Fine things

“She might be,” the doctor answered. “And I can't really tell you that forcing her to come in for chemo is going to make a lot of difference. Maybe it won't do her any harm to take a week off. Why don't we postpone it till next week?”

He suggested it to Liz that afternoon, admitting that he had called the doctor and she scolded him, but she laughed when she did it. “You're getting sneaky in your old age, you know that?” She leaned over and kissed him, and he remembered the happy times and the first time he had come to the beach to see her.

“Remember when you sent me the bathing suits, Daddy? I still have them!” Jane loved them so much she would never give them away, even though she'd long since outgrown them. She was going on nine. And it was such a difficult time to be losing her mother. Alexander was fourteen months old, and on the day Liz would have been getting chemotherapy, he began walking. He lurched forward on the beach, and teetered toward Liz squealing in the sea breeze as they all laughed. And she looked at Bernie with victory.

“See! I was right not to go today!” But she had agreed to go the following week, “maybe.” She was in pain now, much of the time. But she still controlled it with pills. She didn't want to resort to shots yet. She was afraid that if she used the stronger medication too soon, it wouldn't work when she'd need it. She had been honest about it with Bernie.

And that night, after the baby walked, he asked her if she wanted to see Bill and Marjorie Robbins. He called but they were out, and instead she called Tracy, just to chat. They talked for a long time and laughed a lot. And she was smiling when she hung up. She loved Tracy.

On Saturday night she cooked them dinner, their favorite, steak. He did the barbecue, and she made baked potatoes and asparagus and hollandaise, and she made hot fudge sundaes for dessert. And Alexander dove into the fudge and smeared it all over his face while they laughed. She hadn't served his hot so he wouldn't burn himself and Jane reminded Bernie of the banana split he had bought her when she got lost at Wolffs. It seemed to be a time for remembering for all of them…Hawaii…their joint honeymoon …the wedding …their first summer at Stinson Beach …the first opera opening …first trip to Paris…. Liz talked to him all night that night, remembering all of it, and the next day she was in too much pain to get up, and he begged Johanssen to come and see her. Remarkably, he did, and Bernie was grateful to him. He gave her a shot of morphine, and she fell asleep with a smile, and woke again late that afternoon. Tracy had come to help him with the kids and she was out running with them on the beach, with Alexander in a backpack she had brought just for the occasion.

The doctor had left more medication for Liz, and Tracy knew how to administer the shots. It was a blessing having her there. And Liz didn't even wake up at dinnertime. The children ate quietly, and went to bed, and Liz suddenly called out to Bernie at midnight.

“Sweetheart? …Where's Jane?” He'd been reading and was surprised at how alert Liz looked. She looked as though she'd been awake all day and hadn't been sleeping or in pain. It was a relief to see her looking so well. She didn't even look as thin to him as she had before, and he suddenly wondered if this was the beginning of remission. But it was the beginning of something else and he didn't know it.

“Jane's in bed, sweetheart. Want something to eat?” She looked so well, he would have brought her the dinner she had missed, but she shook her head with a smile.

“I want to see her.”

“Now?”

Liz nodded and looked as though it were urgent, and feeling a little foolish, he put his robe on and tiptoed past Tracy asleep on the couch. She had decided not to go home after all, in case Liz needed a shot during the night, or Bernie needed her to help with the children in the morning.

Jane stirred for a moment as he kissed her hair and then her cheek and then she opened an eye and looked at Bernie. “Hi, Daddy,” she whispered sleepily and then sat up quickly. “Is Mommy okay?”

“She's fine. But she misses you. Want to come give her a good-night kiss?” Jane looked pleased to be called for something so important. She got out of bed immediately, and followed him to their room, where Liz looked wide awake and was waiting for her.

“Hi, baby.” She spoke in a strong, clear voice, and her eyes were bright as Jane bent to kiss her. She thought her mother had never looked more beautiful and she looked better to her too.

“Hi, Mommy. Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” She didn't even have the pain anymore. For the moment nothing hurt her. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

“Can I get into bed with you?” She looked hopeful and Liz smiled and pulled back the covers.

“Sure.” It was then that one saw how painfully thin she was, but her face looked as though it were filling out again. At least tonight anyway.

They whispered and chatted for a little while and eventually Jane began to fall asleep, and she opened her eyes one last time and smiled at Liz, who kissed her once more and told her how much she loved her. And then she fell asleep in her mother's arms and Bernie carried her back to her bed, and when he came back, Liz wasn't in bed. He looked in the bathroom and she wasn't there and then he heard her in the room next to theirs, and he found her leaning over Alexander's crib, stroking his soft blond curls. “Good night, pretty one …” He was such a beautiful baby, and she tiptoed back to their room quietly as Bernie watched her.

“You ought to get some sleep, sweetheart. You're going to be exhausted tomorrow.” But she looked so alert and so alive and she snuggled into his arms as they whispered. And he held her and stroked her breast and she purred and told him how much she loved him. It was as though she needed to reach out to each of them, to hang onto life, or perhaps to let go of it. She was just falling asleep when the sun came up. She and Bernie had talked almost all night, and he drifted off to sleep just as she did, holding her close to him, and feeling her warmth beside him. She opened her eyes once more, and saw him drifting off happily, and she smiled to herself and closed her eyes. And when Bernie awoke the next morning, she was gone. She had died quietly, in her sleep, in his arms. And she had said goodbye to each of them before she left them. He stood looking down at her for a long, long time, as she lay sleeping in the bed. It was difficult to believe that she wasn't sleeping. He had shaken her at first …and touched her hand …and then her face …and he had known, as a great sob wrenched from him and he locked their bedroom door from the inside so no one could come in, and slid open the glass windows that led to the beach. He let himself out and quietly closed the door and ran for a long, long time, feeling her next to him …running …and running …and running …

And when he came back, he walked into the kitchen, and found Tracy giving the kids breakfast. He looked at her, and she started chatting, and then suddenly she knew, and she stopped, looking at him, and he nodded. And he looked down at Jane, and sat down next to her, and he took her in his arms and told her the worst thing she would ever hear from him or anyone else. Ever.

“Mommy's gone, sweetheart. …”

“Gone where? … To the hospital again? …” She pulled away from him to see his face and then she took a sharp breath as she understood and she started to cry in his arms. It was a morning they would all remember for a lifetime.

Chapter 23

Tracy took the children home after breakfast and the people from Halsted's funeral parlor came at noon. Bernie sat alone in the house, waiting for them, with the bedroom door still locked, and finally, he went back through the sliding doors, and sat there with her, holding her hand, waiting for them to come. It was the last time they'd be alone, the last time they'd be in bed, the last time they'd be anything, but there was no point hanging onto it, he kept telling himself. She was already gone. But as he looked down at her and kissed her fingers, she didn't feel gone to him. She was part of his soul and his heart, and his life. And he knew she always would be. He heard the car from Halsted's drive up, and he unlocked the door and went out to meet them. He couldn't watch while they covered her up and took her out. He spoke to the man in the living room, and told him what he wanted to arrange. He said he'd be back in town by the end of the afternoon. He had to pack up the house and go back to town. The man said he understood, and he gave Bernie his card. Everything was going to be made as easy as possible for him. Easy. What was easy about losing his wife, the woman he loved, the mother of his children?

Tracy had called Dr. Johanssen for him, and he called the house owners himself. He was giving up the house that afternoon. He didn't want to come back to the beach again. It would have been too painful for him. There were suddenly so many details to arrange, and none of it mattered anyway. The man made such a fuss about whether the box was mahogany or metal or pine, lined in pink, blue, or green, who gave a damn anyway. She was gone …three years and it was over … he had lost her. His heart felt like a rock in his chest, as he threw Jane's things into her bag, and Alexander's into another one …and yanked open the drawer where he found Liz' wigs, and suddenly he sat down and began to cry, and he felt as though he would never stop. He looked out at the sky and the sea, and shouted “Why, God? Why?” But no one answered him. And the bed was empty now. She was gone. She had left the night before, after kissing him and thanking him for the life and the baby they'd shared, and he hadn't been able to hold onto her, no matter how hard he'd tried to.

He called his parents once everything was packed. It was two o'clock by then, and his mother answered the phone. It was hot as hell in New York, and even the air conditioning didn't help. They were meeting friends in town, and she thought they were calling to say they'd be late picking them up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.” There was suddenly an enormous letdown, and he wasn't even sure he could get up enough energy to speak to her.

“Sweetheart, is something wrong?”

“I …” He nodded no and then yes, and then the tears came again. “I …wanted you to know …” He couldn't say the words. He was five years old and his world had come to an end…. “Liz …Oh Mom…” He was sobbing like a child and she began to cry just listening to him. “She died …last night…” He couldn't go on and she signaled to Lou standing beside her with worried eyes.

“We'll come right out.” She was looking at her watch and her husband and her dinner dress and crying all at the same time, thinking of the girl he had loved, the mother of their grandson. It was so inconceivable that she was gone, and so wrong, and all she wanted to do was put her arms around Bernie. “We'll catch the next plane.” She was gesticulating incoherently at Lou and he understood, and when Ruth let him, he took the phone from her ear.

“We love you, son. We'll get there as soon as we can.”

“Good …good …I …” He didn't know how to handle it, what one said, what one did … he wanted to cry and scream, and kick his feet and bring her back, and she would never come back to him again. Never. “I can't…” But he could. He had to. He had to. He had two children to think about now. And he was alone. They were all he had now.

“Where are you, son?” Lou was desperately worried about him.

“At the beach.” Bernie took a deep breath. He wanted to get out of the house where she died. He couldn't wait as he looked around, and he was glad the bags were already in the car. “It happened here.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes … I sent Tracy home with the kids, and …they took Liz a little while ago.” He choked at the thought. They had covered her with a tarp …they'd put it over her face and her head … he felt sick at the thought. “I have to go in now. To take care of everything.”

“We'll try to get there tonight.”

“I want to stay with her at the funeral parlor.” Just as he had at the hospital. He wasn't leaving her till she was buried.

“All right. We'll be there as soon as we can.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

He sounded like a little boy again, and it broke his father's heart as he hung up the phone and turned to Ruth. Ruth was sobbing quietly and he took her in his arms, as suddenly the tears rolled down his cheeks, too, crying for his boy, and the tragedy that had struck him. She had been such a lovely girl, and they had all loved her.

They caught a nine P.M. flight, after canceling their dinner with their friends, and arrived in San Francisco at midnight local time. It was three in the morning for them, but Ruth had rested on the plane and she wanted to go straight to the address Bernie had given them.

He was sitting with his wife at the funeral parlor and the casket was closed. He wouldn't have been able to sit, watching her, and it was bad enough like this. He was all alone in the lonely funeral parlor. All the other mourners had gone home hours before and only two solemn men in black suits were there to open the door for the Fines when they arrived at one o'clock in the morning. They had dropped their bags at the hotel on the way. And Ruth was wearing a somber black suit, black blouse, and black shoes she had bought at Wolffs years before. His father was wearing a dark gray suit and a black tie, and Bernie was wearing a charcoal gray suit and a white shirt and black tie, and he looked suddenly older than his thirty-seven years. He had gone home earlier for a few hours to visit the children, and then he had come back here. And now he sent his mother home to stay at the house, so she would be there when they woke up. And his father announced that he wanted to spend the night with him at Halsted's.

They spoke very little, and in the morning Bernie went home to shower and change, while his father went to the hotel to do the same. His mother was already making breakfast for the kids, as Tracy made calls. She had a message that Paul Berman was arriving in town at eleven A.M. to be at the funeral at noon. In the Jewish tradition, they were burying Liz that day.

Ruth had picked out a white dress for Jane, and Alexander was staying home with a sitter Liz used sometimes. He didn't understand what was going on, and staggered around the kitchen table, shouting “Mommm Mommm Mommm Mommm,” which was what he called Liz, and it reduced Bernie to tears again. Ruth patted his arm and told him he should lie down for a while, but he sat down at the table next to Jane.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?” Who was? But one had to ask. He wasn't okay either and she knew that. None of them were. She shrugged, and slipped her little hand into his. At least they weren't asking each other anymore why it had happened to her, and to them. It had. And they had to live with it. Liz was gone. And she wanted them to go on. Of that, he was sure. But how? That was the bitch of it.

He walked into their bedroom, remembering the Bible she read once in a while, and thought about reading the Twenty-third Psalm at her funeral. And as he reached for it, it was thicker than he expected it to be, and the four letters fell out at his feet. He bent down to pick them up and saw what they were. The tears rolled down his cheeks unabashed as he read his, and he called Jane in to read hers, and then handed his mother the letter Liz had written to her. The one to Alexander he would keep for him for much, much later. He planned to keep it in a safe, until Alexander was old enough to understand it.

It was a day of constant pain, constant tenderness, constant memories. And Paul Berman stood next to Bernie at the funeral, as he clung to Jane's hand, and his father held Ruth's arm, and they all cried as friends and neighbors and colleagues filed in. She would be missed by everyone, the principal of her school said, and Bernie was touched by how many of Wolffs salespeople had come. There were so many people who had loved her and would miss her now …but none as much as he, or the children she had left behind. “I'll see you again one day,” she had promised everyone. She had told her schoolchildren that on the last day of school …she had promised them … on what she had called Valentine's Day. And Bernie hoped she was right… he wanted to see her again …desperately …but first he had two children to bring up…. He squeezed Jane's hand as they stood listening to the words of the Twenty-third Psalm, wishing she were there with them …wishing she had stayed …and blinded by tears as he longed for her. But Elizabeth O'Reilly Fine was gone forever.

Chapter 24

His father had to go back to New York, but his mother stayed for three weeks, and insisted she take the children home with her for a little while when she left. It was almost August by then, and they had nothing else to do. He had to go back to work eventually, and privately Ruth thought it would do him good. They had given up the house in Stinson Beach anyway, so all the children could do was sit in the house with a babysitter while he went to work.

“Besides, you need to get organized, Bernard.” She had been wonderful to him, but he was beginning to snarl at her. He was angry at life and the fate it had dealt to him, and he was looking to take it out on everyone, and she was the nearest target.

“What the hell does that mean?” The children were in bed, and she had just called a cab to take her back to her hotel. She was still staying at the Huntington. She knew he needed some time to himself every day, and so did she. It was a relief to go back to the hotel after the children were in bed every night. But he was eyeing her angrily now. He was spoiling for a fight and she didn't want to get into it with him.

“You want to know what it means? I think you should get out of this house and move. This might be a good time to come back to New York, and if you can't arrange that yet, then at least get out of here. It's too full of memories for all of you. Jane stands in her mother's closet every day, sniffing her perfume. Everytime you open a drawer there's a hat or a purse or a wig. You can't do that to yourself. Get out of here.”

“We're not going anywhere.” He looked like he was going to stamp his foot but his mother was not kidding.

“You're a fool, Bernard. You're torturing them. And yourself.” They were trying to hang on to Liz, and they couldn't.

“That's ridiculous. This is our house, and we're not going anywhere.”

“All you do is rent it, what's so wonderful about this house?” The wonderful thing was that Liz had lived there and he wasn't ready to give that up yet. No matter what anyone said, or how unhealthy it was. He didn't want her things touched, her sewing machine moved. Her cooking pots were staying right where they were. Tracy had gone through the same thing, she had explained to Ruth a few days before when she'd stopped by. It took her two years to give away her husband's clothes, but Ruth was upset about it. It wasn't good for any of them. And she was right. But Bernie wasn't about to give in to her. “At least let me take the children to New York for a few weeks. Until school starts for Jane.”

“I'll think about that.” And he did, and he let them go. They left at the end of the week, still looking shell-shocked, and he worked every night until nine and ten o'clock, and then he would go home to sit in a chair in the living room, staring into space, thinking about her, and only answering the phone on the fourteenth ring when his mother called.

“You have to find a babysitter for them, Bernard.” His mother wanted to reorganize his life and he wanted her to leave him alone. If he had been a drinker, he would have been an alcoholic by then, but he didn't even do that, he just sat there, doing nothing, numb, and only climbing into bed at three in the morning. He hated their bed now because she wasn't in it. He barely made it to the office every day, and then he sat there too. He was in shock. Tracy recognized the signs before anyone else did, but there was very little one could do for him. She told him to call whenever he wanted to, but she never heard from him. She reminded him too much of Liz. And now he stood in the closet, as Jane had, smelling her perfume.

“I'll take care of the children myself.” He kept telling his mother that, and she kept telling him he was crazy.

“Are you planning to give up your job?” She was sarcastic with him, hoping to shake him a little bit. It was dangerous letting him sit this way, but his father thought he'd be all right sooner or later. He was more worried about Jane, who had nightmares all the time, and had lost five pounds in three weeks. In California, Bernie had lost twelve. Only Alexander was doing well, although he wore a puzzled look when someone said Liz' name, as though wondering where she was and when she was coming back again. There was no answer to his “Mom …Momm …Momms” now.

“I don't have to give up my job to take care of the kids, Mom.” He was being unreasonable and enjoying it.

“Oh? You're going to take Alexander to the office with you then?”

He had forgotten about that. He'd been thinking about Jane. “I can use the same woman Liz used when she taught school last year.” And Tracy would help him.

“And you'll cook dinner every night, and make the beds, and vacuum? Don't be ridiculous, Bernard. You need help. There's no shame in that. You have to hire someone. You want me to come out and interview for you when the children come home?”

“No, no.” He sounded annoyed again. “I'll take care of it.” He was angry all the time. Angry at everyone, and sometimes even at Liz, for deserting him. It wasn't fair. She had promised him everything. She had done everything for him. For all of them. She cooked, she baked, she sewed, she loved them all so well, she had even taught school right up till the end. How does one replace a woman like that with a maid or an au pair? He hated the idea, as he called the agencies the next day, and explained what he needed.

“You're divorced?” A woman with a brassy voice inquired. Seven rooms, no pets, two children, no wife.

“No. I'm not.” I'm a kidnapper, and I need help with two kids. Shit. “The children have …” He had been about to say “no mother,” but what a terrible thing to say about Liz. “I'm alone. That's all. I have two children. Sixteen months old, and almost nine. Nine years that is. A boy and a girl. The nine-year-old goes to school.”

“Obviously. Live-in or live-out?”

“Live-out. She's too young for boarding school.”

“Not the child. The nurse.”

“Oh … I don't know … I hadn't thought about it. I suppose she could come in around eight o'clock and then leave after dinner at night.”

“Do you have room for an au pair?” He thought about it. She could sleep in the baby's room, if she didn't mind.

“I suppose I could.”

“We'll do our best.” But their best was not very good. They sent a handful of candidates to Wolffs and Bernie was horrified at the caliber of people they were sending out. Most of them had never taken care of children before, or were in the country illegally, or really didn't give a damn. They were a mess, and some of them weren't even nice. He finally settled on a very unattractive Norwegian girl. She had six brothers and sisters, she looked solid, and she said she wanted to stay in the country for a year or more. She said she could cook, and she went to the airport with him when the children came home. Jane didn't look enthused, and Alexander looked at her curiously and then smiled and clapped his hands, but she let him run loose in the airport as Bernie attempted to find their bags, and set up the stroller for him. He was halfway out the door by himself when Jane brought him back with an angry look at the girl, and Bernie snapped at her.

“Keep an eye on him, Anna, will you please?”

“Sure.” She was smiling at a boy with a knapsack and long blond hair as Jane whispered to Bernie.

“Where'd you find her?”

“Never mind. At least we'll eat.” And then he smiled down at her. She had thrown herself into his arms when they arrived, squeezing Alexander between them as he roared with delight and Bernie had thrown him into the air, and then done the same to Jane. “I sure missed you guys.” He knew about the nightmares from Ruth. They were all about Liz. “You especially.”

“Me too.” She still looked sad. But so did he. “Grandma was so nice to me.”

“She loves you a lot.” They smiled and he found a porter to help with the bags, and a few minutes later everything was in the car and they drove off toward the city. Jane sat in the front seat next to him. And Alexander and the au pair sat in the back. She had worn jeans and a purple shirt, and she had long, shaggy blond hair, and Jane didn't seem very impressed with her as they chatted on the way in. She seemed to answer mostly in monosyllables and grunts, and wasn't very interested in making friends with the kids. And when they got home, the dinner she made for them consisted of breakfast cereal and undercooked French toast. In desperation, Bernie sent out for a pizza, which the au pair dove into before they did. And then suddenly Jane glared at her. “Where did you get that blouse?” Jane was staring at her as though she had seen a ghost.

“What? This?” Her face got red. She had changed from a purple blouse to a pretty green silk one, which now had perspiration marks under the arms that hadn't been there before. “I found this in the closet in there.” She waved toward Bernie's room, and his eyes grew as wide as Jane's. She was wearing Liz' blouse.

“Don't ever do that again.” He spoke through clenched teeth and she shrugged.

“What difference does it make? She's not coming back anyway.” Jane got up and left the table and Bernie followed her and apologized.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I thought she was nicer than that when I interviewed her. She looked clean and young and I thought it would be more fun for you than some old bat.” She smiled unhappily at him. Life was so difficult for them now. And this was only her first night home. But nothing was ever going to be easy for her again. Instinctively, she knew that.

“Shall we give her a try for a few days, and if we don't like her, boot her out?” Jane nodded at him, relieved that nothing was being forced on her. Forever. It was difficult for all of them. And Anna drove them nuts in the next few days. She continued to borrow Liz' clothes, and even Bernie's sometimes. She turned up in some of his favorite cashmere sweaters, and once even borrowed his socks. She never washed, the house smelled terrible, and when Jane came home from school in the afternoon, she found Alexander with dirty pants, running around the house in drooping diapers and an undershirt, with dirty feet and lunch all over his face, while Anna talked to her boyfriend on the phone, or listened to rock on the stereo. The food was inedible, the house despicable, and Jane was taking care of Alexander almost full-time herself. She bathed him when she got home from school, and dressed him up before Bernie got home, she fed him and put him to bed at night, and went in to him when he cried. Anna never even woke up. The laundry wasn't done, the beds weren't changed, the children's clothes weren't washed. Anna drove them crazy, and in less than ten days they kicked her out. Bernie announced it to her on a Saturday night, as the steaks burned in a large filthy cooking pot, and she sat on the kitchen floor talking on the phone, and she had left Alexander alone in the tub. Jane found him there, slippery as a fish, attempting to climb over the side, and she rescued him, but he could have drowned, which terrified everyone except Anna. Bernie told her to pack her things and leave, and she did, with barely an apology, and wearing Bernie's favorite red cashmere sweater.

“So much for that.” He put the pot full of burnt steaks into the sink and ran hot water over them. “Can I interest you in a pizza tonight?” They had been eating pizza a lot, and they decided to invite Tracy to join them.

When she arrived, she helped Jane put the baby to bed. They all cleaned up the kitchen together. It was almost like the old days, except that someone very important was missing and they all felt it. And to make matters worse, she told them she was moving to Philadelphia. Jane looked stricken. It was like losing her second mother, and she was depressed for weeks after they saw her off at the airport.

And the next nurse didn't help. She was Swiss and had been trained as a baby nurse, which sounded perfect to him in the interview, but what she didn't say was that she must have been trained in the German army. She was rigid and inflexible and unkind. The house was immaculate, the dinners were small, the rules were ironclad and plentiful, and she slapped Alexander all the time. The poor child cried constantly and Jane hated to come home from school and find her there. Milk and cookies were not allowed, nor were treats of any kind, and they were not to speak at meals, except if their father was there. Television was a sin, music was a crime against God. Bernie decided that the woman was half crazy, and when Jane laughed at her inadvertently on a Saturday afternoon two weeks after she'd come, she walked across the room and slapped Jane hard across the face. Jane was so stunned she didn't even cry at first, but Bernie was trembling when he stood up and pointed at her. “Get out of this house, Miss Strauss. Immediately!” He took the baby from her, put an arm around Jane to comfort her, and an hour later, with an enormous bang, the front door slammed behind her.

And it was discouraging after that. He felt as though he had interviewed everyone in town, and he wouldn't have trusted any of them. The first thing he did was get a cleaning lady, but even that didn't help. His big problem was Alexander and Jane. He wanted someone to take care of them properly. They were beginning to look unhappy and bedraggled to him, and he was desperate to find someone to help him. He was beside himself as he ran home from work every day to take care of Alex and Jane. He had a daytime sitter temporarily, who could only stay until five o'clock. And his mother was right. It was difficult working all day, and then taking care of the children and the house and the laundry and the groceries and the cooking and the ironing and the backyard all night.

Their luck changed six weeks after school began. The agency called him again and he listened to the usual tale. Mary Poppins had turned up and she was waiting for him. According to the agency, she was perfect for the job.

“Mrs. Pippin is perfect for you, Mr. Fine.” He looked bored as he jotted down her name. “She's sixty years old, British, and was ten years in her last job, with two children, a boy and a girl. And”—the woman at the agency sounded victorious—“there was no mother.”

“Is that something to be particularly proud of?” It was none of their goddamn business.

“It just means that she is acquainted with this kind of situation.”

“Wonderful. What's the hitch?”

“There is none.” He had not been an easy client, and they were frankly annoyed at how suspicious he was of everyone they sent him. In fact, the woman made a note to herself as she hung up, if he didn't like Mrs. Pippin, they were not sending anyone else after that.

Mrs. Pippin rang the doorbell at six o'clock on a Thursday evening. Bernie had just gotten home and taken off his coat and tie. He had Alexander in his arms, and Jane was helping him start dinner. They were going to have hamburgers, for the third night in a row, with potato chips and buns and lettuce. But he hadn't had time to go to the store since the weekend, and somehow the rest of the meat had gotten lost on the way home, or they'd never brought it home in the first place.

Bernie opened the door and found himself staring down at a tiny woman with short white hair and bright blue eyes, in a navy hat and coat, and sensible black shoes that looked like golf shoes. And the woman at the agency was right. She did look like Mary Poppins. She was even carrying a tightly furled black umbrella.

“Mr. Fine?”

“Yes.”

“I'm from the agency. I'm Mary Pippin.” Her accent was Scots and he grinned to himself. It was like a joke. Not Mary Poppins. But Mary Pippin.

“Hello.” He stepped back, with a smile, and waved her to a seat in the living room, as Jane walked out of the kitchen, with a roll of hamburger in her hands. She was curious to see what they had sent this time. The woman was hardly taller than she was, but she smiled at Jane and asked her what she was cooking.

“How nice of you to take care of your dad and your little brother. I'm not much of a cook myself, you know.” She grinned, and almost instantly, Bernie liked her. And then he suddenly realized what the shoes were. They weren't golf shoes. They were brogues. She was Scottish through and through. Her skirt was tweed, her blouse was white and starched, and when she took her hat off, he saw that she even wore a hatpin.

“That was Jane.” Bernie explained as she went back to the kitchen. “She's nine, or will be soon. And Alexander is nearly eighteen months old now.” He set him down on the floor as they sat down and he took off at top speed for his sister in the kitchen, as Bernie smiled at Mrs. Pippin. “He doesn't stop all day, he wakes up all night. So does Jane.” He lowered his voice. “She has nightmares. And I need someone to help me. We're alone now.” This was the part he hated, and usually they just stared at him dumbly, but this woman nodded sensibly, with a sympathetic look. “I need someone to take care of Alexander all day, to be here when Jane gets home from school, to do things with them, to be their friend”—it was the first time he had said that, but somehow she seemed that kind of woman—“to cook for us, to keep their clothes neat… to buy their school shoes if I don't have time …”

“Mr. Fine”—she smiled gently—“you want a nanny.” She seemed to understand completely.

“Yes. That's right.” He thought briefly of the sloppy Norwegian who kept taking Liz' clothes and glanced at Mrs. Pippin's starched collar. He decided to be honest with her. “We've had a tough time, or actually, they have.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “My wife was sick for almost a year, before …” He could never say the words, even now. “And she's been gone for three months. It's a tremendous adjustment for the children.” And for me, he didn't add, but her eyes said she knew it, and he suddenly felt like sighing and lying on the couch, letting her take care of everything. Something about her suggested to him that she was absolutely perfect. “The job isn't easy, but it isn't overwhelming either.” He told her about the two women he'd had, the others he'd seen, and described exactly what he wanted. Miraculously, she seemed to find it entirely normal.

“It sounds wonderful. When could I start?” She beamed at him and he couldn't believe his ears.

“Immediately if you like. Oh, and I forgot to mention. You'd have to sleep with the baby. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. I prefer it.”

“Eventually, we might move, but I don't have any plans at the moment.” He was vague and she nodded. “And actually …” There was so much in his head that he was confused now. He wanted to be completely honest with her. “One day, I may go back to New York, but I don't know anything about that right now either.”

“Mr. Fine”—she smiled gently at him—“I understand. Right now you don't know if you're coming or going, and neither do the children, and that's perfectly normal. Suddenly all of you have lost the mainstay of your existence. You need time to heal, and someone to watch over you while you do. I would be honored to be that person, thrilled if you would let me take care of your children. And whether you move to another house, an apartment, New York, or Kenya is not a problem. I'm a widow, I have no children, and my home is with the family I work for. Where you go, I go, if you want me.” She smiled at him as though speaking to a child and he wanted to giggle.

“That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Poppin … I mean Pippin…. Sorry. …”

“Not at all.” She laughed with him and followed him into the kitchen. She was tiny, but there was something powerful about her, and amazingly the children liked her. Jane invited her to stay for dinner, and when Mrs. Pippin accepted, she put another hamburger on, and Alexander sat on her lap until he had his bath, and then Mrs. Pippin went to discuss the financial arrangements with Bernie. She wasn't even very expensive. And she was exactly what he needed.

She promised to return the next day, with her things, “such as they are,” she apologized. She had left her previous family in June. The children were grown up and simply didn't need her anymore, and she had gone to Japan on a holiday, and come back through San Francisco. She was actually on her way to Boston, but had decided to check with the agency because she found the city so enchanting, and voila. The match was made in Heaven.

After she had left to go back to her hotel, while Jane was putting the baby to bed that night, Bernie called his mother.

“I found her.” He sounded happier than he had in months and he was actually smiling. You could almost hear it, and you could hear something different in his voice. Relief.

“Who did you find?” His mother had been half asleep. It was eleven o'clock in Scarsdale.

“Mary Poppin …actually, Mary Pippin.”

“Bernie”—she sounded firm and much more awake now—“have you been drinking?” She glanced disapprovingly at her husband, who had been awake on his side of the bed, reading his medical journals. He looked unconcerned. Bernie had a right to drink these days. Who wouldn't?

“No. I found a nurse. A Scottish nanny, and she's fantastic.”

“Who is she?” His mother was instantly suspicious, and he told her all the details. “She might be all right. Did you check her references?”

“I will tomorrow.” But the references checked out exactly as she had described them, and the family in Boston raved about their beloved “nanny.” They told him how lucky he was, and suggested that he keep her forever. And when she arrived the next day, he was inclined to. She tidied up the house, sorted the laundry, read to Alexander, found a brand-new suit for him to wear, and had him clean and combed for his father when he came home. And Jane was wearing a pink dress and pink hair ribbons and a smile in time for dinner, and suddenly he felt a lump in his throat remembering the first time he had seen her, lost at Wolffs with long braids and pink ribbons just like the ones Mrs. Pippin had put on for her that night.

The dinner wasn't wonderful, but it was decent and simple. The table was nicely set, and she played a game with both children afterwards in their room. By eight o'clock the house was neat, the table was set for breakfast, and both children were in bed, brushed, clean, read to, well fed, and cuddled, and as Bernie said good night to each of them, and thanked Mrs. Pippin, Bernie only wished that Liz could have seen them.

Chapter 25

It was the day after Halloween that Bernie came home and sat on the couch, glancing at his mail, and then up at Mrs. Pippin as she emerged from the kitchen wiping flour off her hands to hand him a message.

“Someone just called for you, Mr. Fine.” She smiled at him. She was a pleasure to come home to, and the children loved her. “It was a gentleman. I hope I got his name right.”

“I'm sure you did. Thank you.” He took the slip of paper and glanced at it as she walked away. The name didn't mean anything to him at first, and as he walked into the kitchen to make himself a drink, he questioned Nanny. She was breading fish for dinner, and Jane was helping, while Alexander played on the floor with a pile of small, bright-colored boxes. It was the kind of scene Liz would have created around her as she worked, and it gnawed at his heart to see them. Everything still made him miss her. “Was that the man's first or last name, Mrs. Pippin?”

“I didn't get a chance to write down his first name, although he said it.” She was busy breading the fish, and didn't look up at Bernie. “The last name was Scott.” It still didn't mean anything to Bernie. “The first was Chandler.”

His heart stopped as she said it, and he went back to the living room to look at the number. He thought about it for a long time, and didn't say anything about it at dinner. It was a local number, and Chandler was obviously back for more money. Bernie was thinking of ignoring the message when the phone rang at ten o'clock that night and he had a premonition as he picked it up. And he was right. It was Chandler Scott.

“Hi there.” There was the same aura of false cheer about him as before and Bernie was not impressed.

“I thought I made myself clear last time.” There was no hospitality in his voice.

“Just passing through town, my friend.”

“Don't let us stop you.”

Chandler laughed as though Bernie had said something very, very funny.

“How's Liz?” He didn't want to tell him what had happened. It was none of his goddamn business.

“Fine.”

“How's my kid?”

“She's not your child. She's mine now.” It was the wrong thing to say and Bernie could hear him bridle.

“That's not how I remember it.”

“Really? How's your memory on the ten thousand dollars?” Bernie's voice sounded hard, but Chandler sounded slimy.

“My memory's okay, but my investments didn't turn out so hot.”

“Sorry to hear it.” Then he was back for more money.

“Me too. I thought maybe we'd have another little talk, you know, about my kid.” Bernie's jaw went taut beneath his beard and he remembered his promise to Liz. He wanted to get rid of the guy once and for all, and not have him come back once a year. In fact, it had been a year and a half since they'd given him the money.

“I thought I told you last time that it was a one-shot deal, Scott.”

“Maybe so, my friend, maybe so.” Something in his voice made Bernie want to smash his face in. “But maybe we'll have to play this one one more time.”

“I don't think so.”

“Are you telling me the pot's run out?” Bernie hated the way he talked. He sounded like exactly what he was. A two-bit con man.

“I'm telling you I'm not playing this game with you again. Got that, buddy?”

“Then how about a little visit with my daughter?” He played a cool hand of poker.

“She's not interested.”

“She will be if I take you to court. How old is she now? Seven? Eight?” He wasn't sure.

“What difference does it make?” She was nine, and he didn't even know that.

“Why don't you ask Liz how she feels about it?”

It was blackmail in the purest sense and Bernie was sick of him. He wanted him to know there was no game to play with Liz now. “Liz doesn't feel anything about it, Scott. She died in July.” There was a long, long silence.

“Sorry to hear that.” For a moment he sounded sober.

“Does that end our conversation?” He was suddenly glad he'd told him. Maybe the bastard would go away now, but he had sorely misjudged him.

“Not quite. The kid didn't die, did she? What did Liz die of anyway?”

“Cancer.”

“That's too bad. Anyway, she's still my kid, with or without Liz, and I imagine you'd just as soon see me get lost. And for a price, I will be happy to do that.”

“For how long? Another year? Nah, it's not worth it to me, Scott. This time I'm not buying.”

“Too bad. I guess I'll just have to go to court and get me some visitation.”

Bernie remembered his promise to Liz and decided to bluff him anyway. “You do that, Scott. Do anything you want. I'm not interested.”

“I'll get lost for another ten thousand. Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. How about eight?”

Bernie's skin crawled just thinking about him. “Go screw yourself.” And with that, he hung up. He would have liked to kick the guy in the guts. But three days later Chandler did it to him instead. A notice arrived in the mail, through a lawyer on Market Street, that Chandler Scott, father of one Jane Scott, ex-husband of Elizabeth O'Reilly Scott Fine, was requesting visitation with his daughter. Bernie's hands trembled when he read the letter. He was ordered to appear in court on November seventeenth, fortunately without the child. But his heart pounded as he read the words, and he dialed Bill Grossman's office.

“What do I do now?” Bernie sounded desperate. Grossman had taken the call immediately. He remembered Bernie's first call on the subject.

“You go to court, it looks like.”

“Does he have any rights?”

“Did you ever adopt the child?”

His heart sank at the question. There was always something happening, the baby, Liz getting sick, the last nine months, then their adjustment…. “No … I haven't…. Dammit, I meant to, but there was no reason. Once I bought him off, I figured we'd seen the last of him for a while.”

“You bought him off?” The lawyer sounded worried.

“Yeah. I paid him ten thousand bucks to get lost a year and a half ago.” It had actually been twenty months. He remembered it perfectly, it was right before Liz had had the baby.

“Can he prove it?”

“No, I remembered what you said about it being against the law.” Grossman had said it was considered like buying black-market babies. You could not buy or sell a child to anyone, and in effect, Chandler Scott had sold Jane to Bernie for ten thousand dollars. “I paid him in cash, in an envelope.”

“So much for that.” Grossman sounded pensive. “The problem is, when you do that kind of thing, they always come back for more sooner or later. Is that what he wants now?”

“That's how this whole thing started. He called me up a few nights ago and asked for another ten thousand to get lost again. In fact, he offered me a cut rate, for eight.”

“Christ.” Grossman sounded annoyed. “He sounds charming.”

“I thought when I told him my wife had died that he'd lose interest. I figured if he thought he was only dealing with me, he'd realize that I wasn't going to take any crap from him.”

Grossman was strangely quiet at the other end. “I didn't realize that your wife had passed away in the meantime. I'm sorry to hear that.”

“It was in July.” Bernie's voice was very quiet, thinking of Liz, and the promise that she had insisted on, that he would keep Jane away from Chandler Scott at all costs. Maybe he should have paid him the ten thousand dollars after all. Maybe it was foolish to call his bluff.

“Did she leave a will regarding the child?” They had talked about it but she had nothing to leave anyone except the things that Bernie had bought her, and she was leaving everything to him and the children.

“No. She really had no estate.”

“But what about the guardianship of the child? Did she leave that to you?”

“Of course.” Bernie sounded almost offended. Who else would she leave her children to?

“Did she put it in writing?”

“No, she didn't.”

Bill Grossman sighed silently at the other end. Bernie had just gotten himself a major problem. “The law is on his side, you know, now that your wife is gone. He is the child's natural father.” Bernie almost shuddered.

“Are you serious?” Bernie's blood ran cold.

“I am.”

“The guy's a crook, a con man, an ex-con, in fact. He probably just got out of jail again.”

“That doesn't make any difference. California feels that natural fathers have rights, no matter what else they are. Even ax murderers have a right to see their children.”

“Now what?”

“They may grant him temporary visitation, pending a hearing.” He didn't tell him that he could lose custody completely. “Has he ever had a relationship with the child?”

“Never. She doesn't know he's alive, and from what my wife said, the last time he saw her she was a year old. He doesn't have a leg to stand on, Bill.”

“Yes, he does. Don't kid yourself. He's the child's natural father…. What kind of marital history did they have?”

“Almost nonexistent. They got married a few days before the child was born, and I think he disappeared after that. He came back for a month or two just before Jane was a year old and then disappeared again for good that time. Liz divorced him on the basis of abandonment, without consent or notification, I guess since she didn't know where he was until he turned up last year.”

“It's a damn shame you didn't adopt the child before he did.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree with you, but that doesn't mean the judge will. Do you think he has a genuine interest in the child?”

“Do you, if he sold out for ten thousand dollars and would have again three days ago for eight? He just thinks she's some kind of cash register. When I met him with the money last time, he did not ask or say one thing about Jane. Not one. What does that tell you?”

“That he's a smart sonofabitch who wants to put the squeeze on you. I suspect you'll hear from him again before we go to court on the seventeenth.” And Grossman was right. Scott called three days before they were due to appear in court, and offered to disappear again. But this time the price tag was higher. He wanted fifty thousand dollars.

“Are you crazy?”

“I've been doing a little research on you, old pal.”

“Don't call me that, you sonofabitch.”

“I hear you're a rich Jew from New York and you run a fancy department store. For all I know, you own it.”

“Hardly.”

“Anyway, pal. That's my price this time. Fifty thousand bucks or forget it.”

“I'll go for ten, but that's it.” He would have gone to twenty, but didn't want to tell him. But Scott only laughed at him.

“Fifty or nothing.” It was disgusting, bargaining over a child.

“I'm not going to play this game with you, Scott.”

“You may have to. With Liz gone, the court is going to give me anything I want. They might even give me custody if I want…Come to think of it, I think my price has just gone up to a hundred.” Bernie felt his blood run cold, and as soon as Scott hung up, Bernie dialed Grossman.

“Does he know what he's talking about? Is that possible?”

“It could be.”

“Oh my God. …” He was terrified. What if he lost Jane to him? And he had promised Liz …Besides, Jane was like his own flesh and blood now.

“Legally, you have no rights to the child. Even if your wife had left a will, designating you guardian of the person, he might still have the rights to her. Now if you can show how unsuitable he is, you'll probably win, unless the judge is a complete lunatic. But if you were both bankers, or lawyers, or businessmen, he'd win it. In this case, all he can do is scare you for a while, and put the child through a lot of trauma.”

“To spare her that,” Bernie said bitterly, “he now wants a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Do you have a recording of that?”

“Of course not! What do you think I do? Tape my conversations? I'm not a dope dealer for God's sake, I run a department store.” He was getting testy. It was an outrageous situation. “So what do I do now?”

“If you don't want to give him the hundred thousand dollars, and I suggest you don't, because he'll be back for more by next week, then we go to court, and show what an unsuitable parent he is. They may grant temporary visitation pending a hearing, but that's no big deal.”

“Not to you maybe. The child doesn't even know him. In fact”—he sounded grim—“she doesn't even know he's alive. Her mother told her he died a long time ago. And she's already had enough shocks this year. She's had nightmares since her mother died.”

“If a psychiatrist will testify to that, then it may affect his bid for permanent visitation.”

“And the request for temporary visitation?”

“That would go through anyway. The courts figure that even Attila the Hun can do no harm on a temporary basis.”

“How do they justify that?”

“They don't have to. They run the show. Mr. Scott has now put you, and himself, at their mercy.” And Jane. He had put Jane at the mercy of the courts. The thought made him sick, and he knew how distraught Liz would have been. It would have killed her. And the irony of that did not make him smile. It was a terrible situation.

The day of the first hearing dawned dark and gray, and it suited his mood to perfection. The carpool came for Jane, and Mrs. Pippin was busy with Alexander when Bernie left for court. He hadn't told anyone what he was doing. He was still hoping the whole thing would go away. And as he stood beside Grossman in the courtroom in City Hall, he prayed that the whole situation would vanish. But he noticed Chandler Scott lounging against the wall at the other side of the room, with a different blazer, this time a better one, and new Gucci shoes. His hair was neatly trimmed, and if one didn't know better, one would have thought him totally respectable.

Bernie pointed him out to Bill, who glanced casually in Chandler Scott's direction. “He looks all right.” He whispered to Bernie.

“That was what I was afraid of.”

Grossman said that the matter would take twenty minutes to be heard, and when the judge heard what they had to say, Grossman explained that the child did not know her natural father, and had undergone a severe, recent shock due to her mother's death. It was felt that it was best not to grant temporary visitation until the entire matter were settled. And the respondent felt that there were certain issues that were crucial to the court's final decision.

“I'm sure there are,” the judge intoned, smiling at both fathers and both attorneys. This was something he did every day, and he never got caught up in the emotions. Fortunately, he almost never had to see the children affected by his decisions. “But it wouldn't be fair to deny Mr. Scott the right to see his daughter.” He smiled benevolently at Scott, and then sympathetically at Grossman. “I'm sure this is distressing to your client, Mr. Grossman, and we will of course be very interested in hearing all the issues when the matter comes to court for a full hearing. In the meantime, the court would like to grant Mr. Scott a weekly visitation with his daughter.” Bernie thought he was going to faint and he immediately whispered in Grossman's ear that Scott was a convicted felon.

“I can't tell them that now,” Grossman whispered back, and Bernie wanted to cry. He wished he had paid him the ten thousand the first time. Or even the fifty the second. The hundred was impossible for him. He was out of his league now.

Grossman raised his voice to address the judge. “Where will the visits take place?”

“In the place of Mr. Scott's choosing. The child is …” The judge looked at some records, and then glanced at both parties with an understanding smile. “Let's see…. She's about nine years old…. There's no reason why she can't go out with her father. Mr. Scott could pick her up at her home, and bring her back. I suggest Saturday, say from nine A.M. to seven P.M. Does that sound reasonable to both parties?”

“No!” Bernie whispered in Grossman's ear in a loud stage whisper.

And Grossman whispered back almost immediately. “You have no choice in this. And if you play ball with the judge now, he may give you a better deal later.” What about Jane? What kind of deal did she get?

Bernie was furious when they walked out into the hall again. “What kind of crap is that anyway?”

“Keep your voice down.” Grossman spoke in low tones to him, his face a mask, as Chandler Scott and his attorney walked past. He had one of the sleaziest attorneys in town, Grossman later told Bernie, and he was sure they were going to try and stick Bernie with the tab, by asking the court to assign fees to him at a later date. But Bill didn't even mention that now. They had enough to worry about. “You just have to go along with it.”

“Why? It's wrong. Why do I have to do something I know is wrong for my daughter?” He spoke from the heart without thinking of what he had just said. But Bill Grossman shook his head.

“She's not your daughter, she's his, and that's the whole point of this.”

“The real bitch is that all that bastard wants is money. Only now he wants so much I can't afford it.”

“You never could have anyway. People like that just keep raising the ante. You're better off dealing with it here. The hearing is set for December fourteenth anyway. So you have a month of temporary visitation to contend with and then you get a permanent ruling. Do you really think he'd keep up with visitation?”

“He might.” But Bernie hoped he wouldn't. “What if he kidnaps her?” It was a thought that had been frightening him ever since Scott had turned up again. It was his own brand of paranoia. And Grossman was quick to squelch it.

“Don't be ridiculous. The man is greedy. He's not crazy. He'd have to be nuts to kidnap her on a visit.”

“What would happen if he did?” He wanted to pursue the thought to the end, just so he'd know what his recourse was.

“People only do things like that in movies.”

“I hope you're right.” Bernie narrowed his eyes and looked at him. “Because I'm telling you right now that if he ever does anything like that to her, I'm going to kill him.”

Chapter 26

The visits were to start on Saturday, which didn't give Bernie much time. He took Jane out to dinner after his morning in court, and he took a deep breath before he told her. He had taken her to the Hippo, which had always been a favorite with her, but she seemed quiet that night, and finally she looked at him. She knew something was wrong, and she couldn't imagine what it was. Maybe they were moving to New York, or some fresh disaster was happening. And she was certain of it when he reached for her hand with eyes filled with sorrow.

“Baby, I've got to tell you something.” Her heart pounded horribly and she wanted to run away from him. She looked so frightened that it broke his heart. He wondered if she would ever be her old self again. Even though, thanks to Mrs. Pippin, she was getting better. She didn't cry as much now and she even laughed sometimes. “It's not as bad as all that, sweetheart. Don't look so worried.”

She looked at him with eyes filled with terror. “I thought you were going to tell me …” She couldn't say the words, and he looked at her, still holding her hand.

“Tell you what, sweetheart?”

“That you had cancer.” Her voice was so small and sad and he shook his head as tears came to his eyes. That was the worst thing that either of them could imagine.

“It's nothing like that. It's something else entirely. Okay …now … do you remember that your mommy was married before?” It felt strange saying that to her, but he had to explain from the beginning.

“Yes. She said she was married to a very handsome actor, and he died when I was a baby.”

“Something like that.” He had never heard that version of the explanation.

“And she said she loved him very much.” Jane looked up at him innocently and something turned over in his stomach.

“She did?”

“That's what she told me.”

“Okay. She told me something a little different, but it doesn't matter.” Suddenly he was wondering if he was poisoning her mind against someone Liz had truly loved. Maybe she really had loved him and hadn't had the courage to tell him. But then suddenly he remembered the solemnity of the promise she had extracted from him. “She told me that that man, your real father, disappeared right after you were born, and disappointed her a lot. I think he did something dumb like steal money from someone or something and he went to jail.” Jane looked shocked.

“My father?”

“Mmm …yes…. Anyway, he disappeared for a while and then came back when you were nine months old and did the same thing again. This time he disappeared when you were a year old. And she never saw him again. End of story.”

“Is that when he died?” She was confused by the tale he told her, but he shook his head as the waiter took their plates away, and Jane pensively sipped her soda.

“No. He didn't die, sweetheart. That's what this is all about. He just disappeared and eventually your mommy divorced him. And a few years later, I came along, and we got married.” He smiled and squeezed her hand a little tighter, and she smiled in answer.

“That was when we got lucky …that's what Mommy used to say.” And it was obvious that she shared her mother's opinion in that, as in everything. And by then, she had idolized Liz even more than when she was living. But she still looked startled to hear that her father was alive, according to Bernie.

“That was when / got lucky. Anyway, Mr. Chandler Scott vanished and turned up a couple of weeks ago …here, in San Francisco….”

“How come he never called me?”

“I don't know.” He decided to be blunt with her. “He did finally call a year or so ago because he wanted money from your mommy. And when she gave it to him, he went away again. But this time he's come back, and I didn't think we should give him any money, so I didn't.” It was all simplified, but basically what had happened. He didn't tell her that they'd bought him off so he wouldn't see Jane, or that Liz hated his guts. He decided to let Jane make that decision for herself, when she saw him. But it worried him that she might like him.

“Did he want to see me?” She looked intrigued about the handsome actor.

“Now he does.”

“Can he come to dinner?” It all seemed very simple to her, but Bernie was shaking his head and she looked surprised at his reaction.

“It's not as simple as that. He and I went to court today.”

“Why?” She looked even more surprised, and a little frightened. Court sounded ominous to her.

“I went to court because I don't think he's a nice person, and I want to protect you from him. And your mommy wanted me to do that.” He had promised Liz, and he had done his best to keep his promise.

“Do you think he'd do something bad to me?”

He didn't want to frighten her too much, after all, she had to go out with him in two days, for ten hours. “No. But I think he's a little too interested in money. And we really don't know much about him.”

Her eyes looked deep into his. “Why did Mommy tell me he was dead?”

“I think because she thought it was easier to think that than always wonder where he was, or why he had gone away.” Jane nodded, it made sense to her, but she looked disappointed.

“I didn't think she ever lied to me.”

“I don't think she ever did, except that one time. And she thought it was better for you.” Jane nodded, trying to understand.

“So what did they say in court?” She was curious now.

“That we have to go to court again in another month, but in the meantime he has the right to see you. Every Saturday from nine in the morning until dinner.”

“But I don't even know him! What will I say to him all day like that?”

It seemed a funny thing to worry about to Bernie and he smiled at her. “You'll think of something.” That was the least of their problems.

“What if I don't like him? He couldn't have been too nice if he kept running out on Mommy.”

“That's what I always thought.” He decided to be honest with her. “And I didn't like him the one time I met him.”

“You met him?” She looked even more surprised, as he nodded. “When?”

“That time he came to get money from your mom. It was right before Alexander was born, and she sent me to give him the money.”

“She didn't want to see him?” That told Jane a great deal as Bernie shook his head.

“No, she didn't.”

“Maybe she didn't love him so much.”

“Maybe not.” He didn't want to get into that with her.

“Did he really go to jail?” She looked horrified at that and Bernie nodded. “What if I don't want to go on Saturday?”

That was the hard part. “Baby, I'm afraid you have to.”

“Why?” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I don't even know him. What if I don't like him?”

“Then you just kind of pass the time. It's only four times until we go to court again.”

“Four times?” The tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Every Saturday.” Bernie felt as though he had sold out his only daughter and he hated Chandler Scott and his attorney and Grossman and the courts and the judge for making him do it. And especially Grossman for telling him so coolly not to rock the boat. Chandler Scott wasn't coming to his house on Saturday to take his daughter.

“Daddy, I don't want to.” She wailed, and he told her the ugly truth of it.

“You have to.” He handed her his handkerchief and sat on the banquette next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and cried harder. Everything was so difficult for her now. It wasn't fair to add more. And he hated them all for it. “Look at it this way, it's only four times. And Grandma and Grampa are coming from New York for Thanksgiving. That'll give us plenty to think about.” He had put off his trip to Europe again, with all the headaches he'd been having with help at the time, and Berman didn't push him. It had been months since he'd seen his parents. Since August when his mother took the children home with her. And Mrs. Pippin had promised to make the Thanksgiving turkey. She had turned out to be the godsend she had promised to be, and Bernie was in love with her. He only hoped his mother liked her. They were about the same age and as different as night and day. His mother was expensively dressed, well groomed, a little frivolous, difficult as hell when she chose to be. Mrs. Pippin was starched and plain and as unfrivolous as a woman could be, but decent and warm and competent, and wonderful to his children, and very British. It was going to be an interesting combination.

He paid the check at the Hippo then, and walked out to the car with Jane, and when they got home, Mrs. Pippin was waiting to keep Jane company while she took a bath, read her a story, and put her to bed. And the first thing Jane did when she walked in the door, was take one look at Nanny, as they all called her now, throw her arms around her neck, and intone tragically. “Nanny, I have another father.” Bernie smiled at the drama of the words, and Nanny sniffed as she led Jane away to the bathtub.

Chapter 27

The “other” father, as Jane had referred to him, appeared almost punctually at nine-fifteen on Saturday morning. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving. And all of them sat in the living room waiting. Bernie, Jane, Mrs. Pippin, and Alexander.

The clock on the mantel in the living room ticked mercilessly as all of them waited and Bernie began hoping that Chandler Scott wouldn't show up. But they weren't that lucky. The doorbell rang, and Jane jumped, as Bernie went to get it. She still didn't want to go out with him, and she was feeling extremely nervous as she stood close to Nanny and played with Alexander, keeping an eye on the man standing in the doorway talking to Bernie. She couldn't see him yet. But she could hear him. He had a loud voice and he sounded friendly, maybe because he was an actor, or had been.

Then she saw Bernie step aside and the man walked into the living room and looked from her to Alexander, almost as though he didn't know which was which, and then he glanced at Nanny and back at Jane.

“Hello, I'm your dad.” It was an awkward thing to say. But it was an extremely awkward moment. He didn't hold out a hand to her, and he didn't approach her, and she wasn't sure she liked his eyes. They were the same color as hers, but they darted around the room a lot, and he seemed more interested in her real daddy, as she called Bernie, than he was in her. He was looking at Bernie's big gold Rolex watch, and he seemed to be taking in the whole room, and the neat woman in the blue uniform and navy brogues who sat watching him with Alexander on her lap. He didn't ask for an introduction. “Are you ready?”

Jane shrank back and Bernie stepped forward. “Why don't you talk here for a little while, and get to know each other before you go out?” Scott didn't look pleased at the suggestion. He looked at his watch, and then at Bernie with annoyance.

“I don't think we have time.” Why? Where were they going? Bernie didn't like the sound of it, but he didn't want to say so and make Jane even more nervous than she was.

“Surely, you can spare a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Bernie hated being so pleasant to him, but it was all for Jane's sake. Scott declined the coffee, and Jane sat on the arm of Nanny's chair and watched him. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and blue jeans and he was carrying a brown leather jacket, and he was handsome …but not in a way she liked. He looked shiny, instead of warm and cozy like Daddy. And he looked too plain without a beard like Bernie's, she decided.

“What's the little guy's name?” He glanced at the baby, but without much interest, and Nanny told him it was Alexander. She was watching the man's face, and especially his eyes. She didn't like what she saw there, and neither did Bernie. The eyes were darting everywhere and he paid no attention to Jane at all. “Too bad about Liz,” he said to Jane, and she almost choked as he said it. “You look a lot like her.”

“Thank you,” Jane said politely. And with that he stood up and looked at his watch again.

“See you later, folks.” He didn't hold a hand out to Jane or tell her where they were going. He just walked to the door and expected her to follow, like a dog, and she looked as though she were about to cry, as Bernie smiled at her encouragingly and gave her a hug before she left, clutching a little pink sweater that matched the dress she wore. She looked as though she were dressed for a party.

“It'll be all right, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It's just for a few hours.”

“Bye, Daddy.” She hung around his neck. “Bye, Nanny …bye, Alex.” She waved at both of them and blew the baby a kiss as she headed for the door. She suddenly looked like a very little girl again, and Bernie was reminded of the first time he saw her. And something deep inside him made him want to run out and stop her, but he didn't. He watched them instead from the window. Chandler Scott said something to her as he got into a beaten-up old car, and as though with a premonition of doom, he wrote down the license number, as Jane got into the passenger seat gingerly, and the door slammed. And a moment later they drove off and he turned to see Mrs. Pippin frowning at him.

“There's something wrong with that man, Mr. Fine. I don't like him.”

“Neither do I, and I agree with you. But the court doesn't want to hear that, not for another month anyway. I just hope to hell nothing happens to her. I'll kill the sonofabitch …” He didn't finish the thought, and Nanny went out to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. It was almost time for Alexander's morning nap, and she had work to do, but all day she fretted about Jane, and so did Bernie. He puttered around the house, and he had paperwork and errands to do at home, and other projects waiting for him at the store, but he couldn't concentrate on any of it. He stayed close to home all day in case she called. And at six o'clock he was sitting in the living room, tapping his foot, waiting for her. She was due in an hour, and he was anxious for her to get home.

Nanny brought the baby in to him before he went to bed, but Bernie couldn't even concentrate on him, and she shook her head as she took him to his room. She didn't want to say anything, but she had a terrible feeling in her stomach about the man who had come to take Jane away. And she had the most terrible premonition that something had happened. But she didn't say any of that to Bernie as he waited.

Chapter 28

“Get in the car” was all he said to her as they came down her front steps, and for a moment she was tempted to run back upstairs again. She didn't want to go anywhere with him, and she couldn't imagine how her mother could have loved him. He looked scary to her. He had mean eyes and dirty fingernails, and there was something about the way he talked to her that frightened her. He opened the car door and got in, and as soon as he did he told her again to get in, and with a last look up at the window where Bernie stood, she did.

The car sped away almost immediately, and Jane had to hold onto the door so as not to fall off the seat as he rounded turns and hurried south toward the freeway.

“Where are we going?”

“To pick up a friend at the airport.” He had the whole thing worked out, and he wasn't about to discuss it with her. It was none of her goddamn business.

She wanted to ask him not to go so fast, but she was afraid to say anything, and he didn't say anything to her at all. He put the car in the parking lot, and took a small tote bag out of the back seat, and grabbing her arm, he didn't even bother to lock the door, he just pulled her firmly down the path to the terminals.

“Where are we going?” She couldn't fight back the tears anymore. She didn't like him at all, and she wanted to go home. Now. Not later.

“I told you, kid. To the airport.”

“Where's your friend going?”

“You're my friend.” He turned and looked at her. “And we're going to San Diego.”

“For the day?” She knew there was a zoo there, but Daddy had said they would be home by seven. He was the kind of man your parents would have told you not to talk to on the street, but suddenly here she was with him, alone, and going to San Diego.

“Yeah. We'll be home by dinnertime.”

“Shouldn't I call Daddy and tell him?”

He laughed at her innocence. “No, sweetheart. I'm Daddy now. And you don't have to call him. I'll call him for you when we get there. Believe me, baby, I'll call him.” Everything about him was scary and he took a rough grip on her arm and hurried her along as they crossed the road into the terminal building. She had a sudden urge to run from him, but his grip on her arm was too hard and she sensed easily that he wouldn't have let her go.

“Why are we going to San Diego, Mr…. er …uh …Daddy?” He seemed to want her to call him that, and maybe if she did, he would be nicer to her.

“To visit friends of mine.”

“Oh.” She wondered why he couldn't have done that another day, and then thought she was stupid not to be enjoying the adventure. It would give her something exciting to talk about that night, but as they got to the security check, he grabbed her arm hard, and his face tightened as he told her to hurry up. And then she had a sudden idea. If she told him she had to go to the bathroom, maybe there would be a phone and she could call Bernie. She had this funny feeling that he would want to know she was going to San Diego with her “other” daddy. She pulled away from Chandler Scott when she saw the door with the familiar sign, and he made a lunge and grabbed her back, as she jumped with surprise. “No, no, cutie pie.”

“But I have to go to the bathroom.” There were tears in her eyes now. She knew he was doing something wrong. He wouldn't let her out of his sight. Not even to go to the bathroom.

“You can go on the plane.”

“I really think I should call Daddy and tell him where we're going.”

But he only laughed at her. “Don't worry. I told you. I'll call him.” And as he held her arm fast in his hand, he seemed to be looking around, and suddenly a woman with dyed blond hair and dark glasses approached them. She was wearing tight jeans and a purple parka and baseball cap, cowboy boots, and there was something very tough about her. “Got the tickets?” He asked her without a smile and she nodded. She handed them to Chandler without a word and they fell into step side by side, with Jane between them, wondering what was going on. “This her?” She finally asked. Scott only nodded, and Jane was filled with terror. They stopped at the photo machine, took four shots for a dollar, and much to Jane's amazement Chandler Scott pulled out a passport and glued one of the photographs into it. It was a counterfeit passport which would not have borne close inspection, but he knew that children's passports were rarely inspected. And at the gate she suddenly balked and tried to bolt, as Chandler Scott grabbed her arm so hard she almost cried out, and he told her exactly what he was doing.

“If you say one word, or try to run away from us again, your daddy, as you call him, and your baby brother will be dead by five o'clock. Got that, sunshine?” He was smiling evilly at her and speaking in a soft voice, as the woman lit a cigarette and looked around. She appeared to be very nervous.

“Where are you taking me?” She was afraid to speak up after what he had just said. Their lives were in her hands, and she would have done nothing to jeopardize Bernie or the baby. She wondered if they were going to kill her, and her only consolation was that, if they did, she would go to join her mommy. She felt sure of that, and it made it all a little bit less frightening.

“We're going on a little trip.”

“Can I go to the bathroom on the plane?”

“Maybe.” He looked at her noncommittally, and she wondered again how her mother could have thought him handsome. He looked vicious and dissipated and there was nothing handsome about him. “Whatever you do, sunshine,” he snarled at her through clenched teeth, “you're not going anywhere without us. You, my darling daughter, are our little gold mine.” She still didn't understand what they were doing and she was convinced they were going to kill her. He then went on to describe to his friend the enormity of Bernie's gold Rolex.

“Maybe he'll give you the watch, if you take me back,” she said hopefully as they both laughed and pushed her onto the plane ahead of them. The stewardesses seemed not to notice anything amiss and Jane would never have dared speak up, after the threat they'd made against Bernie and the baby. They never bothered answering her and they both ordered a beer once the plane took off. They got her a Coke but she didn't touch it. She wasn't hungry or thirsty. She just sat very still in her seat, wondering where they were going with the falsified passport, and if she would ever see Bernie or the baby or Mrs. Pippin again. For the moment, it seemed highly unlikely.

Chapter 29

It was after eight o'clock when Bernie finally called Grossman. For an hour he had told himself that maybe they were late. Maybe he'd had a flat tire on the way back, in that ramshackle car of his, maybe anything …but by eight o'clock they could have called, and suddenly he knew that something terrible had happened.

Grossman was home, having dinner with friends, and Bernie apologized for bothering him. “That's all right. How'd it go today?” He hoped it had gone without a hitch. It would be easier for all of them if they accepted the inevitable. His experience told him that Chandler Scott was going to be difficult to get rid of.

“That's why I called you, Bill. I'm sorry. They were supposed to be back over an hour ago, and they're not back yet. I'm getting worried. No, I'm getting very worried.” Grossman thought he was being premature, and he thought he overrated Scott as a villain.

“Maybe he had a flat tire.”

“He could have called. And when was the last time you had a flat tire?”

“When I was sixteen years old and stole my father's Mercedes.”

“Right. Try again. What do we do now?”

“First of all, you relax. He's probably just trying to be a big shot with her. They'll probably turn up at nine o'clock or something, having gone to a double feature, and had ten ice cream cones.” He was still convinced of that, and wouldn't let Bernie drag him into his paranoia. “Just relax for awhile.”

Bernie looked at his watch. “I'll give him another hour.”

“And then what? You hit the streets with your shot-gun?”

“I don't find this as amusing as you do, Bill. That's my daughter he's out with.”

“I know, I know, I'm sorry. But it's also his daughter. And he'd have to be a raving maniac to do something crazy, particularly the first time out. The man may be unpleasant, but I don't think he's stupid.”

“I hope you're right.”

“Look. Give it till nine o'clock, then call me back, and we'll see what comes to mind then.”

Bernie called him back at five minutes to nine, unwilling to be put off again. “I'm calling the police.”

“And what are you going to tell them?”

“For one thing, I wrote down his license plate, for another, I'm going to tell them I think he's kidnapped my child.”

“Let me tell you something, Bernie. I know that you're upset, but I want you to think this thing out. For one thing, she's not your child, she's his, legally anyway, and for another, if he did take her, which I sincerely doubt, it's considered child stealing and not kidnap.”

“What difference does that make?” Bernie didn't understand.

“Child stealing is a misdemeanor, and it is the removal of a child by a parent.”

“In this case, it would not be 'removal,' but kidnap. The guy is a common criminal. Christ, he didn't even say two words to her when he picked her up. He just looked around the house and walked out, expecting her to follow, then he drove off in that rattrap car, and God knows where they are now.” He felt hysterical just thinking about it, and he felt as though he had betrayed his promise to Liz. He knew he had. She had begged him not to let Chandler get his hands on Jane, and that was exactly what he had done.

Bernie called the police at ten o'clock, and they were sympathetic, but not overly worried. Like Bill, they felt sure that Chandler would eventually show up. “Maybe he had a few too many,” they suggested. But at eleven o'clock, when he was near tears, they finally agreed to come and take a report from him, and by then Grossman was getting worried.

“You still haven't heard?” The police were still there.

“No, I haven't. Do you believe me now?”

“Christ, I hope not.” He had been describing to the police what Jane had been wearing, and Nanny was quietly sitting in the living room with him in her dressing gown and slippers. She looked extremely proper and she had a calming effect on him, which was fortunate because half an hour later the police discovered that the license plate he'd taken down was of a car that had been stolen that morning. It was serious now. At least to Bernie. To the police it was exactly what Bill had predicted. Child stealing and no more, a misdemeanor and not a felony and they didn't even give a damn about the fact that he had a criminal record an arm long. They were more upset about the stolen car, and they put an APB out for it, but not for his daughter.

He called Grossman at midnight with that bit of news, and the moment he hung up, the phone rang. It was finally Chandler.

“Hi there, pal.” Bernie almost got hysterical when he heard his voice. The police were gone, and here he was, alone. And Scott had his daughter.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Janie and I are just fine.”

“I asked you where you were.”

“Out of town for a spell. And she's just fine, aren't you, sweetheart?” He chucked her under the chin a little roughly as she stood shivering in the phone booth with him. She had only brought a sweater and it was November.

“What do you mean out of town?”

“I wanted to give you enough time to get the money together, pal.”

“What money?”

“The five hundred thousand bucks you're going to give me to bring little Janie home. Right, sweetheart?” He looked down at her again, but he didn't really see her. “In fact, little Janie even thought you'd like to throw in that fancy watch you were wearing today, and I think that's a great idea. You might even want to throw in another one for my friend here.”

“What friend?” Bernie was frantically thinking and getting nowhere.

“Never mind. Let's talk about the money. How soon can you get it?”

“Are you serious?” Bernie's heart was pounding.

“Very.”

“Never…. My God, do you know how much money that is? It's a goddamn fortune. I can't get you that kind of money.” There were suddenly tears in his eyes. He had not only lost Liz. He had lost Jane. Possibly forever. And God only knew where she was or what they would do to her.

“You'd better get me that money, Fine, or you're not going to be seeing Janie. I can wait a long, long time. And I figure you want her back eventually.”

“You're a rotten sonofabitch.”

“And you're a rich one.”

“How do I find you?”

“I'll call you tomorrow. Stay off your phone and don't call the cops or I'll kill her.” She stood staring at Scott with terrified interest as he said that but he didn't notice. He was concentrating on his conversation with Bernie.

“How do I know you haven't killed her already?” The thought terrified him, it was more than he could bear as he said the words. He felt as though there were a hand squeezing his heart.

At his end, Chandler Scott shoved the phone into her face. “Here, talk to your old man.” She knew enough not to tell him where she was. She wasn't even sure herself. And she had seen their guns, and knew they meant business.

“Hi, Daddy.” Her voice sounded so little and she started to cry the minute she got on the phone. “I love you…. I'm okay. …”

“I'm going to bring you home, sweetheart…whatever it takes … I promise …” But Chandler Scott didn't let her answer. He ripped the phone away and promptly hung up on Bernie.

He dialed Grossman with trembling hands. It was twelve-thirty by then. “He's got her.”

“I know he's got her. Where is he?”

“He wouldn't tell me. And he wants half a million dollars.” Bernie sounded breathless, as though he'd been running, and there was an endless silence.

“He kidnapped her?” Grossman sounded stunned.

“Yes, you asshole. Isn't that what I told you …I'm sorry. What the hell do I do now? I don't have that kind of money.” He knew only one person who might, and he wasn't even sure he did, and certainly not available in cash, but he would try it.

“I'll call the police.”

“I already did that.”

“This is different.” But it wasn't. They were no more impressed than they had been an hour before. As far as they were concerned, it was a private matter, between two men, wrestling over one child they both felt they owned, and the police didn't want to get involved. He probably didn't mean it about the money.

And all through the night. Nanny Pippin sat there with Bernie, pouring tea, and eventually a brandy. He needed it. He was as white as a sheet. And at one point, between phone calls, she looked him directly in the eye and spoke to him as she would have a frightened child.

“We'll find them.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you're an intelligent man, and right is on your side.”

“I wish I were sure of that, Nanny.” She patted his hand, and he dialed Paul Berman in New York. It was almost five o'clock in the morning, and Berman said he didn't have the money. He was aghast at what had happened. But he explained that he didn't ever keep that much cash. He would have to sell stocks, and he owned them all jointly with his wife. He would need his wife's permission to sell and he would also lose a fortune if he sold because the market was rotten. He explained that it would take time if he could even do it. And Bernie knew he wasn't the answer.

“Did you call the police?”

“They don't give a damn. Apparently 'child stealing,' as they call it, is no big deal in this state. The child's natural father can do no wrong.”

“They ought to kill him.”

“I will if I find him.”

“Let me know what I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Paul.” And he hung up.

He called Grossman again after that. “I can't get the money. Now what?”

“I have an idea. I know an investigator I've worked with.”

“Can we call him now?”

There was only a fraction of a second of hesitation, but basically Bill Grossman was a decent guy, just a great deal too trusting. “I'll call him.” He called back five minutes later and promised that the investigator would be there in half an hour. And so would Grossman.

It was three o'clock in the morning as the group assembled in Bernie's living room. Bill Grossman, Bernie, the investigator, who was a heavyset, ordinary man in his late thirties, a woman he had brought whom Bernie couldn't figure out, and Nanny in her dressing gown and slippers. She served tea and coffee to everyone. And she brought Bernie another brandy. She decided that the others didn't need one. They were going to have to stay sober, if they were going to find Jane for them.

The investigator's name was Jack Winters, his associate, the woman, was his wife and her name was Gertie. They were both ex-narcs, and after years of working underground for the San Francisco police, they had decided to open their own business. And Bill Grossman swore that they were terrific.

Bernie told them everything he knew about Chandler Scott's past, his relationship with Liz, his arrests, his time in prison, and his relationship, or lack of it, with Jane. And then he gave them the license plate of the stolen car, and sat back looking at them in terror.

“Can you find her?”

“Maybe.” The investigator had a drooping mustache and a manner which suggested that he wasn't very bright, but his eyes were as sharp as any Bernie had ever seen. And the woman seemed to have the same interesting combination. She was plain but she wasn't stupid. “I suspect he went to Mexico or some place like that.”

“Why?”

His eyes bore into Bernie's. “Just a feeling. Give me a few hours and I'll put some possibilities together for you. You don't have any pictures of him, do you?” Bernie shook his head, and he didn't think Liz had any either, and if she did, he had never seen them.

“What'll I tell him when he calls?”

“That you're getting the money together for him. Keep him busy …keep him waiting …and don't sound too scared. It'll make him think you've got the money.”

Bernie looked worried. “I already told him I didn't.”

“That's all right. He probably doesn't believe you.”

They promised to contact him by the end of the day, and suggested he try to relax while he waited. But he had to ask them something before they left. He hated to ask the question, but he had to.

“Do you think …could he … do you think he might hurt her?” He couldn't say the word kill. It was too much for him by five o'clock that morning. And Gertie spoke to him in a soft voice, as she looked at him with wise eyes. She was a woman who had seen a lot, and he knew it.

“We hope not. We're going to do everything we can to find him before he does. Trust us.”

He did, and they were back twelve hours later. It had been an interminable wait for Bernie. He had paced the floor, drunk more coffee, more brandy, more tea, and finally fallen into bed at ten o'clock the next morning, hysterical and exhausted. Nanny had never gone to bed at all but had taken care of Alexander all day, and was feeding him dinner when the doorbell rang and the investigators returned. Bernie didn't know how, but they had collected a fascinating portfolio of information, and they couldn't have had much sleep either.

They had all of Scott's mug shots and prison records. He had done time in seven states, always for theft or burglary or con games or bunko. He had lots of arrests for bad checks as well, but most of those had been dropped, maybe he had made up the money to the people involved, but they weren't sure and it didn't matter.

“The interesting pattern here is that everything this man does is for money. Not drugs, not sex, not passion …but money. You might say it's his hobby.”

Bernie looked at them mournfully. “I wouldn't call half a million dollars a hobby.”

Winters nodded. “Now he's hit the big time.”

They had checked with his parole officer, because he was an old friend of Jack's, it turned out, and they had hit on the right one the first time around, which was good luck on a Sunday, and they knew where Scott had been staying. He had checked out the day before, and he had said something to someone about going to Mexico. The stolen car had been located at the airport. And three stolen tickets had turned up on a flight to San Diego, and the threesome had been long gone by then, and the stewardess whom Gertie had talked to between flights that day thought she remembered a little girl, but she wasn't certain.

“My guess is that they've gone to Mexico. And they're going to sit on Jane till you come up with the money. And to tell you the truth, I feel better now looking at this guy's record. There's not a single act of violence here. That's something at least. If we're lucky, he won't hurt her.”

“But how the hell do we find him?”

“We'll start looking today. If you want us to, we could be on our way down there tonight. I'd like to start from San Diego and see if I can pick up the trail there. They probably stole another car, or rented one they aren't going to return. They're not as smooth as you'd think. I think he knows he's in no real danger. He's not facing kidnapping charges here. We're talking child stealing—in the eyes of the law, that's peanuts.” Bernie got angry just hearing it, but he knew it was true. And he was ready to do anything to find her.

“I want you to start right away.” They both nodded. They had already made tentative arrangements, in case he said that. “What do I say when he calls me?” He still hadn't.

“Tell him you're working on getting the money. That it may take some time, a week or two. Give us some time to get down there and start looking. Two weeks ought to do it. We should have located them by then.” It was an optimistic assessment but they also had a good description of his girl friend, who also had a record and was on parole and had been living with him at the hotel he had checked out of the previous morning.

“Do you really think you'll find him in two weeks?”

“We'll do our damnedest.” And he believed they would.

“When are you leaving?”

“Maybe around ten o'clock tonight. We have to make a few more arrangements.” They had three other jobs they were working on, but this was the biggest and they had other operatives to take over on the others. “Speaking of which—” He mentioned their fee, and it was a big one, but Bernie wasn't going to quibble. He'd come up with it somehow. He had to.

“That's fine. Where can I reach you if he calls me?”

They gave him a number where they'd be until they left, and twenty minutes after they left he got another call from Chandler.

“How's it going, old pal?”

“Fine. I'm working on getting the money.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. When do you think you'll have it?”

He had a sudden flash of genius. “Probably not for a week or two. I've got to go to New York to get it.”

“Shit, man.” Scott sounded pissed and Bernie could hear him confer with his friend for a long time, and then finally he came back on the phone. They had bought the story. “All right. But two weeks is it. I'll call you two weeks from tonight. Be there. Or I'll kill her.” And with that, he hung up, without even letting him talk to Jane. He was panicked but he dialed Winters' number.

“Why'd you tell him you were going to New York?” Winters was puzzled.

“Because I want to come with you.” There was a brief silence.

“Are you sure? It may be rough. And he'll recognize you if you get close.”

“I want to be close to Jane, if she needs me, when you get there. I'm all she's got left now. And I couldn't stand sitting here waiting.” Bernie didn't see Nanny standing in the doorway, listening to him, and she quietly disappeared. She approved of his idea of going to Mexico to help find her. “Can I come? I'll still pay you the same fee.”

“I'm not worried about that. I'm thinking about you. Wouldn't you be better off staying here, trying to continue your normal life?”

“My life stopped being normal at seven o'clock last night, and it won't be normal again until you find my daughter.”

“We'll pick you up in an hour. Travel light.”

“See you then.” He hung up, feeling better. He called Grossman, who promised to report the entire disaster to the court the following morning. And he called Paul Berman in New York and his assistant at the store. And then he called his mother.

“Mom, I've got bad news for you.” His voice trembled at the prospect of telling her. But he had to say something. Thanksgiving had just been all shot to hell, and maybe even Christmas and New Year's …and the rest of her life….

“Something happened to the baby?” Her heart stopped.

“No. It's Jane.” He took a deep breath and plunged in. “I don't have time to explain it all to you now. But Liz' ex-husband appeared a while back, he's a real sonofabitch and he's spent most of the last ten years in and out of jail. Anyway, he tried to blackmail me out of some money, and I wouldn't pay him. So he kidnapped Jane. He's holding her for half a million dollars ransom.”

“Oh my God.” She sounded as though she had just died and he felt it. “Oh my God …Bernie …” She couldn't believe it. What kind of person did something like that? What kind of lunatic was he? “Is she all right? Do you know?”

“We think so. And the police won't really get involved because his being the natural father makes it only child stealing, which is no big deal, and not kidnap. They're not real excited.”

“Oh Bernie …” She started to cry.

“Don't, Mom, please. I can't take it. I'm calling because I'm leaving for Mexico tonight, to try to find her with two investigators I hired. They think she might be there …and Thanksgiving is off.”

“Never mind Thanksgiving. Just find her. Oh my God …” For once in her life, she really thought she was going to have a heart attack, and Lou was out at some damn medical meeting. She didn't even remember where he was now.

“I'll call you if I can. The investigator thinks we might find her in two weeks …” To him, it sounded hopeful, to her it sounded like a nightmare, and she began sobbing into the phone.

“My God, Bernie …”

“I've got to go, Mom. I love you.” He went to pack a small bag then, and put on a shirt, a warm ski sweater, blue jeans, a parka, and hiking boots. And as he turned to pick up his suitcase he saw Nanny Pippin standing in the doorway with the baby in her arms. And he told her what he was doing. He was leaving for Mexico at once, and he promised to call her as often as he could. And he wanted her to be careful of the baby. He was suddenly worried about everyone, after what had happened to Jane, but she assured him they'd be fine.

“Just bring Jane back soon.” It sounded like an order and he smiled at the brogue as he kissed his son. “Be careful, Mr. Fine. We need you whole and hearty.”

He hugged her silently and then walked to the doorway without looking back. There were too many people missing now …Jane and Liz …but he hurried down the stairs as Winters honked outside in an old station wagon that one of their operatives was driving.

Chapter 30

As they drove to the airport, Bernie couldn't help thinking how strange his life had become. Barely more than a year before, his life had been so normal. A wife he loved, a new baby, and the child she'd had before. Now suddenly Liz was gone, Jane had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom, and he was about to travel all over Mexico with two strangers he had hired to find her. And as he looked out the window, his thoughts of Jane rapidly overwhelmed him. He was terrified that Chandler Scott and his associates might do something to hurt her. And the thought of their molesting her had been on his mind all night. He mentioned it at the airport to Gertie, but she seemed sure that Scott's interest was purely the money, and Bernie let her convince him.

He called Grossman from the airport again and promised to let him know their progress. And it was a long night after that. They arrived in San Diego at eleven-thirty, and rented a large car with four-wheel drive. Winters had arranged for it from San Francisco, and they set off in the car directly from the airport. They didn't want to waste time stopping at a hotel, and they crossed the border at Tijuana. They drove rapidly through Rosarito and Descanso, and were in Ensenada an hour later. Winters had a feeling that they would have gone there, and with only a fifty-dollar bill in hand, the border guard had remembered them in Tijuana.

It was after one o'clock by then, but the bars were still alive, and they spent an hour in Ensenada walking into a dozen bars, each one taking a cluster of them, ordering a beer, and then showing Scott's picture. Gertie came up with the gold this time, a bartender who even remembered the child. She was very fair, he said, and she seemed afraid of the couple with her. Scott's girl friend had asked him about the ferry to Guaymas at Cabo Haro.

Gertie hurried back to the car with the information, and they set out on the route the bartender had suggested, south through San Vicente, San Telmo, Rosario, and then east across Baja to El Marmol. It was nearly two hundred miles and the trip took them five hours on rough roads, despite the four-wheel drive. They stopped in El Marmol for gas at seven o'clock Monday morning, and at eight o'clock they stopped for something to eat as they drove down the east coast of Baja. They had two hundred miles to go to Santa Rosalia. And it was a long tiresome day before they got there shortly before three o'clock. And then they had to wait two hours for the ferry to Guaymas. But they hit gold again when the ferry operator who helped them load their car remembered Scott, the woman, and the child who sat between them.

“What do you think, Jack?” He and Bernie stood on the deck watching Baja disappear behind them, as Gertie stood some distance from them.

“So far so good, but don't expect it to stay that way. It doesn't work that way, as a rule. At least we're off to a good start so far.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky fast.” Bernie wanted to believe that, but Jack Winters knew it wasn't likely.

It was a hundred miles from Santa Rosalia to Empalme, and two hundred and fifty from Empalme to Espiritu Santo where the man on the boat thought Scott had gotten off. But in Espiritu Santo the men on the dock were sure he had gone to Mazatlan, which was another two hundred and fifty miles. And there the trail went cold. By Wednesday they knew nothing more than they had in San Francisco. It was another week before, with painstaking work covering almost every bar and restaurant and store and hotel in Mazatlan, the trail continued to Guadalajara. It was only three hundred and twenty-four miles from Mazatlan to Guadalajara and it had taken them eight days of painstaking work to follow Scott there.

In Guadalajara they knew he had stayed at a tiny hotel called Rosalba's on a back street, and they knew very little more than that. Jack had a feeling they would have gone inland, maybe to one of the small towns on the way to Aguascalientes. It took them another two days to follow that lead, and by then it was Friday and Bernie's time had run out. He had to be back in San Francisco in two days to get Scott's phone call.

“What do we do now?” They had talked all along of Bernie flying back to San Francisco from Guadalajara, if they hadn't found her yet, so he could take Scott's phone call, and the Winters would stay in Mexico to hear from him. They were calling Grossman daily, and Bernie was calling Nanny and Alexander. All was well with them, and he missed his son terribly. But by Friday, his thoughts were filled with Jane, and the bastard holding her hostage.

“I think you'd better go back tomorrow.” Winters was thinking as he spoke, and they were both drinking a cerveza back at their hotel. “I think you ought to tell him that you've got the money.” Winters' eyes narrowed, formulating a plan, but Bernie didn't like it.

“Five hundred thousand dollars? And what do I do when I'm supposed to give it to him? Tell him it was all a joke?”

“Just arrange a meeting place with him. We'll worry about it after that. It'll tell us a lot if he wants to meet us somewhere down here. You can explain that it will take you a day or two to get down here, and by then, with luck, we'll have him.”

Winters was thinking all the time. But so was Bernie. “You don't think they're back in the States by now?”

“Not a chance of it.” Winters was sure of that. “He's too scared of the cops, if he has any brains. They won't do much to him for this, but with his record, that stolen car is going to wind him right back in jail, on a parole violation, if nothing else.”

“Amazing, isn't it?” Bernie looked at him bitterly. “He steals a child, threatens her, maybe causes her untold emotional damage for the rest of her life, and they worry about a beat-up old car. Nice, our system, isn't it? It's enough to make you a goddamn Communist. I'd like to see the bastard hanged for this!”

“You won't.” Winters was philosophical. He had seen a lot of this kind of thing, and worse. Enough to make him never want a kid, and his wife agreed with him. They didn't even have a dog anymore, after their last one was stolen and poisoned and dropped on their doorstep by someone they'd once gotten arrested.

They discovered nothing more the next day, and he left on Saturday night for San Francisco. He was home in San Francisco by nine o'clock that night, and he hurried back to the house, suddenly desperately anxious to see the baby. Now he was all he had left. Not only was Liz gone, but Jane was too, and what he wondered was if he'd ever hear her voice again, echoing down the hall as she came running to him, shouting “Hi, Daddy!” The thought of it was too much for him, and after he set down the bags in Nanny's room, he walked out quietly and went to sit in the living room, his face in his hands as he cried silently. It was too much to lose both of them, and Jane like this. He felt as though he had failed Liz in the only way that had ever mattered to her.

“Mr. Fine?” Nanny had seen the look on his face, and she had left Alexander asleep in his crib to find his father. She walked quietly into the darkened living room, knowing what a terrible two weeks it had been for him … a terrible fourteen months in fact…. He was such a decent man, and she was so sorry for him. Only her faith in God kept her certain that they would find Jane and bring her home again and she tried to tell him that from the doorway, but at first he didn't answer. “She'll be home again. God will give us the wisdom we need to find her.” But instead, he found himself thinking of the Lindbergh kidnapping years before, and the heartbreak those people must have gone through.

“What if we never find them?” He sounded like a child, convinced that all was lost, but she refused to believe that. And slowly he raised his head to look at her, with the light shining behind her in the doorway. “Nanny, I couldn't face that.”

“With the grace of God, you won't have to.” She came over and patted his shoulder and turned on the light. And a few minutes later she brought him a mug of steaming tea and a sandwich. “You should go to bed early tonight. You'll think better in the morning, Mr. Fine.” But what was there to think about? How to pretend he had half a million dollars he didn't? He was very, very frightened, and he hardly slept at all that night, tossing and turning, and thinking.

And in the morning Bill Grossman came to see him. They talked endlessly about where they'd been and what they'd found and how the trail went cold in Guadalajara. Winters called them that morning to report in and there was nothing new since the day before except a suggestion Gertie had made.

“She thinks we ought to try Puerto Vallarta.” They had talked about it before, but decided he'd be too visible there, and would be more likely to go inland. “Maybe she's right. Maybe he's cocky enough to try something like that. And we know he likes the good life. Maybe he's trying on a yacht for size.” But Bernie didn't think it very likely.

“Give it a shot.” He was staying home all day, in case Scott called earlier than he said he would. He was terrified to miss him. And Grossman sat keeping him company till the late afternoon. He had already told him that morning that the court had proclaimed themselves “distressed” over Mr. Scott's “poor judgment.” “Distressed?” Bernie had shouted. “Distressed? Are they out of their goddamn minds? My kid is God knows where right now, thanks to their stupidity, and they're distressed? How touching.” Grossman knew how upset he was, and he had a right to be. He didn't tell him that the social worker assigned to the case had said it was probably because Mr. Scott was anxious to make up for lost time and get to know his daughter. There was a good chance that if Grossman had told Bernie that, he would have gone to City Hall and killed her. Not quite, but close. And his nerves were badly frayed when the phone rang at five o'clock. Bernie was sure that it was Scott, and he took a breath before he picked up the phone. “Yes?”

It wasn't Scott. It was Winters. “We've got something for you. Did he call yet?” It was just like playing cops and robbers, except what they'd stolen was his heart … his baby …

“No. I'm still waiting. What's up?”

“I'm not sure yet…but we may have found him. Gertie was right. He's been all over Puerto Vallarta.”

“Is Jane with him?” Oh God …please God …don't let them have killed her…. He had been thinking more and more of the parents in cases like this who never saw their children again. Thousands of them every year …the figures were something terrible like a hundred thousand….

“I'm not sure. He's been spending a lot of time at a place called Carlos O'Brien's.” And so did everyone in Vallarta. It was the most popular bar in town, and Scott was a fool to have gone there. But no one seemed to remember the child or the woman. He had probably left them at a hotel. “See if you can get something out of him when he calls. Maybe you can chat for a while…. Play it friendly.” Bernie felt his palm sweat on the phone at the thought.

“I'll try.”

“And make a date with him. Pretend you've got the money.”

“Yeah.”

Bernie was a nervous wreck when he hung up, and explained to Grossman. And the phone rang again less than five minutes later. This time it was Scott, with a very poor long-distance connection.

“How you doing, pal?” He sounded happy and relaxed and Bernie wished that he could get his hands on him and throttle him till he choked.

“Fine. I've got good news for you.” He tried to sound relaxed and in control and unconcerned as he shouted over the static.

“What kind of news?”

“Half a million dollars' worth.” Bernie played his part well. “How's Jane?”

“That's great news!” Scott sounded delighted, but not as much as Bernie would have liked.

“I said, 'How's Jane?' “His hand clenched on the phone as he waited and Grossman watched him.

“She's fine. But I've got bad news for you.” Bernie's heart stopped. “The price has gone up. She's such a cute little thing, I just figure she's worth a lot more than I originally thought.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep. I think she's worth a million now, don't you?” Jesus Christ.

“That's not going to be easy.” He scribbled the amount down on a piece of paper for Grossman. But it might give them more time. “I'll have to go back to my sources again.”

“You got the five hundred thou now?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Then why don't we do it in installments?”

“Do I get Jane back after the first installment?”

Scott laughed at him. “Not likely, old buddy.” Son-ofabitch. Bernie had never hated anyone so much, or had so much good reason. “You get her back when we get the whole million.”

“Fine, then you don't get it in installments.”

Scott's voice hardened in the phone. “I'll give you a week to get the other half, Fine. And if I don't get it…” He was the greediest bastard alive. But now they had another week to find Jane. With luck, in Puerto Vallarta.

“I want to talk to her.” Bernie's voice matched Scott's.

“She's not here.”

“Where is she?”

“She's safe. Don't you worry.”

“I want to make one thing very clear to you, Scott. If you hurt one hair on her head, I'm going to kill you. You got that? And you're not getting one thin dime until I see her alive and healthy.”

“She'll be fine.” He laughed. “Hell, she even has a sun-tan.” Puerto Vallarta.

“Where is she?”

“Never mind. She can tell you all about it when she comes home. I'll call you one week from tonight, and you better have the money, Fine.”

“I will. You better have Jane.”

“You got yourself a deal.” He laughed. “For one million dollars.” And on those words he hung up, as Bernie sat back breathlessly. There was a film of sweat on his forehead, and when he looked at Grossman, the lawyer was shaking.

“Nice guy.” Grossman felt sick.

“Isn't he?” Bernie sounded bitter. He felt as though he would never recover from this, even if they did get her back.

The phone rang again half an hour later. It was Winters. He didn't mince words. “We got him.”

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I just talked to him.” Bernie's hand shook on the phone, and his voice trembled.

“I mean we know where he is. A waitress at Carlos O'Brien's has been babysitting for Jane. I had to pay her a thousand dollars to keep her mouth shut, but it was worth it. She says she's fine. She told the girl that Scott isn't really her dad, but he 'used to be,' he was married to her mom once, but he told her that if she ran away or tried to get help, he'd kill you and the baby. Apparently the girl friend got tired of babysitting at night while Scott goes out to play, so they hired this waitress.”

“Christ! How could he tell her a thing like that?”

“That's not unusual. Usually they tell them their parents are dead or don't want to see them anymore. It's amazing what kids will believe when they're scared.”

“Why didn't the girl go to the police?”

“She says she didn't want to get involved, you never know if kids are telling the truth. And anyway, he was paying her. We just paid her more. And she may be sleeping with him, but I don't think that holds much weight with her.” She had offered Winters a blow job for another hundred dollars. But he hadn't put it on the expense account, and he'd laughed when he told Gertie. She was slightly less amused than he was. “What did he say on the phone?” Winters was worried they were going to make a move that night, after the conversation, and it might be hard to follow him without being spotted.

“He wants a million now. And he gave me a week to get it.”

“Great. That means he'll relax. I want to grab the kid tonight. Okay by you? For another thousand bucks, the girl will help me. She's supposed to babysit for Jane tonight. I want to grab her then.” Bernie's heart turned over at the thought. Please God keep her safe. “We can't get a plane out of here tonight, but we'll drive like hell for Mazatlan and catch a plane out in the morning.” He sounded every inch a professional, and he was. But Bernie would have preferred to be there. He knew how frightening it would be for Jane. And Jack and his wife were just two more strangers. But it would be easier for them to move fast than it would have been with him, and Nanny and the baby. “With luck, you'll have her home tomorrow.”

“Keep me posted.”

“You should hear from us by midnight.” It was the longest night of his life, and Grossman went home around seven and told him to call if he heard anything, no matter how late it was. Bernie thought of calling his mother too, and then decided to wait until he had more to tell her.

He didn't have as long to wait as Winters had thought. Shortly after ten o'clock he got a collect call from Valle de Banderas in Jalisco.

“Do you essept de charges?” the operator asked, and he instantly said yes. For once Nanny Pippin had gone to bed, and he was alone in the kitchen. He had been making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Jack?”

“We got her. She's fine. She's asleep in the car with Gertie. She's exhausted. I'm sorry to say it, but we scared the hell out of her. The girl let us in and we grabbed her. She's going to tell Scott that the cops grabbed the kid. You may not even hear from him for a while. Anyway, we've got reservations on a nine A.M. flight out of Mazatlan and we're staying at the Holiday Inn when we get there. And no one's going to touch her now.” Bernie knew they were armed. There were tears streaming down his cheeks as he held the phone, and all he could say to the man who'd saved Jane was “Thank you,” as he hung up the phone, sat down at the kitchen table, laid his head on his arms, and sobbed with relief and regret and pent-up terror. His baby was coming home…. If only Liz had been coming with her …

Chapter 31

The plane landed at eleven o'clock local time and Bernie was waiting at the airport with Nanny and Grossman and the baby. Jane was holding Gertie's hand as she walked off the plane, and Bernie lunged forward and swept her off the ground, holding her close to him as he sobbed openly. And for once even Nanny didn't retain her composure. There were tears streaming from her blue eyes as she kissed the child, and even Bill Grossman kissed her.

“Oh baby …I'm so sorry …” Bernie could barely speak, and Jane couldn't stop crying and laughing as she kissed him and the baby and Nanny.

“They said that if I said anything or tried to run away …” She started crying again. She couldn't say the words, but he knew it from Winters. “They said they had someone following you all the time.”

“It was a lie, sweetheart. Like everything else they told you.”

“He's a terrible man. I don't know why Mommy ever married him. And he's not handsome, he's ugly, and his friend was horrible …” But Gertie said that from talking to her alone, she was positive that the child hadn't been molested. They were strictly interested in the money, and they must have been mad as hell when they found that she was gone when they got back from Carlos O'Brien's.

When they got back to the house, Jane looked around as though she thought she had gone to heaven. It was exactly sixteen days since she'd left home and the nightmare had begun for all of them. Sixteen days and forty thousand dollars to find her. His parents had sold stock to help him pay Winters' fees, but it was worth every penny. And they called them now, so Jane could talk with Grandma Ruth herself, but his mother could only sob into the phone and finally had to pass it on to Lou. She had been sure that they would kill her. She had remembered the Lindbergh kidnapping too. She had been a young woman when it happened and it had impressed her all her life.

Bernie held Jane in his arms for hours that day, and they reported to the police that she'd been found, but no one sounded very excited, and the court was notified too. They proclaimed themselves pleased to hear it, and Bernie was bitter against everyone except Jack Winters. He had Winters line up bodyguards for him. Jane and Alexander were not to leave the house without an armed guard, and Bernie wanted one at home with her whenever he was out. And then he called Paul Berman and told him he'd be back in the store by morning. He had only taken two weeks off, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Is she all right?” Berman was still horrified at what had happened. Those poor people had had one nightmare after another, with Liz dying and now this. He felt desperately sorry for Bernie and he had already begun the search for someone to replace him in California. Even Berman realized now that it wasn't fair to leave him in San Francisco any longer. The guy had been through enough, although he knew it might take months, or even a year, to find a replacement to run the San Francisco store. But at least the search had started.

“Jane's fine.”

“We all prayed for her, Bernie.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

He hung up, feeling grateful that they had found her. He thought again about the people who never saw their children again, fathers and mothers who spent a lifetime wondering if their children were alive, and cherishing photographs of five-year-olds who by then were in their twenties or thirties, and maybe didn't even know their parents were alive, after the lies the kidnappers had told them. To Bernie, child stealing seemed almost as awful as murder.

The phone rang that night while they were having dinner. Nanny had made steak and asparagus hollandaise, because it was Jane's favorite. And she had made a huge chocolate cake for dessert, which Alexander was eyeing with lust, as Bernie stood up and went to answer the phone. The phone had rung all afternoon and all evening with calls from well-wishers, thrilled and relieved that their horror was over. Tracy had even called from Philadelphia. She had called earlier. Nanny had told her what had happened.

“Hello?” Bernie was smiling at Jane. They hadn't taken their eyes off each other all day, and she had fallen asleep on his lap for a while just before dinner.

There was static on the line, and a familiar voice. Bernie couldn't believe it. But he switched on the recording device Grossman had given him the day before. He had also recorded the request for the million dollars in ransom. “Got your baby back, eh?” Scott did not sound pleased, as Bernie listened, and watched the machine record him. “I gather the cops helped you grab her.” The girl had told Scott just what she was supposed to and Bernie was pleased.

“I don't have much to say to you.”

“I'm sure you'll find something to say in court.” It was a joke. He knew Scott wouldn't dare take him to court again.

“I'm not real worried about that, Scott, and if you ever lay a hand on her again, I'll have you arrested. In fact, I might have you arrested anyway.”

“On what grounds? Child stealing is a misdemeanor anyway. They'd put me in jail overnight, if they did that much.”

“I'm not so sure kidnap for ransom is so popular with the local courts.”

“Try to prove it, buddy. You never got anything in writing from me, and if you were dumb enough to tape our conversations, it won't do you any good anyway. Recordings are inadmissible in court.” The guy certainly knew what he was doing. “You haven't seen the last of me yet, Fine. There are more ways to skin a cat than one.” But with that, Bernie hung up on him and stopped the recording device. He called Grossman after dinner, and Bill confirmed to him what Chandler Scott had said. Recordings were inadmissible.

“Then why the hell did you have me bother to do that?” The law was definitely not on his side in this instance, and they had done nothing to help since the beginning.

“Because even if it can't be used as evidence, the people at Family Court can still listen to it, and hear what you were up against.” But when Bill gave them the recordings they were less than sympathetic, and declared that Scott had probably been joking, or perhaps under some terrible strain after not seeing his daughter for so long, and hearing that his ex-wife had died of cancer.

“Are they crazy, or are they just kidding?” Bernie had stared at him. “The guy is a criminal and he kidnapped her for a million dollars ransom, and he held her hostage in Mexico for sixteen days and they think he was 'joking'?” Bernie couldn't believe it. First the police didn't give a damn when Scott took her, and now the court didn't give a damn about the request for ransom.

But the worst news came the following week when they received a notification from the court that Scott wanted a custody hearing.

“A custody hearing?” Bernie almost ripped the phone out of the wall when Bill told him. “Custody of what?”

“His daughter. He is claiming to the court that the only reason he took her is that he loves her so desperately, and he wants her with him, where she belongs.”

“Where? In jail? Do they take kids in San Quentin? That's where the sonofabitch belongs.” Bernie was hysterical in his office, and at that very moment Jane was at the park with Nanny Pippin and the baby and a black bodyguard who had played tackle for the Redskins ten years before and was six feet five inches tall and weighed two hundred and ninety pounds. Bernie was praying that Scott would annoy him.

“Calm down. He doesn't have custody yet. He's just asking.”

“Why? Why is he doing this to me?”

“You want to know why?” It was the worst case Grossman had ever had, and he was beginning to hate Scott as much as Bernie did, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. They had to be rational about it. “He's doing this because if he gets custody, God forbid, or even visitation, he's going to sell her back to you. If he can't do it by kidnapping her, he'll do it legally. Because the rights are his, he's her natural father, but you have the money, and that's what he wants.”

“So let's give it to him. Why fool around going through the courts and playing games? He wants money, let's offer it to him now.” It seemed very simple to Bernie. Scott didn't have to torture him to get what he wanted.

“It's not as simple as that. It's against the law for you to offer him any money.”

“Oh. I see,” Bernie said angrily. “But it's okay for him to kidnap the kid and ask for a million dollars ransom, that's okay, but my trying to buy the sonofabitch off isn't. Jesus Christ”—he slammed a hand on his desk and knocked the phone to the floor, still holding onto the receiver as the rest dangled crazily—“what's wrong with this country??!”

“Take it easy, Bernie!” Grossman tried to soothe him but it was useless.

“Don't tell me to take it easy. He wants custody of my kid and now you want me to take it easy? Three weeks ago he kidnapped her and I jackassed all around Mexico thinking she was dead, and I should take it easy?! Are you goddamn crazy too?” He was standing on his feet and yelling at the top of his lungs in his office, and then he slammed down the phone and sat down at his desk and cried. It was all her goddamn fault anyway. If she hadn't died, none of it would have happened. But the thought of that only made him cry harder. He was so lonely for Liz, that every breath he took was painful, and even being with the children made it harder. Nothing was the way it had been before …nothing …not the house …not the kids …not the food they ate …or the way their laundry was folded…. Nothing was familiar anymore, and nothing was ever going to be the same again. He had never felt so bereft in his life, and he sat at his desk and cried. And for the first time, he realized that Liz was never coming back again. Never.

Chapter 32

The new hearing was set for December twenty-first, and it was given priority because it was a custody hearing. Apparently the matter of the stolen car had been dropped. And as a result, there could be no parole violation. The owners of the car didn't want to press charges because, according to Winters, they were dealing drugs, and Chandler Scott came back into the country without a problem.

He looked respectable and subdued as he walked into the courtroom with his attorney. And Bernie walked into the court in a dark blue suit and a white shirt, with Bill Grossman. The black bodyguard was at home with Nanny Pippin and the children. Bernie had chuckled to himself only that morning at the portrait they presented, she so tiny and white and British with her flashing blue eyes and sensible shoes, he so enormous and black and ominous-looking until he smiled his startling ivory smile and tossed Alexander into the air, or played jumprope with Jane. And once he even tossed Nanny into the air as she and the children laughed. The reasons for needing him were unfortunate, but his presence was a real blessing. His name was Robert Blake, and Bernie was grateful to have him.

But as he walked into the courtroom, Bernie was thinking only of Chandler Scott and how much he hated him. They had the same judge they had had before, the only one available to them, the domestic relations judge, as he was called. He was a sleepy-looking man with white hair and a friendly smile, and he seemed to think that everyone loved everyone, or could be taught to, with a little effort.

He chided Scott for being “overenthusiastic about being alone with his daughter prematurely,” and Grossman had to grip Bernie's arm to keep him in his chair. And then he turned to Bernie and urged him to understand how strong a natural father's impulses were to be with his only child. And that time Bill was unable to restrain him.

“His natural impulses have not manifested themselves for nine years, Your Honor. And his strongest natural impulse was to try to extort a million dollars out of me for the safe return of my daughter when he …”

The judge smiled at Bernie benevolently. “I'm sure he was only joking, Mr. Fine. Please be seated.” Bernie wanted to cry as he listened to the proceedings. He had called his mother the night before, to bring them up to date, and she was convinced that they were persecuting him because he was Jewish. He knew that wasn't the case. But they were persecuting him because he wasn't Jane's natural father, as though that made a difference. Chandler Scott's only claim to fame was to have slept with Jane's mother and have gotten her pregnant. That had been his only contribution to Jane's life and well-being, whereas for half of her life, Bernie had been everything to her. And Grossman did everything he could to get the point across.

“My client feels very strongly that Mr. Scott is not emotionally or financially prepared to take on the responsibility of a child at this time. Perhaps at some later date, Your Honor …” Bernie lurched forward again, and Bill stared him into silence. “Mr. Scott has had several encounters with the law, and has not had regular employment for several years, from what we've been able to determine. And at the moment he is living in a transient hotel in East Oakland.” Scott squirmed in his seat but only slightly.

“Is that true, Mr. Scott?” The judge smiled at him, anxious for a truth that would make Scott a good father in his eyes, and Scott was anxious to help him.

“Not exactly, Your Honor. I've been living on a trust my family left me a while ago.” The aura of the country club again, but Grossman was quick to challenge it.

“Can you prove that, Mr. Scott?” he interjected.

“Of course …that money is gone now, I'm afraid. But I'm going to start work with the Atlas Bank this week.”

“With his record?” Bernie whispered to Grossman.

“Never mind. We'll force him to prove it.”

“And I rented an apartment in the city yesterday.” He looked triumphantly at Grossman and Bernie, and the judge nodded. “Of course, I don't have as much money as Mr. Fine, but I hope Jane won't mind that very much.”

The judge nodded again, anxious to please Chandler. “Material goods are not what's important here, and of course I'm sure you'll be happy to agree to a visitation schedule for Mr. Fine to see Jane.”

Bernie suddenly looked at Grossman in terror, and leaned over to speak to him in a whisper. “What's he talking about? What does he mean a 'visitation schedule' for me? Is he crazy?”

Grossman waited a moment and then questioned the judge as to his intention, and he asked Bill to wait a moment, but then explained it to all parties concerned. “There is no question here but that Mr. Fine loves his stepdaughter, and that is not the issue here, but the fact remains that a natural father belongs with his child, in the absence of the natural mother. With the unfortunate death of Mrs. Fine, Jane must revert to living with her father. The court fully understands how painful this is for Mr. Fine, and we will remain open to discussion as we see how the new arrangement works out.” He smiled benignly at Scott, as Bernie sat shaking in his seat. He had failed her. He had failed Liz completely. And now he was going to lose Jane. It was like hearing that they were going to tear off his arm. And actually he would have preferred it. Given the choice, he would gladly have given up any limb and kept the child, but they didn't offer him that option. The judge looked at both men, their attorneys, and finished his pronouncement. “Custody is hereby being given to Chandler Scott, with a satisfactory visiting schedule to be given to Bernard Fine, perhaps a biweekly visit,” he suggested as Bernie gaped from his seat. “The child is to be turned over to Mr. Scott in forty-eight hours, at her domicile, at twelve noon on December twenty-third. I feel that the unfortunate little mishap in Mexico is only an indication of how anxious Mr. Scott is to begin a normal life with his daughter, and the court would like to see him do that as quickly as possible.” For the first time in his adult life, Bernie thought he was going to faint as the judge rapped the gavel. He was as white as a sheet and he was staring down at the table when Bill Grossman looked at him. The room was spinning in front of his eyes, and he felt as though Liz had just died again. He could almost hear her voice in his ears …swear to me, Bernie …swear to me you'll never let him near her….

“Are you all right?” Grossman was frightened as he looked at him. He was leaning over him and he signaled to the clerk for a glass of water. They handed Bernie a soggy paper cup filled with lukewarm water, and a sip of it helped bring him to his senses. He silently got to his feet and followed Bill Grossman out of the courtroom.

“Do I have any recourse? Can I appeal this?” He looked badly shaken.

“You can ask for another hearing, but you have to give up the child in the meantime.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact way, hoping to defuse the emotions, but there was no way to do that. Bernie was staring at him with open hatred. Hatred of Scott and the judge and the system, and he wasn't entirely sure Bernie didn't hate him too. And he wasn't sure he would have blamed him. It was a travesty of justice, but they were helpless.

“What if I don't give her up to him on the twenty-third?” he asked in an undertone outside the courtroom.

“They'll put you in jail sooner or later. But he'll have to come back with a deputy sheriff to do it.”

“Good.” Bernie's mouth set in a thin line, and he looked at his attorney. “And you better get ready to bail me out of jail, because I'm not giving Jane to him. And I'm going to offer to buy him off when he comes. He wants to sell me the kid? Great. Name the price. I'm buying.”

“Bernie, things might go more smoothly if you turn Jane over to him and then try to deal with him. The court will take a dim view of it if…”

“To hell with the court,” Bernie spat at him. “And to hell with you too. Not one of you bastards gives a damn about my kid. You just want to keep each other happy and not rock the goddamn boat. Well, you're not talking about a boat, you're talking about my daughter, and I know what's good for her and what isn't. One of these days that bastard is going to kill my kid, and you're all going to tell me how sorry you are. I told you he was going to kidnap her, and you thought I was crazy. Well, I was right. And this time I'm telling you that I'm not giving her up to him on Thursday. And if you don't like it, Grossman, you can get off the goddamn case for all I care.” Grossman felt desperately sorry for him. It was a rotten situation.

“I'm just trying to explain to you how the court feels about these situations.”

“The court has its head up its ass, and it doesn't have any feelings. 'The court,' as you call it, is a fat little old man who sits in that chair up there and never made it as an attorney, so now he's spending his time lousing up people's lives and feeling important. He didn't even give a damn that Scott kidnapped Jane, and he probably wouldn't give a damn if he had raped her.”

“I'm not sure of that, Bernie.” He had to defend the system he worked for and believed in, but too much of what Bernie said made sense. It was very depressing.

“You're not sure, Bill? Well, I am.” Bernie was livid, and he started walking down the hall to the elevator as Bill followed. They went down to the main floor in silence and Bernie looked at him as they walked outside. “I just want you to understand. I'm not giving Jane to him when he comes on Thursday. Blake and I are going to be standing in the doorway and I'm going to tell him to go screw himself, after I ask him pointblank what his price is. I'm not going to play this game with him any longer. And this time he's going to have to sign his life away when I pay him. Not like the last time. And if I wind up in jail, I'll expect you to bail me out, or hire me another lawyer. Got that?” Grossman nodded and Bernie walked off without another word to his attorney.

He called his parents that night, and his mother cried on the phone. It seemed like they hadn't had a happy conversation in over a year now. First there had been the agonies and hushed reports over Liz' illness, and now there was this mess with Chandler Scott. He told her what he was going to do, and that he might end up in jail and she sobbed openly at the other end of the phone, half thinking about the grandchild she might never see again, and half thinking about her son as a jailbird.

They had been planning to come out that Friday but Bernie thought they should wait. Everything was just too much up in the air with the mess Scott was making. But when he hung up, Mrs. Pippin disagreed with him.

“Let the grandmother come, Mr. Fine. The children need to see her, and so do you. It will do everyone good.”

“What if I'm in jail?” She giggled at the prospect and then shrugged philosophically.

“I'll just carve the turkey myself, I suppose.” He loved her burr and her good humor. There seemed to be nothing she couldn't face. Flood, plague, or famine.

But that night, when he tucked Jane into bed, he realized how deeply frightened she was of his turning her over to Scott again. He had tried to explain that to the woman at Family Court but she refused to believe him, and she had only talked to Jane for five or ten minutes herself, and thought she just felt “shy” about her natural father. In truth, she was terrified of him, and the nightmares she had that night were the worst she'd ever had. He and Mrs. Pippin met in her bedroom at four o'clock in the morning as she screamed in terror and he finally took her into his own bed, and let her sleep there beside him, clutching his hand with her smaller one, as she slept with a troubled look on her face. Only Alexander seemed unaffected by the tragedies that had befallen them ever since his arrival. He was a happy sunny little child, and he was beginning to talk now. He was the only thing that cheered Bernie amidst the anguish of worrying about losing Jane. And he talked to Jack Winters again on Thursday morning.

“The apartment's for real. He moved in a few days ago, and he's sharing it with a friend. But I can't figure out the job at the Atlas Bank. They say they hired him as part of some new program they've got to give ex-cons a chance. I don't think it's much of a job, and he hasn't started yet anyway. I think it's just a PR thing they started to show how liberal they are. We're checking it out some more, and I'll let you know what I find out.” Bernie didn't like the sound of him sharing his apartment. He was sure they were going to disappear with Jane again, if they got the chance. But Blake was going to see to it that that didn't happen. Bob had been sitting in the kitchen since that morning, with his jacket off and a large .38 in a shoulder holster that Alexander kept pointing at and saying “Bang!” as Nanny frowned in disapproval. But Bernie wanted him wearing it, and he wanted Scott to see it when he showed up at noon, and they refused to let him have Jane. Bernie wasn't playing parlor games with him anymore. Now they were in earnest.

And just as he had done before, he was late picking Jane up. She was hiding in her bedroom, and Nanny was trying to distract her.

At one o'clock Scott wasn't there, and at two o'clock he hadn't come either. Unable to stand the tension any longer, Bill Grossman called them, and Bernie told him that there had been no news. At two-thirty Jane came tiptoeing out of her bedroom, but Bernie and Bob Blake were still sitting in the living room, waiting, as the clock ticked, and Nanny baked cookies in the kitchen with Alexander.

“There's no sign of him,” Bernie told Grossman when he called again, unable to figure it out. “He can't have forgotten.”

“Maybe he got drunk at lunch. It's almost Christmas after all …maybe he went to an office party.” At five o'clock Nanny started dinner and Bernie debated about sending Bob home, but Bob insisted on staying until they heard something. He didn't want Scott showing up ten minutes after he left. And Bernie agreed but he went to fix them both a drink, and Jane flicked on the TV to see if there were any cartoons or good shows on, but there was nothing but news. And then suddenly she saw him.

They were showing his picture on the screen. First in slow motion, and then a freeze frame, as he stood holding a gun on a whole lobbyful of people at the Atlas Bank. The film continued then and he looked tall and blond and handsome on the screen, and he was smiling at someone as he pulled the trigger and shattered a lamp next to where someone was standing and then he laughed some more. Jane was so terrified she couldn't even cry or call Bernie. She just pointed as Bernie and Bob came back with their drinks in their hands, and Bernie stared as he saw him. It was Chandler Scott. Holding up the Atlas Bank, in broad daylight.

“The gunman, who was unidentified at the time, walked into the Atlas Bank at Sutter and Mason shortly before eleven o'clock this morning. He had a female accomplice who wore a stocking mask, and they handed a teller a note, demanding five hundred thousand dollars.” That seemed to be his magic number. “When she told them she didn't have it, he told her to give him all the money she had.” The voice droned on as they ran the bank's film and suddenly saw him start shooting. Eventually, as the police surrounded the bank, because the teller had pressed a panic button, he and his accomplice held everyone hostage. None of the hostages had been injured despite what the anchorman called a little “playful shooting on the part of the gunman and his accomplice. He told them to hurry up, because he had a date at noon. But by lunchtime it was obvious that they were not going to get out of the bank without giving themselves up or injuring a hostage. They attempted to shoot their way out finally, and both of them had been killed before they ever reached the curb. The tall blond was a previously convicted felon named Chandler Anthony Scott, aka Charlie Antonio Schiavo, and the woman was Anne Stewart.” Jane stared at the screen in amazement.

“Daddy, that's the lady who went to Mexico with us…. Her name was Annie!” She was staring wide-eyed as they showed Scott and the woman, lying facedown on the sidewalk in a pool of blood after the shoot-out, and then the ambulance taking away the bodies, and the hostages fleeing from the bank, as you heard Christmas carols in the background. “Daddy, they killed him.” Her eyes were wide and she sat staring at Bernie, who looked at her and then Robert Blake. They were all in shock, and for a moment he wondered if it could have been a different Chandler Scott, but it couldn't. It just seemed so remarkable …and now it was all over. He reached over and pulled Jane into his arms and held her there, signaling to Bob to turn off the television.

“I'm sorry you ever had to go through all that, baby …but it's all over now.”

“He was such a terrible man.” She looked so little and she said it so sadly, and then she looked up at him with enormous eyes. “I'm glad Mommy never knew. She would have been very angry.”

Bernie smiled at the choice of words. “Yes, she would have. But it's all over now, baby … all over …” It was amazing, and he still couldn't believe it, as the reality sank in slowly. Scott was out of their lives. Forever.

They called Grandma Ruth a little while later, and told them to take the next plane they could get. He explained everything before Jane got on, but she gave her grandmother all the gory details herself. “And he was lying in this enormous pool of blood, Grandma …honest…right on the sidewalk … it was really, really yucky.” But she looked so relieved. She suddenly looked like a little girl again. He told Grossman as well, and Nanny invited Bob Blake to join them for dinner, but he was anxious to get home to his wife. They were going to a Christmas party. And Bernie and Jane and Nanny and Alexander sat down to dinner. And Jane looked up at him, remembering the candles they had lit with Grampa on Friday nights, before her mother had died. She wanted to do it again, and suddenly there was time for everything. They had a whole life to look forward to. Together.

“Daddy, tomorrow can we light the candles?” “What candles?” He had been helping her to some meat and then suddenly he understood, and felt guilty that he wasn't more observant of some of the traditions he'd grown up with. “Sure, sweetheart.” And then he leaned over and kissed her, as Nanny smiled, and Alexander dug his fingers into the mashed potatoes. It was almost as though life was normal. And maybe one day it might be.

Chapter 33

It almost made Bernie shudder to go back to the same courtroom, but it was something that meant a great deal to both of them. And his parents had flown out again especially to be present. And Grossman had asked the judge if he would do it in chambers. They had come to City Hall for Jane's adoption.

The papers were waiting for them, and the judge Jane had never seen before smiled down at her and then glanced up at the family who had come with her. There was Bernie, of course, and his parents, and Nanny in her best blue uniform with the white collar. She never took a day off, and she never wore anything except the immaculate starched uniforms she ordered from England. And she had brought Alexander in a little blue velvet suit, and he was muttering happily as he took all of the judge's books off one of the lower shelves and stacked them up so he could stand on them to reach the next ones. Bernie went to scoop him up and held him as the judge looked at them solemnly and explained why they were there.

“It is my understanding”—he looked at Jane—“that you wish to be adopted, and that Mr. Fine wishes to adopt you as well.”

“He's my father,” she explained quietly, and the judge looked briefly confused and then glanced at his papers again. Bernie would have preferred to have someone else do the adoption, he still remembered him only too well from the fiasco in December when he had given custody to Chandler Scott, but no one mentioned that now as they went on.

“Yes, well …let's see.” He examined the adoption papers, and asked Bernie to sign, then Grossman to witness it. And Bernie asked his parents to witness it as well.

“Can I sign too?” Jane asked, wanting to be part of it, and the judge hesitated. No one had ever asked him that before.

“There's no need for you to sign anything …er …uh …Jane…. But I suppose you could sign the papers too, if you'd like to.”

She smiled up at Bernie and then back at the judge again. “I'd like to do that, if it's okay.”

He nodded, and passed one of the documents to her, and she looked at it solemnly and signed her name. And then the judge looked at all of them. “I hereby declare, by the power vested in me by the State of California, that Jane Elizabeth Fine is now the lawful daughter of Bernard Fine, adopted on this twenty-eighth day of January.” He rapped a small gavel he kept on his desk, and stood up and smiled at all of them, and in spite of the terrible thing he'd done to Bernie before, he shook Bernie's hand. And then Bernie scooped Jane up in his arms, just as he had when she was a much smaller girl, and he kissed her and then set her down again.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I love you too.” He smiled down at her, wishing that Liz could have been there. And wishing also that he had done it all a long time ago. If he had, he would have saved all of them a great deal of pain. Chandler Scott wouldn't have had a leg to stand on. But it was too late to worry about that. It was all over now. And a new life had begun for them. She was truly his daughter now, and Grandma Ruth was crying as she kissed her, and Grampa shook Bernie's hand.

“Congratulations, son.” It was like getting married all over again, and they went to Trader Vic's for lunch, except for Nanny and Alexander. And while everyone was ordering lunch, Bernie slipped his hand into Jane's and smiled down at her. And without saying anything to her, he slipped a little gold ring on her finger. It was a delicate braid of gold with a single pearl. She looked down at it with wide eyes, and then looked up at him again.

“Daddy, it's beautiful.” It was like being engaged to him. And now she knew no one could ever take her away from him. No one. Ever again.

“You're beautiful, sweetheart. And you're a very, very brave girl.” They were both thinking of the days in Mexico, but all of that was over now. They looked at each other, both thinking of Liz, and Bernie smiled at her, feeling in his heart of hearts that Jane Elizabeth Fine was truly his child now.

Chapter 34

For the first time in two years, Bernie took over the import lines again, and it was painful to go back to Paris and Rome and Milan without Liz. He remembered the first time he had taken Liz to Europe with him, and how excited she had been about the clothes she'd bought, the museums they'd visited, the lunches at Fouquet's and dinners at Lipp's and Maxim's, and it was all so different now. But this was also his bailiwick, and he fell rapidly back into step again. He felt as though he had been out of the mainstream for a long, long time. He felt more alive again after he had seen all the new ready-to-wear lines and spoken to his favorite couturiers. He knew exactly what was right for Wolffs that year, and when he stopped in New York on the way back, he and Paul Berman had a long quiet lunch at Le Veau d'Or and discussed all of Bernie's plans. He admired the way Bernie had handled everything, and he was looking forward to having him come home. No one suitable had turned up to take over for him at the San Francisco store, but he assumed that by year end Bernie would be back in New York.

“How does that fit in with your plans, Bernard?”

“All right, I suppose.” He didn't seem to care quite so much anymore and he had just sold his old apartment. It would have been too small for him now anyway. And the tenant he'd had for years had wanted to buy it. “I'll have to think about schools for Jane before we come back, but there's time for that.” He was no longer in a hurry. There was nothing to rush home for, and only the children and Nanny to bring with him.

“I'll let you know as soon as we have someone in mind.” It wasn't easy to find the right person for the job. He had spoken to two women and a man so far, but all of them were too limited. They didn't have Bernard's experience, or his sophisticated eye. And he didn't want the San Francisco branch turning into some dull provincial store. In Bernie's hands it was their biggest moneymaker, after the New York store, and Paul Berman liked that. And better than that, so did the Board of Directors.

He saw his parents briefly before he went back, and his mother wanted him to send the children to stay with her for the summer.

“You don't have time to be with them all day long, and there's nothing for them to do in town.” She had known without his saying it that they wouldn't be going back to Stinson Beach again. It would have been much too painful for him, but he didn't know where else to go. He had gone there with Liz since he had first moved out to California, and now he couldn't think of anything else without her.

“I'll give it some thought when I get back.”

“Maybe Jane would like to go to camp this year.” She was more than nine but he wasn't ready to let her go. They had both been through too much. It was only nine months since Liz had died. And the thing that shocked him most of all was his mother telling him that Mrs. Rosenthal's daughter had just gotten divorced and was living in Los Angeles, as though she expected him to do something about it.

“Why don't you look her up sometime?” He had stared at her as though she had suggested he walk down the street in his underwear, but he was also angry at her. She had no right to interfere in his life, or to start pushing women at him.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because she's a very nice girl.”

“So what?” He was furious. The world was full of nice girls, not one of them as nice as Liz, and he didn't want to know them.

“Bernie”—she took a deep breath and plunged in. She had wanted to say it to him since the last time they'd gone out to visit in San Francisco—“you have to get out sometime.”

“I get out all I need to.”

“That's not what I mean. I mean out with girls.” He wanted to tell her to mind her own goddamn business. She was digging into open wounds, and he couldn't take it.

“I'm thirty-nine years old. I'm not interested in 'girls.'”

“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” She was nagging him, and he didn't want to hear any of it. Liz' clothes were still hanging in the closet as they always had, only the perfume was fading now. He went in there now and then, just to remind himself, and the smell of her perfume would overwhelm him … it brought back floodtides of memories, and sometimes late at night, he would still lie on his bed and cry. “You're a young man. It's time to think of yourself.” No, he wanted to scream. No! It was still time to think of her. If he didn't, he would lose her forever. And he wasn't ready to let go of her yet. He was never going to. He was going to keep her clothes in the closet forever. He had their children and his memories. He didn't want more than that. And Ruth knew it.

“I don't want to discuss this with you.”

“You have to start thinking about it.” Her voice was gentle, but he hated her for feeling sorry for him and for pushing him.

“I don't have to think about a goddamn thing if I don't want to,” he snapped at her.

“What'll I tell Mrs. Rosenthal? I promised you'd call Evelyne when you got back to the west coast.”

“Tell her I couldn't find the number.”

“Don't be smart about it …the poor girl doesn't know anyone out there.”

“Then why did she move to Los Angeles?”

“She didn't know where else to go.”

“What was wrong with New York?”

“She wanted a career in Hollywood …she's a very pretty girl, you know. She was a model for Ohrbach's before she got married. You know …”

“Mother! No!” His voice was louder than it had to be, and he was sorry to have been so rough with her, but he wasn't ready for that. He didn't think he ever would be. He didn't want to date anyone. Ever. Again.

They celebrated Alexander's second birthday when they got home to San Francisco. Nanny had arranged a little party with all his friends from the park, and she had baked him a cake herself, which he dug into with glee, getting most of it all over his face and hands, and a fair amount of it in his mouth, too, as he gave Bernie a big chocolate grin for the camera. But when he put the camera away again, Bernie felt profoundly sad, thinking that Liz should have been there to see him …and suddenly Bernie was overwhelmed with the memories of the day she'd given birth to him only two years before. He had been there to watch life bestowed on them, and then again to watch life taken from them. It was difficult to absorb it all, as he kissed Alexander good night that night, and went back to his own room, even lonelier than he had been before, and without thinking, he walked into her closet. It was almost like a physical blow as he closed his eyes and inhaled her perfume again.

That weekend, not knowing what else to do, he took the children for a drive, with Jane in the front seat next to him, and Nanny contentedly chatting with Alexander strapped into his car seat. They took a different direction than usual, when they went on rides. Generally, they roamed around Marin when they did things like that, and went to Paradise Cove in Tiburon, or wandered around Belvedere, or went to Sausalito and bought ice cream cones. But this time, Bernie drove north into the wine country, and everything was rich and lush and green and beautiful. And Nanny began telling them about life on a farm in Scotland when she was a child.

“It looked a great deal like this, actually,” she observed as they passed an enormous dairy, and the trees were majestic as Bernie drove under them, and Jane smiled every time they saw horses or sheep or cows, and Alexander squealed and pointed, making all the appropriate “mooh” and “baah” noises, which made them all laugh, even Bernie, as he drove. It looked like God's country around them.

“It's pretty here, isn't it, Daddy?” She consulted him about everything. And the miseries they'd been through at Chandler Scott's hands had only brought them closer than before. “I like it a lot.” She seemed older than her years sometimes, and their eyes met as he smiled at her. He liked it too.

The wineries had solidity, the little Victorian houses they passed along the way had charm. And suddenly he began wondering if this was a place where they could go in the summer, which was fast approaching. It was so different from Stinson Beach that it would be fun for them. He looked down at Jane then with a smile.

“What do you say we spend a weekend up here sometime and check it out?” He consulted her about everything, much as he would have her mother.

She was excited at the prospect of it, and Nanny chirped at them from the backseat as Alexander shouted “More …more cow! …Mooo!!” They were passing a whole herd of them, and the following weekend they came back and stayed at a hotel in Yountville. It was perfect for them. The weather was balmy and warm, it didn't even get the coastal fog that kept Stinson socked in sometimes, the grass was lush, the trees were huge, the vineyards were beautiful, and on their second day there they found the perfect summer house in Oakville. It was an adorable Victorian, just off Highway 29, on a narrow winding road, it had been recently redone by a family that had moved to France, and they were looking to rent it for a few months, furnished, until they decided whether or not they wanted to come back to the Napa Valley. The owner of the bed-and-breakfast inn where they stayed pointed it out to them, and Jane was clapping her hands excitedly, while Nanny proclaimed it the perfect place to keep a cow.

“And can we have chickens, Daddy? And a goat?” Jane was beside herself with excitement as Bernie laughed at them.

“Now wait a minute, guys, we're not starting Old MacDonald's farm, we're just looking for a summer house.” It was just right for them. He called the realtor handling it before they went back to the city that night, and the price sounded right to him. He could have the house from the first of June till Labor Day. Bernie agreed to all their terms, signed the lease, wrote a check, and when they went back to the city, they had a summer house, which pleased him. He hadn't wanted to send the children to his mother. He wanted them close to him. And he could commute from Napa, just as he had from Stinson. It was a longer drive, but only by very little.

“I guess that takes care of camp,” he laughed as he smiled at Jane.

“Good.” She seemed pleased. “I didn't want to go to camp anyway. Do you think Grandma and Grampa will come out here to visit us?” They had room for them. There was a room for each of them, and a spare room for guests.

“I'm sure they will.” But Ruth thought the whole project a mistake from the first. It was inland, probably too hot, undoubtedly there were rattlesnakes, and the children would have been much better in Scarsdale with her, she said. “Mom, they're excited about this. And it really is a cute house.”

“What'll you do about work?”

“I'll commute. It's only about an hour from here.”

“More mishegoss. Just what you need. When are you going to get sensible?” She wanted to ask him about calling Evelyne Rosenthal again but she decided to wait awhile. Poor Evelyne was so lonely in Los Angeles she was thinking of going back to New York again and she would have been a nice girl for him. Not as nice as Liz maybe, but nice. And good for the kids. She even had two of her own, a boy and a girl. And thinking about it, she foolishly decided to mention it to Bernie after all. “You know, I talked to Linda Rosenthal today, and her daughter is still in Los Angeles.”

He couldn't believe she was doing this to him. After pretending to be so fond of Liz, it infuriated him. How could she? “I told you. I'm not interested.” His voice was tight, and it gave him a pain in his chest just thinking about other women.

“Why not? She's a lovely girl. She's …”

He cut her off, with fury in his voice. “I'm hanging up now.” It was a dangerous subject with Bernie, and as always, Ruth was sorry for him.

“I'm sorry. I just thought…”

“Don't.”

“I guess the time's not right.” She sighed, and he sounded even angrier.

“It never will be, Mom. I'll never find someone like her.”There were suddenly tears in his eyes, and his mother felt tears sting her eyes too as she listened in Scarsdale.

“You can't think like that.” Her voice was gentle and sad as the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks for the pain she knew he lived with constantly, and it hurt her to know that.

“Yes, I can think like that. She was everything I wanted. I could never find someone like her again.” His voice was barely audible as he thought of her.

“You could find someone different, whom you might love as much, differently.” She tried to be very tactful with him now, knowing how sensitive he was. But after ten months she thought it was time, and he didn't. “At least go out a little bit.” He stayed home with the children all the time, from what Mrs. Pippin said, and that wasn't good for him.

“I'm not interested, Mom. I'd rather be home with the kids.”

“They'll grow up one day. You did.” They both smiled, but she still had Lou, and for an instant she felt guilty.

“I've got about another sixteen years before that happens. I'm not going to worry about that now.” She didn't want to press it any further for the moment, and instead they talked about the house he had rented in Napa.

“Jane wants you to come out and visit us this summer, Mom.”

“All right, all right…I'll come.” And when she did, she loved it. It was the kind of place to let down your hair, walk in the grass, lie in the hammock under giant shade trees, looking up at the sky. There was even a little brook on the back of the property, where they could walk along the rocks and get their feet wet, as he had in the Catskills when he was a child. In some ways, Napa reminded him of that, and it reminded Ruth of that too. She watched the children playing in the grass and the look on Bernie's face as he watched them, and she felt better about him than she had in a long time. It really was the perfect spot for them, Ruth conceded before she left. Bernie looked happier than he had in a long time, and so did the children.

And when Ruth left, she flew down to Los Angeles to meet Lou at a medical convention in Hollywood. And from there they were going to Hawaii with friends. She reminded Bernie of Evelyne Rosenthal, who was still in Los Angeles and available, and this time he laughed at her. He was in much better spirits, although he still wasn't interested in her. But at least he didn't bark at her about it.

“You never give up, do you, Mom?”

She had grinned at him. “All right, all right.” She kissed him hard at the airport and took a last look at him. He was still her tall, handsome son, but there was more gray in his hair than he had had the year before, the lines were deeper around his eyes, and he still looked sad. Liz had been gone almost a year now, and he was still mourning. But at least the anger was gone now. He wasn't angry at her anymore for leaving him. He was just so damn lonely without her. Aside from losing his lover and his wife, he had lost his best friend. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” Ruth whispered to him at the airport.

“You too, Mom.” He had hugged her again and waved as she boarded the plane. They had grown much closer in the last year or two, but at what expense. It was hard to imagine how much had happened to them. And as he drove back to Napa that night, he thought about it all …and about Liz. … It was still hard to believe she was gone …that she hadn't gone away and would be back one day. Forever was so impossible to understand. And he was still thinking about her when he got to the house in Oakville and put the car away, but Nanny was waiting up for him. It was after ten o'clock and the house was peaceful and quiet. Jane had fallen asleep in her bed reading Black Beauty.

“I don't think Alexander is well, Mr. Fine.”

Bernie frowned. The children were everything to him.

“What's wrong with him?” He was only two years old after all, still a baby practically, and more so, in Bernie's eyes, because he didn't have a mother. In Bernie's eyes, he would be a baby forever.

Nanny looked as though she felt guilty as she confessed. “I think I let him stay in the pool too long. He was complaining about his ear when he went to bed. I put some warm oil in it, but it didn't seem to help. We may have to go to the doctor in town tomorrow if it doesn't improve by morning.”

“Don't worry about it.” He smiled at her. She was so incredibly conscientious, sometimes it was hard to imagine it, and he thanked his lucky stars that he had found her when he had. He still shuddered when he thought of the sadistic Swiss nurse or the filthy Norwegian au pair who kept taking Liz' clothes. “He'll be all right, Nanny. Get to bed.”

“Would you like some warm milk to help you sleep?”

He shook his head. “I'll be all right.” But she had noticed for weeks that he was up late at night, unable to sleep, prowling around. The anniversary of Liz' death had been only a few days before, and she knew it had been hard on him. At least Jane didn't have nightmares anymore. But that night it was little Alexander who awoke howling at four A.M. Bernie had just gone to bed, and he quickly pulled on a dressing gown and went to the baby's room, where Nanny was rocking him and trying to comfort him, to no avail. “His ear?” She nodded, singing to the child as loudly as she could. “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid you'll have to take him to the hospital. It's too bad to make him wait anymore. Poor little man.” She kissed his forehead and his cheek and the top of his head and he clung to her miserably as Bernie knelt down on the rug and looked at the baby that warmed his heart and broke it all at the same time, all because he looked so much like his mother.

“Feeling rotten, huh, big boy?” Alex nodded at his daddy and stopped crying but not for long. “Come to Dad.” He held out his arms and the child went to him. He had a raging fever, and couldn't tolerate even the softest touch on the right side of his head, and Bernie knew that Nanny was right. He had to take him to the hospital. His pediatrician had given him someone's name up there in case either of the children had an accident or got sick. He handed Alexander back to Nanny, and went to get dressed and look for the card in his desk drawer. Dr. M. Jones, it said, with the phone number. He called the exchange and got the answering service. He explained what was wrong and asked them to ring through to Dr. Jones, but the operator came back on the line and explained that Dr. Jones was at the hospital on an emergency call already.

“Could he see us there? My son's in an awful lot of pain.” He'd had problems with his ears before, and a shot of penicillin had always helped him. That and a lot of loving from Jane and Daddy and Nanny.

“I'll check.” The operator was back on the line almost instantly. “That'll be fine.” She gave him directions to the hospital, and he went to get Alexander, and gently put him in the car seat he still used. Nanny had to stay home with Jane, so Bernie was going alone, and Nanny almost wrung her hands as she covered Alex with a blanket and handed him his teddy bear as he cried woefully. She hated to let him go without her.

“I hate to let you go alone, Mr. Fine.” Her burr was always stronger late at night when she was tired, and he loved the sound of it. “But I canna leave Jane, you know. She'd be frightened if she woke up.” They both knew that she had been more easily frightened since her abduction.

“I know, Nanny. He'll be fine. We'll be back as soon as we can.” It was four-thirty in the morning by then, and he drove to the hospital as quickly as he could. But it was ten to five before they arrived. It was a long way from Oakville to the city of Napa, and Alexander was still crying when Bernie carried him inside and gently set him down on the table in the emergency room. The lights were so bright they hurt his eyes, and Bernie sat on the table and held him on his lap, shielding him, as a tall dark-haired young woman came in wearing a turtleneck and jeans. She was almost as tall as he, and she had an easy smile, and her hair was so black it was almost blue. Almost like an Indian, he thought to himself with a tired look. But her eyes were blue, like Jane …and Liz…. He forced the thought from his mind and explained that he was waiting for Dr. Jones. He wasn't sure who the woman was, and assumed that she was a clerk at the emergency room.

“I'm Dr. Jones.” She smiled at him. She had a warm, husky voice, and cool strong hands when she shook his, and despite her height and obvious competence, there was something very warm and gentle about her. And the way she moved was at the same time motherly and sexy. She gently took Alexander from him and examined the ear that pained him, talking to Alexander the entire time, telling him little stories, chatting, entertaining him, and glancing up at Bernie from time to time to reassure him too. “He's got one very hot ear, I'm afraid, and the other one is pretty pink too.” She checked his throat, his tonsils, his tummy to make sure there was no problem there, and then gave him a penicillin shot as fast as she could. He cried but not for too long and then she blew up a balloon for him, and with Bernie's permission offered him a lollipop, which was a big success even in his weakened state. He sat up on Bernie's lap and looked at her thoughtfully. And she smiled down at him, and then wrote a prescription for Bernie to have filled the next day. She put him on antibiotics to be on the safe side, and gave Bernie two small codeine pills to crush for him if the pain didn't abate before morning. “In fact”—she looked at Alex' trembling lower lip—“why don't we do that now? There's no point in his being miserable.” She disappeared and returned with the pill crushed in a spoon, her dark hair swinging across her shoulders as she moved, and the medicine was down and gone before Alex could even object to it. She made it kind of a game with him. And then he settled back into his father's arms with a sigh, still sucking the lollipop, a moment later, as Bernie filled out some forms, Alexander fell asleep. Bernie smiled down at him, and then looked at her appreciatively. She had the warm eyes of a deeply caring woman.

“Thank you.” Bernie smiled down at him and stroked his hair, and then looked up at Dr. Jones again. “You were wonderful with him.” That mattered to him a great deal. His children meant everything to him.

“I came in for another earache just like that an hour ago.” She smiled at him, thinking that it was nice the father had come and not the mother for once, looking exhausted and harassed with no one to help her. It was nice to see men give a damn and pitch in too. But she didn't say anything to him. Maybe he was divorced and had no choice. “Do you live in Oakville?” He had put down their summer address on the form.

“No, normally we live in town. We're just here for the summer.” She nodded, and then smiled at him as she filled out her part of the form for his insurance.

“But you're from New York?”

He grinned. “How did you know that?”

“I'm from the east too. Boston. But I can still hear New York in your voice.” And he could hear Boston in hers. “How long have you been out here?”

“Four years.”

She nodded. “I came out to go to Stanford Med School and never went back. And that was fourteen years ago.” She was thirty-six years old, and her credentials were good and he liked her style. She looked intelligent and kind, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that suggested a sense of humor. She was looking at him thoughtfully. She liked his eyes too.

“This is a nice place to live. Napa, I mean. Anyway”—she put away the forms and looked down at Alex' angelic sleeping face—“why don't you bring him in to the office in a day or two? I have an office in Saint Helena, which is closer to you than this.” She glanced at the antiseptic hospital around them. She didn't like seeing children there unless it was an emergency like this one.

“It's nice to know you're so close to us. With children, you never know when you're going to need a doctor.”

“How many do you have?” Maybe that was why the wife hadn't come, she thought to herself. Maybe they had ten kids and she had to stay home with them. Somehow the thought amused her. She had one patient with eight children, and she loved them.

“I have two,” Bernie supplied. “Alexander, and a nine-year-old little girl, Jane.”

She smiled. He looked like a nice man. And his eyes lit up when he talked about his kids. Mostly, they were kind of sad, like a Saint Bernard, she thought, and then chided herself. He was actually a very nice-looking man. She liked the way he moved …the beard…. Cool it, she told herself as she gave him final instructions and he left, carrying Alex in his arms. And then she chuckled to the nurse as she got ready to leave herself.

“I'm going to have to stop taking these late calls. The fathers start looking good to me at this hour.” They both laughed and she was only teasing of course. She was always serious about her patients and their parents. She waved good night to the nurses and walked outside to where she'd left her car. It was a little Austin Healy she'd had since med school. She drove back to Saint Helena with the top down, her hair flying in the wind, and she waved as she passed Bernie on the way, traveling more sedately. Bernie waved. There had been something he liked, about her and he wasn't sure what it was. And he felt happier than he had in a long time as he pulled into the driveway in Oakville as the sun came up over the mountains.

Chapter 35

Two days later, Bernie took Alexander back to see Dr. Jones. He went to her office this time. It was in a small sunny Victorian house at the edge of town. She shared the office space with another doctor, and she lived upstairs above the office. And Bernie was once again impressed with her manner with the child, and he liked her as much as he had before, maybe even more so. She was wearing a starched white coat over her jeans this time, but her manner was casual, her touch was gentle, and her eyes were warm as she laughed easily with Alexander and his father.

“His ears look a lot better this time.” She smiled at Bernie, then at his son, sitting next to her. “But you'd better stay out of the swimming pool for a while, my friend.” She ruffled Alex' hair, and for a moment she seemed more like a mother than a doctor, and it tugged at something in Bernie's heart which he was quick to deny to himself.

“Should I bring him back again?” She shook her head and he was almost sorry that she hadn't said yes. And then he was annoyed at himself. She was pleasant and intelligent, that was all, and she had taken good care of the child. And if Alex had to come back again, Nanny could bring him in next time. That was safer. He found himself staring at the shiny black hair and it annoyed him. And her blue eyes reminded him so much of Liz….

“I don't think he'll need to be seen again. I should get some information on him though, for my files. How old is he again?” She smiled pleasantly at Bernard and he tried to appear indifferent, as though he were thinking of something else, as he avoided the familiar eyes. They were so blue …just like hers…. He forced his mind back to her question.

“He's two years and two months.”

“General health all right?”

“Fine.”

“Vaccinations up to date?”

“Yes.”

“Pediatrician in town?” He gave her the name. It was easier talking of things like that. He didn't even have to look at her if he didn't want to.

“Names of the rest of his family?” She smiled again as she wrote it all down, and then looked up at him again. “You are Mr. Bernard Fine?” She thought that was what she remembered from the other night, and he almost smiled at her.

“Right. And he has a sister named Jane, who's nine years old.”

“I remember that.” She smiled at him again and then looked at him expectantly. “And?”

“That's it.” He would have liked to have had another child or two with Liz, but they hadn't had time before they discovered that she had cancer.

“Your wife's name?” Something in his eyes suggested sharp pain and she instantly suspected an ugly divorce.

But he shook his head, the pain of her question staggering him, like a blow he hadn't seen before it hit him. “Uh …no …she's not.”

The doctor looked surprised. It was an odd thing to say and he was looking at her strangely. “Not what?”

“Not alive.” You could barely hear the words, and she suddenly realized the pain she must have caused him, and she felt desperately sorry for him. The pain of death was something she had never grown immune to.

“I'm so sorry …” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the child. How terrible for all of them, especially the little girl. At least Alex was too young to understand. And the father looked so devastated as he spoke to her. “I'm sorry I asked.”

“It's all right. You didn't know.”

“How long has it been?” It couldn't have been too long if Alexander was just two years old. Her heart went out to all of them as her eyes met Bernie's and she felt tears in her own eyes.

“Last July.” It was obviously too painful for him to say much more and she went on, feeling a rock in her heart as she thought of it, and after they were gone it troubled her again. He looked so heartbroken when he spoke of it. Poor man. She thought of him all day, and was surprised to see him in the supermarket later that week. Alexander was sitting in the cart, as he always did, and Bernie had brought Jane along. She was chattering rapidly and Alex was pointing at something and yelling “Gum, Daddy, gum!” at the top of his lungs as Dr. Jones almost ran into them, and she suddenly stopped and smiled. They didn't look nearly as sad as she'd imagined. In fact, they looked very happy.

“Well, hello there, how's our friend?” She glanced at Alex and found a warm welcome in Bernie's eyes when she looked at him.

“He's a lot better. I think the antibiotics helped.”

“He's still taking them, isn't he?” She couldn't remember the length of the course she'd given him, but he should have been.

“Yes, he is. But he's his old self again.” Bernie smiled and he looked normal and harassed and his legs looked nice in hiking shorts. She tried not to notice, but she couldn't help it. He was a good-looking man. And he was noticing the same things about her. She was wearing jeans again, and an oxford shirt and red espadrilles, and her hair was so clean it shone. She was not wearing her doctor coat, and Jane couldn't figure out who she was. Bernie introduced them finally, and Jane held her hand out stingily, as though afraid to open up too far. She watched the woman suspiciously and didn't mention her again until they were back in the car.

“Who was that?”

“The doctor I took Alex to the other night.” He spoke casually, but it was like being five years old and dealing with his mother all over again. In fact it made him laugh it was so similar. They were the same questions Ruth would have asked him.

“Why did you take him to her?” The inflections told him exactly what she thought, and he wondered why she disliked her so much. It never occurred to him that Jane was jealous.

“Doctor Wallaby gave me her number before we came up, in case one of you had an accident or got sick, like Alex the other night. I was very glad to find her actually. And she was very nice about meeting us at the hospital in the middle of the night. In fact, she was already there, seeing someone else, which says a lot for her.” And he remembered that she had gone to Stanford.

Jane barely grunted that time, and didn't say anything more. But when they ran into her again a few weeks after that, Jane ignored her totally, and didn't even say hello. And when they went back to the car, Bernie scolded her.

“You were very rude to her, you know.”

“Well, what's so great about her anyway?”

“What's great is that she's a doctor and you might need her sometime. Besides which, she hasn't done anything to you, for heaven's sake. There's no reason for you not to be polite to her.” He was grateful that Alex liked her at least. He had let out a great squeal when he saw her in the supermarket and immediately said hello. He remembered her that time, and she made a great fuss over him, and had a lollipop in a pocket for him. She told him her name was Doctor Meg. But Jane had refused the lollipop she'd offered her, and Megan seemed to take it all in stride and not notice.

“Just don't be rude to her, sweetheart.” She was so damn sensitive these days. He wondered if she was growing up, or if she still missed Liz as much. Nanny said it was probably a little of both, and he suspected she was right as usual. Nanny Pippin was the mainstay of their lives, and Bernie was devoted to her.

He didn't run into Megan again until a party he got talked into going to on Labor Day. He hadn't been to any parties in almost three years, not since Liz had gotten sick, and certainly not since she died. But the realtor who had gotten the house for him made such a point of including him in a barbecue they were giving that night that he felt rude not going at least for a little while. And he went feeling like the new kid in town, knowing absolutely not a soul, and feeling overdressed the instant he got out of the car. Everyone had worn T-shirts and jeans and cut-offs and halter tops, and he was wearing white slacks and a pale blue shirt. He looked more like Capri or Beverly Hills than the Napa Valley and it embarrassed him as his host handed him a beer and asked him where he was going afterwards.

Bernie just laughed and shrugged with a smile. “I guess I've just worked for a department store for too long.” His friend took him aside then and asked if he would be interested in keeping the house for a while. The people who were renting to him were going to stay in Bordeaux for longer than they'd planned, and they were anxious to have him stay on there. “Actually, I might like that, Frank.” The realtor was pleased with the news and suggested he keep it on a month-to-month basis, assuring him that the valley was even more beautiful in the fall, with all the leaves changing colors.

“The winters aren't even bad either. It might be nice for you to come up whenever you have a chance, and the rent is reasonable enough.” He was ever the salesman, and Bernie smiled, anxious to leave the party.

“I think that would suit us just fine.”

“Did Frank just sell you a winery?” a familiar voice asked. Her laugh had a tinkling sound, like silver bells, and Bernie turned and saw the shining black hair and the blue eyes that had startled him wherever they met. It was Megan Jones and she looked very pretty. He realized now how tan she was. Her skin was dark, in sharp contrast to her light blue eyes. And she had worn a white peasant skirt and white es-padrilles with a bright red gypsy blouse. Suddenly she looked very beautiful and it made him uncomfortable. It was easier thinking of her in blue jeans and her starched white coat. This was much too accessible, and the silky smooth shoulders caught his eye, as he forced himself to look straight into her blue eyes. But that was no easier for him. Her eyes always made him think of Liz, and yet they were different. Bolder, older, wiser. She was a different kind of woman. And there was a compassion there which made her seem older than her years, and was useful in her profession. He tried to pull his eyes from her now, but was surprised to find that he couldn't.

“Frank just extended my lease for a while.” He spoke quietly, and she noticed that no matter how much his mouth smiled, his eyes didn't. They were quiet and sad, and told people to keep their distance. His grief was still too fresh to be shared and she easily sensed that as she watched him, thinking of his children.

“Does that mean you're going to be staying up here?” She looked interested as she sipped at a glass of local white wine.

“Just on weekends, I guess. The kids love it here. And Frank says it's beautiful in the fall.”

“It is. That's why I got stuck up here. It's the only place around here that gets some kind of autumn. The leaves turn just like they do back east, the whole valley turns red and yellow and it's really wonderful.” He tried to concentrate on what she said, but all he saw were her bare shoulders and her blue eyes, and she seemed to be looking deep into his eyes, as though she wanted to say more to him. It made him curious about her. He had been since he first met her.

“What made you stay out here?”

She shrugged, and her perfect bronze flesh beckoned him as he reached for another beer and frowned, trying to deny the attraction he felt toward her. “I don't know. I couldn't imagine going back to Boston and being serious for the rest of my life.” The mischief he had suspected danced in her eyes and he listened to the sound of her laughter.

“I suppose Boston can be that way. Very much so, in fact.” He looked terribly handsome as he chatted with her and she decided to risk asking him something about himself, despite what she already knew about him.

“And why are you in San Francisco and not New York?”

“A quirk of fate. The store I work for sent me out here to open their new branch out here.” He smiled thinking about it, and then his eyes clouded as he thought of why he'd stayed after that …because Liz was dying. “And then I got stuck here.” Their eyes met and held, and she understood him perfectly.

“Are you here to stay then?”

He shook his head and smiled at her again. “I don't think I'll be here for too much longer. Sometime in the next year I'll probably be going back to New York.” She looked instantly sorry, and in spite of himself it pleased him. And he was suddenly glad he had come to the party.

“How do the kids feel about moving back?”

“I don't know.” He looked serious. “It might be hard on Jane. She's always lived out here, and it'll be hard on her going to a new school and making new friends.”

“She'll adjust to it.” Megan was looking at him searchingly, wishing she knew more. He was a man who made you want to know where he had come from, and where he was heading to. He was the kind of man one seldom met, warm and strong and real, but untouchable. And after seeing him in her office the last time, she knew why. She would have liked to draw him out, to really talk to him, but she wasn't sure how. “What store brought you out, by the way?”

“Wolffs.” He said it modestly, as though it were an unimportant store, and she laughed with wide eyes. No wonder he looked like that. He had the instinctive style of a man who dealt daily with high fashion, yet in a very masculine, unselfconscious way that she liked. In fact there was a lot she liked about him.

She smiled warmly at Bernie then. “It's a wonderful store. I go there every few months just to stand on the escalator and drool at everything. Living up here doesn't give one much opportunity to think about things like that.”

“I've thought about that this summer.” He looked interested and pensive, as though sharing a secret project with her. “I've always wanted to have a store in a place like this. Kind of a small, simple country store, with everything from riding boots to evening wear, but really, really beautiful merchandise, the best quality. People up here don't have time to drive a hundred miles for a good-looking dress, and walking into an enormous store is inappropriate up here, but something small and simple and really good would be exciting here …wouldn't it?” He looked excited and so did she. It sounded like a terrific idea to both of them. “Only the best though,” he went on, “and very little of it. Maybe take one of the Victorians and turn it into a store.” He loved the idea the more he thought of it and then he laughed. “Pipe dreams. I guess once you're a merchant, it corrodes your thinking wherever you are.”

He laughed and she smiled at him. She liked the look in his eyes when he talked about it.

“Why don't you do something like that? We have absolutely nowhere to shop, except a few miserable stores that aren't worth bothering with. And there's a lot of money up here, especially in the summer months, and with the wineries there's actually money here all year round now.”

He narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head. He had afterthoughts of it, but to no avail. “I don't know where I'd find the time. And I'll be going back pretty soon. But it's fun to dream.” He hadn't dreamt in a long, long time. Of anything. Or anyone. And she could sense that. She enjoyed chatting with him, and she liked his idea. But more than that, she liked him. He was an unusual man. Warm and strong and decent. And he had the gentleness of the very strong, and she liked that.

He noticed her beeper then hooked to the back of her belt and he asked her about it. Talking about the store seemed frivolous to him although it interested her more than he realized. “I'm on duty four nights a week, and have office hours six days a week. That keeps me on my toes, when I'm not yawning in someone's face from lack of sleep.” They both laughed and he was impressed. It seemed conscientious of her to work that hard, and even have the beeper with her at a party. And he noticed that she had refused the wine after one glass. “We're short of doctors up here too, not just stores.” She smiled. “My partner and I are the only pediatricians within twenty miles, which may not sound like much, but it gets awfully busy sometimes, like the night I saw you at the hospital. You were my third earache that night. I saw the first one at home, and the other one left the hospital just before you arrived. It doesn't make for a quiet home life.” But she didn't seem unhappy about it. She looked content and satisfied and it was obvious that she enjoyed her work a great deal. She looked excited when she talked about it. And he had liked her style with Alexander.