two people who met at the right time. We were just very lucky.”

“Is that what it is?” Or was it more than that? Was it fate? Was it destiny? Was it lust, or loneliness? Whatever it was, it was wonderful, and at least they could talk about it like their own private secret.

“Do you want to come home with me so I can change?” he asked, smiling.

She nodded happily. It was Christmas Day, and afterward she would take him to her friends', and after that she would cook dinner for him again. She wanted it never to end, never to change, never to stop, and so did Ollie. He just wanted to be with her, and he waited while she dressed and then drove her back to his house in Bel Air. Agnes was off for the weekend, and he showed her around, showed her the kids' rooms, showed her ten thousand photographs they had brought from New York, and sat like two children themselves, for hours, poring over all of them, while he explained what was what and who was where.

“They're beautiful, Oliver.”

“So are you,” he whispered hoarsely, and kissed her again. He wasn't sure how long he could restrain himself. He wanted her so much, and she was so wonderful, just sitting there next to him, on the couch. “Want to sit by the pool for a while?” It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, and maybe he wouldn't leap on her if he took her outside. He wanted to hold back, to wait, until they were both sure it was right. And they lay side by side in the sun, talking again, for a long time. There seemed to be so much to say, so much to learn, so much to explain and understand about each other.

And that afternoon, he called Benjamin, and Charlotte listened to him with a tender smile, talking to his son. The baby was fine. Sandra was out. The house was great. And they hoped to see him soon, too, and no, nothing was wrong. She smiled again as he hung up. “You're crazy about that kid, aren't you?”

“Yes.” He smiled ruefully. “I just wish he'd get the hell out of that mess and get his ass out here so I could keep an eye on him. And get him to go back to school. He's wasting his life on that girl, and at his age it's a crime.”

“Give him a chance. He'll sort it all out for himself in time. We all do eventually.” And then, as an afterthought, “You don't suppose they'll get married, do you?”

“No, I don't.” He sighed and put an arm around her and then they went to visit her friends. They were directors, both of them, and they had done some interesting things, and they had some very nice friends. Some well-known people were there, but there were a lot of anonymous ones, too, and everyone was simple and direct, and no one seemed startled to see Charlotte with Oliver, and they made him feel at home, and he had a very good time. They stayed longer than they'd planned, and at nine o'clock they went back to Bel Air, and decided to go for a swim in his pool. They hadn't had anything to eat, but they were both still full from breakfast and lunch, and all the nibbles they'd had at her friends' house.

He lent her one of Mel's suits and went to change, and when he came back, she was already in the pool, swimming smooth laps, until at last she stopped at his end.

“You're very good. Is there anything you can't do?”

“Yeah. A lot.” She was smiling up at him. “I swim a lot for exercise, it keeps me in shape.” And it certainly did a good job. The body he saw when she emerged to dive off the diving board startled him. Her proportions were ideal, her limbs perfectly carved. She was an incredibly beautiful girl, wet or dry, morning or night, any time of day, anytime, anywhere, and he wanted her now, here, at his pool, and he knew he couldn't do that to her. They had just met, and in some ways she was an old-fashioned girl. She dived close to him then, and came up for air near where he was swimming. “Want to race?” She was playing with him and he smiled at her. He had been captain of the swimming team a hundred years before, and she was no match for him. He beat her hands down, and then pinned her to the side of the pool and kissed her. “You're not bad yourself.”

“Which skill were you referring to, my dear?” he teased.

“Both, as a matter of fact.” And then she dived after him, and swam underwater to the other side, like a little fish. But suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore, and he swam after her, circling her waist with his hands, and slowly they came up for air together, and he held her close, and she put her arms around him and kissed him again.

“I'm not sure I can behave myself, if you want to know the truth.” He wanted to be honest with her right from the first.

“I'm not sure I want you to, Ollie.” And then she kissed him hard, and he was overcome with desire, as he peeled her bathing suit slowly from her, and ran his hands across her exquisite flesh. They were breathing as one suddenly and moving as one, as she pushed his bathing suit down, too, and cradled him with her hands.

“Oh baby …”he moaned as he felt her touch, “Charlotte … I love you …”he was embarrassed to have said the words, but he did. He loved the way she thought and the way she felt, and the touch of her in his hands. His fingers gently touched her inside, and then they swam slowly to the steps, hungry with desire, and he laid her gently back, and as she kissed him, he entered her and she arched her back, and then moved with him, as the warm water surrounded them, and it went on endlessly, gentle and beautiful, as if they were two people brought together by time and space and kept suspended there for as long as they could stand, and finally he lost control and shuddered as she clung to him and at the same instant she exploded too. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, and kissed him again, and said everything he had wanted to hear from the moment they met, and as crazy as it seemed, he knew it was true for both of them.

“Ollie,” she whispered in the soft night air, “I love you.” He led her gently from the swimming pool then, wrapped her in towels, and took her back to his room. And they lay in his bed, whispering long into the night, giggling like two kids, sharing secrets and dreams. And when he made love to her again, it was clear to both of them that it was right. For the first time in their lives, they were both where they wanted to be, with the right person at the right time in exactly the right way.

“It's all like a dream, isn't it?” she whispered to him as they drifted off to sleep like happy children.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” he whispered back with his arm tight around her waist, and he nuzzled her neck. It was the only Christmas they had ever known, the only one they would ever want. And if it was a dream, he hoped he would never wake from it.

Chapter 22

The kids came home after two weeks in Bpston, and Oliver went to pick them up, feeling happy and relaxed, and warmed by his love for Charlotte. He had missed them as much as he always did when they were away, but this time he had had a life of his own while they were gone, and the days had flown by as though by magic. He was also nervous about their return, fearing that they would sense a change in him, and hoping, too, that they would like her. He had had the experience once before of the demise of a romance, because his lady love and his children didn't get along. He still winced thinking back to the time when he had introduced them to Megan. But what he shared with Charlotte now was infinitely diffierent. She was gentle, she was warm, she was kind and fun to be with. She cared about how he felt about things and, unlike Megan had been, she was wildly anxious to meet his children and make friends with them.

Sam leapt into his arms the moment he was off the plane, and Mel was close behind with a big grin and a skier's tan. Sarah had taken them to New Hampshire to ski for a few days over the New Year's weekend.

“Wow, you two look great!” They had had a good time, and Mel mentioned quietly in the car on the way home that their mother was recovering slowly from Jean-Pierre. Sarah was working full tilt on her novel, and she had decided to dedicate it to Jean-Pierre. He didn't ask if there was someone else in her life. He didn't really want to know, and he felt it was Sarah's business now, not his.

“Well, Dad,” Sam snuggled close to him in the car, “did you miss us?”

“Are you kidding, champ? The house was like a tomb without you two.” But not always, he smiled to himself, there had been Charlotte….

“It was awfully lonely without you.” He smiled at Mel over Sam's head, and he noticed how womanly she had become. In the past few months, she had developed a new poise, and after two weeks away from her, he could see fresh changes in her again.

“How's Andy?” Sam inquired about the dog

“As big a mess as ever,” his father grinned, “he marched across the white couch the other day, after wading in the swimming pool. Aggie went after him with a broom, and I'm not sure who won. After that, he chewed up her curtains.” They all laughed, thinking of it, and Oliver tried to sound casual as he carefully phrased his next words. “I have a friend coming for dinner tonight, just an acquaintance,” he tried to sound cool but wondered if he was fooling anyone but himself, his kids were sharp, “I thought you might like to meet her.”

“Someone special, Dad?” Mel wore a curious smile, and raised one eyebrow. And that was also a change. Six months before she would have been prepared to hate any woman who evidenced an interest in her father. But things were different suddenly. She was growing up, and she was almost seventeen years old. There was a boy she herself was very interested in, in school, and she had come to understand finally after the summer with her mother and Jean-Pierre, that her parents were never getting back together. It was a little harder for Sam to accept that, but he was also more innocent, and he didn't seem to notice the catch in his father's voice, but Mel had.

“Just a friend.”

Mel persisted, as they drove home. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Charlie … Charlotte, actually … and she's from Nebraska.” He couldn't think of what else to say, and he didn't want to appear to brag by telling her that she was an actress on a successful TV show. They'd find that out for themselves eventually anyway. Just as Aggie had. Her jaw had dropped in amazement when she first saw her. But they had made friends rapidly, and at Aggie's request, Charlie brought her autographed pictures to send to friends and little mementoes from the show. By the time the children came home, Charlotte had Aggie's full approval.

They pulled into the driveway. Aggie was waiting to hug them both, and had cookies waiting for them. Andy went wild when he saw them. Dinner wasn't for another two hours, and Sam insisted that he wanted to swim. He couldn't wait to get home to California and the pool, after two weeks in the frozen East. He said he had never been so cold in his life as he had been in Boston.

Before Mel even unpacked her bags, she headed straight for the phone to call her friends, to find out who had done what with whom and what she'd missed over the holidays while she was gone. It was obvious they were both glad to be back, and Oliver was pleased to see it. He was only sorry that neither of them had had the opportunity to see Benjamin this time. He was back working at two full-time jobs, and he and Sandra had been tied down with the baby. It sounded as though nothing had changed, when he'd asked Mel in the car, and she said she thought he sounded depressed, but maybe he was just tired. Sandra had been out after midnight, and Benjamin had been baby-sitting both times when she called him.

And promptly at seven o'clock, as Oliver waited nervously in the den, listening to the familiar noises of the children upstairs, he saw the little red Mercedes pull into the driveway. His heart leapt in his chest, and he wanted to run out to Charlie, and kiss her. But he restrained himself, and watched her get out of the car, and then went sedately to the front door to let her in, wondering if the children were watching.

“Hi, babe,” he whispered as he quickly kissed her neck, and then her cheek. “I missed you.” It seemed days since they'd last met, but in truth they had been together only that morning.

“I missed you too,” she whispered like a conspirator, “how are they?”

“Terrific. They had a great time, but they seem happy to be back. I told them about you in the car, and so far so good' It was worse than introducing a girl to her prospective mother-in-law, but he knew how tough kids could be, particularly his own. And Charlotte was as nervous about meeting them, as he was about introducing her to them. They were like two awkward kids as he escorted her into the den, and sat at opposite ends of the room in overstuffed chairs, but they wouldn't have fooled anyone. The look that passed between them was one of pure adoration. It was a rare thing they had found in the last two weeks, and they both knew it. And Charlotte knew it was something that had to be shared.

He jumped up from the chair then, and dashed upstairs to call them, while she wandered around the room, touching things, staring into space, and staring blankly at pictures. What if they hated her, if his daughter was a brat, and his beloved Sam a little monster. But before she could turn tail and run, the dog suddenly bounded into the room, followed by Sam, then Mel, and Oliver just behind them. It was an instant attack, and the room seemed suddenly full of noise and chatter and laughter, and then they all fell silent as they saw her.

Oliver was quick to step forward and introduce them. Mel shook her hand, clearly taking stock, and seemed to approve of what she saw. In fact, she was impressed. And Sam was staring at her with narrowed eyes, as though trying to remember something, but not sure what. And there was no denying she was pretty. She had worn a sedate navy blue skirt for them, dark blue textured stockings, and pretty navy pumps, a white turtleneck sweater, and a blazer. She wore less makeup than Mel, which wasn't much, and her hair was pulled back in a long, shining ponytail. Her hair was exactly the same color as Benjamin's, which was the first thing Mel noticed.

“It's nice to meet you both,” she smiled, “I've heard a lot about you from your father.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Sam grinned delightedly at her. She was kind of cute, and he decided he might like her. “Did he tell you about my science experiment?” He had been particularly proud of that, and Mel groaned at the thought.

“No, don't, please …” She guessed correctly what was coming.

“Would you like to see it?” He smiled broadly, and Charlotte started to nod, and Mel held out a hand to stop her.

“Take my advice, don't. He grew a worm farm. It's really disgusting.” She and Aggie had forced him to keep it in the garage, and he was dying to show his father's friend, as much to show off as to test her.

“I did that once,” she smiled at the boy, “my mother threw it out though. I had snakes, and white mice … and … a guinea pig. Have you ever had a guinea pig, Sam?” He shook his head, duly impressed with her. She was obviously a good one. “They're terrific. Mine was a longhair. It looked kind of like a cross between a dog and a rabbit.”

“Gee, that sounds great,” and then to Oliver with wide eyes, “Dad, can I have one?”

“You'd better ask Aggie first. She'll probably have to clean it.”

Agnes called them into dinner then, and they sat down in the dining room at the formal table. Charlotte primly put her starched white napkin in her lap, and felt Mel's eyes taking everything in, from her shining hair, to her perfectly manicured nails.

They had hamburgers and French fries, Sam's favorite, and a big green salad and homemade muffins, and Oliver was instantly reminded of the simple meals they'd been cooking for the past two weeks in Charlotte's kitchen. He suddenly knew how much he'd miss his time alone with her, but he had already promised himself that he would spend as much time with her as he could, even after the children got back. He had a right to, after all, and they'd have to get used to it. And then suddenly, halfway through dinner, Sam let out a yell and stared at her. His mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide, and then he shook his head … it couldn't be … it wasn't her … or was it …

“Are you … have you ever …” He didn't even know how to begin to ask the question, and Charlotte gently laughed at him. She had wondered if they would figure it out, but she had figured Mel would recognize her first, but she hadn't.

“I think I am,” she said modestly with a mischievous grin, “if you're asking what I think you are, Sam.”

“You're on TV! Wow! … That's you, isn't it? I mean …”

“Yeah, yeah … that's right.” She looked apologetically at both kids, feeling faintly embarrassed.

“Why didn't you tell us?” Sam seemed almost insulted, and Mel looked confused. She knew Charlotte looked familiar, but she still didn't know why and she was ashamed to ask now. Obviously she should have known and didn't. And she really felt stupid.

“It didn't seem all that important. Sam.” And the beauty of it was, she meant it.

“You said you had a guinea pig! Why didn't you say you had a TV show?”

They all laughed at his reasoning, and Charlotte shook her head, and grinned. “They're not exactly the same thing, you know.”

And then suddenly Mel knew, too, and her eyes grew to be enormous. “Oh my God You're Charlotte Sampson!”

“I am.” She said quietly as Aggie passed another heaping basket of the delicious muffins, and glanced at her with pride. It was as though she and Charlie were old friends, and Charlotte shot her a grateful look, and whispered, “Thanks, Aggie,” as she took another muffin from the basket.

“Why didn't you tell us?” She echoed her brother's words, and Charlotte looked at her seriously.

“Would it have made you like me any better? It shouldn't, you know. That kind of thing is nice, but it isn't really very important.”

“I know, but …” Wait till she told her friends at school that she had actually had dinner with Charlotte Sampson! Lots of kids knew famous actors here, some of them were even related to them, but she had never known any before, and as she looked Charlotte over again more carefully this time, she thought she was terrific. And so did her father. He loved the way she was handling his kids, the things she said, the way she looked, the values that made her who she was, instead of just a famous actress. “Wow, it's really exciting to meet you,” Mel said honestly, and Charlotte laughed.

It was a compliment that meant something to her, especially coming from Ollie's daughter.

“Thank you, Mel. It's exciting to meet you too. I was so nervous before I came over tonight, I must have changed my clothes ten times!” Ollie was touched, and Mel looked astounded.

“You? Nervous about meeting us That's amazing! What's it like being on TV?” After that, they fired a hundred questions at her, about who she knew, who she'd seen, who she worked with, what it was like being on-screen, learning lines, was she ever scared, did she really like it?

“Hey, guys, relax,” Oliver intervened at last, “give Charlie a chance to eat her dinner at least.” They hadn't let her come up for air since they'd figured out who she was, and suddenly into the silence Mel asked her a single question.

“How'd you meet our dad?” She was curious, no longer critical, and Charlie smiled tenderly at the question.

“Just good luck, I guess. A few weeks ago, at a network Christmas party.”

And then Oliver decided to tell them the truth, or part of it anyway. He figured they were ready for it. “Charlie was nice enough to invite me for Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve.” He didn't tell them he'd spent the night with her, however, or made love to her in their pool on Christmas Day, or fallen head over heels in love with her the moment they met, but Mel could see it, and even Sam suspected this was serious. They looked at each other kind of weird, more even than Mom and Jean-Pierre. But it was okay with him, he thought, Charlotte Sampson was terrific.

And as soon as they finished dessert, he invited her once again to go to the garage with him to view his worm farm. And much to Mel's horror, she went, and returned to announce it was much better than hers had been. And Sam said proudly he'd won the science prize for it, as his sister told him again that he was revolting.

At nine o'clock, Sam went to bed, and Mel stayed downstairs to talk to her about scripts and agents and acting. Charlotte confessed she had always wanted to do a Broadway play, and finally, with regret, she looked at her watch, and admitted she had a 4:00 A.M. studio call the next day to shoot a tough scene she still had to review when she went home. “There's a lot of hard work to it, Mel, if you're serious about acting as a career. But I have to admit, I love it.”

“Could I come and see you on the set sometime?” Mel dared to ask, astonished at her own courage, but Charlie made them all so comfortable that it was almost like asking an old friend, and she quickly nodded.

“Sure. If your dad doesn't mind. He watched me do a commercial a couple of weeks ago, and it was fun.” She smiled shyly up at him, and he touched the hand Mel couldn't see from where she stood. And she was too busy being impressed to notice the electricity between them.

“Wow, Dad, how was it?”

“Interesting. Exhausting.” He looked into Charlie's eyes sympathetically. “How many takes did they do in all?”

“Thirty-two, I think. Maybe more. I forget.”

“The other actor kept blowing his lines, and they had to shoot again and again,” he explained to Mel.

“But it was fun watching anyway. It's incredible how many people are involved.”

“You should see what goes on when they do the show, speaking of which …” She walked slowly toward the door, and waved good night to Mel, who flew upstairs to call her friends and tell them who she'd met. And Oliver walked her out to her car, with a look of ever-growing admiration.

“You are really incredible, do you know that? Worm farms, patience with teenage girls, is there anything else about you I should know?”

“Yes.” She looked happily up at him. It had been a wonderful evening, and all her fears had been dispelled. She hoped they liked her. “I love you very much, Oliver Watson.”

“I love you too, Charlie,” he whispered as he kissed her. And from his bedroom window, Sam stared in amazement as he watched them, and then turned to Aggie, who was turning down his bed.

“Wow, Aggie! Dad just kissed Charlotte Sampson!” That was really something else, but Agnes only clucked at him.

“Mind your own business, young man, and go brush your teeth!”

“Do you think she really likes him?”

“I suspect she does. Your father is a fine man, who wouldn't?”

“But she's a movie star, Aggie … or TV, or … you know …”

“What difference does that make?” And as he went to brush his teeth, still shaking his head over it, Aggie thought they were both very lucky people. And after what she'd seen tonight, so were the children.

Chapter 23

That weekend, Charlotte drove up their driveway in her car, got out, and solemnly rang the doorbell. And when Sam answered, thrilled to see her again, she handed him an odd-shaped cage, covered by a pale blue blanket. There were odd squeaking noises from within, and a pungent smell he didn't mind, and as he pulled off the blanket, he gave a squeal of delight himself. It was a long-haired guinea pig. And she had been right, it did look like a cross between a small dog and a rabbit.

“Wow! Wow! … Look at that, Dad!” He called to his father just coming down the stairs, freshly shaved and showered, “Can I keep it?” He looked from him to Charlotte. And Charlotte looked pleadingly at the senior Watson.

“I guess you can.” He smiled lovingly at her. All she did was make them happy.

“Can I keep him in my room?”

“If you can stand the smell, you can.” The two adults laughed and Sam took the cage from her hand, and hurried up the stairs with it before any of them could change their mind on him.

They went to Malibu that afternoon to play on the beach, and a movie Mel wanted to see that night, some ghastly teenage horror, that Charlie said reminded her of some of her early work, and then they went to the Hard Rock Cafe and she didn't even seem to mind the noise. And the following week they went to Disneyland. Life was a constant holiday with her. She thought of terrific things to do, exciting events to see, and she even invited them to her house and made dinner for them, although Sam admitted reluctantly that Agnes was a better cook, but in every other way, he liked Charlie even better. The guinea pig had even been named after her, and was called Charles, and Charlie for short. And Mel had already told everyone she'd ever met that her father was going out with Charlotte Sampson.

Neither of the children objected to her, and they didn't even look upset when Oliver said he was going out at night, which wasn't often during the week, since she worked so hard and had to be on the set so early. And twice she had even stayed over on the weekend and slept in their guest room. She was a great one for decorum and behavior that wouldn't embarrass the children. And neither of them knew that late at night, their father tiptoed down the hall, and climbed into bed with her with a happy smile as she told him to ssshhh! and giggled.

It was, for all of them, the perfect arrangement. And when George and Margaret came out a month after the children got home, they liked her too. At first they were enormously impressed to meet her. But they forgot quickly that she was famous. She was so unaware of herself, so discreet about her success, so warm to those she cared about, and kind to everyone, it seemed, that everyone fell in love with the woman and not the TV star. As she had said when she first met Mel, her success was nice but it wasn't the most important thing in her life. It was the people she loved who really mattered to her.

But they were all aware of her fame nonetheless, because wherever one went, people wanted her to sign autographs, or intruded at unexpected times asking her if she was … and telling her how much they liked the show … and wanting to know who Mel and Sam were … It annoyed them sometimes, and Oliver tried not to think about it more than heliad to. But Charlie was always gracious to her fans, patient, understanding, and acted as though she had been waiting for them to come over and talk to her all day and was glad they had. Sometimes, Mel asked her how she could stand it without losing her temper.

“It's part of the job, sweetheart. You accept that when you take on this kind of work, or you'll never amount to much. You're doing this for them as much as yourself. And the day you stop caring about them, is the day you stop giving a good performance.”

And most of all Oliver's father, George, thought she was absolutely charming, the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and he only prayed she would marry his son. And before he left, he asked Oliver if he'd ask her.

“Come on, Dad. We haven't even known each other two months yet, don't rush me. Besides, she has quite a career on her hands. I don't know that she wants to settle down with an ordinary mortal and a bunch of kids.” She said she did, but the truth was, he was afraid to ask her.

“I think she does. She's got real honest-to-goodness decent values.”

“I know, but she could have anyone she wants in Hollywood. Give it time.” He still couldn't believe his good fortune. But neither could Charlie.

And they were sitting talking quietly one night, after his father and Margaret had gone back to New York again, when the phone rang and it was Benjamin, and he was crying so hard, Ollie could hardly understand him.

“Take it easy, Son, slow down … that's it … take a deep breath …”He looked worriedly at Charlie, fearing an accident. He hadn't heard front him in weeks, there was never an answer when he called, and he had asked his father to look in on him when he got back, at the house in Purchase. “Benjamin, talk to me, what is it?” All he could hear was still the sound of jagged crying.

“I can't take it anymore, Dad … I just can't take it … I hate her …”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I'm just so tired … all I do is work and pay for stuff for the baby and for her … she gave up her job, and she thought she was pregnant again, but she wasn't.” And this time, the baby wouldn't have been his, at least, he hadn't touched her in two months. “She's been going out with Billy Webb and Johnny Pierson … I don't know, Dad … all she does is go out. Sometimes I have to take the baby to work with me. I love Alex, I don't want to leave him … but I can't …” He started to cry again. “… I can't do this anymore … I just can't. Last week I thought of killing myself, I sat in the garage for an hour, trying to get the guts to turn the car on, but I couldn't. I just kept thinking of Alex and what would happen to him if he was left with her. She doesn't give a damn, Dad. Sometimes she doesn't even remember to feed him all day and he's screaming his lungs out when I get home. Last week he almost fell in the pool when I left him alone with her for ten minutes. Dad … help me please … get me out of this….” The jagged sobbing seemed to go on for hours, but when Oliver suggested he come out to California as soon as he could, Benjamin said he couldn't leave the baby. He loved him too much and Sandra would neglect him too badly.

“Why don't you bring him?”

“She says she won't let me. I told her last week, I'd take him away, and she said she'd call the police if I tried it. She says I have no right to take him, she's his mother. And if I took him, all her friends would think she'd done something really awful, and it would make her look bad. But she doesn't want to take care of him either.”

“What about Sandra's mother? Do you think she'd help?”

“I don't know. Her boyfriend walked out on her and she moved to Bakersfield from L.A.”

“Do you have her number?”

“Yeah. Sandra left it on the kitchen wall” His crying had finally subsided. He was eighteen years old and staggering under an awesome burden. “You know, she hasn't even been home since yesterday morning. She's been screwing around almost since right after Alex was born,” he was five and a half months old by then, “and, Dad, I tried to make it work, I really did, but I just can't,” and then in a voice of shame, “Sometimes I hate her.” Oliver didn't blame him a bit, and suspected that in his shoes, he might have killed her, or certainly walked out on her a long time since. But Benjamin was so determined to do the right thing, by her, and by his son. He was only grateful once again that the boy hadn't married her. At least that much was simple.

“Just relax. Why don't you go to Grampa's for the weekend?”

“What'U I do with Alex?” He sounded suddenly blank, like a helpless child. After almost a year of working two jobs, and supporting a girl who wasn't his wife, and almost six months of caring for his child, the boy was so worn out, he could hardly think straight.

“Take him with you. Margaret'U give you a hand, she was a nurse. Just pack up your stuff, and get the hell out of there. I'll call him and tell him you're coming. Now give me Sandra's mother's number.” Benjamin gave it to him, and hung up after promising to pack a bag for both of them end go to his grandfather's that evening.

Oliver called his father then, and explained the situation as he repeated it to Margaret in the background, and assured his son that he would do everything he could to help the boy.

“You've got to get him out of that situation, Oliver.”

“I'm going to do everything I can, Dad.” He didn't tell him that his oldest grandson had actually contemplated suicide over it, he was still too shaken over it himself. But he told Charlotte when he hung up, and she was horrified.

“Oh my God, Ollie, get him out of there. Why don't you fly back there to pick him up?”

“I want to talk to the girl's mother first, and see if she'll take in Sandra and the baby.” He dialed the number in Bakersfield, and the woman answered it on the first ring. She sounded drunk, and more than a little stupid, but she knew who Oliver was, and about Sandra and Benjamin and the baby. And Oliver patiently explained that he and Benjamin felt the time had come to make some other arrangements. He asked if she would be willing to take her daughter back into her home, with her baby. And after hedging for a while, she finally asked Oliver the only question that really concerned her.

“Would ya pay for the kid, if I did? And her too?”

“I might.” It would be worth anything to him to get her out of Benjamin's life, but he didn't want to tell her that. It would make her even more greedy. “It depends how much we're talking about. And I would certainly expect Sandra to work to support herself as well, unless she goes back to school, of course.” But the woman seemed less than interested in her daughter's education.

“How much are we talkin' about?”

“Say five hundred a month for her and the child.” It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough, particularly if she was living with her mother.

“I guess that's all right.” She wanted to grab it before he changed his mind. Hell, they didn't hardly need no money for the kid, she told herself. All it ate was baby food, and she and Sandra could have some fun with the rest of the money.

“Would you be willing to sign papers agreeing to that amount?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“How soon would you be willing to take her in?”

“Hell, I don't know. I'm not working right now. I guess I could help her with the kid …” Her voice seemed to drift off at the other end, she wasn't crazy about the idea of living with a screaming brat, and having Sandra on her hands, again, but on the other hand the money sounded pretty good to her, unless she could do even better. “How about seven hundred, come to think of it?”

“Six.” Oliver's face froze with disgust. He hated even dealing with her, and listening to her made him cringe, thinking that Benjamin had been living with her daughter.

“Okay. I'll take it.”

“I'll have them on a plane to you tomorrow.”

He called Margaret after that, and asked her if she could go to the house in Purchase and help the girl get on a plane to Los Angeles with the baby. And then keep Benjamin with her for the weekend. He wanted him to cool out a little bit, and he didn't want him to go through the stress of being on the same plane to L. A. with Sandra and little Alex.

Margaret sounded like an angel of mercy to him, and rapidly agreed to help. She didn't sound flustered or confused, but perfectly calm, and anxious to do everything she could to help, without upsetting Oliver's father. He thanked her from the bottom of his heart, and she assured him she'd close the house in Purchase after Benjamin left, turn on the alarm, and keep an eye on it for him after that. He hadn't wanted to sell it in any case, until he was sure they were staying in California. It was his fallback, which was why he had only rented in California.

And then he called Benjamin, who sounded as though he was waiting by the phone. “It's all taken care of, Son. I talked to her mother, and she'll be happy to take them in.” He made it sound like a warmer welcome than it was, and explained that they would be providing adequate funds for the child's support, so he didn't have to worry about that. “I'll have a prepaid ticket for them at the airport tomorrow, and Margaret will come over and help her pack and take you to Grandpa's. And then I thought maybe you could spend a day or two with them, and come out here.” And then he'd be home. After all these months, he'd be back in the fold again, to start a new life, or pick up the threads of his old one. It would never be quite the same for him again, Oliver knew, he couldn't erase what had happened, or forget the child, but he had a right to move on and not get buried alive with a girl he didn't love and a baby he had never really wanted. He had done the noble thing for long enough, but now that he had opened the door, Oliver was going to get him the hell out of that mess as fast as he could, before he could change his mind again. Benjamin balked at first, at the prospect of letting Sandra take the baby. But he was too tired and depressed to fight anymore, and his father kept telling him that Sandra's mother was going to take care of the baby. Benjamin sounded numb as he agreed to all of it, and then after a long moment of silence, his voice sounded sad as he thanked his father.

“I'm just going to miss Alex so much. He's so cute now, Dad. He's crawling. I don't know …” He seemed to hesitate again. “Maybe this isn't the right thing.” But a part of him wanted relief from the responsibilities. The last few months had been a nightmare.

“You're doing the right thing,” Oliver soothed, “you can visit him in Bakersfield. It's only two hours from here. This is the best thing that could happen to all of you. You, Sandra, and the baby. You can't go on struggling back there. You've done a hell of a fine job this far, and I'm proud of you. But you have to think of yourself too. At your age, without even a high school diploma under your belt, you can't offer anything to that baby.”

“I know.” And then, in a worried tone, “Did Sandra's mom really say she'd help her with Alex? I don't trust her to do it on her own.”

“She said she would and she's not even working. Now get some sleep.” And as he said the words, he could hear the baby crying in the distance. Benjamin decided to wait at the house for Sandra to come home, and Margaret was coming in the morning. “I'll talk to you tomorrow night, at Grampa's.” But when he called him the next day, Margaret said he was asleep. He had been absolutely heartbroken when Sandra and the baby left. He had insisted on cleaning up the house in Purchase himself, after they left, and when he got to his grandfather's house, he had just kind of fallen apart from the shock and strain of it. Apparently his parting from Sandra had been bitter and loud. And Margaret had put him to bed like a child, and he hadn't even eaten dinner. She wondered if he should stay for a few more days, but Oliver insisted that he wanted him in California as soon as he felt up to the trip. He needed to get out of there and put as many miles as he could between himself and the past year's nightmare.

“He's a fine boy, Oliver. You should be very proud of him. He was a man till the end. And it killed him to see that child go.”

“I know.” He had never expected him to love the baby so much, and it certainly complicated things, but in time, perhaps things would change, perhaps the attachment wouldn't be so great, or maybe one day Sandra would be willing to give up her rights and let Benjamin adopt him. Oliver had spoken to an attorney about it and he had assured him that unless she was willing to give the baby up, and she wasn't, there was no way to wrest the child from her. They had done the right thing in letting her take him, and the appropriate thing would be to let Benjamin visit the baby. “Thank you again for taking care of all of it, Margaret,” Oliver said. “I'm sorry to burden you with all that. I just didn't know who else to turn to.” He had thought of calling Daphne in New York. But she was too far away, and too busy with her work. Margaret had been a godsend in handling the problem, and he was deeply grateful to her. His father was right. She was a hell of a woman.

“Your father says he's a lot like you were. Strong and kind and stubborn.” It was odd to hear her say the words, Oliver had always thought Benjamin was more like his mother. “He'll get on the right track again now, don't worry about him, and I'll put him on the plane to you tomorrow or the next day.”

He thanked her again, and finally hung up, to call Sandra's mother in Bakersfield and make sure that Sandra and the baby had arrived safely. She said they had and wanted to know how quickly the first check was coming.

“I put it in the mail to you yesterday, Mrs. Carter,” Oliver said with disdain. “Is the baby all right?”

“He's a cute kid,” she said, more to please him than out of any real emotion she had for her grandchild. And then, finally, Oliver relaxed, as he stretched out on the couch next to Charlotte, who had been through most of it with him. The ordeal was finally almost over.

He turned to her with a tired smile, as she gently stroked his hair. “It's been a year of hell for that boy, Charlie. Thank God he's free now.” Though even Oliver felt a pang of sadness for little Alex. He would be more removed from their lives now.

“It must have been hard for him to call you like that. You have to give him credit for throwing in the towel while he still could.”

“I do. I have a lot of respect for him. I'm just sorry he had to go through it.” They had a quiet dinner alone that night, after Mel and Sam went upstairs. By then, Benjamin had called, and they all knew that their brother was arriving the next day, and Oliver had warned them he'd had a tough time, and Mel had promised to do whatever she could to make things easier for him. They all wondered what he was going to do about school, but no one knew yet.

Ollie drove Charlotte home late that night, and he only stayed for one quick drink. All they did was talk about Benjamin, and kiss for a few minutes in the kitchen. It was certainly a far cry from his wild, unbridled fling with Megan. And he smiled at her ruefully before he left, and apologized for all the confusion.

“I'm afraid you'll find, my love, that things never go quite the way you plan, with kids around. I guess I've gotten used to it over the years, but it can't be much fun for you. I haven't been very good company for the past few days.”

“You've been fine, and I wouldn't have expected you to be any different.” And then she had a thought, she loved being with him, and with his kids, and her heart had gone out to this boy she didn't even know yet. “Do you want me to come to the airport with you tomorrow night, or would you rather be alone with him?” She was always thoughtful about the time he needed with his kids, and he appreciated that too. There seemed to be nothing she didn't understand or wasn't willing to help with.

“There'll be plenty of time to talk after we get home. I'd like you to come with me, Charlie.” He smiled, and kissed her again, and left a few minutes later, exhausted himself. He could barely imagine how Benjamin must feel after all he'd been through. But he was in no way prepared for the gaunt, pale, anguished-looking boy he picked up at the airport the next night, and all he did was put his arms around him as the boy cried, while Charlotte stood at a discreet distance. He finally wiped his eyes, and looked at his father like a long-lost friend. And Charlotte turned away so they wouldn't see her tears, as they both walked slowly over so Benjamin could meet her.

“Charlotte, I'd like you to meet my son, Benjamin.”

Oliver spoke quietly, it was a somber night for them, and she understood it. But the boy made an effort to look less distraught than he was, and smiled as he shook her hand.

“My sister has told me a lot about you, and I've seen your show a lot of times. And Sam's told me about the guinea pig. You've made a big hit with my family, Miss Sampson.” She was flattered by the kind speech, and gently kissed his cheek, and Oliver noticed how much the two resembled each other. Almost anyone would have thought they were related, with their bright red hair, and creamy skin, and the thin dusting of freckles.

“I'm flattered, Benjamin. But I'd be even happier if you'd call me Charlie. How was the flight out?”

“Pretty good, I think. I slept most of the way.” He was still emotionally drained and totally exhausted. He had slept until noon that day, and Margaret had driven him to the airport, as she had promised his father. And then he talked quickly to his father in an undertone. “Did you talk to Sandra last night? Is the baby okay?”

“They're fine.” He led him toward the baggage claim, sad to see Benjamin so worried about them. Alex was still his first concern and it was painful to see how much he missed his baby. He said as much to Charlotte, when they were alone for a minute, putting Benjamin's bags in his bedroom.

“He's not just going to forget him, Ollie.”

“No, I know that. But it's time he thought of himself now.”

“He will. Give him time. He's still in shock. Don't forget all he's been through.”

They walked back downstairs to join the others then. All the children, including Benjamin, had stampeded into the kitchen. And when Oliver and Charlotte walked in, Benjamin was eating a club sandwich and a plate of brownies that Aggie had made him. Mel was talking excitedly to him and Sam kept shoving the guinea pig in his face, to show him how beautiful he was. And Benjamin smiled as he listened to them. It was good to be home, better than any one of them knew. He felt as though he had just spent a year on another planet.

“So how's school?” he asked Mel.

“It's great. You're gonna love it.” And then she wished she could have swallowed her tongue. Her father had warned her not to press him about school, but her brother read the look in her eyes and smiled.

“Don't worry, kiddo. I'm not that uptight. But I haven't figured out what I'm going to do yet. I want to go down to Bakersfield to check on Alex first, and then I'm going to look into taking a high school equivalency test. I think I might try to get into UCLA if I can swing it.” Gone the dream of Princeton and Yale and Harvard, but UCLA was a fine school, and he wanted to stay close to home for a while. Now that was all he wanted.

He told Oliver the same thing when the others had gone to bed, and Charlie told him she had gone there, too, and offered to write him a letter of recommendation, if it would help him.

“That would be great.” He thanked her, and tried not to look as though he was staring at her. But he had been impressed with her all night, with how nice she was, and how pretty, and how obviously crazy about his father. She insisted on driving home herself that night, she wanted the two men to have some time alone, and Benjamin had nothing but good things to say about her after she left, which pleased his father.

“Looks like you lucked out, Dad. She's terrific.”

“I think so too,” he smiled, and then looked worried again as he looked over his son, as though searching for scars. But none of them showed, except in his eyes, which looked a hundred years older. “Are you okay? I mean really?”

“I'll do. Do you have a car I can borrow, Dad? I want to drive down to Bakersfield to see Alex tomorrow.”

“Do you think you should? So soon, I mean. It might be hard on Sandra. Maybe you two ought to give each other a breather.”

Benjamin sighed, and leaned back against the comfortable couch, relief written all over his face as he stretched his legs. “I'd be happy if I never saw her again. But I want to check on the baby.”

“You're crazy about him, aren't you?” It was just like what he had felt for his own children after they were born, but he had expected this to be different, and the funny thing was that it wasn't.

“He's my son, Dad. You wouldn't expect me to feel any differently, would you?” He seemed surprised. To him, legitimacy or not was not the issue. He loved his baby.

“I guess not. I felt that way about you.” It would have killed him to walk out on him, or leave him in the hands of someone he didn't trust. And suddenly, he got a glimpse of what his own son was feeling. “You can take the station wagon if you want. Just tell Aggie you're taking it, in case she needs it to buy groceries or pick Sam up.”

“Thanks. And I promise, as soon as I've done that, I'll get myself squared away with school. And if I have a long wait to get into UCLA, I'll get a job. I'm not going to sit on my ass. I want to thank you for everything you've done for me, Dad.” The words brought tears to Oliver's eyes, and he gently patted him on the knee as he stood up, tired himself, and relieved to have his son back in the fold at last.

“Just make a good life for yourself, Benjamin. You'll have it all again one day. A good woman, all the children you want, at the right time, in the right way, with the right wife, if you're lucky.”

Benjamin smiled at the advice, and looked up at him curiously. “You gonna marry her, Dad? I mean Charlie.”

“I figured that much out.” The older man smiled, and was honest with him, man to man. Benjamin wasn't a child any longer.

“I'd like to, but we haven't had much time to discuss it.” He'd been skirting the subject for the last month. He knew how important her career was to her, and he was desperately afraid of rejection. He didn't want to blow it by asking her too soon, but he had known from the first night that it was right. And it was just a matter of time before he asked her. It was different from anything he'd had before, and he had feelings for her that he'd never even had for Sarah. It had always been difficult with her, he realized now, a square peg in a round hole. But this was such a perfect fit. Charlie was everything he had always dreamed of.

“She's a great girl. I really like her.”

“So do I.” Ollie smiled, and then showed him upstairs to his bedroom. And then he walked slowly to his own, glad to have them all under one roof again. His three little chicks that were all growing up so fast, even Sam. He never slept in his father's bed anymore. He was perfectly content in his own room, with Charlie.

Chapter 24

Benjamin drove to Bakersfield the day after he» arrived, and he wasn't thrilled with what he found, but the baby was all right, and Sandra was there and her mother seemed to be keeping an eye on things, which was the best he could hope for. But the house was decrepit and unkempt, the air conditioner didn't work, and Alex was sleeping in a crib in the living room, with the TV blaring beside him. He squealed when he awoke and saw Benjamin in the room, and it was an agony leaving him again, but he was happy to get away from Sandra.

He drove back to Bel Air feeling somewhat reassured. And in the ensuing weeks, he passed his high school equivalency test, and applied to UCLA and four weeks later he was accepted. He had gotten a part-time job by then, in the bookstore on campus, and he intended to keep the job, so he could help make the monthly payments for Alex.

He had driven down to Bakersfield again, and things appeared to be the same, although Sandra was out that time, but her mother was there, drinking beer, and the baby looked happy, and Benjamin played with him for an hour, and then drove back. And this time, he didn't mention the visit to his father. He had a feeling that Oliver thought he was still too involved with the child, but he knew just as clearly that it was something he had to do, that no matter how many other children he had one day, Alex would always be his first, and an important part of his life. And he intended to stay very much in the picture. And Sandra's mother didn't seem to mind, she was very pleased with the payments that arrived punctually every month. Alex was the best thing that ever happened to her. Sandra sure knew what she was doing when she got knocked up by Benjamin Watson. The Watsons may not have been rich, but they were comfortable enough, and she knew from a little research she'd done back East that the kid's father made a hell of a good living. And then a few weeks later, she read a little item in a gossip column that really intrigued her. The old man was going out with Charlotte Sampson. It didn't mean much now, but one day, if they stopped paying their dues, a little blackmail might even be in order.

But that was the farthest thing from Ollie's mind, as the romance flourished, and they spent more and more time with each other, much to his children's delight. And finally in late April, he got up the courage to ask her.

They were having another one of their quiet, intimate dinners at Chianti, and he didn't surprise her with a ring, or ask her on bended knee. He waited until they had finished eating, and then looked at her nervously, and she giggled at him. She wasn't sure, but she thought she knew what was coming.

“How was the office today?” she teased, and he almost groaned.

“Don't do this to me … I wanted to talk to you about something serious. I have for a long time, but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it … with your career and all….”

“You want to offer me a job?” She smiled innocently.

“Oh shut up. Actually, now that you mention it … yes. You could call it that. A permanent position, with rotten pay, compared to what you make. A lifetime commitment, live-in, with three major handicaps, a few perks, and eventually a pension.”

“Don't you dare call your children handicaps, Oliver Watson! I happen to love them.” She sounded offended on their behalf, and he held her hand tightly in his own, and brought it to his lips to kiss her fingers.

“So do I. But I also happen to love you. How would you feel about getting married one of these days?” His heart pounded as he asked, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she declined, but she didn't say a word, she just kissed him.

“That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me,” she said finally. But she still hadn't answered him, and waiting for her to was torture.

“And?”

“I think we should both think about it seriously. You more than I. I know what I'm getting, Ollie, and I love all four of you, but you've never been married to a wife with a career before, it can be pretty rough, especially a career like mine. We wouldn't have a very private life, no matter how hard we tried, and everyone would always be making a fuss about me, as long as I'm on the show anyway. And that can be a pain in the ass sometimes too.” He'd already experienced it when they went out, the constant demands for autographs, the press, the well-meaning intrusions. But it didn't bother him, and he was proud of her. He didn't mind standing back and letting her be the star.

“I don't mind any of that.”

“Are you sure? One day I'd like to give it all up, but to be honest with you, Ollie, not yet. I'm just not ready to. I've worked too hard for too long to give it up now before I squeeze every drop of satisfaction out of it.”

“I understand that. I wouldn't expect yon to give it up. I think that would be a terrible mistake.”

“So do I. No matter how much I love you, I think I'd resent it. How do you think the kids would feel?” She was concerned about that too. They meant a lot to her, and to him, and she wanted it to be something they wanted, too, but Ollie only grinned.

“They said they'd divorce me if I didn't ask. And I figure they'll probably leave me and find another father if you don't accept me.”

“They'd be fools if they did. They couldn't find a better one if they tried.”

“That's not true. I screw up a lot.”

“Yes, it is true. And I haven't seen you screw up yet. You do a hell of a job with them.” Benjamin was back on the right track, Mel was doing brilliantly in school, and Sam had never been happier in his life. Things were going well for all of them. And then she smiled, shyly, as she looked up at him. “I'd like to have kids of my own one day too. One or two anyway, maybe even three if I'm not too far gone by the time I start. How would you feel about that? It would give you a pretty full house, what with the guinea pigs and white mice and worm farms and all.” They both laughed, but the subject was serious, and she was right to bring it up. He frowned as he thought about it, it had crossed his mind before, but he had never really imagined having babies again. At forty-five, it was an interesting thought, and at least, she thought to herself, he hadn't gone screaming out the door yet.

“I don't know. I think I'm a little old and tired to start all over again. Kids aren't as easy as you think.” He had certainly seen that in the last year, but he also knew how great were the rewards, and he didn't want to cheat her out of that. He loved her too much. And she had a lot to offer children of her own, as well as his. It was worth thinking about, if it meant convincing her about their future. “I guess I could probably be talked into it, once, anyway,” he saw the look in her eyes and his heart melted as she smiled, “maybe twice. But don't push me too far. I'm a grandfather, you know.”

“That doesn't count,” she meant because he was still so young, but Oliver looked sad.

“To Benjamin it does.”

“I just meant you're not old enough to call yourself that.”

“I feel it sometimes. Except when I'm with you. I think we could do wonderful things, Charlie. There's so much I'd like to do with you. Travel, have fun, help you with your career. It's the first time in my life I've really felt it was right, right down to my toes and deep in my soul, I don't have a single doubt about us.” And he felt so peaceful.

“The funny thing is, neither do I. I know how much I love you, Oliver. I just want you to be sure.”

She hesitated only long enough to kiss him again, and whisper softly in his ear. “In that case you're on. But I want to wait a year from the time we met, and do it right. How about Christmas?”

“Do you mean that?” He looked stunned. His divorce had been final for a month, and Sarah had been gone for over a year, and he loved this woman with his whole heart, and now she was willing to marry him. But she was nodding and smiling and laughing suddenly, and she looked as happy as he felt.

“Of course I mean it. Do you mind waiting until Christmas?”

“A little. But I kind of like the idea of an old-fashioned engagement.”

“We go on hiatus in June. We could go away for a month or two this summer. I had an offer to do a film, but it's really second-rate. I'd much rather go away somewhere with you and the children, unless Sarah's taking them somewhere.”

“She is. But only in August.”

They made plans through the rest of the evening, and that night when he took her home, he stayed and they made love to celebrate their engagement.

Chapter 25

The next day they told the children, and they were ecstatic. Sam wanted to know if he could come on their honeymoon, as Oliver groaned, and Charlotte asked Mel if she would be the maid of honor at their wedding. It was still eight months away, but as they talked about it, they were all like excited children.

The following day, Oliver picked her up at the studio, and when Charlotte got in the car there was a small square box on the seat, wrapped in turquoise paper and tied with a white satin ribbon. Her hands shook as she opened it and she gasped as she saw the ring sparkling inside the black suede box. It was an exquisite emerald-cut diamond, and there were tears in her eyes as she let Oliver slip it on her finger.

“Oh, Ollie … it's so beautiful.”

“So are you.” He kissed her, and held her tight, andshe snuggled close to him as they drove home to the children.

The press got hold of the news within a few days, and the producers of the show made the most of it. The PR people for the studio were all over them, wanting photographs of Charlotte with Oliver and the children. People magazine called, and US, and news of their engagement appeared in both Newsweek and Time, and suddenly even the children were being hounded. It infuriated Charlotte, and Oliver was less than pleased to discover the paparazzi outside the house on several occasions.

“How do you stand it?” he asked Charlotte more than once, and as a result, they agreed to spend their summer holiday in seclusion with the children at a borrowed villa in Trancas.

It was fairly hairy for the next few weeks, and eventually things started to calm down a little, and Sarah called, and congratulated him. She had heard the news from Sam, but she'd also read about it in the papers.

“The kids seem to be crazy about her, Ollie. I'm happy for you.”

“So am I. But the press is a bit of a bore.”

“You'll get used to it. That's Hollywood!” she teased, but she sounded pleased for him, and his father and Margaret were thrilled too. It was a happy time, and Oliver and Charlie had a lot to do before they left for their summer vacation in Trancas with the children.

Eventually, Charlotte finished the last of her tapings for the season, the kids finished school, and Oliver left the office for a four-week holiday and the five of them set off for Trancas. They spent a heavenly month there at the beach, and then Mel and Sam left for the East to visit their mother.

Charlie was planning to shoot a few commercials again, Oliver had to go back to work, and Ben had to get ready to start classes at UCLA at the end of August.

It was just before that that he got the call, late one afternoon, when he had come home to change and go out for dinner with Charlie and his dad. When the telephone rang, he thought his father was calling from the office. But he was surprised instead to hear Sandra's mother's voice, and she was calling for him. It almost made his heart stop to hear her.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Carter? … is Alex …”

“He's fine, I guess.” She sounded strange. She had thought a long time about the call, trying to think of some way it would bring her gain, but in the end, she had decided just to tell him. He had a right to know, and he wasn't a bad kid. And he seemed to be crazy about the boy. Maybe it was better trying to do them a favor. At least that was what she told herself as she dialed. “Sandra left the baby in the shelter yesterday morning. She's putting him up for adoption. I thought maybe you'd want to know.”

“She what?” His heart was pounding wildly. “She can't do that. He's my son too. Where is he? I'm not going to let her do that, Mrs. Carter. I'll take care of him myself. I told her that when we were still in Purchase.”

“I figured that's how you'd feel, that's why I called. I told her she should call you. But she just dumped him and ran. She left for Hawaii this morning.”

“Thank you … thank you … tell them I'm going to pick him up right away … I'll … never mind … Ill call them myself.” But when he called the shelter she'd told him about, they told him that Alexander Carter, as he was called, was now a ward of the court. Benjamin would have to prove his paternity, and file for custody, and termination of Sandra's rights. And that was up to the court now. He called his father frantically then, and had him dragged out of a meeting with a new client. He was practically hysterical by then, and Oliver told him to calm down and explain it all slowly.

“All right, all right … I understand now. Ill call a lawyer. Now get a hold of yourself, Benjamin. But before we do anything, I want you to think about what you really want. Do you truly want full custody of the boy? Son, it's up to you now.” He finally had the chance to get out from under, if that was what he wanted. And however much it might hurt, Oliver was willing to back him up, whatever he wanted. But Benjamin knew he had only one choice. He wanted his son back, and even if it meant never going back to school, and working at any job he had to, he was going to keep his son and bring him up, no matter what it took to do it. It was the kind of sentiment one couldn't argue with, and Oliver didn't want to. He told Benjamin to sit tight and he'd call him back. He called him back half an hour later, and told him to meet him at the offices of Loeb and Loeb in Century City at four o'clock.

Benjamin was there ten minutes early and the lawyer they saw was a kindly man who had handled cases of far greater importance. But they were the attorneys for Ollie's firm, and they were willing to help them.

“If this is really what you want, young man, I don't think it's quite as complicated as it looks. I've spoken to all the parties involved today, and the authorities, and things are pretty clear. Your paternity of the child does not appear to be in question. The girl has already signed papers stating that she wants to give up the baby. If she will confirm that to us, in writing, and we've not yet been able to speak to her, then you will have sole custody of the child, and eventually her maternal rights will be terminated. That's an awesome responsibility, Benjamin, and you ought to think it over seriously before you decide to do it.”

“I already have, sir. And I know that's what I want. I love him.” His eyes filled with tears and with his bright red hair and freckles, he looked like a child himself. And Oliver had to fight back tears as he watched him. He had already made up his mind to do everything he could to help him.

“Mrs. Carter has told us that she will sign a statement attesting to your fine care of the boy, and your responsibility for the child. And that would pretty much wrap it up. She more or less suggested that she wouldn't mind a little 'gift' from you, or your father, but we have to be very careful about that. Child buying, or anything even remotely like it, is a criminal offense in this state, and I explained that to her. She was disappointed, but she still said she'd sign any statement we prepared. We have a court date in Bakers-field next week, and if everything goes smoothly, you should have your son back in your hands that afternoon.”

“What about in the meantime?” Benjamin once again looked frantic.

“There's nothing we can do till then. He's in good hands, and he's safe.” Benjamin looked unhappy about it, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do to change it, so he agreed to the court date the following week, and prayed that they'd be able to find Sandra in Maui, so she could sign whatever papers they needed to release Alex to him.

Chapter 26

The drive to Bakersfield was an anxious one for Benjamin, and Oliver took the day off to join him. Both men were silent and nervous, as they drove down, lost in their own thoughts about little Alex, and what he represented to them. … To Oliver, he symbolized new life and a new beginning, and it reminded him again of Charlie saying that she wanted to have children with him. Having little Alex around was going to be a reminder of what having a baby around was like, and a part of him was excited about it, while another part dreaded the chaos and confusion. But Benjamin had already promised to handle it all himself, with a little help from Agnes.

He tried to make small talk with Benjamin on the way down Highway 5, but the boy was too nervous. He and Aggie had set up a crib in his room, and he had bought six boxes of Pampers. He wanted to stop at Mrs. Carter's to get Alex's clothes, but Oliver had thought it would be better to do it on the way back. He was still afraid something might go wrong, and they wouldn't give Alex to them. They hadn't been able to reach Sandra on Maui, but the lawyer said there was a good chance they'd give him to Benjamin anyway, since she had signed the papers giving him up for adoption before she left for Hawaii.

The courthouse in Bakersfield was on Truxton Avenue, and Ollie left the car in the parking lot, and followed his son inside. It was the last week of August and the weather was blazing.

The lawyer was waiting for them inside, and Benjamin looked frightened as they took their places in the courtroom. He was wearing a navy jacket and khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and navy school tie. He looked like the student he might have been at Harvard. His hair was neatly combed, and Oliver smiled at him as the bailiff ordered them to rise.

“It's going to be all right, Son.” Ollie pressed his hand and Benjamin smiled weakly at him.

“Thanks, Dad.” But they both knew that nothing was ever certain, and the lawyer had warned them that something could go wrong. Nothing was ever guaranteed to anyone in a courtroom, and the judge looked serious as he addressed them from the bench.

The matter was set out before the court, Mrs. Carter's statement was read, and both Watsons were relieved not to see her. The papers Sandra had signed were introduced as evidence, and a probation report explained the circumstances the child would live in. He was to live in the Watson family's rented Bel Air home with Benjamin's father, sister, and younger brother, with a housekeeper to assist with the care of the child, while the father attended school at UCLA. He was to start summer school the following week, and he still had his part-time job at the bookstore. The judge looked nonplussed, and asked their attorney to approach the bench. They held a whispered conference for several minutes while the judge nodded, and then he addressed Benjamin and asked him to approach the bench as well. He told him to take the witness stand, and be sworn in, that there were some things he wanted to ask him, and Benjamin walked up the few steps with trembling knees and sat down staring at his father.

“I want you to understand, Mr. Watson, this is not a formal hearing, but this is a serious matter before the court, and a child's life hangs in the balance. Do you understand that?”

Benjamin looked pale but calm as he nodded. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“The child in question, Alexander William Carter, is your son? Do you acknowledge that fact?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Do you currently reside with the child's mother?”

“No, sir, I don't.”

“Did you ever reside with her, at any time?”

“Yes, for a year.”

“And were you ever married?”

“No, we weren't.”

“Have you ever supported the child, or his mother?”

“Yes, sir. For six months before Alex was born, and after that, until we broke up in March. And since then I've … my dad and I have been sending her money every month. Six hundred dollars.” The judge nodded and then went on with his questions.

“And are you aware of the kind of care necessary to a child his age?”

“Yes, sir, I took care of him myself until March. Sandra was … well, she was out a lot, and she didn't really know how to take care of a baby.”

“And you did?” The judge looked skeptical, but Benjamin seemed in control of the situation.

“No, I didn't. But I had to learn. I took care of him at night after work, and sometimes I took him with me. I had two jobs then, to pay for … well, everything … Sandra quit work before the baby.”

“But you took the baby to work with you?”

“Sometimes, when she was out. I didn't have anyone else to leave him with and we couldn't afford a sitter.” Nothing showed on the judge's face, and no matter what happened, Oliver had never been as proud of his son as he was at that moment. He was a fine man, a boy no longer, and a hell of a good father. He deserved to have the child in his custody. He hoped now that the judge would see it that way too.

“And now, you and the baby would live with your father?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that amenable to him? Has he agreed to this?” From where he sat Oliver nodded, and Benjamin said yes he had. “And what if you choose to leave your father's home, if, for instance, you drop out of school again, or find another girlfriend?”

“I'll take Alex with me. He's more important to me than anything. And if I drop out of school, I'll get a job to support him, just like I did before.”

“You may step down, Mr. Watson. The court calls a brief recess. We will reconvene in fifteen minutes.” He rapped the gavel and was gone, as Benjamin left the stand, outwardly calm, but soaked to the skin with perspiration.

“You did great,” the attorney whispered. “Just hang in there.”

“Why did he call a recess?” Oliver wanted to know.

“He probably wants to read the documents again, to make sure that everything's in order. But Benjamin did just fine. I'd give him my kids if he wanted them.” He smiled, trying to reassure them. And fifteen minutes later, after they had prowled the halls nervously, they took their seats again, and the judge returned.

He looked around the court, at Oliver, the attorney, and then straight at Benjamin, as he rapped his gavel. “Court is in session again. Don't rise, please stay seated,” and then his eyes bore into the boy's with sober words. “What you are attempting to undertake, young man, is an awesome burden. A responsibility you can never shirk, never forget, never avoid. You can't take a day off from being a father. You can't drop out, or change your mind, or decide not to be there. For the next eighteen years, if not longer, that baby would be your responsibility solely, if the court gives you full custody. However, you appear to have fulfilled that responsibility admirably thus far. I hereby admonish you to think seriously of what you are taking on here, to remember it every day of your life, and the boy's life, and never forget for one moment what you owe your son.

“The court hereby appoints Benjamin Oliver Watson sole guardian of Alexander William Carter. You have full custody of the boy, as of this day, the twenty-ninth of August. The termination of his mother's rights has been approved by the court, and will be final within the period prescribed by law. You may change the child's name to your own as of this date, or at that time, as you choose.” He looked down gently at him then and smiled, “The boy is yours, Mr. Watson.” He signaled to the bailiff then, who rose and opened a door. A social worker walked in, carrying the baby, who looked content and a little startled by the unfamiliar surroundings, as his father's eyes, and his grandfather's, and even the attorney's, filled with tears. “You may take Alexander home,” the judge said gently as the social worker walked straight up to Benjamin and handed Alex to his father, as the baby squealed his delight to see him there. They handed the attorney a small cardboard box with his few belongings, a pair of pajamas, a pair of overalls, and a bear Benjamin had given him when he was born. They were all crying then, and laughing as Benjamin looked up at the judge in amazement.

“Thank you, sir … oh thank you, sir!” And then the judge stood up, and quietly left the bench. The attorney escorted them from the courtroom, as Benjamin held the boy, and Oliver patted his son on the shoulder, and then shook the attorney's hand and thanked him. Benjamin got into the back of the car and held tightly to his baby before strapping him into the safety seat they'd brought with him.

They decided not to go back to Alice Carter's to get the rest of Alex's belongings. Suddenly, Benjamin never wanted to see her again. All he wanted was to take his son home and keep him near him forever. He even hated to start school the next day. He didn't want to leave him for a moment.

They drove home slowly for a change of pace on Highway 99, and Benjamin talked excitedly as the baby cooed. He talked about the judge, the court, and finally Sandra. The social worker had told the attorney from Loeb and Loeb that Sandra had been definite and clear. She knew she couldn't handle the responsibility of the baby, and she didn't want to try. Without Benjamin to take care of him for her, all she wanted was to escape him. The waiting period now was only a formality. No one anticipated any problems, and all Benjamin had to do now was file the paper to change the child's last name to his own, but Loeb and Loeb was going to do that for them in L.A. County.

“Well, sir, what do you think about all this?” he chatted happily with his baby. “Do you think you're going to like living with Grampa and Mel and Sam?” Alex gurgled and pointed at a passing truck as Ollie smiled proudly at him.

“If he doesn't, he can sleep in the garage with that damn noisy guinea pig of Sam's,” the boy's grandfather pretended to growl. But it was obvious how much he loved him.

Mel and Sam and Aggie were waiting for them in the kitchen. They had waited there with bated breath for most of the afternoon. At first, all Mel saw was her father alone in the front seat and she thought something had gone wrong. And then suddenly, her brother got out of the backseat, holding his baby, and she let out a yell and ran to him, as Alex stared at her with wide eyes.

“Watch out … don't scare him … this is all new to him.” Benjamin was fiercely protective of him, as the baby let out a wail. But Aggie had a cookie for him, and Sam held up the guinea pig to show him, as the baby started to laugh, and tried to touch its nose as it wiggled.

Aggie had found a high chair somewhere and set it up in the kitchen, as Oliver opened a bottle of champagne for his son, and even poured a few drops for Sam.

“To Alexander Watson!” he toasted with a broad smile, feeling the weight of the afternoon slip slowly from his shoulders. “May he live a long and happy life, with the best daddy of all.”

“Oh no,” Benjamin turned to smile at him, “That's you, Dad.”

“It's both of you,” Mel toasted with a smile, and everyone's eyes were damp as they grinned and looked happily at the baby.

Chapter 27

Benjamin started classes the next day, but he drove home twice to check on Alex, despite Aggie's insistence that she didn't need any help from him. But it was as though Benjamin couldn't stand being away from him again, and he needed to see him. And when he came home at the end of the day, Alexander was sitting in his high chair, happily demolishing the dinner Aggie had lovingly cooked him.

And when Charlotte came over that night, she insisted on singing to him as she rocked him and helped Benjamin put him to bed, and Mel, Aggie, and Oliver stood protectively by, and Sam dropped his favorite teddy into the baby's crib. It was the one he'd been given by Sarah the first time he'd visited her in Boston.

Alex let out a tentative wail when they all left the room, but a moment later, he was silent.

“He's going to be spoiled rotten by next week,” Oliver pretended to disapprove, but it was obvious to Charlotte that Ollie was planning to become one of the chief spoilers.

“How does it feel having a baby in the house again?”

“Like good practice. He woke us all up at six o'clock this morning. But I have to admit, Benjamin is terrific with him. Better even than Aggie,” he whispered.

“You look pretty adept yourself. I always feel so awkward around babies.”

Oliver pulled her close to him, and that weekend they took Alex to the zoo alone, without his father. It felt terrific to both of them, and for once, no one disturbed them, or ran up to her for autographs. Several people looked, but eventually they all decided she couldn't be Charlotte Sampson. They were just a happy couple, taking their baby to the zoo, on a September Sunday. And only the large diamond on her left hand suggested that she might be someone moneyed or important, but no one even noticed.

It was particularly a relief for her because the press had been hounding her since the Emmy nominations in August. She and the show had been nominated again this year. The awards were the following week, and everyone wanted to be prepared with stories about the nominees, but Charlotte wanted to be left alone. She was afraid that too much press beforehand might jinx her. She was back at work, getting up at four every morning, and at the studio by five for hair and makeup. At night, Oliver picked her up and either took her out for a quiet dinner somewhere, or brought her back to his place for dinner with the children. They were all excited about the December wedding, and they still hadn't decided where to go for a honeymoon, Hawaii, Bora Bora, or maybe skiing. Sam felt that wherever they went, he ought to go with them, but so far Ollie wasn't buying. No guinea pigs, no kids, no babies on this honeymoon. They dealt with enough in their daily lives without dragging it all with them on their honeymoon, no matter how much he loved his children.

The following week, Charlotte's big moment was approaching and there was no way she could avoid it any longer. The press were waiting outside at the studio almost daily. They even followed her to Giorgio when she bought her dress, a slinky black sequined and beaded affair by Bob Mackie. And she had gone back to buy a dress for Mel, a beautiful pink satin Oscar de la Renta. Oliver had growled about spoiling Mel, and Charlotte had told him to mind his own business. They had had a ball, trying on gowns and giggling, as Charlotte selected several other beautiful gowns for herself, and Mel played with the hats and costume jewelry.

The big day finally came, and Charlotte and Oliver left the house with Benjamin and Mel in a block-long limousine, while Aggie and Sam settled down to watch the awards on TV. Alex was still awake when they left, happily smearing chocolate cookies all over himself, the couch, and his pajamas. He had just turned a year old the day before and had taken his first steps on his birthday.

They arrived at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium, and Charlotte looked deceptively calm as she stepped out of the car and took Ollie's arm, with Mel and Benjamin just behind them. It was the most exciting night of the children's lives, and Ollie could feel the tension too. Charlotte's palms were damp, and as the paparazzi flocked, he could feel her gently tremble. And once they took their seats in the auditorium the cameras focused in on them constantly. Dozens of stars came over to talk to them once they'd sat down, and finally the ceremony got under way with the usual assortment of lesser awards to begin with. It seemed to take hours to get to the more important ones, and by then, Sam was yawning and half asleep at home, and Alex was sound asleep in Aggie's arms, but in Pasadena, all was electricity and tension. They called out the nominees for the best show, and Mel and Benjamin let out a yell when it was hers. Both producers ran down the aisle while their wives cried, and Charlotte grinned from ear to ear as she clung tightly to Ollie. She was pleased for the producers and insisted to herself that she didn't need more than to be on a winning show, and turned her attention to the awards for best actor.

A good friend of hers won on a rival show, and she was thrilled for him. And then the big moment came. At last it was her turn. And she could hardly bear it. All her life she had told herself that fame wasn't important, and yet it was. She had worked so hard for this, and whether she won or not, in her heart of hearts, she knew she had earned it.

The cameras zoomed in on her again and again, as she held Ollie's hand, and he silently prayed for her. For her sake, he wanted her to win. The other actresses' names were called too, and then a long, long pause, while someone asked for “The envelope please,” and then like a bolt of lightning through his heart he heard her name, and she stared at him, and she put a hand over her mouth, unable to believe she'd actually won this time. And he gently prodded her to her feet, and she was suddenly hurrying down the aisle toward the stage, with her flaming hair softly pulled up in curls, and the beautiful black beaded dress molding her incredible figure. “I don't believe it!” she had said before she left her seat, and she looked shaken and smiling as she addressed her colleagues and her friends at the microphone, clutching the Emmy.

“I … I don't know what to say,” she laughed, “I don't have anything prepared because I never thought I'd win … I want to thank the producers and the directors and the writers and the actors and the cameramen, and all of the magical people who made this possible … my acting coach, John Drum, for being crazy enough to get me the job … my agent for talking me into it … Annie, you were right! … and most important of all,” she looked straight at him, “my family … my soon-to-be husband, Oliver, who puts up with me so lovingly … and our children, Benjamin and Melissa and Sam.” There were tears in her eyes then, and in Ollie's, too. Sam was too stunned to move as he watched at home. “I love you all, and I hope I can do an even better job next year.” She took the Emmy then, waved to colleagues and fans, and left the stage to hurry back to her seat. The fanfare started then, the show was over, but the press almost crushed her in her seat, as Oliver shielded her, and kissed her, and she kissed him and Benjamin and Mel, and pressed their hands. It was a wild, exciting night, and they took the children home, and opened a bottle of champagne with them, and Aggie and Sam, before she and Ollie went back to the parties where they would celebrate all night. It was an evening she would never forget. She had really made it.

The phone rang before they left, it was Margaret and his father calling to congratulate Charlotte. And Aggie was still crying tears of joy when Charlie called her own folks in Nebraska, and they were crying too. It was a magical night, and she still couldn't believe she'd won as Benjamin toasted her, and they all talked and laughed and grinned and watched a rerun of it on the news before leaving for their round of parties.

“I never thought I'd win,” she said to Ollie again and again as they drove from Bel Air back to Beverly Hills.

“I knew you would!” He was so proud of her, and it was extraordinary to be a part of it with her. It was 4:00 A.M. when they finally got home, and she collapsed in her own bed, with Ollie lying next to her. The Emmy was staring at them from her dressing table across the room, and she couldn't help grinning as they watched it.

“He's pretty cute,” Oliver smiled, too tired even to loosen his tie.

“Not as cute as you,” she rolled over and smiled in the exquisite dress. “You look a lot better to me.” She was a little drunk, and a lot overwhelmed by all that had happened.

“You're crazy, do you know that? You're the biggest star in Hollywood, and what are you doing with me?”

“Loving you. Let's get pregnant tonight.”

“Behave yourself. You're about to become the mother of three kids.” Three kids who were incredibly proud of her, just as their father was. “And a grand- son!” They both laughed at the thought of her becoming a grandmother.

And she just beamed. It had been an unforgettable night. For all of them.

He kissed her then, and five minutes later, she was asleep in his arms, still dressed, with the Emmy staring at them in all its glory. She looked like a child as he gazed down at her, unable to believe that this remarkable woman was almost his. He left her at six o'clock in the morning to get ready to go to work. The kids were still asleep when he got home, and there was an aura of unreality about the night before. But it had happened. It was true. She had won the award, and in three months she would be his wife. It was incredible to think about. And he could hardly wait. Three months seemed much too long now … he smiled to himself in the shower … three months … and then he and Charlie would be married.

Chapter 28

The next week was wild, with press following her everywhere. She got a huge bonus from the show, and they upped her contract for the following year. But she got dozens of other offers too, for specials and mini-series, and movies made for TV, three feature films, and then the offer she had waited a lifetime for. Her agent called her at the studio, and she didn't know what to say to her. She wanted to do it more than anything, but she said she had to talk it over with Oliver. He had a right to a voice in the decision too. It was an important decision for her, and it meant a lot of things. Like begging her way out of her contract on the show that had brought her the Emmy. Or even breaking the contract, if she had to.

She looked nervous when he picked her up that night after work, and they were going to have a quiet evening at her place to discuss their wedding trip. He was pushing hard for Bora Bora. But before he even brought the brochures out, he knew that something had happened.

“Charlie, what's wrong?” He had good instincts for her now, and it was unusual for her to be so tense with him. But she didn't waste any time telling him. She'd been offered a Broadway play, a serious one, the kind she had always wanted to do, and it was an opportunity that might never come again. And they were going into rehearsal in December. It would mean going to New York for at least a year, more if it had a long run, maybe even at least two.

He sat looking at her, stunned, not believing his ears, or the look on her face. She was clearly torn. And he felt as though his heart would break. “What about the show?” What about me, he wanted to scream.

“I'd have to get out of my contract. My agent thinks that if we do it right, they might let me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don't know. It always has been. For me, Broadway has always been the pinnacle, the ultimate, the epitome of serious acting.”

She was honest with him, she always had been. “I'm telling you exactly what I know. I haven't made my mind up yet. I told my agent I had to talk to you first. But … Ollie … I've always wanted to do a Broadway play, especially one like this.”

“What does that mean for us? And what am I supposed to do for two years? Sit out here? I can't leave the office here, I've only been here for a year, and this is an important spot for me, probably for a very long time, if not for good. My kids are all in schools. I can't walk out on them, or uproot them again. They've been through that twice already in a year. I can't do it, Charlie. I can't drop everything and go, no matter how much I'd love to see you do what you want.” He had to think of his career and his family too. But she looked agonized. She didn't want to give it up, even for him, and it showed.

“I could commute.” But he looked as though he'd been electrified as she said the words, and he leapt to his feet and started to pace the room in silence.

“Don't give me that, Charlie,” he finally said. “I've been through that once with a woman I loved. She didn't even start to try to commute. But even if you do, how long do you think it would last? Flying 'redeyes' from here to there, spending a day together once a week. It's ridiculous, it wouldn't work. We haven't even built our relationship yet, and you want to put it under that kind of strain? I'd rather call it quits now. It would be a lot less painful for both of us, than waiting to do it a year from now. Forget it. I don't want to hear about 'commute.'” He tried to calm down then, and think of her. “Look, Charlie, you have to do what's right for you.” He loved her enough to let her do that, no matter what it did to him. He knew he had no right to stand in her way, and if he did, they'd lose in the end anyway. He had learned that lesson the hard way too. “Think about it, do what you want.” He closed his eyes for a brief instant of crushing pain, but he had lived through pain before, and loss, and despair. He'd survive it again. And he was willing to, for her. “I think you probably should do it. You'd always regret it if you turned it down, and we'd pay the price for it anyway. Go for it, baby … go for the brass ring. You have a right to it. You're at the top of your career now. These opportunities will never come again. But don't expect me to commute … or believe we can have everything. We can't. Sometimes you have to make choices in life. Just make the right one for you. That's all I want for you.” There were tears in his eyes then, and he turned away so she wouldn't see them.

“Are you telling me it would be all over for us if I go?” She looked stunned, and heartbroken too.

“I am. But not because I want to force your hand, or make you stay here for me. I'm just telling you I've been through something like this once, and I can't do it again. It doesn't work. We'll lose in the end anyway. And I can't go through that again. I'd rather wish you well, and kiss you good-bye with tears in my heart. But better now, than in a year or two, maybe even with a kid. And I don't think my kids could go through the loss again in any case. And I have to think of them too. I love you, Charlie. I love you enough to let you do whatever you want to. I'm going home now. You think it out. And call me when it's over. I'll understand … honest, I will.” His eyes were damp and she was crying. She couldn't believe what he'd said, and yet she understood it. “Just don't let me read about it in the papers first.” And then without looking back, he left and drove home to his own place.

Sam was still up when he got there, and he was playing with the guinea pig in the kitchen, as Oliver walked in looking as though he'd been run over on the Santa Monica Freeway.

“Hi, Dad.” He looked up with a grin and then stopped, forgetting the guinea pig for once. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I had a terrible day at the office. I'm going to bed.” He ruffled Sam's hair and went straight up to his room, without saying another word. And Sam ran right up to his sister's bedroom, with a look of terror.

“Something's wrong with Dad!” he reported. “He just came home and he was green.”

“Maybe he's sick. Did you ask him what was wrong?”

“He just said he had a bad day at the office.”

“Maybe he did. Why don't you just relax and leave him alone? He'll probably be fine in the morning.”

But the next morning he wasn't. They all noticed it. He was quiet and pale, and he didn't say a word. He came down late, and he didn't touch his eggs, as Sam looked pointedly at his sister.

“You sick, Dad?” She tried to sound casual. And without meaning to, Sam hit the nail on the head. His father almost flinched at the boy's words.

“You have a fight with Charlie last night?”

“No, of course not.” But she hadn't called after he'd left, and he hadn't been able to sleep all night. The terror of losing her was more than he could bear. And at what price. He loved her too much to try to hang on to something he could never have, just as he had discovered he had never really had Sarah.

He left for the office that morning feeling like a zombie, and he almost shuddered when his secretary told him that afternoon that Charlotte was waiting in his outer office. Suddenly he was afraid to let her in, afraid to see her, afraid to hear what she was going to tell him. He felt trapped when the secretary let her in with a look of awe, and he didn't stand up because suddenly his legs didn't feel strong enough to hold him.

“Are you okay?” Charlie looked at him worriedly, and walked slowly toward the desk, her eyes gripping his, her face pale, but no paler than Ollie's.

“You've made a decision, haven't you?”

She nodded, and slumped in the chair across his desk. “I had to come now. It's going to be on the news at six o'clock. The producers of the play made a deal with the network, and they've agreed to write me out of the show by Christmas.” … Christmas … their wedding day … almost.

“And you'll do the play?” He could hardly force the words out.

She nodded slowly, with a look of tension in her eyes. “I guess so.” And then reaching out and taking both his hands in her own, she begged him, “Can't we work this out? Can't we at least try a compromise? I love you. Nothing has changed.” She looked desperate, but Ollie knew better.

“Not now maybe. Not yet. But eventually, it'll just be too much. We'll be strangers. You'll live in New York, with your own life, your play. I'll be here, with my job and the children. What kind of life is that?”

“Difficult, challenging, but worthwhile. Other people have done it and survived. Ollie, I swear I'll do all the commuting.”

“How? You have two days off. One day to fly here, one day to go back. What does that leave us? A night at the airport? How long do you think that would last?” He stood up finally, and walked around the desk to face her. “You've made the right choice. You're a talented woman, Charlotte. You have a right to the best.”

“But I love you.”

“I love you too. But I can't make something work that isn't going to. I've learned that lesson before. The hard way' The scars were too deep, the pain too great, and as he looked at the woman he loved, he knew he had already lost her.

“What happens now?” She looked broken, but she didn't fight him.

“We hurt for a while. We both grow up. We go on. You have your work. I have my kids. We take comfort from that, and eventually it stops hurting.” Like it had with Sarah. It had only taken a year of constant agony. Only that. And the prospect of losing Charlotte seemed worse somehow, they had had so much hope and joy and love, so many plans, and now it was over.

“You make it sound awfully simple, Ollie.” She looked at him with grief-stricken eyes, and he gently reached out and took her hands in his own.

“That's the only trouble. It isn't.”

She left his office a few minutes later in tears, and he poured himself a stiff drink at the bar before going home, to find Aggie and Sam watching the news as they fed Alex dinner. The announcer was just telling greater L.A. that there was a rumor that Charlotte Sampson was leaving her show and going to New York to be in a play on Broadway.

Sam laughed out loud, as Aggie handed the baby another cookie. “That's dumb, isn't it, Dad? Charlie's not going to New York. She's staying here, and we're getting married.” He looked up at his father with a broad smile, and suddenly his face froze. Ollie looked glazed as he turned from the TV to Sam and shook his head, as though in a stupor.

“No. I don't think so, Son. She's had a very good offer to do an important play. It means a lot to her, Sam.” Aggie and the boy both stared at him, as Benjamin let himself into the kitchen and saw the drama unfolding, without knowing what had caused it. Alex let out a squeal and reached chubby arms up to his father, but for once, no one seemed to hear him.

“Are we going back to New York, too, Dad?” Sam looked both frightened and hopeful, but his father shook his head, feeling as though he had aged a hundred years in a single day.

“We can't, Sam. You're all in school here. And I have an office to run. I can't just pull up stakes and move once a year.”

“But don't you want to?” Sam couldn't understand what had happened. But for that matter, neither could Ollie.

“Yes, I do. But I also don't want to interfere in someone else's life. She has her own life to lead, and we have ours.”

There was a moment's silence, and then Sam nodded, quietly wiping a tear from his cheek as Benjamin and his father watched him. “Kind of like Mom, huh?”

“Kind of.”

Sam nodded and left the room, as Benjamin gently touched his father's arm, and Aggie took Alex out of the high chair and took him with her to check on Sam. It was easy to figure out that hard times had struck again, and Sam was going to take it hard. He had been crazy about Charlotte. But then again, so had his father.

“Is there anything I can do, Dad?” Benjamin asked quietly, touched by the look of grief in Ollie's eyes. But Oliver only shook his head, squeezed Benjamin's arm, and went upstairs to his own room. He lay on his bed thinking of her all that night, and he felt as though he'd been beaten in a bar brawl by morning.

It wasn't fair that it was happening to him again. It wasn't fair that he was losing her. As he lay in bed alone, he wanted to hate her, but he couldn't. He loved her too much, and the irony of it struck him with full force again in the morning, after a sleepless night, as he threw out the brochures of Bora Bora. He had a knack for falling in love with women who wanted more out of life than just plain marriage. He couldn't imagine ever loving anyone again. And as he stared out the window, thinking of her, he couldn't hold back the tears. He wanted her desperately, but he knew it would never work. He had to let her go, no matter how painful it was to break the bonds that had held him.

He wanted to call her all day, but he forced himself not to. The papers were full of her that day, and for several days, but she never called him. And it was Thanksgiving before he could hear her name without flinching. He longed for her to leave for New York so he wouldn't be tempted to drive by her house, or stop by the studio to see her. She would be gone, to another life, far from his own. Forever.

Chapter 29

The day before Thanksgiving, Sarah arrived to take Mel and Sam to San Francisco with her to see friends. She had even agreed to take Aggie and Alex, and Benjamin was going to get in some early skiing at Squaw Valley. Sarah had finished her book a few weeks before, and Oliver thought she looked well. The odd thing was that when he kissed her on the cheek, she felt like a stranger. He never longed for her anymore, and now her perfume was an unfamiliar smell. The woman who haunted his dreams at night was Charlie. His heart still ached each time she came to mind or he saw her name in the papers.

“When are you getting married, Ollie?” Sarah asked as she held Alex on her knee the morning they left, and Oliver looked startled.

“I thought the children would have told you.” His voice was tense and quiet.

“Told me what?” She seemed surprised, as the baby drooled happily all over her clean shirt. Aggie had gone to get the children's things, and Sarah was waiting in the kitchen.

“Charlotte's doing a Broadway play. She should be leaving pretty soon, in fact. And, well … we decided that was a better move for her than marriage.” He smiled gamely, but Sarah wasn't fooled. She knew him too well. And she felt desperately sorry for the pain she knew he felt. It was different from what she had gone through with Jean-Pierre, but loss of any kind was painful. “Guess I just have a knack for falling for that kind of lady. The smart ones with ambitions of their own.”

“You'll find the right one, one of these days, Ollie, you deserve to.” And she really meant it.

“I'm not sure I'd have time for her, if I did,” he smiled to hide his sorrow, glancing at Alex, “this guy keeps us all on our toes all the time.” Benjamin took him from his mother then, and took him out to the car to put him in his car seat in Sarah's rented Pontiac wagon. He hated to leave the baby at all, but Oliver had insisted that the skiing would do him good. And he himself was happy that Sarah was taking the children. The punch of losing Charlie was still too great and Oliver felt anything but festive.

Sarah and the younger children left a little while later, and Benjamin's friends picked him up only moments later. Ollie was alone in the house, trying to get through a stack of bills and mail. It seemed strangely silent, and as Ollie leaned back in his chair, he sighed, as though trying to decide if he liked it. Too quickly, he found himself thinking of Charlie again, and even Sarah. He wondered if things could ever have been different, with either of them, but deep in his heart, he knew they couldn't. Maybe if they'd done things differently at first, Sarah wouldn't have bolted later, he thought to himself as he sat back at his desk, and then realized it was a foolish thought. She would have done what she'd done anyway. She was meant to be free, and live alone, and write her novels. As Charlie was, with her Broadway play. Megan, in her penthouse in New York. And even Daphne, with the man who would never leave his wife in Greenwich.

It only irked him that Charlie had made such an issue about marriage and children and “real life” being so important to her, and then in the end, she had made the same choices as the rest. Independence. Her play, New York. With a promise to commute that would never have happened, no matter how good her intentions.

It was late that afternoon before he left his desk again, and went to make himself a sandwich. And then he saw her standing there, hesitating, near her car in the driveway. It was Charlie, he realized, in a T-shirt and jeans, with her hair in the familiar pigtails that made her look more like one of Mel's friends, than the woman who had broken his heart and their engagement. She stood there for a long time, staring at him through the window, and he didn't know whether to open the door to her or not. He thought it was cruel of her to come to say good-bye if she had. And then finally, unable to resist the pull he still felt for her, he walked to the door and pulled it slowly open. And she walked up to him looking very nervous.

“I didn't know if you'd be here or not. … I was going to leave you a note …” He saw she held it in her hand, but he didn't want to read it. “I guess I should have called before I came by.”

“Mailing it might have been a lot simpler.” He had nothing left to say to her now. He had said it all. And cried too often.

She looked beyond him then, into the kitchen, as though hoping to see the children but the room was empty and silent.

“How is everyone?” Her eyes sought his, and he nodded, still wondering why she had come.

“Okay.”

“I still miss them,” she admitted, looking sad and feeling guilty. She had never come by to explain any of it to them. She knew it would have been too painful.

“They miss you too.”

“How's the baby?”

“Fine.” Ollie smiled. “Benjamin is great with him.”

“Where are they all?”

“Away for Thanksgiving.” For a mad moment, he wanted to invite her in, but that wouldn't get them anywhere except straight into more pain. And then, with a shrug, he stepped back, and waved her in. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded and followed him into the kitchen, thinking how handsome he was, and how much she still loved him. She looked around and slipped the note she had brought back in her pocket.

“When do you leave for New York?”

She seemed to hesitate, as though she wasn't sure what to say to him. She knew how badly she had hurt him, and there was no way to repair it. And now there was so much to explain. She didn't know where to start, or even if she should, as he watched her. “That's a long story.”

“You must be excited.” He tried to keep his voice noncommittal, but it wasn't. In it were anger and grief and hurt and the love for her that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he had tried to kill it.

“A lot's been happening,” she tried to explain. The last few weeks had been hell for her, but she didn't tell him that. She could see in his eyes that it was too late. She had been foolish to come, and now she knew it.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he offered. Part of him wanted her to leave, so he could be alone with his grief again, but part of him wanted her to stay. Forever.

She looked at him long and hard, and despite the pigtails, her eyes said she was not a girl, but a woman. They were the eyes of someone who had paid a price for what she'd done. And then she spoke very softly. “I'm not going to Broadway, Ollie.”

“You're not?” He looked thunderstruck. What the hell did she mean? She had told him. And after that he had seen it on the news and read it in the papers. What had changed? And when and why?

“No, I'm not. I'm staying with the show here.”

“Wouldn't they let you out of your contract?”

“They would have, but …” He waited, stunned, for the rest of the story. “I decided it was wrong to go.”

“For your career?” It was barely a whisper.

“For us. Although I guess it's too late now. But it was the wrong thing to do and I finally understood that. I kept talking about how much marriage and family meant to me, and then I was willing to dump every-thing and run, no matter how much it hurt all of us, you, and me, and the children.

“It was the wrong thing to do. It was too high a price to pay for giving up someone I loved, no matter how much I thought I wanted to do it. It wasn't right, so I turned it down. And even if I don't get any of you back, turning them down was the right thing to do.” She smiled a bittersweet smile. “I felt better as soon as I did it.”

Oliver looked stunned as he looked at her, and then he grinned. “They must have been furious.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “That's the end of Broadway, I guess. But the network loves me.” And then, “I was afraid to call you, Ollie.”

“Why?”

“Because I hurt you so much. One minute I leave you to go to New York, and the next minute I come back and tell you everything's okay. I couldn't do that to you. That's what the note is about. I thought I'd let you know before you read about it somewhere, and I figured if you wanted to get in touch with me, you would. But I didn't really think you'd want to.” She looked as though she expected nothing more from him, but would regret what she'd done till her dying day. And then, to lighten the moment as he absorbed it, she looked around the kitchen for Charlie's cage. “How's my namesake, by the way?” The guinea pig was nowhere to be seen, and Ollie grinned at her, feeling a ten-thousand-pound weight lift from his shoulders.

“He's relegated to the garage in Sam's absence, the noisy little bastard. I have enough trouble sleeping at night, without listening to him play.”

She looked more than a little apologetic. “I haven't been sleeping all that well either. I really screwed things up royally, Ollie, didn't I?” Her voice was soft and sad as he nodded.

“Could be.” He smiled slowly at her. “Maybe … maybe not. It's what you do in the end, that counts in life. We all stumble along the way.” They were still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, their lives in the balance, their eyes full of fear and pain and tension. They had so much to lose … and so much to gain, depending on what he did now.

“I've missed you, Ollie. I'm going to miss you for a long, long time if you don't forgive me.” She loved him enough to come back and ask him to forgive her. “Every day I wanted to call you … to come over … to tell you I was sorry … what a total fool I was … how wrong I was to think that the play on Broadway mattered more than you did. It was a stinking decision to make, even if I came to my senses in the end.”

“But it was honest,” he defended her, “it was what you'd always wanted. You had a right to that, Charlie.”

“I wanted you more. I just didn't know it for sure till I lost you. And then it was too late.” His eyes told her that it was, and she was sorry she had come then, but he was moving slowly toward her with an odd look on his face.

“Who told you that?” he whispered as he pulled her closer. “Who told you it was too late? And who tells you that you were wrong and I was right? A thousand times I told myself that I could have moved back to New York with you, that we could have moved into the house in Purchase, what right did I have to stand in your way?”

“You had every right … you had your kids to think of too. All I was thinking of was myself.”

“And now?” He could barely get the words out as he held her. He still loved her so much. It hurt just standing this close to her again.

“Ollie, I love you so much.” She barely breathed the words, and then slowly he kissed her. It was all he had wanted to hear, all he had cared about, all he had lived for after she went away.

“I love you too … you'll never know how much I miss you. I thought I'd go crazy for a while. …”

“So did I.” She was smiling suddenly, as he swept her off her feet and carried her through the house while she laughed. “Where are you taking me?” Suddenly she was happy again. She was in the arms of the man she loved. He didn't hate her, and he had been as unhappy as she was. She had been such a fool, but thank God she hadn't left to do the play on Broadway.

“What are you doing?”

He marched solemnly up the stairs toward his bedroom. “Taking you to my bed where you belong, until you learn to behave yourself … goddamn famous actress … don't ever pull a stunt like that again!” He railed as she laughed and he carried her through his bedroom doorway. It looked familiar and warm and wonderful as she looked up into his eyes.

“Ollie, I'm so sorry….” He was still holding her, as though he would never let her go this time, but he smiled at her.

“Don't be. I was as big a fool as you were.”

“And now?” She looked up at him, as he deposited her on his bed.

“I figure we're both fools and we deserve each other.”

She smiled as she held her arms out to him, and as they lay in his bed for most of the next four days, it was a magical weekend. The kids found her in her jeans and his shirt, barefoot in the kitchen, when Sarah dropped them off Sunday night on her way to the airport. She came in to say good-bye to Oliver, but only briefly, and she looked intrigued when she saw Charlotte, looking tousled and happy in the kitchen.

“Is that who I think it is?” Sarah whispered with a smile, as Oliver walked her to the car. He had tried to introduce them, but Sam and Alex had made so much noise, it was impossible to hear anything, and Charlotte looked faintly embarrassed to be found barefoot in Oliver's kitchen.

“It is.”

“Does this mean you're moving to New Yoik?” Sarah looked faintly amused, and pleased for him as she slid behind the wheel of her car. She and the children had had a very good weekend.

“No, I'm not moving to New York.” He looked faintly smug, and tried to pretend he wasn't.

“She's staying.”

“She is?” Sarah looked impressed, and he smiled at her.

“I got lucky, I guess.” This time.

“No, Ollie.” She smiled up at him, the past no longer painful for either of them. “She's a smart girl. Congratulations to both of you, or am I premature?”

“A little.” He grinned, and they both laughed.

“Good luck then.” She waved and backed out of the driveway, and he walked back into the kitchen, still feeling startled as he saw Charlotte with one arm around Sam, and holding Alex with the other, talking animatedly with Mel above their heads, as Aggie made hot chocolate amid the confusion.

“I can't believe how lucky I am,” she whispered to Ollie as they sat at the kitchen table.

“I'm the lucky one.”

“We both are.” She thought of the ring she had had sent back to him and wondered what had happened to it. She glanced at her hand as she thought of it, and as she looked up, she saw that Oliver was laughing. “What's so funny?”

“You are. And in answer to your question, I threw it away.” In truth, he hadn't had the heart to send it back to the store, and it was in the safe in his bedroom closet.

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because I'm smarter than I used to be, and I love you.” They exchanged a long, slow smile over the baby's head, and Oliver felt as though a miracle had happened. A miracle that had brought her back to him, whether or not he thought he deserved it. “Will you exchange it for a plain gold one?” He wanted to grab her before she changed her mind again, or another play came up, or a film or a handsome leading man. He wasn't even sure he'd be willing to wait another four weeks till Christmas.

But she was nodding in answer to his question. And the look in her eyes told him all he needed to know. She had come back to stay and she would have it all, her life with him and her career, for as long as she wanted. And this time, they both knew she could do it.

She had made her choice. And her choice was to be with him, and the children.

But she had her show too. And an Emmy, and a guinea pig, and the man she loved, three wonderful kids, and even a built-in grandchild. And children of her own, if that was what she wanted. He was ready to give it all to her. He had learned a lot, too, in her absence.

“When?” The look in his eyes was fiery as he took Alex from her lap and handed him to Aggie. And she carried him, and led Sam swiftly out of the kitchen, leaving them alone to settle their future.

“Tomorrow? Next week?” Charlotte was suddenly laughing at him as she answered.

“No later.” He scowled as he pulled her close to him, and bent down to kiss her, just as Benjamin walked in, with his ski bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry, Dad,” he grinned with pleasure when he saw Charlotte. Oliver gestured over his shoulder, and Benjamin scurried out of the room, still grinning, as Ollie bent to kiss Charlotte again and they both started to laugh.

“Next weekend?” he asked again, amused but getting desperate.

“Tomorrow.” She smiled quietly, setting the wedding date they'd almost lost until she came to her senses.

“I love you,” Oliver whispered, feeling her heart pound next to him, and almost as loudly.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, and in the distance, they could hear the children thundering up the stairs. They were laughing and discussing the good news, and by week's end, it would all be in the papers, and it was, but by then Charlotte Sampson and Oliver Watson were already married and had gone to Hawaii for a week, with her producers' permission. The paparazzi were, predictably, waiting for them when they got home, and snapped dozens of pictures at the airport.

Benjamin and Alex were waiting for them. Benjamin was smiling broadly, and Alex was sound asleep in his arms, happy and peaceful with his daddy.

“I hope ours is as cute as that,” she whispered to Oliver as they followed Benjamin to the baggage claim, and he put an arm around his wife, and smiled. He wasn't worried about that. He had it all, the life he had wanted, and a woman who made it all worthwhile. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was the luckiest man alive.

“All set?” he asked, as Benjamin helped him carry the bags. And as they walked slowly outside, a woman came rushing up to them, with a squeal of excitement.

“Aren't you … aren't you Charlotte Sampson?”

“No,” Charlie shook her head pleasantly with a smile, “the name's Watson.”

“Oh.” The woman apologized, and disappeared as the threesome laughed, the baby slept, and Oliver and Charlie went home to their children.

a cognizant original v5 release october 14 2010

Published by

Dell Publishing

a division of

Random House, Inc.

Copyright © 1989 by Danielle Steel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Delacorte Press, New York, New York.

The trademark Dell® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

eISBN: 978-0-307-56640-9

v3.0

Table of Contents

DADDY

Daddy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29