Rogue

Chapter 8

On Friday night, when Charles appeared to pick her up, everything worked like a Swiss clock. The house was deserted. Zelda was off. Daphne was spending the night with friends, as was Sam, having recovered from the flu, and Jack was at a party at a friend's before a bar mitzvah the next night. Maxine had bought scotch, vodka, gin, champagne, and a bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé. She was ready for him. She was wearing a short black dress, her hair in a neat bun, diamond earrings, and a string of pearls, and the house was silent.

When she let him in on the dot of seven, Charles entered with the look of a man heading across a minefield. He looked around, listened to the deafening silence, and stared at her in amazement.

“What did you do with your kids?” he asked nervously, and she smiled at him.

“I put them up for adoption, and fired the nanny. I was sad to let them go, but you have to have priorities in life. I didn't want to spoil another evening. They went very quickly.” He laughed and followed her into the kitchen, where she poured him a scotch and soda at his request, and carried a silver bowl of nuts into the living room. The silence was almost eerie. “I'm really sorry about Tuesday, Charles.” It had been a scene right out of a movie. Or real life. A little too much so.

“It was kind of like hazing when I was in college.” Getting put in the trunk of a car with alcohol poisoning might have been easier and more fun, but he was willing to give it another shot. There was a lot about Maxine that he liked. She was a serious, intelligent woman with a booming career in the medical field, highly respected, and she was beautiful as well. It was a combination that was tough to beat. The only thing about her that unnerved him somewhat were her kids. He just wasn't used to that, and didn't feel a need for children in his life. But they were part of the package with her. And this time, at least, she had gotten them out of the way, and they would be able to enjoy an adult evening, which was what he preferred.

La Grenouille had very kindly given him another reservation for eight o'clock that night, and hadn't held Tuesday's last-minute cancellation against him. He went there often and was a good client. Maxine and Charles left her apartment at a quarter to eight, and reached the restaurant precisely on time, and were given an excellent table. The evening had been perfect so far, he observed, but the night was young. Nothing would have startled him now, after the introduction he'd had to her life three days before. For a minute there, he had been tempted to run. But now he was glad he hadn't. He liked Maxine a lot, and she was great to talk to.

For the first half of dinner, over scallops, soft shell crab, followed by pheasant and Chateaubriand, they discussed their work, and current medical issues that were pertinent to both of them. He liked her ideas, and was impressed by her accomplishments. And they were just starting on their soufflés when he mentioned Blake.

“I'm surprised your children aren't more critical of him, since you say he's such a no-show with them and is never around.” He realized that that was a real testimonial to her, since she could easily have turned them against him, and most women would, given how little he helped her.

“He's basically a nice man,” she said simply. “Wonderful, in fact. And they see that. He's just not very attentive.”

“He sounds very selfish, and incredibly self-indulgent,” Charles observed, and Maxine conceded that he wasn't wrong.

“It would be hard not to be,” Maxine said quietly, “given what happened with his success. Very few people could resist that and keep a level head. He has a lot of toys, and he likes to have fun. All the time, in fact. Blake doesn't do anything that's not fun, or high risk. That's just his style, it always was. The other path he could have chosen was to pour his money into philanthropy. And he does a fair amount of that, but he's not involved in charity in any hands-on kind of way. Basically, he figures that life is short, he's been lucky, and he wants to have a good time. He was adopted, and I think in a funny way, even though he had nice adoptive parents who loved him, he's always been insecure about life, and about himself. He wants to grab everything he can, before someone takes it away from him, or he loses it. That's a tough pathology to fight. The constant fear of abandonment and loss, so he grabs everything with both hands, and loses in the end anyway. Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“He must be very sorry he lost you,” Charles said cautiously.

“Not really. We're good friends. I see him with the kids whenever he's in town. I'm still part of his life in a different way, as a friend and the mother of his kids. He knows he can count on me. He always could. And he has plenty of girlfriends, who are a lot younger and a lot more fun than I am, or ever was. I was always too serious for him.” Charles nodded. He liked that about her, and she suited him just fine. He found her relationship with her ex-husband strange. He almost never spoke to his ex-wife. Without children to bind them to each other, after the divorce there was nothing left, but a fair amount of animosity between them. Mostly, there was nothing. It was as if they had never been married. “When you have children,” Maxine said quietly, “you're kind of stuck with each other forever. And I have to admit, if we didn't have that, I would miss him. This works for all of us, especially the kids. It would be sad if their dad and I hated each other.” Possibly, Charles thought as he listened to her, but maybe easier for the next man or woman in their lives. Blake was a tough act to follow, for anyone, and in her own way, so was she, although she was very modest.

There was nothing arrogant or pompous about Maxine, in spite of her very successful psychiatric career, and even the books she had written. She was very low key, and he liked that about her. He wasn't nearly as much so, and he knew that about himself. Charles West had a fairly good opinion of himself, and wasn't shy by any means about his own accomplishments. He hadn't hesitated to try to strong-arm her into doing things his way over the Wexler boy, and only backed off later when he found out who Maxine was, and how expert she was in her field. Only then had he conceded that she knew better, particularly after Jason's third suicide attempt, which had left Charles unnerved and feeling foolish. He usually hated to admit he was wrong, but had no other choice in that case. Maxine was powerful, but both feminine and gentle. She didn't need to throw her weight around, and rarely did, except when a patient's life was at stake, but never to feed her ego. In many ways, to Charles, she seemed like the perfect woman, and he had never met anyone like her.

“How do your children feel about your dating?” he asked her as they finished dinner. He didn't quite dare ask her what they had said about him, although he wondered. It had been clear on Tuesday night that they had been startled to see him. And she obviously hadn't prepared them, since she had forgotten their date completely. His appearance on the scene had taken everyone by surprise, including Maxine when he walked in. And in turn, with everything that had happened after that, they had surprised the hell out of him. He had told a friend about it the next day, who had roared with laughter at Charles's description of the chaotic scene, and had said in no uncertain terms that it would do him good and loosen him up a little. “Couldn't happen to a nicer guy” had been his comment. As a rule, Charles preferred not to go out with women with children. He found it hard to spend time together when they were so wrapped up in their children's lives. Usually at least they had ex-husbands who took the kids half the time. Maxine had no one to take the heat off her, except a nanny, who was human and had her own problems. There was a lot resting on Maxine's shoulders, and being with Maxine would be a challenge for him because of that.

“They were pretty surprised,” Maxine said honestly. “I haven't dated in a long time. They're used to the women in their father's life, but I don't think it has even occurred to them that there might be someone in mine one day.” And she hadn't adjusted to the idea either. The men she had gone out with briefly had been of so little interest to her, and so unappealing that she had given up the concept.

The doctors she met always seemed pompous to her, or she had nothing in common with them, and they found the demands of her practice and home life too taxing. Most men didn't want a woman or a wife who went to the hospital for emergencies at four in the morning, and had that many demands on them outside the home. Blake hadn't loved it either, but her medical career had always been important to her, and her children even more so. Her cup was very full, and as Tuesday night had proven, it didn't take much for it to run over. There wasn't much room, if any, for anyone else. And he suspected that that suited her children. It had been clearly written on all their faces when he met them, that they wanted her to themselves, and he was not welcome in their midst. They didn't need him. And he suspected she didn't either. She didn't have that desperate quality of most women her age, who wanted more than anything to meet a man. What she conveyed instead was that she was happy, fulfilled, and doing fine on her own. And that appealed to him too. He had no desire to be anyone's savior, although he did want to be the hub of a woman's life. And with Maxine, he never would be. There were both positives and negatives to that.

“Do you think they'd adjust to your being involved with someone?” he asked casually, checking it out, and Maxine thought about it for a moment.

“Probably. Maybe. It would depend on the person, and how well they adjusted to my kids. Those things work two ways, and take some effort from both sides.” Charles nodded. It was a reasonable answer.

“What about you? Do you think you'd adjust to having a man in your life again, Maxine? You seem pretty self-sufficient.”

“I am,” she said honestly, sipping at a delicate mint infusion, which was the perfect end to a great meal. The dinner had been delicious, and the wines he had chosen superb. “To answer your question, I don't know the answer to that. I could only make the adjustment for the right man. I'd have to really believe it could work. I don't want to make another mistake. Blake and I were just too different. You don't notice it as much when you're young. After a certain point, when you're grown up and know who you are, it really matters. You can't kid yourself at our age, that something will work when it really doesn't. It's a lot harder to make the gears mesh later on, because there are more of them. It's all good fun when you're a kid. Later, it's another story. And it's not so easy to find the right match, there are a lot fewer candidates, and even with the good ones, there's a lot of baggage. It has to be worth the effort of making the adjustment. And my children give me an excuse not to try. They keep me busy and happy. The trouble is that one day they'll grow up, and I'll wind up alone. I don't have to face that right now.” She was right, and he nodded. They were a buffer against loneliness for her, and an excuse to be lazy about letting a man into her life. Somewhere, he suspected she was scared to try again. He had the impression that Blake had taken a big part of her with him, and even if they were “too different,” as she claimed, he had the feeling she still loved him. That could be a problem too. And who could compete with a legend who had become a billionaire and had that much charm? It was a hell of a challenge, one that few men would take on, and clearly hadn't.

They moved on to other topics then, more about their work, her passion for her suicidal adolescent patients, her compassion for their parents, her fascination with trauma caused by public events. By comparison, his practice was far less interesting than hers. He dealt with the common cold, a host of more mundane ailments and situations, and the occasional sadness of a patient with cancer whom he immediately referred to a specialist and lost sight of. His practice did not revolve around crisis the way hers did, although he occasionally lost a patient too, but it was rare.

He came back to the apartment afterward and had a glass of brandy from her newly stocked bar. She was totally equipped now to entertain a date, even if she never saw him again. She would be fully stocked for the next one, five or ten years from now. Zelda had teased her about it. She had a very proper bar as a result of her date with him, which worried her a little with the kids around. She was planning to lock up the booze, to keep it away from them and their friends. She didn't want to provide any temptation. Daphne had reminded her of that.

Maxine thanked him for a wonderful dinner, and a terrific evening. She had to admit it was nice being civilized, getting dressed up, and spending an evening talking to an adult. It was a lot more exciting than KFC or Burger King with half a dozen kids in tow, which was more her style. Although to look at her, in her pristine elegance, Charles thought she deserved to go to La Grenouille more often, and he hoped to have the opportunity to take her there again. It was his favorite restaurant in town, although he liked Le Cirque too. He had a great fondness for excellent French food, and the atmosphere that went with it. He liked pomp and ceremony far more than she did, and adult evenings. He wondered as he talked to her if going out with her children would be fun too. It was possible, but he was not yet convinced, even if they were cute kids. He preferred talking to her without distraction, or Sam throwing up at his feet. They both laughed about it as he left, and they stood chatting for a moment in the same front hall where it had happened.

“I'd like to see you again, Maxine,” he said comfortably. From his perspective, the evening had been a success, and from hers too, despite their disastrous first beginning. Tonight had been entirely the reverse. It was perfect.

“I'd like that too,” she said simply.

“I'll call you,” he said, and made no move to kiss her. She would have been shocked and put off if he did. That wasn't his style. He moved slowly and deliberately when he liked a woman, setting the stage for something to happen later on, if they both chose that. He was in no rush, and never liked to push women too hard or too soon. It had to be a mutual decision, and he knew Maxine was nowhere near that point. She had been off the dating scene for too long, and had never really been in it. The concept of a relationship was not even on her mind. He would have to bring her around to that slowly, if he decided it was what he wanted. He wasn't sure about it yet either. She was nice to talk to and spend time with, the rest remained to be seen. Her kids were still a big hurdle for him to get over.

She thanked him again and gently closed the door. Jack was asleep in his room by then, after the party he'd gone to, as was Zelda in hers. The apartment was quiet as Maxine got undressed, brushed her teeth, and got into bed, thinking about Charles. It had been nice, there was no question about that. But it felt weird to her to be out with a man. It was so grown up, and so polite. And so was he. She couldn't imagine hanging around with him on a Sunday afternoon, with her kids around her, as she did with Blake when he was in town. But then again, he was their father, and his life wasn't home-centered either. He was only a tourist passing through their lives, although an appealing one. Blake was a comet in their skies.

Charles was solid, and they had a lot in common. He was very serious, and he appealed to that side of her. But he wasn't light-hearted or playful or a lot of fun. For a moment, she missed that in her life, and then realized that you couldn't have everything. If she ever got seriously involved with anyone again, she had always said she wanted someone solid she could rely on. Charles was certainly that kind of man. Then she thought to herself with a smile, beware of what you wish for. Blake was crazy and fun. Charles was responsible and adult. It was a shame that nowhere on the planet there was a man who could be both-a kind of grown-up Peter Pan, with good values. It was a lot to ask, and probably why, she told herself, she was still alone, and maybe always would be. You couldn't live with a man like Blake, and you might not want to with a man like Charles. Maybe it didn't matter, no one was asking her to make that choice. It was just dinner after all, good food and fine wines with an intelligent man. This wasn't about marriage.