The House

“No, I won't take him back,” Sarah said sadly. She was sadder about the fool she'd been for so long than about losing him. “I'm finished. I should have been a long time ago. He's a jerk. And a liar and a cheat. All those nice things.”

“He won't let you go that easily,” Jeff predicted.

“Maybe not. But I have. I could never forgive him. It was a disgusting scene. I was about to climb into his bed to surprise him, when I discovered someone else already had. I've never felt so stupid in my life, or been so shocked. I thought I'd have a heart attack when I left. Anyway, it's over, and here I am, back at work on the house. Brave new world. I can hardly wait to move in,” she said, changing the subject, and he nodded. He got the drift. He was curious to see if she would stay away from Phil. She sounded very firm about it now. But it had only been two days since the unhappy event. It sounded awful to him, as it had been.

“When do you think you'll be able to move in?”

“I don't know. What do you think?” The electrical work was starting the following week, the plumbing the week after. There would be crews all over the house for months. They weren't starting on the kitchen till February or March, when the other work was done or at least well under way.

“Maybe April,” he said thoughtfully. “It depends how steadily they stay on it. If they stick with it, you may be able to camp out here in March, if you can stand the dust and the noise.”

“I'd love it.” She smiled at him. “I'm dying to get out of my apartment.” She had outgrown it, especially now that Phil was gone. She wanted to move on. Desperately. It was time.

Jeff hung around for a while and kept her company while she worked. He didn't have time to work on the house himself today, he had things to do. But he felt badly leaving her there alone, particularly after what had just happened. Finally, two hours later, he told her he'd try to come back the next day, and left her hammering on the bookcase. She stayed there till nearly midnight, and then went home to her empty apartment. Her message machine was still off, and so was her cell phone. There was no one she wanted to hear from, no reason to take calls. And as she slipped into her unmade bed that night, she thought of Phil and the woman she'd caught him making love to. She wondered if he was with her, or someone else. She wondered, too, how many women he had cheated on her with, over the years, while he told her he couldn't see her during the week, and only on weekends. It was depressing to realize what a fool she'd been. There was nothing she could do about it now, except make sure he stayed gone forever. She never wanted to lay eyes on him again.

Chapter 15

By the end of January, Sarah was feeling better. She was busy at the office, and working at the house every weekend. Jeff was right. Phil hadn't given up easily. He had called her many times, written to her, sent her roses, and even dropped by unannounced at the house on Scott Street. She had seen him from an upstairs window, and hadn't let him in. She responded to none of his calls or messages, didn't thank him for the roses, and threw away his letters. She had meant what she said. There was nothing to discuss. She was finished. She assumed now that he had probably cheated on her for years. The way he had arranged their lives, he had had every opportunity. And now she knew she couldn't trust him. That was enough for her. She was done. It took him nearly a month to stop calling. And when he did, she knew he had moved on. He had admitted to her once that he had cheated on his wife at the end, but he had blamed it on her, and said that she had driven him to it. Maybe now, Sarah thought, he was blaming it on her.

Stanley's estate was nearly settled. They had already disbursed a considerable amount of the assets to the heirs. She had received her bequest as well, from the liquid portion of his estate. She was doling it out carefully to the contractors Jeff was hiring for her. One of them had put a lien on her house, which he insisted was standard procedure, and she had forced him to remove it. So far the restoration was within her budget, and Jeff was supervising all the subcontractors for her. She was doing a huge amount of work herself, and loving every minute of it. It was incredibly gratifying doing manual work, after all her more cerebral stresses in the office. And she was surprised to find she didn't miss Phil as much as she had feared. Working at the house on weekends helped a lot.

Sarah was pleased to hear from Tom Harrison the last week of January. He said he was coming to San Francisco on business the following week, and invited her to dinner. She offered to show him her progress on the house, and he said he'd be delighted. She made a date to pick him up at his hotel the night he arrived.

The day he came it was pouring rain, which was typical weather at that time of year. But he said it was better than snow in St. Louis. She took him to the house on Scott Street, on the way to dinner, and he was vastly impressed by what she'd accomplished in a short time. She was no longer as aware of her progress herself, since she was there almost every day.

“I'm amazed at what you've done here, Sarah,” he said with a broad smile. “To be honest, I thought you were crazy to buy it. But now I can see why you did. It's going to be a beautiful place when you're finished.” Although enormous, certainly, for her. But she couldn't resist salvaging a piece of history, her own particularly, and a gem like this.

“It was built by my great-grandfather,” she explained to him, and told him the story of Lilli over dinner. She had taken him to a new restaurant that had delicious French and Asian food. They had a lovely time, which didn't surprise her. She had liked him from the first moment they met. He was in town for two days of meetings, and then she remembered her earlier idea. “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?” she asked cautiously. She didn't want him to think that she was putting the make on him, and he smiled when she asked.

“I could be. What did you have in mind?” Everything about him was wholesome, intelligent, and kind. He treated her like a daughter, not a woman he was pursuing, which was comfortable for Sarah.

“I know this probably sounds silly. But I'd like you to meet my mother. I mentioned it when we met, but it wasn't the right time. She's a pain in the neck as a mother, but she's actually a nice woman. I just had the feeling that you might like her, and she might like you.”

“My, my,” he said, laughing at her, but he didn't seem offended. “You sound just like one of my daughters. She keeps fixing me up with the mothers of all her friends. I have to admit, there have been some real lulus, but I guess at my age, you have to be a good sport about it when you find yourself alone.”

She knew he was sixty-three years old, and her mother was sixty-one, and still a good-looking woman. Sarah was happy to hear that he was dating the mothers and not the daughters. Most men his age were more interested in the daughters, or worse yet, girls who were young enough to be their granddaughters. At times, even at thirty-eight she felt over the hill. And there were fewer and fewer takers for women her mother's age. She knew a lot of Audrey's friends had tried computer dating services, sometimes with good results. But otherwise the men in Audrey's age group, for the most part, were dating women Sarah's age. She thought Tom Harrison would be perfect, as long as Audrey didn't get pushy or aggressive and scare him away.

They made a date for lunch the next day at the Ritz-Carlton, and she called her mother as soon as she got home.

“Sarah, I can't.” Audrey sounded embarrassed. She had been amazingly nice to Sarah for the past month, ever since she'd come to see the house on Christmas. It had somehow given them a common interest and a new bond. “I don't even know the man. He's probably interested in dating you, and he's just being polite.”

“No, he isn't,” Sarah insisted. “I swear, he's normal. He's just a nice, decent, attractive, intelligent, well-dressed widower from the Midwest. People are probably a lot more respectable there than they are here. He treats me like a kid.”

“You are a kid.” Her mother laughed at her, sounding uncharacteristically girlish. If nothing else, she was flattered. She hadn't had a date in months. And the last blind date she'd had had been a total dud. He was seventy-five years old, had false teeth that kept slipping, he was deaf as a stone, rabidly right wing, refused to leave a tip at dinner, and hated everything she believed in. She wanted to kill the friend who had set her up and had been upset that Audrey didn't think he was “sweet.” He wasn't sweet. He was a curmudgeon. And there was no reason to think Tom Harrison would be any better, except that Sarah insisted that he was. Finally, Audrey relented when Sarah reminded her that it was not espionage, open-heart surgery, or marriage, it was only lunch. “All right, all right, what'll I wear? Serious or sexy?”

“Conservative, but not depressing. Don't wear your black suit.” Sarah didn't want to tell her it made her look too old. “Wear something happy that makes you feel good.”

“Leopard? I have a terrific new leopard-print suede jacket. I saw it in a magazine with gold shoes.”

“No!” Sarah nearly screamed at her. “You'll look like a hooker… sorry, Mom.” Sarah backed off as she could hear her mother stiffen.

“I have never looked like a hooker in my life!”

“I know you haven't. I'm sorry,” Sarah said more gently. “That just sounded a little racy for a banker from St. Louis.”

“He may be from St. Louis, but I'm not,” Audrey said haughtily, and then relaxed a little. “Don't worry about it. I'll figure it out.”

“I know you'll look gorgeous, and you'll knock his socks off.”

“Hardly,” her mother said demurely.

Sarah was more nervous than either of them when she met them both in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton at noon. She was late, they had both been on time, and were already chatting happily by the time Sarah got there. Tom had figured out who Audrey was. And Sarah was proud of her when she saw her. She looked just right. She was wearing a red wool dress that set off her figure, without looking vulgar. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and she was wearing high heels and pearls, her hair done in a neat French twist. She was wearing a beautifully cut black wool coat over it that she had had for years, but looked well on her. And he was wearing a dark blue pin-striped suit, white shirt, and a good-looking blue tie. They looked wonderful together, Sarah thought, and the conversation flowed like water. She could hardly get a word in edgewise, as they talked about their children, travels, late spouses, interest in gardens, the symphony, ballet, movies, and museums. They seemed to agree on nearly everything. Sarah almost wanted to clap her hands in glee, as she sat quietly eating a club sandwich, and they made their way through soup and crab salad. He talked about how much he liked San Francisco, while Audrey said she had never been to St. Louis, but had always loved Chicago. They talked about so much for so long that Sarah finally had to leave them to go back to the office. She was already late for a meeting, and they were still talking a mile a minute when she left. Bingo! she said to herself, beaming proudly as she left the hotel. Success!

She called her mother late that afternoon when she got out of the meeting, and Audrey confirmed that Sarah was right, he was a lovely man.

“A little geographically undesirable maybe,” Sarah confessed. St. Louis was not exactly around the corner, or easy for a dating situation. But they had each made a new friend. “He has a special needs daughter, by the way, Mom. I think she's blind and brain damaged, and she lives with him.” She had forgotten to mention it to her before lunch, but thought she should at least now.

“I know. Debbie,” her mother said, as though she knew everything about him, and he was her friend, not Sarah's. “We talked about her after you left. Such a tragedy for him. She was premature and got damaged at the delivery. Something like that would never happen today. He said he has wonderful people taking care of her. It must be very hard for him now that he's alone.” Sarah was utterly amazed.

“I'm glad you liked him, Mom,” Sarah said, feeling as though she had won the lottery herself. They had been cute to watch over lunch.

“He's a very handsome man, and so nice,” Audrey went on about him.

“I'm sure you'll hear from him the next time he comes to town. He looked like he was enjoying you, too.” Audrey could be charming when she wanted to be, especially with men. It was only with her daughter that she was so unrelenting at times and could be so tough. Sarah still remembered how good she had been to her father, no matter how drunk he was. And she was absolutely certain that Tom Harrison was not a drunk.

“We're having dinner tonight,” Audrey confessed.

“You are?” Sarah sounded stunned.

“He had other plans with his business associates, but he canceled them. It's a shame he's leaving tomorrow,” she said, sounding wistful.

“It sounds like he'll be back.”

“Maybe so,” Audrey said, sounding unconvinced, but she was enjoying it for now. And so was her daughter. It was perfect. She wished she could do as well matchmaking for herself. But she didn't want to date right now anyway. She wanted some time off after Phil, he had just been too disappointing and too hurtful. And she was busy with her house. For now at least, Sarah didn't want a man. And Audrey hadn't had a real one in a long time.

“Have fun tonight. You looked beautiful at lunch.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Audrey said, sounding softer than she had in a long time. “Mimi can't have all the fun!” she said, and they both laughed. Her grandmother was very busy these days with George, and all her other suitors seemed to have been discarded. She had explained to Sarah after Christmas that she and George were “going steady.” Sarah had almost asked her if she'd been “pinned” or had his high school ring. It was nice to see them happy. There was a sweet innocence about them.

Sarah didn't hear from her mother until several days after her dinner date. By then, Tom had left town. He had left Sarah a message thanking her for the introduction to her very charming mother, and he promised to get in touch again when he came back to San Francisco. Sarah had no idea when that might be, and when she stopped by her mother's house on Saturday to drop off Audrey's dry cleaning, which she had promised to pick up for her, she noticed a vase full of long-stemmed red roses.

“Let me guess,” Sarah said, looking puzzled. “Mmm … who could those be from?”

“An admirer,” Audrey said, looking girlish again as she took her dry cleaning from Sarah. “All right, all right. They're from Tom.”

“Very impressive, Mom.” She could see at a glance that there were two dozen of them. “Have you heard from him since he left?”

“We're e-mailing,” Audrey said demurely.

“You are?” Sarah looked amazed again. “I didn't even know you had a computer.”

“I bought a laptop the day after he left,” she admitted, and then blushed. “It's fun.”

“Maybe I should open a dating service,” Sarah commented, amazed at all that had happened in just a few days.

“You could use your services yourself.” Sarah had told her that she and Phil had broken up. She hadn't explained it, she just said that they had run out of gas, and for once Audrey just let it go at that.

“I'm too busy right now with the house,” Sarah said. She was wearing overalls again and on her way there.

“Don't use that as an excuse, the way you do your work.”

“I'm not,” she said, looking stubborn.

“Tom said he would love to introduce you to his son. He's a year older than you are, and recently divorced.”

“I know, and he lives in St. Louis. That's not going to do me much good, Mom.” Or maybe Audrey, either, but it had boosted her spirits and her self-esteem to meet Tom.

“What about the architect you hired to work on the house? Is he single, and decent-looking?”

“He's fine, and so is the woman he's lived with for fourteen years. They own the business together, and a house in Potrero Hill.”

“I guess that won't work. Well, someone will turn up when you least expect it.”

“Yeah, like the Hillside Strangler or Charles Manson. I can hardly wait,” Sarah said cynically. She was feeling bitter about men these days. Phil had left a bad taste in her mouth, after his final escapade.

“Don't be so negative,” her mother scolded her. “You sound depressed.”

“No”—Sarah shook her head—“just tired. I had a lot of work at the office this week.”

“When don't you?” her mother said, walking her to the door, and then they both heard the bell on her laptop ring and say “You've got mail!” Sarah raised an eyebrow and smiled at her mother.

“Cupid calls!”

They kissed each other, and Sarah left. She was glad her mother's introduction to Tom had gone so well. Nothing much could come of it, with him in St. Louis, but it was nice for both of them. She had a feeling he was lonely, and Audrey was as well. Everybody needed roses from time to time. And e-mail from a friend.

Chapter 16

By the end of February, Sarah had copper pipes throughout the house, and parts of the house had new wiring as well. They were doing it floor by floor. In March they started laying the groundwork for the kitchen. It was exciting watching things come in. She had picked her appliances from books in Jeff's office, he was buying them for her wholesale. The house wasn't ready for her to move in yet, but it was going well. They told her the rest of the electrical work would be complete by April.

“Why don't you go on a vacation?” Jeff suggested one night when they were laying down templates in the kitchen, to make sure all her appliances would fit. She was putting in a big butcher-block island in the center, and he was afraid it would be too crowded, but Sarah insisted it would work. As it turned out, she was right.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She laughed at him. “Am I driving you crazy?” No, he told her, but Marie-Louise was. She was on one of her tangents, hating everything about the States, including him. She was threatening to go back to France. It was that time of year, when she was missing spring in Paris. She didn't leave for her three-month summer there till June. He was counting the days, although he hated to admit it. But she was hard to live with at times.

“There isn't much you can do right now till we finish the electrical and the kitchen. I think if you go away for a few weeks, you might be able to move in when you get back. That would be exciting for you,” he said, suggesting the vacation again. He loved helping her with the house. It reminded him of when he had done his own in Potrero Hill. Hers was on a far grander scale, of course, but the same principles prevailed, although every old house had quirks of its own.

“I can't stay away from the office for that long,” Sarah complained.

“Give us two weeks then. If you go away in mid-April, I promise you can move in on May first.” She jumped up and down like a kid when he said it, and that night she thought about it with some seriousness.

She was of two minds about it. She never liked leaving her office. She had nowhere to go. And no one to go with. She hated traveling alone. All of her friends had children and husbands. She called a friend from college in Boston, but she was just getting divorced and couldn't leave her devastated kids. Sarah consoled herself by reminding herself that she couldn't have gone with Phil, either. He had never taken a trip with her in four years, only with his kids. She even asked one of the other female attorneys in the office, who said she couldn't get away at the moment. In desperation, Sarah asked her mother, who said she had just planned a trip to New York with a friend, to go to the theater and museums, so she couldn't go. Sarah thought of giving up the idea, and then decided to go alone. After that, the big decision to make was where. She always got sick in Mexico, and didn't think she should go there solo. She liked Hawaii, but two weeks there was too long. She enjoyed New York, but alone it was no fun. She still hadn't decided, when she was looking at her photograph of Lilli that weekend, and suddenly she knew exactly where she wanted to go. To France, to track her down. She remembered Mimi saying she had gone to see Lilli's French château once, where she had lived with the marquis she left her husband for. Mimi had said it was boarded up, but Sarah thought it would be interesting to see it, and get a sense of where Lilli had lived during her years in France. She had lived there, after all, for fifteen years before she died, a relatively long time.

Sarah went to talk to Mimi about it on Sunday, and found out where it was, apparently in Dordogne, relatively near Bordeaux. It sounded like a nice trip to Sarah. She had always wanted to see that area, and the châteaux of the Loire, if she had time. She loved Paris, and by Monday, Sarah had decided to take a two-week vacation in France. She was going to leave the day after Easter, and she told Jeff she was going to hold him to his promise that she could move into the house on May 1. It was six weeks away, and Jeff said he thought there was a good chance that they'd be ready. Sarah had already decided that she would have the house painted after she moved in. She was going to try and lay the carpet herself with Jeff's help, in the few small rooms where she was going to use it, like dressing rooms and an office, a small guest room, and one bath with a chipped floor. And wherever possible, she was going to do some of the painting herself. If not, it would cost a fortune and impact her budget. Besides, she thought painting some of the rooms would be fun, and learning to lay carpet gave her the illusion that she was saving money. Actually she had done well on the budget so far.

She told her mother and grandmother about the trip to France, Mimi wrote down all the information she had about her mother and the exact location and name of the château. She didn't know much more. Her own trip to find out had been disappointing, but Sarah didn't care. It sounded interesting to her, even more so if she could find someone who had known Lilli, although it was now more than sixty years ago.

For the next month, she caught up with everything she had to do in the office, and started packing her apartment, so she'd be ready to move when she got back. Most of what she owned she was planning to either throw in the garbage or give to Goodwill. All she really had to take with her were her books and clothes. The rest was awful. Looking at it, she wondered why she had hung on to it for so long.

Sarah spent Easter with her mother and Mimi. They had a nice Easter brunch at the Fairmont, and the following day Audrey left for New York. She was excited about it. Mimi was planning to spend a few days in Palm Springs with George, and work on her golf game, and Sarah was off to Paris. She had dinner with Jeff the night before she left.

“Thank you for suggesting the trip,” she said as they sat across the table from each other in an Indian restaurant. He had ordered his curry hot, and Sarah had ordered hers mild, but both were good. “I'm really excited about it. I'm going to check out the château where my great-grandmother lived.”

“Where is it?” he asked with interest. He knew the story from her, but not the details. He was as intrigued by it as she was. It gave life to the house, and spirit, and soul. Lilli had been an adventuresome and somewhat outrageous young woman for her day. Particularly when one thought that she had been twenty-four years old when she left. She had been born the night of the '06 earthquake, on a ferry going to Oakland to escape the fire in the city. It had been an auspicious beginning to a very interesting and somewhat turbulent life. Her arrival in the world had been provoked by an earthquake and the end of her life punctuated by a war. It also intrigued Sarah to realize that she had been Sarah's age when she died. A brief but fiery life. She had died at thirty-nine, without having seen her two children in fifteen years. Her husband, the marquis, had died the same year, in the Resistance.

“The château is in Dordogne,” she explained to Jeff, as his eyes watered from the curry. He liked to say he loved his women and his curry spicy, though lately more so the curry. Marie-Louise had been getting spicier and sharper-tongued by the hour, but he was hanging in.

“Your ancestors are a lot more interesting than mine,” he commented as they chatted through dinner.

“I'm fascinated by her,” Sarah admitted. “It's a wonder my grandmother turned out as normal as she did, with a mother who walked out on her, a father who was depressed forever after, all the money they lost in the stock market crash, and a brother who was killed in the war. She's remarkably sane and happy in spite of all that.” Jeff had never met her, but he had heard a lot about her and could see that Sarah adored her. He hoped he would meet her one day. “She left on a trip to Palm Springs with her boyfriend yesterday. Her life is a lot racier than mine is.” She laughed at herself. She hadn't dated anyone since Phil, but she was really excited about her trip, and Jeff was happy for her. He thought it was a great idea to follow Lilli's tracks, and would have liked to do it with her himself. “How's it going with Marie-Louise, by the way?” Just as she used to talk to him about Phil before they broke up, he often talked about Marie-Louise to her. They had become fast friends in their months of working together closely on her house. And as always, she was wearing his antique house pin on her lapel, she almost always did now. It was the symbol of her liberation, and her passion for the house. And she loved it all the more because Jeff had given it to her.

“Things are okay, I guess,” he answered her question. “Her point of view is a little more Gallic than mine. She says that a life without arguments would be like an egg without salt. I'm about ready for a salt-free diet one of these days. But I think she'd feel unloved if we weren't arguing all the time.” There was no question that he loved her, but living with her was a challenge. She was constantly threatening to walk out anytime he disagreed with her. It was stressful for Jeff. Sometimes he thought she enjoyed it. For her, it was a way of life. Her family was like that. Sometimes it seemed, when he visited them with her, that they woke up every morning and slammed all the doors for the hell of it. It was the same with her aunts, uncles, and cousins. They never spoke in normal voices. They constantly shouted at each other. “I guess it's just dysfunctional, not French, but I can't say I enjoy it.” He couldn't even imagine living that way for the rest of his life, but he had for fourteen years. Sarah couldn't imagine living that way, either, but as long as he was still doing it, it obviously worked for him.

“I think it's like you and Phil,” he said as they finished dinner. He felt as though he was steaming from the curry he'd eaten, but he loved it. “After a while, you just get used to it, and you forget there's anything different. It's amazing what we adapt to sometimes. Have you heard from him, by the way?”

“Not in a couple of months. He finally gave up.” She had been true to her word and never spoken to him again. And now she no longer missed him. She missed having someone sometimes, but not him. “He probably has a new girlfriend, and cheats on her, too. That's who he is, I realize now.” She shrugged a shoulder, and they went back to talking about her trip. She was leaving the next morning. It was a long flight to Paris.

“Don't forget to send me a postcard,” he told her when he dropped her off at her apartment and she thanked him for dinner. He didn't kiss her good night. Now that she was free and he wasn't, she didn't want to play those games with him. She knew she'd get hurt. And he respected her wishes. He cared about her too much to want to hurt her, and he was deeply involved with Marie-Louise, for better or worse. Worse at the moment, but that could change any minute. He never knew who he'd wake up to in the morning, Bambi or Godzilla. Sometimes he wondered if she was bipolar.

“Call me if anything happens at the house that I need to know about, or about any decisions I should make.” He had her itinerary, as did her office, and her grandmother. She was planning to rent a French cell phone at the airport, and promised to call him with the number. And she was taking her computer with her for e-mail, in case her office needed to communicate with her.

“Don't worry, just forget about it. Enjoy your vacation. And I'll help you move in when you get back.” She beamed when he said it. She could hardly wait. But she had a fun trip ahead of her first. “I'll e-mail you and keep you posted on our progress.” She knew he would. He was good about communicating what was happening at the house. So far there had been no bad surprises, only good ones.

It was as though the project had been meant to be since the beginning. The restoration had been a dream. It was as though both Lilli and Stanley had wanted her to have the house, although perhaps each of them for different reasons. But it already felt like home to her. Moving in would be the icing on the cake. She had already decided to use Lilli's bedroom, and had ordered a brand-new king-size bed, with a pale pink silk headboard. They were going to deliver it as soon as she got back.

“Bon voyage!” he called as she ran up the steps to her apartment, and turned back to wave. She disappeared into the building then, as he drove away, thinking of her. He hoped she'd have a good trip.

Chapter 17

The plane landed at Charles de Gaulle airport at eight A.M. Paris time. It took her an hour to get her bags and go through customs. At ten A.M. she was driving down the Champs Élysées in a cab, with a broad smile as she looked around. She had slept well on the plane on the eleven-hour flight. It felt like it took forever, but now finally she was here. She felt like a heroine in a movie, as they drove through the Place de la Concorde with its fountains and across the Pont Alexandre III toward the Invalides, where Napoleon was buried. She was staying at a small hotel on the Left Bank on the Boulevard St. Germain, in the heart of the Latin Quarter. Jeff had given her the name of the hotel, based on a recommendation Marie-Louise had made, and it was perfect.

Sarah left her bags in her room, and walked all over Paris. She stopped for a café filtre in a café, and ate dinner alone in a bistro. She went to the Louvre, and rode on a Bâteau Mouche the next day, like a proper tourist. She visited Nôtre Dame and Sacré Coeur, admired the Opéra. She had been to Paris before, but somehow this time it was more exciting. She had never felt as liberated, or as free of burdens. She was just happy being there for three days before she left for Dordogne on a train. The concierge at her hotel in Paris had given her the name of somewhere to stay. He said it was simple, clean, and very small, which suited her perfectly. She hadn't come here to show off. And she was amazed at how comfortable she was alone. She felt totally safe, and despite her limited French, people seemed ready and able to help her all along the way.

When she got off the train, she took a cab to her hotel. It was an old Renault that bumped along the roads, and the countryside was beautiful. This was horse country, and she saw a number of stables as they drove out into the country. She also saw several châteaux, most of them in tattered shape. She wondered if Lilli's would be as well, or if it had been restored in the meantime. She was excited to see it. She had carefully written down the name, and showed it to the clerk at the desk of her hotel. He nodded and said something unintelligible to her in French, then showed her on a map and spoke in halting English. He asked if she wanted someone to drive her there, and she said she did. It was late in the afternoon by then, and he promised to have a car and driver for her in the morning.

She ate at the hotel that night. She had foie gras from nearby Périgord, which was delicious. They prepared it with cooked apples on the side, and salad and cheese afterward. Once back in her room, she sank into the feather bed, and slept like a baby until morning. She awoke with the sunlight streaming through the windows. She hadn't bothered to close the heavy shutters. She preferred the sunlight. She had her own bathroom, with an enormous bathtub, and after she took a bath and dressed, she went downstairs to a breakfast of café au lait served in bowls, and croissants made that morning. The only thing missing was a companion with whom to share it. There was no one to talk to about how delicious the food was, or how beautiful the countryside, as the driver that the hotel clerk had promised drove her to the Château de Mailliard, where her great-grandmother had lived during her days here.

It was a half-hour drive from the hotel, and they saw a beautiful church before they reached the château. It had once belonged to the château but no longer did, the young driver explained in broken English. And then slowly they drove along a narrow road, and she saw it. It looked enormous. There were turrets, and a courtyard, and a number of outbuildings. It dated back to the sixteenth century, and was very beautiful, although currently under reconstruction. There was heavy scaffolding around the main building, and workmen working industriously, just as they were on Scott Street.

“New howner,” the young driver said, pointing. “Fix hup!” She nodded. A new owner had apparently just bought it. “Rich man! Wine! Very good!” They smiled at each other. The new owner had made his fortune in wine.

Sarah got out and looked around, curious about the outbuildings and the property. There were orchards and vineyards, a huge stable, but no sign of horses. It must have been beautiful in Lilli's day, Sarah suspected. Lilli had a knack for winding up in amazing houses, Sarah thought with a smile, and finding men who spoiled her. She wondered as she looked at the château if Lilli had been happy here, if she missed her children, or Alexandre, or her home in San Francisco. This was so different and so far from home for her. And although she had none herself, Sarah couldn't imagine leaving one's children. Her heart went out to Mimi, as the thought crossed her mind.

None of the workers paid any attention to Sarah, and she wandered for nearly an hour, exploring the property. She was curious to look into the château itself, but she didn't dare, so she stood outside and looked up at it. There was a man standing at a window, looking down at her, and she wondered if they were going to ask her to leave. He appeared on the front steps a few minutes later and walked toward her with a quizzical look on his face. He was a tall man with silver hair, wearing a sweater, jeans, and workboots. But he didn't look like the other workmen. There was an air of authority about him, and as he approached, she saw that he was wearing a heavy, expensive gold watch on his wrist.

“Puis-je vous aider, mademoiselle?” he asked politely. He had been watching her for a while. She looked harmless, but he wondered if she was a reporter. Tourists rarely turned up here. Because of him, the press sometimes did.

“I'm sorry.” She put her hands out with a shy smile. “Je ne parle pas français.” It was all she knew, to tell him she didn't speak French. “American,” she said, and he nodded.

“May I help you, mademoiselle?” he asked again, this time in English. He was curious about who she was. “Are you looking for someone?” His English was accented but flawless.

“No.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to see the château. It's beautiful. My great-grandmother lived here, a long time ago.”

“Was she French?” He looked intrigued. He was a very striking man in his early fifties. He looked rugged, handsome, and smart. He was examining Sarah in intricate detail.

“No. She was American, married to a marquis. The Marquis de Mailliard. Her name was Lilli.” She said it as though offering him credentials, and he smiled at her, as though to offer her safe passage.

“My great-grandmother lived here, too,” he said, still smiling at her. “And my grandmother, and my mother. They worked here. My grandmother probably worked for yours.”

“She was my great-grandmother actually,” Sarah reminded him, and he nodded. “I'm sorry to intrude. I just wanted to see where she lived.”

“Not many people come here,” he said, studying Sarah. She looked like a young girl, in her jeans and running shoes with a sweater over her shoulders, and her long hair in a braid. “The château has been boarded up for sixty years,” he told her. “I bought it last year. It was in terrible condition. It's been untouched since the war. We're doing an enormous amount of work. I just moved in.”

Sarah nodded and smiled. “I just bought her house in San Francisco. It's an enormous house, though not as big as this. It's been uninhabited since 1930, except for a few rooms in the attic. Her husband, my great-grandfather, sold it when she left, after the Crash of 1929. I'm restoring it, and I'm moving in when I go home.”

“Your great-grandmother must have liked big houses, mademoiselle, and the men who gave them to her.” She nodded. That was Lilli. “We have much in common, we are doing the same work, on both her houses, it appears.” Sarah laughed when he said it, and so did he. “I hope she appreciates it. Would you like to come inside and look around?” He was very hospitable. Sarah hesitated, and then nodded. She was dying to see it, and to tell Mimi about it afterward, and Jeff, and her mother. Now she could say she had.

“I'll only stay a few minutes. I don't want to be a nuisance. My grandmother said she came here years ago, but it was all boarded up, as you said. Why has no one lived here for so long?”

“There were no heirs. The last marquis had no children. Someone bought it after the war, but they died very soon after, and it became a big battle with their family. They fought over it for twenty years, and never lived here. In time, they just left it, the people who had wanted it were gone, the others didn't want to live here. It has been for sale for many years, but no one was foolish enough to buy it until me.” He laughed and greeted the workmen as they walked in.

The inside of the château was vast and somewhat gloomy. There were enormously high ceilings, and a grand staircase leading to the upper floors. There were long hallways where Sarah could imagine ancestral portraits. Now there were rugs rolled up against the walls. There were sconces made for candles, and as they walked farther in, the tall windows let in sunlight. She thought the house in San Francisco was prettier and brighter, but it was also infinitely smaller. There was a cavernous feel to this that Sarah somehow found sad. This was a whole different life. She wondered again if Lilli had been happy here in her life as a marquise. It was such a different life.

The new owner of the château walked her upstairs, and showed her the enormous ancestral bedrooms, and several libraries still filled with books. There was a drawing room with a fireplace that a tall man could stand up in, and her host proved it to her, and then as an afterthought, he held out his hand to her.

“I'm sorry to be so rude. I'm Pierre Pettit.” He shook her hand, and she introduced herself to him. “Not the Marquis de Mailliard,” he teased. “You are the great-granddaughter of a marquise, I am the great-grandson of a peasant, and the grandson of a cook. My mother was a maid here as a young girl. I bought the place because my family worked here as long as there were Mailliards here. Originally, they were serfs. I thought it was time to put a Pettit in the château, since there are no Mailliards left. Peasants are of stronger stock, and eventually they rule the world.” He laughed as he said it. “I am very happy to know you, Sarah Anderson. Would you like a glass of wine?” She hesitated, and he led her into an enormous kitchen that was still a relic of the past. They hadn't renovated it yet. The stove was at least eighty years old, and looked a lot like the one she had just thrown out.

Sarah didn't know it, but Pierre Pettit was one of the most important wine merchants in France. He exported wine all over the world, particularly to the States, but to other countries as well. He took a bottle off a rack, and she was stunned when she saw the name and vintage. He was opening a bottle of Château Margaux 1968.

“That's the year I was born,” she said with a shy smile, accepting a glass of it from him.

“It should breathe for a little while,” he apologized, and then took her to see the rest of the château. They were back in the ancient kitchen half an hour later. It was a once beautiful but now dreary place. He had explained his plans for it to her as they walked around, and asked her questions about her house. She had told him what she was doing, how much she loved it, and she told him Lilli's story, which he found intriguing, too. “It's amazing that she left her children, don't you think? I don't have any myself, but I can't imagine a woman doing that. Does your grandmother hate her for it?”

“She never talks about her, but I don't think so. She doesn't know much about her, she was six when her mother left.”

“She must have broken her husband's heart,” he said sympathetically.

“I think she did. He died about fifteen years later, but after losing his fortune and his wife, my grandmother says he more or less became a recluse, and eventually died of grief.”

Pierre Pettit shook his head as he sipped his wine. “Women do things like that,” he said, looking at Sarah. “They can be heartless creatures. That's why I never married. And it's so much more entertaining to have one's heart broken by many than by just one.” He laughed after he said it, and so did Sarah. He didn't look like he had a broken heart to her, but rather as though he had done the heart breaking, and enjoyed every minute of it. He was a very attractive man, with a lot of charisma, and was obviously very clever in business. He was spending a fortune restoring the château.

“You know, there is someone I think you would like to meet,” he said, looking pensive. “My grandmother. She was the cook when your great-grandmother lived here. She's ninety-three years old and very frail. She can't walk now, but she remembers everything in minute detail. Her memory is still excellent. Would you like to meet her?”

“Yes, I would.” Sarah's eyes lit up at the prospect.

“She lives about half an hour from here. Shall I take you?” he asked, setting down his glass, and smiling at her.

“Would it be too much trouble? I have a driver, if you give us directions.”

“Don't be silly. I have nothing to do here. I live in Paris. I just came down for a few days to check on their progress.” According to what he had told Sarah, completion was still two years away. He'd been working on it for a year. “I'll drive you there myself. I enjoy seeing her, and she always scolds me that I don't come often enough. You've given me a good excuse. She doesn't speak English. I will translate for you.”

He strode purposefully across the hallway, and down the main stairs, with Sarah following him, excited to have met him and to have the opportunity to meet a woman who had known Lilli. She hoped his grandmother's memory was as good as he said. She wanted to be able to go home to Mimi with something about her mother. It was like a gift she wanted to bring back, and she was grateful to Pierre Pettit for his help.

He left her in the courtyard and told her he'd be back in a moment. He reappeared five minutes later, driving a black Rolls convertible. It was a very handsome car. Pierre Pettit treated himself very well. His ancestors may have been serfs, but he was obviously a very rich man.

Sarah got in beside him, after explaining to her driver that the gentleman would take her back to the hotel. She tried to pay him, but he said it would be on her bill. And a moment later, she and Pierre sped off. He chatted easily with her on the way, asking her about her work and life in San Francisco. She said she was an attorney, and he asked if she was married. She said she wasn't.

“You're still young,” he said, smiling. “You will marry one day.” He said it almost smugly, and she rose to the challenge instantly. She liked him, and he'd been very nice to her. She was enjoying the ride through the countryside in his Rolls. It would have been hard not to. It was a perfect April day, and she was in France, driving around in a Rolls-Royce with a very handsome man who owned a large château. It was all very surreal.

“Why do you think I'll marry? You didn't. Why should I?”

“Ahhh… you're one of those, are you? An independent woman. Why do you not wish to marry?” He enjoyed sparring with her, and he obviously liked women. And she suspected they loved him.

“I don't need to be married. I'm happy the way I am,” Sarah said easily.

“No, you're not,” he said smugly. “An hour ago you were alone in an old Renault with no one to talk to. You are traveling in France alone. Now you're in a Rolls-Royce, talking to me, and laughing, and seeing pretty things. Isn't it better like this?”

“I didn't marry you,” Sarah said pointedly. “We're much better off like this. Both of us. Don't you think?”

He laughed at her answer. He liked it. And he liked her. She was bright, and quick. “Perhaps you're right. And children? You don't want children?” She shook her head, looking at him. “Why not? Most people seem to enjoy their children a lot.”

“I work hard. I don't think I'd be a good mother. I don't have enough time to give them.” It was a comfortable excuse.

“Perhaps you work too hard,” he suggested. He sounded like Stanley for a minute. But this man was very different. He was all about pleasure and life and fun, not just work. He had learned secrets to life that Stanley never had.

“Perhaps,” she answered. “Do you? You must have worked very hard to have all this.” He hadn't inherited it, he had worked for it, and he laughed as he answered.

“Sometimes I work too hard. And sometimes I play too hard. I like doing both, at different times. You have to work hard in order to play hard. I have a wonderful boat I keep in the South. A yacht. Do you like boats?”

“I haven't been on one in a long time.” Not since college, when she had sailed with friends in Martha's Vineyard, but she was sure the boats she'd been on were nothing like his.

They reached his grandmother's house a few minutes later. It was a small, neat cottage with a fence around it, beautifully maintained, with rosebushes in front, and a tiny vineyard behind it. He got out and opened the car door politely for Sarah. It was a remarkable experience being with him. She felt as though she were in a movie. The movie was her life for the moment. And she was starring in it. She was a long way from San Francisco.

He rang the bell and opened the door, and a woman hurried toward them, wiping her hands on her apron. She spoke to Pierre, and pointed to someone in the back garden. She was his grandmother's caretaker. Pierre led Sarah out through the back of the small house. It was filled with lovely antiques, and had bright pretty curtains at the windows. The house was small, but he took care of his grandmother well. She was sitting in a wheelchair in the garden looking out at the vineyards and the countryside beyond. She had lived in this part of the world all her life, and he had bought her the cottage many years before. To her, it was a palace. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“Bonjour, Pierre!” she exclaimed with delight, and then smiled at Sarah. She looked pleased to see her, she enjoyed visitors and especially her grandson. He was the joy of her life, and she was very proud of him. It showed.

“Bonjour, Mamie.” He introduced Sarah to her, and explained why she had come. His grandmother responded with a look of interest, many exclamations, and she nodded her head several times at Sarah, as though to welcome her. As she and Pierre chatted animatedly, the caretaker reappeared with cookies and lemonade, which she poured for them, and set the pitcher down on a nearby table, in case they wanted more. The cookies were delicious.

Pierre turned to Sarah then, and pulled up chairs for both of them. “She said she knew your great-grandmother well, and always liked her. She said she was a lovely woman. My grandmother was seventeen years old, and only a maid in the kitchen when Lilli came here. She said your great-grandmother was very kind to her.” She referred to Lilli throughout the conversation as Madame la Marquise. “Your great-grandmother helped her to become the cook several years later. She said she never even knew she had children until one day she saw her looking at photographs of them in the garden, and she was crying. But she said that other than that, she was always very happy here. She had a sunny nature, and she adored her husband. He was a few years older than she, and he worshiped her. She says they were very happy. He laughed all the time whenever he was with her. She said it was very hard for everyone when the Germans were here. They took over the stables and part of the château. The outbuildings were full of their men, and sometimes they were very rude and stole food from the kitchen. Your great-grandmother was nice to them, but she didn't like them much. She said Lilli got very sick toward the end of the war. There was no medicine, and she got sicker and sicker, and the marquis nearly went mad, worrying about her. It sounds like tuberculosis or pneumonia, I think,” he added softly. It was a fascinating recital for both of them, particularly Sarah, as she imagined Lilli crying over photographs of Mimi and her brother. Strangely, she realized now, he had died the same year as his mother, in 1945, just before the end of the war. Alexandre, her ex-husband, had died that year too. It was hard to imagine how Lilli could survive for all those years without news or contact with her children, or any of the people she had once loved. She left them all for the marquis, closed the door of her past behind her, and never opened it again.

“My grandmother is saying that finally your great-grandmother died, although she was still very young,” Pierre went on. “She says she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. And the marquis was inconsolable when she died. My grandmother thinks he had been in the Resistance all along, but no one knew for sure. He began disappearing more and more after she died, perhaps on missions with local cells, or in other districts. The Germans killed him one night not far from here. They said he was trying to blow up a train, she doesn't know if that was true or not. He was a good man and wouldn't do anything to kill people, except maybe Germans. She thinks he let himself get shot because he was so grief stricken over his wife's death. They died within a few months of each other and are buried in the cemetery near the château. I can take you there if you wish,” he offered, and she nodded. “She said it was very sad for everyone when they died. The Germans had kept the servants in the château and worked them very hard. The commandant moved in after the marquis died. And then the Germans left finally. And after the war, all the servants went to other places, the château was boarded up. Eventually someone bought it… and you know the rest. What an amazing story,” Pierre said to Sarah, who reached out and took the old woman's hands in her own to thank her. Pierre's grandmother nodded and smiled, she understood the gesture. She was every bit as lucid as Pierre had said she would be. The story she had shared with Sarah was a gift she could take home to Mimi, the story of her own mother's years in France and her last days.

“Thank you …merci…,” Sarah repeated, as they continued holding hands. This ancient woman was her only link to her lost great-grandmother, the woman who had vanished, and whose house she now owned. The woman two men had loved so passionately that both died when they lost her. She had belonged to each of them, and had been theirs, and in the end, she had been her own. She was like a beautiful bird that could be loved and admired but not caged. As they sat together, and Sarah mulled over Lilli's story, Pierre's grandmother's brow furrowed for a moment, and she said something more to him. He listened and nodded, and turned to Sarah with a wistful air.

“My grandmother says there was one other thing about Lilli's children. She said that she often saw her writing letters. She wasn't sure, but she thought they might have been to them. The boy who went to the post office said that her letters to America were always returned. He gave them back to Madame la Marquise himself, and she would look very sad. He told my grandmother that she put them in a little box, where she kept them tied up with ribbons. My grandmother said she never saw them until the marquise died. She found the box when she was helping to put away her things, and showed the box of letters to the marquis. He told her to throw them away, so she did. She doesn't know for sure, but she thinks they were letters to her children, all of which were returned. She must have tried to contact them over the years, but someone always sent them back to her unopened. Perhaps the man she had been married to, the children's father. He must have been very angry at her. I would have been, in his place.” It was hard for any of them to understand how she had left a husband and two children, out of passion for someone else. But according to Pierre's grandmother, she had loved the marquis that much. She said she had never seen two people more in love with each other, right up to their deaths. Enough to abandon her children for. Sarah couldn't help wondering if she had regretted it, and hoped she had. Her tears over the photographs and returned letters she saved said something. But in the end, hard as it was to understand, her love for the marquis had been more powerful, and had prevailed, as had his for her. It was one of those passions apparently that defied reason and all else. She had walked away from an entire life to give herself to him, and leave everyone, even her children, behind. She had gone to her grave without ever seeing them again, which seemed a terrible fate to Sarah. And for Mimi, the grandmother she loved so much.

Pierre chatted with his grandmother for a while, and then they left. Sarah thanked her profusely again before she did. It had been an amazing day for her. And as he had offered to, Pierre took her to the cemetery on the way back. The Mailliard Mausoleum was easy to find, and they found them there. Armand, Marquis de Mailliard, and Lilli, Marquise de Mailliard. He had been forty-four years old when he died, and she thirty-nine. They had died within eighty days of each other, not even three months. Sarah felt sad as she left the cemetery, after hearing the story. She wondered how many times Lilli had cried over the children she had left, and why they never had any children of their own. Perhaps that would have consoled her, or perhaps she couldn't bear the thought of having another child, after the two she had given up. Even with as much as Sarah knew now, Lilli would always be a mystery to all of them. What had driven her, who she had been, what she had really felt or not felt or cared about or longed for were all secrets she had taken with her. Clearly, her passion for the marquis had been a powerful force. Sarah knew that Lilli had met him at a consular party in San Francisco just before the crash. How she had decided to run away with him, or when or why, no one really knew and never would. Perhaps she had been unhappy with Alexandre, but he had obviously adored her. But it was, in the end, the marquis who had owned her heart, and only he. Sarah felt as though she had something to go back with, which would satisfy her grandmother and even her mother, although Lilli would forever be an enigma. She had been a woman of enormous passion and mystery till the end. Sarah was planning to tell Mimi about her mother's letters to her when she went back.

“I think I have fallen in love with your great-grandmother,” Pierre teased her as he drove her back to the hotel. “She must have been a remarkable woman, of enormous passion and magnetism, and quite dangerous in a way. They loved her so passionately, it destroyed them. They couldn't live without her when she was gone,” he said, glancing at Sarah. “Are you as dangerous as she was?” he teased again.

“No, I'm not.” Sarah smiled at her benefactor. He had made her whole trip worthwhile. She felt as though destiny had brought them together. Meeting Pierre had been an incredible gift.

“Perhaps you are dangerous,” he said, as they drove up to her hotel, and she thanked him for his kindness, and spending the entire day with her, driving her around.

“I would never have found out any of this, if I hadn't met your grandmother. Thank you so much, Pierre.” She was genuinely grateful to him.

“I enjoyed it, too. It's quite a story,” he said quietly. “She never told me all that before. It all happened before I was born.” And then, as she got out of the car, he reached out and touched her hand. “I'm going back to Paris tomorrow. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? There's only a local bistro, but it's fairly good. I'd enjoy your company, Sarah. I had a good time with you today.”

“So did I. Are you sure you're not tired of me?” She felt as though she had already abused his hospitality and didn't want to do so again.

“Not yet. If I get tired of you, I'll bring you back.” He laughed at her.

“Then I'd like to very much.”

“Excellent. I'll pick you up at eight.”

She went upstairs and lay on her bed after that. She had a lot to think about. She couldn't get Lilli out of her head. She felt haunted by her, after listening to the story Pierre's grandmother had told, and he said he felt the same way when he came back to pick Sarah up in the Rolls.

The bistro he took her to nearby was simple, and the food was plain but good. He had brought his own bottle of wine. He regaled her with tales of his travels, and adventures on his yacht when he sailed around the world. He was interesting to talk to and fun to be with. She felt as though she were on another planet as she laughed and talked with him. It was a delightful evening for both of them. He was fifteen years older than she, but had a youthful outlook on life, probably because he had never married or had children. He said he was still a child himself.

“And you, my dear,” he scolded her over the last of their wine, which was yet another exquisite vintage, “are far too serious, from what I can see. You need to have more fun, and take life more lightly. You work too hard, and now you are killing yourself on your house. When do you play?” She thought about it and then shrugged her shoulders.

“I don't. The house is play for me now. But you're right. I probably don't play enough.” Sarah suspected correctly that no one could accuse Pierre of that.

“Life is short. You should start playing now.”

“That's why I'm here, in France. When I go back, I'm moving into Lilli's house,” she said, looking happy.

“It's not Lilli's house, Sarah. It's yours. Sarah's house. She led her life, she did exactly what she wanted to do, no matter who she hurt or who she left behind. She was a woman who knew her own mind, and always got what she wanted. You can tell that, listening to her story. I'm sure she was very beautiful, but probably very selfish. Men always seem to fall madly in love with selfish women, not the kind ones, or the good ones, or the ones who are good for them. Don't be too good, Sarah… you'll get hurt.” She wondered if he had been, or if he did the hurting. But she suspected he had Lilli pegged correctly. She abandoned her children and husband. It was still hard for Sarah to understand. And Mimi probably understood it even less. Lilli had been her mother. “Who is waiting for you when you go home?” Pierre asked her, and Sarah thought about it.

“My grandmother, my mother, friends.” She thought of Jeff as she said it. “Does that sound too pathetic?” It was a little embarrassing spelling it out, but he had figured it out himself anyway that afternoon. He could sense that there was no man in her life, and she was at ease about it, which he thought was sad, given her looks and age.

“No, it sounds sweet. Maybe too sweet. I think you need to be harder on your men.”

“I don't have any men.” She laughed at what he said.

“You will. The right one will come.”

“I had the wrong one for four years,” she said quietly. She and Pierre were becoming friends. She liked him, although she could sense that he was something of a playboy. But he had been kind to her. And fatherly, in a way.

“That's too long to keep a bad one. What do you want?” He was taking her under his wing. She was an innocent in his eyes. And he sounded like Santa Claus, asking for her wish list.

“I don't know what I want anymore. Companionship, friendship, laughter, love, someone who sees things as I do, and cares about the same things. Someone who won't hurt me or disappoint me … someone who treats me well. I want kindness more than passion. I want someone who loves me and who I love.”

“That's a lot to ask for,” he said seriously. “I'm not sure you can find all that.”

“When I do, they're married,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What's wrong with that? I do it all the time,” he said, and they both laughed. She was sure he did. He was definitely a bad boy at times. He was too handsome not to be, and rich enough to do whatever he wanted and get away with it. He was very spoiled. “I'm a man of conscience,” Pierre said out of the blue. “If I weren't, I would sweep you off your feet and make mad passionate love to you.” He was only half-teasing, and she knew it. “But if I do that, Sarah, you'll get hurt. You'll be sad when you go back, and I don't want to do that to you. It would ruin the whole purpose of your trip. I want you to go back happy,” he said, looking at her gently. He was being protective of her, which was rare for him.

“So do I. Thank you for being so nice to me.” There were tears in her eyes as she said it. She was thinking of Phil and how rotten he had been to her. Pierre was a kind man. That was probably why the women in his life loved him, married or not.

“Find a good one, Sarah. You deserve it,” he said quietly. “You may not think you do, but you do. Don't waste your time again with the bad ones. You'll find a good one next time,” he said, speaking to her as a friend. “I can feel it in my bones.”

“I hope you're right.” It was funny how Stanley had told her not to waste her life working too hard, and now Pierre was telling her to find a good man. They were like teachers who had been put in her path to teach her the lessons she needed to learn.

“Would you like to drive back to Paris with me tomorrow?” he asked as he drove her back to the hotel.

“I was going to go back on the train,” she said hesitantly.

“Don't be silly, with all those awful, smelly people? Don't be ridiculous. It's a long drive, but it's pretty. I'd enjoy having you along.” He said it simply and sounded as though he meant it.

“Then I'll come. You've been much too good to me already.”

“All right, then I'll be disagreeable to you for at least an hour tomorrow. Will that make you feel better?” he teased her again.

He told her he'd pick her up at nine the next morning, and they'd be back in Paris by five in the afternoon. He said he was meeting friends in Paris the following night, but would enjoy taking her to dinner in Paris another night of her stay. It sounded wonderful to her, and they made a date on the trip back to Paris.

They had a wonderful time driving together, and he took her to a delightful restaurant for lunch, where they knew him and he seemed to stop there often on his way to Dordogne. He made the entire experience an adventure and a joy for her, just as he had the previous day. The hours flew by like minutes, and they were back at her hotel in Paris before she knew it. He promised to call her the next day and kissed her on both cheeks when he left. Sarah felt like Cinderella when she walked back into the hotel. The coach had turned into a pumpkin, the footmen to three white mice, and she walked up the stairs to her room, carrying her suitcase, wondering if the past two days were real, and wanting to pinch herself to check. She had found out everything she wanted to about Lilli, seen the château, seen her final resting place, and even made a friend along the way. The trip had been a huge success.

Chapter 18

For the rest of Sarah's stay in Paris, she saw monuments, churches, and museums, ate in bistros, sat in cafés. She walked down streets, discovered parks, peered into gardens, and explored antique shops. She did everything she had ever wanted to do in Paris, and felt as though she had lived there for a month by the time she went back to the States.

Pierre took her out to dinner one night, to the Tour d'Argent, and dancing at Bain Douche after that, and she'd never had so much fun in her life. In his own milieu, Pierre was indeed dazzling, and definitely a playboy, though not with her. He kissed her again on both cheeks when he dropped her off at her hotel at four in the morning. He said he would have loved to see her again, but he was going to London to see clients. He had already contributed more than his fair share to the success of her trip. She promised to send him photographs of Lilli's house in San Francisco, and he promised to send photographs of the château for her to give to Mimi. She made him promise to call her if he ever came to San Francisco. And she had no doubt he would. They had genuinely enjoyed getting to know each other, and she left Paris knowing she had a friend there.

She felt as though she were leaving home when she checked out of the hotel and took a cab to the airport. She could see now why Marie-Louise wanted to move back there. She'd have done the same if she could. It was a magical city, and Sarah's trip had been the best two weeks of her life. It didn't matter at all to her now that she'd gone alone. She didn't feel deprived, she felt richer. And Pierre's words were echoing in her ears, just as Stanley's had, Find a good one when you go back. Easier said than done. But in the absence of a “good one,” she had herself, which was fine for now, and maybe even forever. She wanted to come back to Paris again soon. It had been everything she'd hoped for and more.

She'd only heard from Jeff twice on the trip. Once about a minor electrical problem, and the second time about a replacement refrigerator, when the one they'd ordered didn't come, and wouldn't for several months. His e-mails had been brief. And her office never contacted her at all. It had been a real vacation, and although she was sad to leave, she also felt ready to go back. She wasn't anxious to go back to work. But she couldn't wait to move into her house. Jeff said it was ready, and waiting for her.

She took a flight out of Charles de Gaulle at four o'clock, which got her into San Francisco at six in the evening, local time. It was a beautiful warm April day. It was Friday, and she was moving on Monday, and going back to work on Tuesday. She had the weekend to pack the rest of her things, and even drive some of it over herself. She was thinking of sleeping at her new address that weekend, although the movers were coming Monday, on May 1st, just as Jeff had promised. He had set everything up for her.

She was anxious to see her grandmother to tell her all she'd seen and heard, but Sarah had had an e-mail from her mother, saying that Mimi was still in Palm Springs with George, and she had had a ball in New York with her friends. Her mother had become a wonder of modern communication, and now loved to e-mail. Sarah still thought it was funny. She wondered if her mother had heard from Tom again, or if things had already petered out. Long distance was too tough to really work. Sarah had tried it in college and never liked it. Geographic undesirability had been a turn-off to her ever since.

She took a cab from the airport to her apartment, and as she came through the door, it looked worse than ever. She felt like she no longer even lived there. She couldn't wait to get out. There were boxes everywhere that she'd packed before she left, and the rest of her belongings were in piles all over the floor. Goodwill was scheduled to come on Tuesday to take whatever she didn't move. She wasn't moving much. She was almost embarrassed to give it to Goodwill. She felt as though she had grown up in the last six months, ever since she'd bought the house.

She called her mother that night to say she was back. Her mother sounded rushed, she said she was flying out the door. She was going to Carmel for the weekend. She seemed to be moving around a lot these days, and having fun. Her mother said Mimi was due back on Wednesday. Sarah wanted them all to come to the house for dinner the following weekend. And she had much to tell Mimi, after her visit to Dordogne.

Sarah was surprised not to hear from Jeff that night. He knew when she was coming back, but he was probably busy. She fell asleep early that night, still on Paris time, and woke up at five in the morning, thoroughly jet-lagged. She showered and dressed, made herself a cup of coffee, and headed to the house at six. It was a gorgeous sunny morning.

When she let herself into the house, she felt as though she already lived there. She walked around her domain with pleasure. All the lights worked, the plumbing was fine. The paneling shone. And when she walked in, the new kitchen was gorgeous. It was even more beautiful than she'd hoped for. And she liked the replacement refrigerator even better. She was going to start painting the smaller rooms in the next week, and the professional painters were starting in two weeks to do the big ones. By June the house would be nearly complete. She was going to do the rest of the details slowly, over time, and begin looking for furniture at estate sales and auctions. That would take more time, but her money was holding up nicely, thanks to Jeff's help cutting corners and getting her everything wholesale. She was going to wait to do the elevator for now, because she really didn't need it. He had even given her the gardener he and Marie-Louise used in Potrero Hill. She had gotten everything cleaned up, and had planted neat rows of flowers, and hedges bordering the house.

“Wow!” she said, smiling to herself, as she sat down at her new kitchen table. “Double wow!” She beamed. She loved it.

She had been there for two hours when the doorbell rang. She peeked out a side window, and saw Jeff standing outside holding two cups from Starbucks.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asked, smiling at her. He looked relaxed and happy, as he handed her a Grande double cappuccino with nonfat foam, just the way she liked it.

“I'm in a time zone from another planet.” But from the look on her face, he could see that she had enjoyed it.

“Did you have fun?”

“I loved it… and the kitchen looks gorgeous,” she said as he followed her in and looked around. He'd had the cleaning crew in the day before so that when she saw it, it would look perfect. He ran a full-service office, he teased her.

They were sipping their coffee and chatting comfortably when he jokingly asked her if she'd seen Marie-Louise in Paris. Sarah looked confused by the question.

“No. Did she go back? Isn't she early for her summer trip?”

“Not this year. She left me.” He looked Sarah in the eye as he said it.

“She left you?” Sarah repeated, looking startled. “As in really left you, or as in for a few weeks to hang out in Paris?”

“She moved back. I'm buying out her half of the business. We're selling the house. I can't afford to buy that from her, too. I can use my half of the house money to buy her out of the business. Actually, I'm selling the house for her.” He looked calm as he said it. She could only imagine how he felt. Fourteen years out the window was hard to swallow. But he looked like he was doing okay. In some ways, it was a relief.

“I'm sorry,” Sarah said softly. “How did that happen?”

“It was long overdue. She was miserable here from the day she got here. I don't think she was happy with me, either. I guess not”—he smiled wryly—“or she'd still be here.” Even if he was taking it well, and knew it was for the best, it was still painful. They had been battling incessantly since Christmas. He was exhausted, and almost relieved now that it was over.

“I don't think it was about you,” Sarah consoled him. “I think it was about her, and living here, and not wanting to be here.”

“I offered to move back to Europe with her at one point, a few years ago. But that didn't do it for her, either. She's just not a happy person. She's very angry.” She had been angry right up till the last minute, and slammed the door when she left, which was not how he'd wanted to end it. She didn't know how to do it any other way. People left home in different ways, some in gentleness, others in anger.

“What about you? Did you meet the man of your dreams in Paris?” He looked anxious as he asked her.

“I made a friend.” She told him about her visit to the Château de Mailliard, meeting Pierre Pettit and his grandmother, and she told him all she'd seen and heard. She could hear the echo of Pierre's words, Go back and find a good one. She didn't say anything about that to Jeff. He had enough on his mind, and was still feeling raw after Marie-Louise left him. It was like when she ended it with Phil. She knew it was for the best, but it still hurt. “I had a great time,” she said quietly, as she finished her cappuccino. She didn't want to rub it in. He'd obviously had a rough time in her absence.

“I figured you did. You never e-mailed.” He smiled ruefully. It had worried him a little.

“I was savoring every minute, and I thought you were busy.” She told him again how sorry she was about Marie-Louise, and after that they wandered around, checking out the house, while he showed her new additions and details. The place had really come together in two weeks, just as he'd promised. “I'm going to sleep here tonight,” she said proudly. He smiled at how happy she seemed. She looked better than ever, and he was glad she was home. He had missed her, particularly lately. Marie-Louise had left the week before. But he hadn't wanted to tell Sarah till she got back. He needed time to adjust to it himself. It was still a little weird going home to an empty house. She had taken everything she wanted with her, and told him to keep or sell the rest. She had no great attachment to any of it, not even him, which was painful. Fourteen years was a long time. This was going to be an adjustment. The first couple of nights he almost laughed at himself. He realized that he missed the fighting. It had been the essence of their relationship for fourteen years.

“So what are you going to do today, Sarah?”

“Pack some stuff. Bring some things over. I want to start moving my clothes.” She didn't have that many. She had weeded out a lot of those, too. She was merciless now in her purging, getting rid of all the things she no longer needed or wanted.

“Do you want help?” he asked hopefully.

“Are you being polite, or do you mean it?” She knew he was busy.

“I mean it.” He wasn't as busy as she thought, and he wanted to help her.

“Then I want help. We can drive some stuff over, so I can stay here tonight. I'm not going to sleep at the apartment anymore.” It was over. She hadn't even wanted to sleep there the night before. Her new bed had been delivered on Scott Street. It was gorgeous, and very girly with the pink headboard. It was almost worthy of Lilli.

He went to her apartment with her, helped her carry armloads of clothes and boxes downstairs, and they drove over four loads of her things in both their cars. And then he helped her carry it all up to her bedroom. It was therapeutic for him. She could see that he was distracted. He looked a little shell-shocked.

“Do you think she'll come back again this time?” Sarah asked him about Marie-Louise when they stopped for lunch. She was starving. It was nine hours later in Paris. She noticed that he didn't eat much.

“Not this time,” he said matter-of-factly, as he toyed with the sandwich she'd made him. She had eaten hers in two minutes. “We both agreed it should be over. It should've been years ago. We were just too stubborn and too cowardly to let go. I'm glad we did this time. I'm putting the house on the market this week.” She knew he loved the house and had worked hard on it, she was sorry for him about that. But they were going to make a healthy profit, which was something at least. He said Marie-Louise wanted every penny she could get. He was paying her a hefty sum for her share of the business.

“Where are you going to live?” Sarah asked with interest.

“I'm going to get an apartment here in Pacific Heights, close to the office. It makes more sense.” They'd never been able to put their office in the house in Potrero Hill because it was too far for clients to come. “Maybe I should take your old one.”

“Don't. You'd hate it. It's awful.” Still, with his furniture, it would look better than it did with hers.

“I'm seeing a few places tomorrow. Do you want to come?” He seemed lonely and at loose ends, which was normal. Marie-Louise had never spent much time with him, but it was different now, knowing she was gone for good. No matter how difficult it had been, it left a void, and he hadn't yet figured out how to fill it. She was like a phantom limb now that she was gone. It ached at times, but he was managing without her.

“I'd love to see apartments with you. You're not going to buy another house?”

“Not yet. I wanted to let the dust settle first, sell the old one, and see what we get. I'll probably have enough to buy a condo after I pay her for the business. But I'm in no rush.”

“That's smart.” She approved. He was being sensible, practical, and generous with Marie-Louise, which was typical of him.

He helped her move more of her things after that. He hung around, and they ordered Chinese food for dinner. And then he left her. He came back the next day to see apartments with her.

“So how was your first night?” he asked when he picked her up. He was smiling, and he looked better than he had the day before, although he'd been very glad to see her. He had really missed her while she was gone. They had become good friends in recent months.

“It was fantastic. I love my new bed, and the bathroom is incredible. You could put ten people in that tub.” All night she felt like she was home. She had felt that way since the first time she saw the house. And now it was real. Her dream had come true at last.

They found an apartment for him that afternoon. It was small and compact. It wasn't exciting, but it was clean and in good condition, and a block from his office. It even had a small garden. And it was four blocks from her house on Scott Street. The location was perfect. It had a fireplace, which he liked. He commented to Sarah as they left that it was going to be weird living in an apartment, after so many years in his house.

He dropped Sarah off after that. He had to go back to his own place and start packing. He called her later that night.

“How are you doing, Jeff?” she asked kindly.

“I'm okay. It's depressing packing all this stuff. I'm going to sell what I can with the house, but I think I'm going to wind up putting a lot of it in storage.” The apartment he had rented was small, which was all he wanted for now. He had said that, eventually, he would buy another house, but not yet. It was too soon. It was an odd feeling for her now, too. After their off-and-on flirtation for the last five months, and occasional moments of near passion when he kissed her, she didn't know quite where they stood now, and neither did he. They had become friends over the past five months, and now suddenly he was free. They were both moving slowly, and with extreme caution. She didn't want to screw up their friendship for a romance that might not last anyway, or destroy the easy companionship they shared.

She didn't hear from him again until Tuesday at the office. He said he had an appointment in the neighborhood, and invited her to lunch. She met him at the Big Four at one o'clock. He was wearing a blazer and slacks and looked very handsome. She had his house pin on her lapel.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he inquired cautiously, halfway through lunch. It had been the whole purpose of the invitation. She had suspected nothing.

“How do you feel about dating?” She didn't understand the question.

“Generally, specifically, or as a social custom? At the moment I'm not sure I remember how you do it.” She hadn't been on a date in four months, since she broke up with Phil, or with anyone else for four years before that. “I'm a little rusty.”

“Me too. I meant specifically, as in us.”

“As in us? Now?”

“Well, okay. If you want to consider this a date. We could call this our first. But I was thinking more like dinner, and movies, kissing, you know all that stuff people do while dating.” She smiled at him across the table. He looked nervous. She reached out and took his hand.

“Actually, I like the kissing part. But dinner and movies would be nice, too.”

“Good,” he said, looking relieved. “Then do we consider this our first date, or is this just a practice round?”

“Either way. What do you think?”

“Practice, I think. I think we should start with dinner. How about tomorrow?”

“That sounds good,” she said, smiling at him. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“I didn't want to be pushy, or look too anxious.”

“You're doing fine.”

“I'm glad to hear it. I haven't actually done this in fourteen years. Come to think of it, it's about goddamned time.” He smiled broadly at her across the table, and when they left the restaurant, they were holding hands. He walked her back to her office, and picked her up at eight that night. They went to a little Italian place on Fillmore Street that was in walking distance from her house. It was going to be his neighborhood soon, too, when he moved.

When he walked her back to her place, he stopped outside her front door and kissed her. “I think that makes this our first official date. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely,” she whispered, and he kissed her again. She unlocked her front door, and he kissed her one last time, and then got in his car and drove home, smiling to himself. He was thinking that Marie-Louise had done him the biggest favor in the world when she went back to Paris.

As Sarah walked slowly up the stairs to her new bedroom, she was thinking of Pierre's words to her again. Find a good one. You deserve it. She knew without a doubt, she just had.

Chapter 19

Sarah gave her first dinner party on Scott Street the weekend after she moved in. She set the table in her kitchen, and invited Mimi and George, her mother, and Jeff. She was going to introduce him as the architect who was helping her with the house, which explained his being there, without telling her family yet that they were dating. It was still very new, and she wasn't ready to share that information with them yet. But it was an easy way for them to meet him. He told her on the phone the day before that he was nervous about it. She told him she thought her mother would be fine, her grandmother was adorable, and George was easy. He was only slightly reassured. This was important to him, he didn't want to blow it.

They had already seen each other three times that week. He came by one night with Indian curry (hot for him, mild for her), while she started painting her dressing room. Her hair was already splattered with pink paint by the time he got there, and he laughingly showed her how to do it, and then wound up helping her. They forgot to eat till after midnight, but the dressing room looked great when Sarah woke up the next morning and rushed to check the color. Powder pink, just as she wanted, in nice, clean, smooth strokes.

He came by the next day, too, and Sarah made dinner. They wound up talking about everything from foreign movies to decorating to politics, and neither of them got any work done, but they had a nice time. And on Friday he took her to dinner and a movie, to “maintain their dating status,” as he put it. They had a good French meal at a small restaurant on Clement Street, and went to see a good thriller afterward that they both enjoyed. It wasn't a serious film, but they had a nice time with each other, and kissed again for a long time when he brought her home. They were still moving slowly, though seeing a lot of each other. He had spent the day with her on Saturday, painting again, and helped her set the dinner table for her first party. She made leg of lamb with mashed potatoes and a big tossed salad. He had brought a cheesecake and some French pastries. And the table looked pretty when she set a bowl of flowers on it. Everything was in order, and the kitchen looked terrific. She could hardly wait for Mimi and her mother to come. She wanted to tell her everything she had heard about Lilli in France, and the meeting with Pierre's grandmother. It had been kismet that they met.

Mimi and George were the first to arrive. She looked as happy and was as sweet as always, said how pleased she was to meet Jeff and what a good job he'd done helping her granddaughter with the house. They walked straight into the kitchen, because there was nowhere else to sit for the moment, except on Sarah's bed. And as soon as she saw the beautiful new kitchen where the old pantries had been, Mimi clapped her hands.

“Oh my word! How beautiful this is! I've never seen a kitchen so big!” The view into the garden was lovely and peaceful. The arrangement of the counters and appliances was all cleverly done, in sparkling white granite, with bleached cabinets, the big butcher-block island, and the huge round table that felt as though it were in the garden. Mimi loved everything she saw. “I remember the old kitchen when I was a child. It was always such a dark, gloomy place, but all the people who worked there were always so kind to me. I used to run away from my nanny and hide there, while they gave me all the cookies I could eat.” She laughed at the memory, and didn't seem upset by being in the house. On the contrary, she seemed happy there. She took Jeff on a tour, with his hand tucked into her arm, and shared a multitude of memories and history with him. They were still upstairs when her mother rang the bell and Sarah let her in. Audrey sounded breathless, and apologized for being late.

“You're not, Mom. Mimi just got here. She's taking my architect on a tour. George was keeping me company in the kitchen.” She took her mother's coat and hung it in the cavernous hall closet that was nearly as big as her bedroom in her old apartment. The de Beaumonts had used it for cloaks and fur coats belonging to their guests when they gave parties in the ballroom. Sarah had said to Jeff that she could have used it as an office, although she had plenty of rooms for that, and was using the study in the master suite for that purpose.

“You invited your architect for dinner tonight?” Audrey looked a little startled, and Sarah told her that her hair was really pretty. She was wearing it differently these days, in a variety of upsweeps that were very flattering, and she was wearing very good-looking new pearl earrings that Sarah complimented her on, too.

“I thought you'd like to meet him,” Sarah said, referring to Jeff, and then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I really felt I should invite him. He's done so much for me, he's gotten me so many things wholesale, and he's done a beautiful job on the house.” Her mother nodded in response, and followed Sarah into the kitchen, looking somewhat distracted. Audrey smiled when she saw George, sitting at the table, sipping a glass of white wine, and enjoying the garden view.

“Hello, George,” Audrey said pleasantly. “How are you?”

“Wonderful. We just got back from Palm Springs. Your mother is turning into quite a little golfer,” he said, looking proud.

“I've been taking a few lessons myself,” Audrey said, as Sarah handed her a glass of wine, and looked at her in surprise.

“When did you start that?”

“A few weeks ago, actually,” Audrey said, smiling at her daughter. Sarah thought she'd never seen her look as well, as Mimi and Jeff walked back into the room.

Audrey and her mother embraced, and Mimi couldn't stop talking about how immaculate the house looked. It still needed a coat of paint, of course, but all the new electric lights and the revitalized chandeliers had already given the place a glow. The paneling shone, the bathrooms were clean and functional. Even without furniture, the house had already begun to look like a home. And Mimi loved what Sarah was doing to her bedroom. Jeff had pointed out every new detail, while Mimi told him tales of her childhood, and pointed out all the little secret cubbyholes and corners of the children's rooms. They had become good friends on their brief tour.

Sarah lit the candles on the table, and they sat down to dinner shortly after that. Mimi said the leg of lamb was perfect, as she and George regaled them all with tales of their activities in Palm Springs. Jeff listened avidly to all of them, he was seated between Sarah and Mimi, and seemed to be enjoying everything they had to say. Audrey asked him about his work, and he explained about his passion for old houses. Everyone thought him very attractive, although Audrey remembered Sarah telling her that he lived with someone, so it was obvious that their relationship was professional and not romantic. Still, they appeared to be very good friends.

“What have you been up to, Mother?” Sarah asked as she put the dishes from the main course into the dishwasher, and Jeff helped her get dessert. He seemed to be very at ease in the kitchen, Mimi commented, and Sarah reminded her that he had designed it.

“A full-service architect,” Mimi teased. “He even does dishes.”

“I had a wonderful time in New York,” Audrey said in answer to her daughter's question. “The plays we saw were terrific, the weather was great. It was just perfect. How was France?” she asked with interest.

Over dessert, Sarah told all of them what she had learned from Pierre Pettit and his grandmother, when she visited the Château de Mailliard in Dordogne. She felt a little uncomfortable speaking so openly about Lilli in front of her grandmother, with others present, and she wasn't sure if that would be awkward for her. She told her about the photographs Lilli had cried over and the letters that had been returned and that she had saved. Tears rolled slowly down Mimi's cheeks as she listened, but they didn't appear to be so much tears of anguish as of relief.

“I could never understand why she never even tried to contact us. I feel better knowing that she did. My father must have sent them back.” Mimi sat quietly for a moment, absorbing what Sarah had said. She had listened to every word intently, nodded several times, asked a number of pointed questions, and had tears in her eyes more than once. But she told Sarah afterward that it was a great comfort to her to know what had happened to her mother, that she had loved so deeply, and been loved deeply in return, and to know that her last years had been happy. It was a typically generous statement from her, knowing all she'd lost. She had grown up without a mother, because Lilli ran off with the marquis. It was an odd, empty feeling knowing that her mother had been alive until she herself was twenty-one years old, when she had never seen her again after she was six. It had been a painful time in her life. She said that maybe she and George would visit the Château de Mailliard themselves someday on a trip to France. It was a trip she still wanted to make, to see where her mother was buried, and pay her last respects to the mother she had lost as a young child.

It was a lovely evening for all of them, and they hated to see it end. They were about to leave the table finally, when Audrey cleared her throat and clinked her glass. Sarah thought she was going to say something about wishing her luck in her new house. She smiled at her mother expectantly, as did the others, and Jeff stopped talking to Mimi. They had enjoyed a lively conversation with each other all night, particularly about the house, but on other topics as well. Sarah could see that Mimi had Jeff completely charmed.

“I have something to tell all of you,” Audrey said, looking from her mother to her daughter, and then at George. She then took in Jeff with a brief nod. She hadn't expected Sarah to include him that evening, but she didn't want to wait any longer. They had made the decision in New York. “I'm getting married,” she said in a single breath as they all stared at her. Sarah's eyes grew wide, and Mimi smiled at her, unlike her granddaughter, she was not surprised.

“You are? To who?” Sarah couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't even know her mother was dating, let alone planning to get married.

“It's your fault.” She smiled at Sarah, who still looked mystified. “You introduced us. I'm going to marry Tom Harrison, and move to St. Louis.” She looked apologetically at both her mother and daughter. “I hate to leave you both, but he's the most wonderful man I've ever met.” She laughed at herself then with tears in her eyes. “And if I blow this, I may not get another chance. I hate to leave San Francisco, but he's not ready to retire, and it doesn't sound like he will be soon. Maybe when he does, we can move out here. But for now I'll be living in St. Louis.” She looked at Sarah tenderly, and then at her mother, as they all absorbed what she had said. Jeff stood up and went to give her a hug, to congratulate her. He was the first one to do it.

“Thank you, Jeff,” she said, touched, and then George leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Well done,” George said. “When's the wedding?” There was nothing he liked better than dancing and a party, and they all laughed when he said it.

“Soon, I think. Tom doesn't think we should wait. We want to take a trip this summer, and he thought it might as well be our honeymoon. He wants to go to Europe. He proposed in New York, and we thought we'd get married at the end of June. I know it's corny, but I kind of like the idea of being a June bride.” She blushed as she said it, and Sarah smiled. She was thrilled for her. Sarah had had no idea that the match she'd made would turn out to be such a huge success. She had just hoped they would be friends, and occasional dates. This was like hitting the jackpot in Las Vegas.

“Were you with him in New York?” Sarah asked with interest.

“I was,” Audrey said, beaming at all of them. She had never been as happy in her life. Sarah had been right when she introduced them. He was an amazing man.

On the way back from New York, Audrey had stopped in St. Louis to meet Tom's children. They had all been wonderful and welcoming to her, and she had spent some quiet time with Debbie and her nurses. She had read her some of the stories she used to read to Sarah when she was little. Tom had watched them from the doorway of Debbie's room with tears in his eyes. Audrey was more than willing to help him handle the nurses and Debbie's care, as his late wife had done. She wanted to do everything she could to help him. And then she looked around Sarah's dinner table with damp eyes. “I feel so guilty leaving you both.” She looked at Sarah and her own mother. “I just don't want to pass this up…he makes me so happy.” Sarah got up and put her arms around her then, and Mimi was next in line. All three women were crying tears of joy, while Jeff smiled at George. Jeff was a little embarrassed to be participating, but both men looked touched.

“What a wonderful occasion this has turned out to be!” George announced, as Sarah went to the refrigerator to look for a bottle of champagne she had brought from her apartment. She found it, and Jeff uncorked it for her. They all toasted the bride.

“Best wishes,” Jeff said politely, knowing that you were only supposed to congratulate the groom, and not the bride.

They each toasted Audrey, and Tom in absentia, and then Sarah suddenly realized they had a wedding to plan. “Where are you going to do it, Mom?”

“Good lord,” she said, setting down her glass, “I have no idea. Tom and I haven't even talked about it. Out here, of course. His children will come, except for Debbie. We only want family at the wedding, except for a few of my close friends.” In Audrey's case that meant a dozen women she had been hanging out with for the past twenty years. “Tom's daughter wants to give a party for us in St. Louis. But I don't think we want a big wedding here.” She didn't have a wide circle of friends, and Tom knew no one in San Francisco.

“I have an idea,” Sarah said, smiling at her mother. “My house will be painted by then.” It was nearly two months away. “Let's do it here. You could help me stage it, Mom. We could rent some furniture, some trees maybe. We could have drinks in the garden, and do the ceremony in the living room…it would be so pretty, and it is a family house. What do you think?”

Audrey looked at her and beamed. “I'd love that. Tom's not very religious, and I think he'd be more comfortable here than in a church. I'll ask him, but I think it would be terrific. What do you think, Mother?” She turned to Mimi, as her mother smiled lovingly at her.

“I'm thrilled for you, Audrey. I think it would be wonderful to do it here, if Sarah can do it. It would mean a lot to me,” she said, smiling happily at her daughter. It was wonderful news for all of them to share. Audrey said she would call a caterer, and a few musicians. Her florist could do the flowers. All Sarah had to do was be there. And she and Tom would order the invitations. Sarah couldn't believe it was happening. Her mother was getting married and moving to St. Louis.

“I'm going to miss you, Mom,” Sarah said wistfully, as she walked her mother to the door a short while later. They had a million details to plan now, and Audrey was buzzing with excitement, mostly about the groom, which was as it should be. “You told me I should rent the house out for weddings once I'm finished,” Sarah said, laughing as she thought of it. “I never realized the first one I would do here would be yours.”

“Neither did I when I said it.” Audrey put an arm around her daughter and hugged her. “You can use me as a guinea pig. I hope one of these days the wedding we have here will be yours,” her mother said, and meant it. “By the way, I like your architect. He's a lovely person. It's too bad he has a girlfriend. How serious is he about her?” Audrey was always matchmaking, but this time Sarah had beaten her to the punch, on both counts. But she wasn't ready to tell her she was dating Jeff. She wanted to keep it to herself for a while, and enjoy it in private while they discovered each other.

“They lived together for fourteen years,” Sarah said honestly in the past tense, but Audrey was too excited about everything else to notice.

“That's too bad… and I think you said they own a house and business together. Well, there's always Tom's son Fred in St. Louis. He's adorable, and just got divorced. He's already got a million women chasing after him. You'll meet him at the wedding.”

“Sounds like I'd have to fight my way through a crowd to find him. Besides, geographic undesirables don't work for me, Mom. I'm a partner in a law firm here.”

“We'll find someone,” Audrey reassured her, although Sarah wasn't worried. She was comfortable by herself now, and she was dating Jeff, even if it was still a secret. She wasn't desperate to find a man. And from all she could see, she had one. A really great one.

“I'll talk to you soon, Mom. I'm so happy for you and Tom,” Sarah said, as she kissed her good night. Mimi and George left a few minutes later. They were adorable together, and made a sweet couple. Sarah teased Mimi, as they left, that theirs would be the next wedding, and Mimi tittered and told her not to be silly, while George guffawed. They were happy as they were, going to parties and dancing, playing golf, and going to Palm Springs. They had all they wanted without marriage. But Tom would be great for Audrey, who was still young enough to want a husband. Mimi said she was happy as she was.

The house was strangely quiet after the others left. Sarah walked back to the kitchen, thinking of how odd it felt to know that her mother would be moving away. She already missed her. They had been getting along so well in recent months that it was really going to be a loss to Sarah, and made her feel a little sad, like a kid being abandoned. She didn't even want to put the feeling into words. It made her feel silly, but it was real to her.

“Well, that was quite an evening,” Sarah said, as she walked back into the kitchen. Jeff was filling the dishwasher while he waited for her. “I didn't expect that piece of news,” she said, as she went to help him. “But I'm happy for her.”

“Are you okay with it?” Jeff looked at her intently. He knew her better than she thought, and he cared a lot. “Is he a nice guy?” He liked her family, and suddenly felt protective even of Audrey, whom he scarcely knew.

“Tom? He's a fantastic man. I fixed her up with him myself. He was one of the heirs to Stanley Perlman's estate and this house. I had no idea she'd marry him, though. I know they had dinner together when he was out here, and he sent her some e-mails. She hasn't said a word to me about him since. But I think she'll be really happy with him, and once you get past her occasional prickles and sharp tongue, my mother is a really good woman.” She respected her and loved her, even if Audrey had given her a hard time over the years. But those days seemed to be behind them. And now that they were closer than they'd ever been, she was leaving. It made Sarah feel sad. “I'm going to miss her. I feel like I just got dropped off at camp.” He smiled at her and stopped filling the dishwasher long enough to kiss her on the lips.

“You'll be okay. You can go visit her whenever you want. And I'm sure she'll come back to see you and Mimi a lot. She's going to miss you, too. Speaking of which, I have a confession to make.”

“What's that?” He had a nice way of reassuring her, and she liked it a lot. There was something very steady and comforting about him. He never gave her the feeling that he was about to run away. He was the kind of guy who stuck and stayed, just as he had with Marie-Louise until she left. He had a good track record.

“My confession is that I may be dating you, but I have fallen madly in love with Mimi. I want to run away and marry her, and if I have to, I'm willing to fight off George. She is the sweetest, cutest, funniest, most adorable woman I've ever met, next to you of course. I just want you to know that I'm planning to propose to her in the immediate future. I hope that's okay.” Sarah was laughing at his description, and she was thrilled that he loved her. Mimi was totally irresistible, and he meant every word.

“Isn't she incredible?” Sarah beamed at him. “She's the coolest grandmother in the world. I've never heard her say a mean word about anyone, she loves everyone she meets, she has fun everywhere she goes. Everyone is crazy about her, and she always has a good time. She has the best attitude of anyone I know.”

“I totally agree,” Jeff said as he started the dishwasher and turned to Sarah. “So you won't mind if I marry her?”

“Not at all, I'll give the wedding. Gee, that would make you my stepgrandfather, wouldn't it? Do I have to call you Grampa?” He winced as she said it.

“Maybe Grampa Jeff would be a little friendlier. What do you think?” And then he grinned at her. “I guess that makes me a really dirty old man now for dating you.” He was only six years older than she was. As he said it, he put his arms around her and kissed her. It had touched him to be part of their family dinner, and even share exciting news. Neither of them had expected it, but it had added a special poignancy to the evening for all of them, even Jeff, and surely Mimi, whose daughter wanted to be married in the house where she herself had been born. They had come full circle.

She offered Jeff another glass of wine then. There was almost no place for them to sit yet. All she had was her kitchen table and chairs, and her bed upstairs. The rest of the time they had been working on the house, and didn't mind sitting on the floors. But on a social evening like this one, the options were limited. And she didn't feel she knew him well enough yet, in a dating context, to invite him to lie on her bed and watch TV upstairs. She didn't even have a chair in her room, although she had ordered a small pink couch, which wasn't due to arrive for months.

He said he'd had enough to drink, and they sat in the kitchen for a long time, talking. He was aware of the social awkwardness her lack of furniture caused. He knew her circumstances well. Finally, she yawned, and he smiled.

“You need to get to bed. I'm going,” he said, as he got up and she walked him slowly to the front door. It had been a lovely evening for them all.

He kissed her just inside the front door, and then looked puzzled for a moment. “What date is this, by the way?”

“I don't know,” she mumbled as he kissed her again. He was counting something, and she wasn't sure what he was asking. She loved the way he was silly sometimes, it made her feel young.

“Well, if lunch was our first official date… Did we ever agree on that? …” he said, kissing her some more. “Then there were three dinners … two here, one out… that would make four… tonight makes five…so this is our fifth date, I think….”

“What are you talking about?” She laughed at him. “You're being completely goofy. What difference does it make what date this is?” She was mystified by the point he was trying to make, while they couldn't stop kissing each other. Whatever date it was, it was extremely nice, and she was liking it a lot, also kissing him. She couldn't tear herself away from him long enough to let him leave, and he seemed to be having the same problem.

“I was just trying to figure out,” he said in an ever-huskier voice, born of passion, “if the fifth date is too soon to ask you if I could spend the night.… What do you think?”

She giggled. She liked the idea, and had been wondering the same thing. “I thought you were engaged to Mimi… you know, Grampa Jeff.”

“Hmm… that's true… the engagement isn't official yet… and we don't have to tell her … that is if…un-less… what do you think? Do you want me to go home, Sarah?” he asked, seriously for a moment. He didn't want to do anything to upset her. He was in no rush, but he was aching to spend the night with her, and had been since they met. “If you want me to go home, I will.” He wondered if it was too soon for her. It wasn't for him. And apparently not for her, either. She shook her head no in answer to his question. She definitely didn't want him to go home, as she smiled shyly at him.

“I'd love you to stay… It's a little awkward here, isn't it?… It's not like my bedroom is a few feet away….” They had to go up two flights of stairs, in-cluding the grand staircase. It was definitely not a subtle little pas de deux into her bed.

“Should I race you?” He laughed as she turned off the lights and put the chain on the front door. It looked to both of them like he was staying. “I'd carry you up the stairs, but to be honest, I'd be crippled by the time we got to your bedroom. Football injuries from col-lege…I might be able to fireman carry you though, if I really had to. That's not as hard on your lower back.” She smiled at him as she took his hand, and holding hands, they walked up the grand staircase, then up yet another flight of stairs to her bedroom on the third floor. Her new bed looked very pink and pretty in the master bedroom, and the light from her two bed lamps cast a soft glow in the room.

“Welcome home,” she said softly as she turned to look at him. He was gazing down at her with eyes of wonder, as he gently released her hair, and it cascaded past her shoulders. Her big blue eyes were filled with honesty and hope.

“I love you, Sarah,” he said softly. “I loved you the first time I saw you here. …I never thought I'd be lucky enough for it to come to this.…”

“Me too,” she whispered as he kissed her, and then gently lifted her onto the bed.

They both took their clothes off, and then snuggled under the covers. She turned off the lamp on her side of the bed, and he turned off the lamp on his, and then they lay holding each other tight as their passion mounted. His hands were beginning to make her body sing as he whispered, “I'll always remember what happened on our fifth date….” He teased her with hiswords and his lips as she laughed softly.

“Shhhh…, ” she said, and then melted into him in the bed with the pink headboard in the room that had been Lilli's.

Chapter 20

Sarah and Jeff 's romance blossomed all through May and June. He spent most of his nights with her at the house on Scott Street. He only went home for the night when he had work to do and needed his drafting table. She finally suggested he get one and put it in one of her spare little rooms. She had so many, she had plenty of room for him to set up a makeshift office with her. He liked the idea, and found a good secondhand one. He brought it home one Friday night and dragged it up the stairs. That way he could work while she continued to paint a myriad of small rooms. The painters were doing a great job on the big ones. Each day, the house looked more exquisite.

Jeff turned out to be an excellent cook and made breakfast for them every morning before they left for work. He made pancakes, French toast, fried eggs, omelettes, scrambled, even eggs Benedict on weekends, and she warned him that he'd have to leave if he made her fat. It was a treat to have him pamper her, and she did as much for him whenever she could. They still ordered take-out food most nights because they both worked late, but she cooked dinner for him all three nights on the weekend, except when he took her out to dinner. They had long since lost count of the number of dates, and agreed that there had been many. They had been together for some part of every day since Audrey's announcement of her impending marriage. And he spent just about every night of the week with her. He hadn't officially moved in, but he was there constantly. And one of the master dressing rooms was now his. Everything was working out beautifully for them.

By the first of June, preparations for Audrey and Tom's wedding were in high gear. Audrey had picked out furniture to rent for the main floor, for the dining room and sitting rooms, and the main salon. She had picked topiary trees that would have gardenias in them. She had ordered flowers for the reception rooms, and a garland of white roses and gardenias for the front door. Just as she had promised, she was taking care of every possible detail, and was paying for it herself. The wedding was going to be small, but she wanted it to be perfect. Even though it was the second wedding for each of them, she wanted it to be a day that they would remember for the rest of their lives, especially Tom. She had hired a group of four to play chamber music as people walked in. The wedding itself was going to be in the living room. She had thought of everything. The only thing missing that had her in a total panic was that she hadn't found a dress. Nor had Sarah. She had been too busy in the office to go shopping since Audrey had shared the news. Her mother finally convinced her to take an afternoon off, and they went shopping together, with great results, at Neiman Marcus.

Audrey found an off-white satin cocktail dress with crystal beads on the hem, cuffs, and neck. It had long sleeves and looked demure. She found perfect white satin shoes with rhinestone buckles to go with it, and a matching handbag. Tom had just given her a spectacular pair of diamond earrings as a wedding present, and the engagement ring he had given her was a ten-carat cushion cut diamond that knocked Sarah's eyes out when she saw it. Audrey had already decided that she would be carrying a small bouquet of white orchids. She was going to be elegance incarnate.

By five o'clock on their shopping day, Sarah still hadn't found a dress, and was beginning to panic. Her mother insisted she couldn't wear an old black cocktail dress she'd worn to her office Christmas party for the past two years. As the maid of honor, she had to buy something new, and then finally her mother spotted an exceptionally pretty Valentino dress. It was the same brilliant blue as Sarah's eyes. It was satin, strapless, and had a little jacket she could take off after the wedding. Her mother suggested she wear it with high-heeled silver sandals, which looked just right. Her mother was going to have her carry a smaller bouquet of the same white orchids, and she had ordered one for Mimi as well, just so she didn't feel left out. She had boutonnieres for Tom and his sons, and a corsage of gardenias for his daughter. And Audrey had hired a photographer to record it all, in stills and on video. However small the wedding party, she had thought of every detail. And Sarah was relieved to have found a dress she liked. She didn't want to wear something she thought was ugly and would never wear again. The blue dress they'd chosen was the perfect color for her eyes, skin, and hair. It was sexy, as it molded her figure, but at the same time demure, with the jacket, and it had a very low back, which Audrey said looked sensational on her.

“What's with you and Jeff, by the way?” her mother asked casually as they left Neiman's. “Every time I go by the house to drop something off at night or on weekends, he's there. That can't just be about work. What does his girlfriend think of all that devotion to your restoration project?”

“She doesn't,” Sarah said cryptically, juggling her packages as they headed toward the Union Square garage, where they had left their cars.

“What does that mean?” Audrey didn't want her getting into another situation where she'd get hurt, although she liked Jeff a lot.

“They broke up,” Sarah said coolly. She still liked keeping her business to herself, even though she was closer to her mother these days, especially with the wedding approaching. Knowing her mother was moving away soon, Sarah was spending more time with her, and for the first time in years, enjoying it a lot.

“That's interesting. Did they break up because of you?” Audrey considered that a hopeful sign.

“No. Before us.”

“Before ‘us’?” Audrey raised an eyebrow. “Are you and Jeff an ‘us’ these days?” That was news. She had begun to suspect it, but wasn't sure. And Sarah had said nothing. He was just there and always very helpful, courteous, and friendly whenever Audrey dropped by.

“Maybe. We don't talk about it.” That much was true. They just enjoyed each other, without discussing it or putting labels on it. They were both recently out of long-term relationships that hadn't worked, which made them both slightly gun-shy, although they were happy with each other. Happier than she had ever been with Phil, or he with Marie-Louise.

“Why don't you talk about it?” Audrey inquired.

“We don't need to know.”

“Why not?” Audrey persisted. “Sarah, you're thirty-nine years old. You don't have a lot of years to waste on relationships that go nowhere.” She didn't say it, but they both knew Phil had been a dead end for four years.

“There's nowhere I want to go, Mom. I like where I am. So does he. We're not planning to get married.” She always said that, but Audrey had always believed that if she found the right man, she'd change her mind. And maybe this time she had. Jeff appeared to be nice, competent, intelligent, successful, and solid. What more did she want? Sometimes she worried Audrey. She thought Sarah was much too independent for her own good.

“What do you have against marriage?” Audrey asked her as they found their cars and fumbled for their keys in their handbags.

Sarah hesitated for a moment and then decided to be honest. “You and Dad. I don't ever want to be where you were with him. I couldn't do it.” She still had nightmares about it.

Audrey looked worried and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Does Jeff drink?” Sarah laughed and shook her head.

“No, Mom, he doesn't. Or at least no more than he should. I probably drink more than he does, and I don't drink too much, either. Marriage just looks too complicated to me. All you hear about are people who hate each other, get divorced, pay spousal support, and then hate each other more. Who needs it? I don't. I'm happier like this. As soon as you add marriage to the mix, as far as I can see, you're screwed.” And then she realized what she had said to her mother, on the day they'd bought the dress she was going to wear to her next wedding. “I'm sorry, Mom. Tom is a wonderful guy. So is Jeff. It's just not for me. And I don't think Jeff is so keen on the idea, either. He lived with his last partner for fourteen years, and they never got married.”

“Maybe she was like you. You young women are strange creatures these days. None of you wants to get married. Just us old folks do.”

“You're not an ‘old folk,’ Mom, and you look gorgeous in that dress. Tom is going to faint when he sees you. I don't know, maybe I'm just chicken.” Audrey had tears in her eyes as she listened.

“I'm sorry if your father and I did that to you. Most marriages aren't like that.” With an alcoholic husband who had left her a widow at thirty-nine, the same age Sarah was now.

“No, but too many are. I don't like the odds.”

“Neither did I. But look at me now. I can't wait to do it.” She looked ecstatic, and Sarah was equally so for her.

“Maybe I'll do it when I'm your age, Mom. I'm in no rush in the meantime.”

It made Audrey sad for her, and even more so to think that Sarah might never have children. But she had always said she didn't want any, and even now, with her biological clock ticking, presumably, she was sticking to her guns. No kids. No husband. So far all she had ever desperately wanted was her house. It was her only passion. That and her work, although Audrey suspected she was in love with Jeff and didn't want to admit it. And no matter what she told her mother, Sarah knew she loved him. Which made it all the more terrifying to think about commitment. She wasn't ready. And maybe never would be. For now, it was working for both of them. Jeff wasn't putting any pressure on her. Only Audrey. She wanted everyone to be happy, and in the excitement of her upcoming big moment, she thought everyone should be married, like her and Tom. “Why don't you work on Mimi and George?” Sarah teased her.

“They don't need to get married at their age,” Audrey said, smiling, although they were sweet together and inseparable now.

“Maybe they don't agree. I think you should throw her the bouquet at the wedding. If you throw it at me, I'm throwing it right back at you.”

“I get the message,” Audrey said with a sigh. Sarah knew what she wanted and what she didn't. She was a very stubborn woman.

They each got into their cars then and drove home, relieved that they had found dresses for the wedding. Jeff was talking to the painters when she got home. They were almost finished. So far the renovation had taken six months, and it looked gorgeous. There were still details to attend to, and there would be for a long time. But the house looked beautiful and was very much in order and, thanks to Jeff, had come in way under budget. She had even finished the bookcase she made and it was now full of law books in her study. There was even room for more. Everything about the house was perfect. She had currently been thinking about starting to order curtains, at least for some of the rooms. She was finishing the house bit by bit. And getting it where she wanted. In the fall, she wanted to start looking for furniture at antique auctions. She and Jeff thought it would be fun to go together. He was very knowledgeable about antiques and was teaching her a lot.

“How was your day?” Jeff smiled at her as she walked in and put down her things. She took off her shoes with a sigh. Her mother shopped hard and took it seriously. She was exhausted.

“Tough day at Neiman's. We found dresses for the wedding.” He knew they'd both been worried about it till then.

“Joe and I are talking about the color for the ballroom. I think you should go with a warm cream. What do you think?” They had already agreed stark white would be too harsh, and in a moment of frivolity, Sarah had thought pale blue, but she liked the cream idea better. She trusted Jeff's eye and instincts. He hadn't steered her wrong so far, and was extremely respectful of her opinions, even though he was the architect. It was, after all, her house, and he was mindful of it.

“I agree.”

“Good. Now go have a bath and a glass of wine or something. I'm taking you out to dinner.” He went upstairs to the ballroom with the painter, to try out samples on the walls, which always made a big difference, depending on how the light hit it.

“Yes, sir,” she said, marching upstairs to her room, carrying her shoes, with her spoils from Neiman's. The stairs in her new house were keeping her in shape. She hadn't started to build the gym in the basement yet. She wanted to do curtains and furniture first.

He was back upstairs in her bedroom half an hour later. She was lying on the bed, watching the news and looking relaxed. He loved just watching her sometimes. He lay down next to her and put an arm around her.

“I told my mother about us today,” Sarah said vaguely, keeping her eyes on the TV.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing much. She likes you. So does Mimi. She just gave me the usual corny crap, about my age, last chance, kids, blah blah blah.”

“Translate that for me,” he asked with interest. “The blah blah blah part. Fill in the gaps.”

“She thinks I should get married and have kids. I don't. I never did.”

“Why not?”

“I don't believe in marriage. I think it fucks up everything.”

“Oh well, that simplifies things, doesn't it?”

“It does for me. Is that okay with you?” She looked at him then, vaguely worried. They had never explored the subject in detail. Since he had never married Marie-Louise, she had always assumed he felt the same way she did.

“I don't know. I guess so. If it has to be. I wouldn't mind having a kid one day, or even two. And it's probably nicer for the kid if its parents are married, but it's not essential if it's a deal breaker for you.”

“I don't want kids,” she said firmly, looking scared.

“Why not?”

“Too scary. It changes people's lives too much. I never see my old friends. They're all too busy changing diapers and driving carpool. How much fun can that be?”

“Some people seem to like it,” he said cautiously.

She looked at him honestly then. “Tell the truth, can you really see either of us with a kid? I don't think we're that kind of people. At least I'm not. I like my work. I like what I do. I like lying here on my ass watching TV before you take me out to dinner, and we don't need a babysitter to do it. I love you.… I'm crazy about my house. Why mess with a good thing? Why push it? What if you wound up with a really awful kid who did drugs and stole cars or something, or like Tom's daughter, blind and brain damaged? I couldn't do it.”

“You paint a pretty grim picture, Sarah.”

“Yeah. You should have seen my mother's life when she was married to my father. He was a vegetable, always drunk, hiding in the bedroom while she made excuses for him. And my childhood was a nightmare. I was always afraid he'd come reeling out when my friends were there, or do something to embarrass me. And then he died, which was worse. My mother cried all the time, and I felt guilty because I used to wish he'd die or leave or something, and then he did, and I figured it was my fault. Forget it. I finally made it out of the trenches into adulthood, and I'm not going back to any part of that. I didn't like being a kid, and I don't want to do that to someone else.”

“Neither of us drinks,” he said practically.

She looked at him, horrified. “Are you telling me you want kids?” That was a news flash to her, and not a good one.

“Maybe one day,” he said honestly, “before I'm too ancient.”

“And if I don't?” She felt panicked as she asked him, but she wanted to know, before they went any further. It could be a deal breaker for her.

“If you don't, I love you anyway. I won't push it. I'd rather have you than a kid … but maybe at some point, I wouldn't mind having both.” She was stunned to hear it. She had assumed he didn't want any, either. This was not good news to her.

“If I had a kid, I wouldn't get married,” she said defiantly, and he laughed at her, and leaned over and kissed her.

“I wouldn't expect anything less of you, my love. Let's not worry about it. Whatever happens, happens.” They were being careful, but listening to him, Sarah reminded herself to be more so. She didn't want any slips, if so, he'd probably want to keep it and she wouldn't. They didn't need the headache or the grief. She thought their life together was perfect just as it was.

“I'm too old to have children anyway,” she said, pushing it further. “I'll be forty on my next birthday,” she reminded him. “That's way too old.” But they both knew it wasn't. He didn't comment. It was obviously a subject that upset her, and for now anyway, it was not a pressing problem. For either of them.

They both dropped the subject, went out, and had a pleasant dinner. Sarah told him about her mother's idea to rent out the house, or parts of it, for people to give weddings, which Sarah thought was not a bad way to make some extra money to pay for the furniture she wanted. She liked the idea, and Jeff thought it might be fun, although annoying to have strangers in the house who might wander around where they shouldn't. Jeff had another idea, which he thought would be funny, but it would take money to make money, and for the moment she was hanging on to what she had, for her house and all the things she wanted to buy to make it even more beautiful than it already was.

Jeff's idea was that they buy houses together, in bad shape, restore and remodel them together, then sell them at a profit. He loved what she had done to her own house, and said she had a knack for it. She liked the idea, but worried about what it would cost them. It was an idea for the long haul, if there was one. So were marriage and babies. They seemed to be discussing long-term plans tonight. But she liked his idea about redoing houses on spec. She knew she was going to be sad when the house on Scott Street was finally complete. She had loved every minute of doing it, and still did.

He stayed with her that night, and for the weekend. He hardly went to his apartment anymore except to get books and clothes. He had only spent a few days in it since he rented it. And he told her at dinner that he had just had a serious offer for the house on Potrero Hill. Marie-Louise had been sending him e-mails breathing down his neck for the money. After the appraisals, he was keeping the business and she was getting the proceeds from the house. She had told him to accept the offer, so he had. She had bought out his share of the apartment in Paris. She was going to live there, and set up a studio for herself. Their life of fourteen years had unraveled fairly easily, surprisingly so, which only validated Sarah's point to her mother. It was easier not to get married, especially if anything went wrong further down the road. Sarah thought Marie-Louise was lucky. Jeff was a great guy. He had handled everything for her, didn't cheat her out of a penny, was generous to a fault, and gave her everything she wanted. He was a prince in every way. Sarah was impressed by all she saw. The gods had smiled on her this time. So far. For now at least, she didn't want to look past today.

Chapter 21

Audrey's wedding came faster than anyone expected. It was hard to believe that the end of June had arrived. One minute they were planning the wedding, and the next, the caterers were bustling around in the kitchen, the videographer was setting up his camera at the right angle, the florist had brought the topiary trees, there were garlands on the stairs and over the front door. A photographer was following every human in the house like a heat-seeking missile, then photographing the decor, the preparations, and the guests as they arrived. The musicians were playing. Tom and his children were standing in the front hall, as Jeff and Sarah chatted with them. Fred had brought his new girlfriend, which made Sarah smile. So much for that, not that she cared, she had Jeff now. And Mimi and George walked in looking like an ad for vibrant old people in a magazine. She was wearing a pale blue silk dress and jacket that harmonized well with Sarah's brighter blue one.

And suddenly, they were waiting for Audrey to come down the stairs. There was no one to walk her down. She came down alone to Handel's Water Music, with tears running down her cheeks as she looked at Tom. She took everyone's breath away, she looked so pretty. Mimi looked proud, Sarah squeezed Jeff's arm, and as Tom looked at the woman he was marrying, he cried openly, standing between his two sons. Everyone was moved, as she walked to him and took his arm.

The judge who performed the ceremony spoke wisely about the challenges of marriage, and the blessings it provided when it was right, the wisdom of it between two good people who had chosen well. The food was delicious. The wine was fabulous. The house looked spectacular, the furniture Audrey had rented to stage it looked like it belonged there. Sarah really liked Tom's children, and his sons got on famously with Jeff. It was the perfect day, the perfect time, and before anyone could blink, Audrey was standing at the top of the stairs again in her beautiful white satin dress, and her bouquet of white orchids came hurtling down and hit Mimi in the chest, as Sarah let out her breath, and her mother winked at her. Tom tossed the garter at Jeff. And then the assembled company stood on the sidewalk outside the house, throwing rose petals, as Tom and Audrey drove away in a rented Rolls to the Ritz-Carlton, where they would spend their wedding night, before flying to London the next morning. They were flying from there to Monte Carlo, and then on to Italy for a three-week honeymoon Tom had planned carefully, while following all of Audrey's many instructions. It didn't bother him at all. He loved it.

As Sarah and her new stepfamily walked back into the house, Mimi was sitting on the rented couch, still holding the bouquet and smiling. “I'm next!” she said happily as George pretended to faint.

“Not you, George!” Jeff corrected him in his ersatz panic. “I caught the garter. It's me and Mimi, not you!” Mimi giggled, and they all laughed, as waiters poured them all more champagne. She and George had one last dance, while the young people chatted.

Sarah liked her new relatives, and urged them to come back and stay with her whenever they wanted. Two of them were married, and one had been, and they had all brought their children, who were very well behaved. Audrey now had a whole new family, including six grandchildren, and for a moment Sarah was almost jealous, knowing they would see more of her now than she would. Mimi was going to be the only family she had in San Francisco. Audrey had given up her apartment, and everything she owned had been shipped to St. Louis, to be assimilated into Tom's sprawling house. She had given a few pieces of furniture to Sarah, but kept most of it herself. Sarah knew Audrey's absence was going to be a big change for Mimi and her, but they were happy for her. She had looked like a happy bride when she left, and Tom a proud groom.

It was late when everyone finally left that night. The caterers were still cleaning up. The topiaries were being picked up the next day. There was nothing for Sarah to do, as she walked slowly up the stairs with Jeff.

“It was pretty, wasn't it?” she asked him with a yawn, as he smiled at her. He loved her dress. It made her eyes look even bluer. She leaned against him happily.

“It was beautiful. They were both so cute when they stood there crying during the ceremony. I nearly cried myself.”

“I always cry at weddings. From terror.” Sarah chuckled cynically, and Jeff shook his head with a grin.

“You're hopeless.”

“And you're an incurable romantic, and I love you for it,” she said as they kissed at the top of the stairs, and then went up the next flight to their bedroom. It had been a perfect day. For Audrey and Tom, and all those who loved them. Sarah was happy for her. She had never expected her matchmaking to have this result, but now that it had happened, she was glad it did. She hoped they had a long and happy life together. Her mother called her as they were going to bed, to thank her for letting her use the house, and tell her how much she loved her. She sounded blissfully happy.

Sarah snuggled up close to Jeff that night. She loved cuddling with him in bed, as well as making love, which they did a lot. The relationship was working perfectly for both of them. They had settled into a comfortable routine, and she loved that Jeff was so at ease with her family, especially Mimi, whom he adored. He said he wanted her to adopt him, if she wouldn't marry him. He was willing to do either, or both.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered, as they drifted off to sleep.

“I love you,” Sarah responded, and smiled thinking of the bouquet that had missed her when Mimi caught it.

Chapter 22

Sarah and Jeff worked on the house all summer. They started looking at catalogs and going to auctions. He was working on a big restoration/remodel in Pacific Heights, which ate up his time. And Sarah was busy at the office.

In August, they both took a week off and went up to Lake Tahoe. They walked and swam, rode mountain bikes, and water-skied in the icy lake. On Labor Day weekend, at the end of their stay, Jeff reminded her that they had been together for four months. They both agreed they had been the happiest months of their lives. The subject of marriage and children hadn't come up again. It was more of a theoretical question for them. Neither of them had any desire to rock the boat. They had plenty of things to keep them busy.

Audrey called from St. Louis frequently once they got back from Italy. She was busy settling in, and wanted to redecorate Tom's house, so she was occupied and getting to know his children. She missed her daughter and mother, but already knew she wouldn't be back for Thanksgiving. She had promised Tom she would stay in St. Louis with his kids, and Sarah said she would have Thanksgiving dinner with Mimi. Sarah was going to do it at her house this year, and if all continued to go well, Jeff would join them. Sarah told Audrey she didn't want to go to St. Louis, she was anxious to start a tradition of her own, although it would be a smaller group this year without Audrey. And Sarah would have to cook the turkey and make dinner, a first for her.

The fall was exceptionally busy for Sarah at work. She had three big estates to probate, worked on her house on weekends. It was an endless source of delight to her, and would be for years. She and Jeff went to auctions, and even put bids on furniture at Sotheby's and Christie's, in L.A. and New York. She had already acquired several pretty pieces. Jeff had bought a few, too. And in October, he gave up his apartment. He never used it. He moved his things in with her. He had an office and a study now, his dressing room and bathroom, and said he didn't mind living in a pink bedroom. He liked it. But most of all, he liked Sarah. He truly loved her, and she loved him.

He had settled the house and Paris apartment with Marie-Louise. The business was his now. All of her clients shifted their accounts to him. He hadn't heard from her since August, and much to his own surprise, didn't miss her. Even though they had spent fourteen years together, he always knew it was wrong for him. He had just kept investing himself in it. But now that he was with Sarah, he saw the difference. It was as though they were made for each other. He woke up every day, as she did, unable to believe his good fortune. He remembered his own grandfather's old saying that there was a pot for every lid, or a lid for every pot. Whichever it was, he had found it. The only one as amazed by it as he was, was Sarah, who was equally delighted with him.

As Sarah had promised she would, she made Thanksgiving dinner at her house that year. They had a couch and some chairs by then, a coffee table, and a beautiful antique desk in the living room. They actually had somewhere to sit and put down their drinks, when Mimi and George came to dinner. Mimi had asked her to invite her two best friends, as she herself usually did, so Sarah had included them, and a friend of Jeff's who was in town from New York and had nowhere to spend Thanksgiving. It was a comfortable, easy group, as the seven of them sat in the living room, while Sarah and Jeff took turns checking on the turkey. Sarah was terrified that it would either be raw, or she'd burn it. It wasn't the same without Audrey. But much to her own surprise, the dinner turned out well. Mimi said the blessing, and this year Jeff carved the turkey. He did a masterful job of it, and George said he was relieved not to have to do it.

He and Mimi had just come back from Palm Springs. Sarah noticed that they were spending more and more time there. They said they liked the weather better, and Mimi enjoyed his friends and the dinner parties they went to. She had just celebrated her eighty-third birthday, but didn't look it. She was as lively and beautiful as ever. George had become a permanent fixture, and was only slightly older than she.

Sarah was serving the mince, apple, and pumpkin pies they had every year at the end of the meal, while Jeff dished out the ice cream and whipped cream, when Mimi looked at them, somewhat nervously, and George nodded encouragement.

“I have something to tell you,” she said timidly as Sarah looked at her. Sarah could sense more than guess at what was coming. But at Mimi's age, what could it be? Her life rolled along without incident, as long as she was in good health. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked first at Jeff, then at Sarah. “George and I are getting married,” she almost whispered. She looked faintly embarrassed, as though there was something slightly silly about it. But they loved each other and wanted to spend their final years together. The only bad news was that they were moving to Palm Springs. George had already sold his house in the city, and Mimi was putting her house on the market. They were going to use George's apartment in San Francisco, whenever they came to town, which Sarah suspected, sadly, wouldn't be often. They had too much fun in Palm Springs, and far less in San Francisco.

“You're marrying him and not me?” Jeff said, looking outraged. “I caught the garter, you know, he didn't.” He pretended to look disgusted, and sorely wronged, as the others laughed at him.

“I'm sorry, darling.” Mimi patted his hand lovingly. “You'll just have to marry Sarah.”

“No, he won't,” Sarah was quick to add.

“Yeah, fat chance of that,” Jeff complained. “She won't have me.”

“Have you asked her?” Mimi asked with eyes full of hope and wonder. She would have liked that, and she knew Audrey would, too. They had chatted about it several times.

“No,” Jeff answered honestly, sitting down to eat his pie, while Sarah poured champagne. It felt like déjà vu, from when her mother had announced the same thing at the same table in May. Now Mimi was getting married. Sarah reflected that all her female relatives were getting married and moving away. It left only her and Jeff in the city. She was already lonely at the prospect of Mimi leaving, although she was excited for them at their news, and it was obvious they were, too. George just sat there and beamed, while Mimi's eyes danced.

“If I ask Sarah to marry me, she'll probably dump me, or at least throw me out. She's committed to the notion of living in sin as a way of life,” Jeff said, and Mimi laughed. They all knew that Jeff and Sarah were living together, and it didn't bother her at all. She was nearly forty years old, and had a right to do what she wanted.

Sarah ignored his good-natured complaints and asked them when they were getting married. They hadn't set the date yet, but they wanted it to be soon. “At our age, we can't afford to wait,” Mimi said gaily, as though that were a good thing. “George probably wants to get married on the golf course, between games. We can't decide whether to do it there or here. We have so many friends down there, it might be too much fuss,” Mimi said pensively, as they all toasted the couple with champagne.

“Why don't you do it here, like Mom did?” Sarah suggested, feeling nostalgic about the whole event. It was so weird that all the elders of the family were getting married. She suddenly felt alone out in left field.

“That's an awful lot of trouble for you,” Mimi said. “I don't want to give you all that work. You're so busy.”

“I'm not too busy for you,” Sarah insisted. “I can use the same caterers Mom had for her wedding. They were great. They didn't even leave a mess.”

“Are you sure?” Mimi seemed to hesitate, but George looked enthusiastic. He liked the idea, and reminded her that she had been born in the house. It made sense to get married there. It was a nice, sentimental thing to do. Jeff's friend from New York was enjoying the exchange of plans and said his own grandmother had remarried the year before and moved to Palm Beach, and was very happy.

“When would you like to do it?” Sarah asked matter-of-factly, as Jeff continued to play the rejected lover, which delighted Mimi. She always referred to him to Sarah as “that sweet boy.” At forty-five, just recently, he was no boy, although he looked young for his age.

“We were thinking of New Year's Eve,” George interjected. “It'll give us something to celebrate every year. And I think it would be nice for your grandmother to do it here, in this house. It would mean a lot to her,” he added, and she blushed. She had told him only that morning that she didn't want to burden Sarah, but she had admitted how much she would love it, so everyone was pleased.

“Does Mom know?” Sarah suddenly wondered. Her mother hadn't said a thing. Mimi nodded.

“We called her this morning, and told her when we wished them a happy Thanksgiving. She approved.”

“Traitor,” Jeff muttered darkly. “I'm a much better catch than he is.” He glanced at George to everyone's amusement. “Although I have to admit, he's the better dancer. When I danced with Mimi at Audrey's wedding, I stepped all over her feet, and those pretty pale blue shoes. So I guess I can't blame you. But you've broken my heart.”

“I'm sorry, darling.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Come and stay with us anytime you like in Palm Springs. You can even bring Sarah.”

“I should hope so.” Sarah pretended to be miffed, and then they got down to the details of the wedding. She got out a yellow pad and made a list of what they wanted. They wanted to keep it very simple. Only the immediate family. And a simple dinner. They wanted a minister to marry them, and Mimi assured Sarah that hers would come to the house. Mimi wanted to do it at eight o'clock, and have a nine o'clock dinner. Audrey had told her that morning that she and Tom would come. She said they'd probably go down to Pebble Beach after that for the weekend.

“What has my family suddenly become?” Sarah complained loudly. “Nomads? Doesn't anyone want to be in San Francisco anymore except me?”

“Apparently not,” Jeff answered for them. “I don't think it's personal. They're just having more fun somewhere else.” He wouldn't have admitted it to her, but as much as he liked Mimi, and even Audrey, he liked the idea of having Sarah to himself.

“Wow,” Sarah said, as she suddenly thought of it, “we only have six weeks to plan the wedding. I'll call the caterer and everyone else tomorrow.” But there were no invitations to send out, nothing elaborate to organize. What they wanted was very simple. It would just be the immediate family, in the house, on New Year's Eve. It would be even simpler than Audrey's wedding to Tom.

They chatted excitedly about it for the next two hours, and then all the guests went home. Mimi had told them before she and George left that they weren't taking a honeymoon. They were going to do something easy like spend a weekend at the Bel Air hotel in L.A. Mimi had always liked it, and it was an easy drive for them. Jeff had told them that he was disappointed to hear they weren't doing something more exotic, like a trip to Las Vegas. He had hugged both of them when they left.

“Boy, is that a weird feeling,” Sarah admitted to Jeff as they loaded the dishwashers in the kitchen. Jeff had encouraged her to have two, and she was glad she did. It made evenings like this a snap. And it always made things so much easier for her that Jeff helped her. He was a good sport about things like that.

“What? Your grandmother getting married? I think it's really nice for her. It's nice for both of them that they don't have to be alone at that age.”

“She adored my grandfather, and my mother was afraid she'd die when he did, but she's had a whole second life, and sometimes I think she's enjoying it just as much.” It had certainly looked that way tonight. “I meant that it feels weird that they're all moving away. We've all been here together for all these years. Now Mom's in St. Louis, and Mimi will be in Palm Springs.”

“I'm here,” he said softly.

“I know.” She smiled, and leaned over and kissed him. “I guess this forces me to have a more grown-up life. I always felt like a kid while they were here. Maybe that's what I meant when I said this feels weird.”

“It must,” Jeff said, as they turned off the lights in the kitchen and went upstairs to what they now called “their” room, not just hers. It felt that way now.

Sarah called her mother in the morning, and told her she was a sneak for keeping the secret the day before, when Sarah had called to wish her a happy Thanksgiving. Audrey had called another time herself, and said not a word.

“I didn't want to spoil the surprise. She asked me not to. I think it's great, and the weather is better for her down there. It's a better climate. Tom and I will come in for the wedding, at least for one night.”

“Would you like to stay here?” Sarah asked hopefully.

“We'd love it.”

“That'll be fun, to have us all under one roof.”

Sarah got all the details she needed from her mother after that and set it up on Monday. All Mimi had to do was buy her dress. She said she felt too old to get married in white. She called Sarah two days later, sounding victorious. She had found the perfect dress in a color they called champagne. Sarah realized then that she had to get one herself. This time she chose a dark green velvet. And since it was New Year's Eve, she decided to get something long. Audrey said she was going to be wearing navy blue.

For the next five weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Sarah's life was a relay race, with no one to whom she could pass the baton. She didn't want Mimi to have to do any of the work for the wedding, but Sarah didn't have time, either. She told the caterer to do it all. She had them check details with her.

Beyond that, she was frantic at the house, trying to make sure Mimi's wedding would be impeccable, going to holiday parties with Jeff, and trying to get ready for Christmas herself. Jeff was ecstatic. After years of tiptoeing apologetically around Marie-Louise's annual seasonal gloom, as though he had caused the entire event, this year he could celebrate it with abandon. Every day he brought home new decorations, more presents, another tape of carols, and two weeks before Christmas, he came home with a twenty-foot Douglas fir. He had four men from The Guardsmen set it up next to the grand staircase, after which he brought home two carloads of decorations. Sarah laughed when she saw it. The carols he had on the stereo system were so loud she could hardly hear him when he talked to her from the top of the ladder. He had just put the star on the top of the tree.

“I said it's like living in Santa's workshop!” she shouted up at him, and then repeated it three more times. “Never mind. It looks great!” she complimented him, shouting up to him again, and this time he heard her, and thanked her. He was so pleased with himself, and she loved him for doing it. She had bought him a beautiful antique architect's desk at auction, and it was being delivered to the house on Christmas Eve. He nearly fainted when he saw it.

“Oh my God, Sarah, it's gorgeous!” He loved it. He loved celebrating Christmas with her.

Both her mother and grandmother were away. It was her first Christmas without them. But Jeff made it wonderful for her. She cooked a small turkey on Christmas Eve, and they went to church together at midnight. She realized as she shared dinner with him, and an excellent bottle of wine he'd bought, that the year before, on exactly that date, she had told her mother and grandmother about the house on Scott Street, and now here they were, and she was in it.

She didn't forget either that a year before, she had been alone for the fifth holiday season in a row, and Phil had been in Aspen with his children, while she was once again not included. Her life had changed radically in a year, and she loved it, both Jeff and the house. The only downside was that her family had moved away, and she was not so keen on that. Progress. Sometimes it was good, sometimes not. But at least they had moved away for happy reasons.

Jeff and Sarah shared a lazy day on Christmas Day. He had given her a narrow diamond tennis bracelet, and she kept looking at it and smiling at him. He was very generous with her, and she loved it as much as he did his new desk. She had also given him a bunch of small silly gifts, filled a stocking for him, and even left him a letter from Santa, telling him what a good boy he was, but to please stop dumping his dirty laundry all over the laundry room floor and expecting someone else to pick it up. It was his only flaw. He didn't have many. And he loved everything Sarah had done for him over the holidays. It was night and day from his experience with Marie-Louise. Sarah was the best Christmas gift he'd ever had.

Five days after Christmas, Audrey and Tom arrived from St. Louis. It really felt like Christmas to her then. Her grandmother and George also arrived that night. Both couples were staying at Sarah's house, and she loved it. Jeff helped her cook for all of them. And the three women spent long hours in the kitchen, chatting. Audrey told them all about her life in St. Louis. She loved it. Tom was even better than she'd ever dreamed. She looked genuinely happy. And Mimi looked ecstatic. The original blushing bride. Sarah loved that they were all staying with her. It made her feel like a kid again to have them both around.

They all went out to breakfast the next day, on the morning of New Year's Eve. The caterers were already at work in the kitchen, and even for a small dinner party, the preparations seemed endless. But both Mimi and George seemed remarkably calm. They all had a good time together, laughing and chatting. The three men talked football and stock market shifts. Tom and George talked golf. Jeff flirted with the bride, much to her delight, and Audrey and Sarah talked about the wedding details and went over a checklist. They went for a walk after that, and didn't get back to the house till one o'clock.

After that, Mimi disappeared into a different bedroom, and told George she didn't want to see him till that night. Sarah had arranged for the hairdresser to come to the house, and a manicurist to do nails.

They spent a delightful afternoon enjoying each other. They were all going to stay there that night, too, to see the New Year in after the wedding. The next day the newlyweds were heading to L.A. for the weekend, and Audrey and Tom for Pebble Beach. Jeff and Sarah were going to stay home and relax. Sarah was going to try and paint two more rooms, she was becoming expert at it, and Jeff had to work on a bunch of projects.

The house was filled with bustle as eight o'clock approached. Sarah and Audrey went upstairs to help Mimi dress. When they walked into her room, she was sitting on her bed in her dressing gown, with her hair done, holding the photograph of her mother.

She looked at her daughter and granddaughter, and had tears in her eyes as she set the photograph down.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Audrey asked her gently.

“I'm fine.” Mimi sighed. “I was just thinking of how happy my parents must have been here at first…and that I was born in this house… I'm so glad I'm marrying George here. Somehow it feels so right …I was thinking that my mother would have liked it.” She looked at Sarah then. “I'm so glad you bought this house. I never knew how much it would mean to me when you told us about it … it sounds silly to say at my age, but after all that sadness growing up, and missing her when I was young, I finally feel as though I've come home, and I found her.”

Sarah took her in her arms then and held her, and whispered softly to the grandmother she loved so much, they all did. “I love you, Mimi …so much… thank you for saying that.” It made buying the house seem even more right. In fact, it was perfect.

Chapter 23

At the last minute, they had decided to make the wedding black tie. All three women were going to be wearing long gowns, as were Mimi's five or six friends who were attending. The men were wearing tuxedos. The groom looked very debonair with a red bow tie, and ruby studs and cufflinks that had been his grandfa-ther's. Much to everyone's delight, Jeff had volunteered to give the bride away, and she accepted. She was afraid to fall, or trip on her gown, if she came down the grand staircase alone. She felt safer with a strong arm to lean on. They didn't want a mishap at the wedding.

“And since you won't marry me, Mimi, which shows very poor judgment on your part, I decided to be gracious and give you away to George. Although I must say, you should be ashamed of leading me on for the last six months. I'll be right there, in case you change your mind and come to your senses at the last minute.” Mimi loved the games Jeff played with her, and so did he.

He was waiting outside her room when she was ready. She came out in her pale gold and champagnecolored evening gown with gold high-heeled shoes. She was carrying a bouquet of lily of the valley, which she said had been her mother's favorite flower. The groom was wearing a sprig of it on his lapel as he waited for her downstairs. Audrey and Tom noticed with a smile that he was looking nervous.

They chatted quietly with the minister as they waited for her to come down, as a harp and violins began playing. Sarah had lit everything by candlelight and turned the lights down. And then suddenly they saw her coming. She still had a lovely figure, even at her age, and she looked absolutely regal, as she came slowly down the stairs on Jeff's arm. He looked solemn, handsome, and distinguished. She looked up at Jeff and smiled, as he patted her hand, and then her eyes found George, and she smiled. For a moment, Sarah realized that Mimi looked a lot like Lilli, she was just older, but equally pretty. There was the same mischievous sparkle in her eye, the same passion for life. It was as though the photograph Sarah had of her had come to life and grown up. Sarah had a sudden sense of the power of the generations that had followed after her, like ripples on the ocean. Mimi, her mother, herself, and Lilli long before them.

Mimi looked serene as she moved gracefully from Jeff's arm to that of the man who was about to become her husband. They stood in front of the minister, and exchanged their vows in clear, strong, peaceful voices. Then George kissed the bride, and the music started up again, and everyone was laughing and crying and celebrating, as they had done only months before for Audrey.

Jeff kissed the bride, and told her it was now official. He had been jilted at the altar. Mimi kissed him, and then kissed everyone, especially Audrey and Sarah.

They had dinner, as planned, at nine, and the champagne flowed till midnight. The three women who were descended from Lilli all kissed their men at midnight. And then danced briefly to the violins. No one went to bed until after two in the morning. It had been a perfect little gem of a wedding.

Sarah lay in bed next to Jeff afterward and smiled at him. “I'm beginning to feel like a professional wedding planner.” She laughed. “It was pretty, wasn't it? You looked so handsome when you came down the stairs with Mimi.”

“She wasn't even shaking. I was more nervous than she was,” he confessed.

“George looked a little anxious, poor thing.” She turned to Jeff again then. “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

“You too, Sarah.”

They fell asleep in each other's arms, and the next morning they got up to cook breakfast. It was a festive morning, and both older couples were packed and ready to leave after breakfast. Mimi was coming down the stairs toward George when she remembered that she had forgotten something. The others were all standing at the foot of the stairs, chatting, when she came back down again, carrying her bouquet of lily of the valley from the night before.

“I forgot to throw my bouquet last night,” she said, smiling down at them. She stopped halfway down the stairs as they watched her. She was wearing a bright red suit, with her mink coat over her arm, and low-heeled shoes. She looked well put together, and far younger than her age, as she took a last whiff of the delicate flowers and gracefully tossed them at her granddaughter. Sarah caught them before they fell to the floor, looked startled, and then, as though they were too hot to handle, she tossed them back to Mimi, almost by reflex, who caught them with one hand, and threw them at Jeff, who caught them with both hands, and stood there grinning, while everyone applauded.

“Nice save,” George complimented him, as Mimi reached the bottom of the stairs and looked straight at Jeff.

“Since Sarah doesn't know what to do with them, Jeff, I hope you do,” she said, and then kissed them all, got into the taxi that was waiting, and left for the airport. The honeymoon had begun. Audrey and Tom left five minutes later, to drive to Pebble Beach, and play golf at Cypress Point for the weekend.

Sarah and Jeff stood in the front hall after they all left, looking at each other. He was still holding the bouquet and set it down gently on a table.

“You give good wedding.” He smiled at her as he put his arms around her.

“Thank you. So do you,” she said, as he kissed her.

Chapter 24

It was a quiet weekend after everyone left. Jeff went to his office upstairs to work. Sarah changed her clothes and started her painting project. She brought him a sandwich at his desk around two. They both worked till dinnertime, they ate leftovers from the wedding, and afterward they went to a movie. He had recorded the football game earlier on TV, and watched it when they got home. It was a perfect New Year's Day, and a nice counterpoint to the busy days leading up to the wedding. The house didn't seem as much empty as peaceful.

“What am I supposed to do with Mimi's bouquet?” she asked Jeff the next morning, when she found it in the fridge. He had put it there in case she wanted to save it. The fragrance was heavenly each time either of them opened the refrigerator door. “Is it bad luck to throw it away?”

“Probably,” he said, as he put the butter away. “I thought you'd want to keep it. It's a nice souvenir of the wedding,” he said innocently.

“A likely story. You'll probably throw it at me in my sleep.”

“I wouldn't dare. I'd be struck by lightning,” he teased her. “You could dry it or something, and give it back to her in a year, on their first anniversary.”

“That's a good idea. I'll do that.” She put it in a box carefully, on a shelf in the kitchen. And for the rest of the day, they were both busy.

They went to a party given by old friends of Sarah's on Sunday night, and on Monday the new year began with a bang. It seemed like every client she had wanted to rewrite their will that month. New tax laws had been passed, and everyone was in a panic. She had never been as busy. She had promised her mother they would come to see them in St. Louis, but she didn't see when. She felt as though her workload was never-ending. And Jeff was just as busy. It seemed as though everyone had bought an old house over the holidays, or inherited one, and wanted to hire him to restore it. Business was good for him, but without Marie-Louise there with him now, everything rested on his shoulders, and he was swamped.

After four weeks of working day and night and burning the candle at both ends, Sarah caught a terrible cold at the end of January. She had never been as sick in her life, and after a week of cold and fever that kept her home, it then turned into stomach flu, and she spent the next four days in the bathroom. Jeff felt sorry for her, and kept bringing her soup, orange juice, or tea. It all made her even sicker, and finally she just lay in bed moaning.

“I think I'm dying,” she said to him, as tears rolled down her cheeks. He felt helpless, and at the end of the second week he told her she had to go to the doctor. She was planning to, and had an appointment the following morning. She called her mother that night, complaining about how awful she felt, as Audrey listened to her long list of symptoms.

“Maybe you're pregnant,” Audrey said matter-of-factly.

“That's not funny. I have a cold, Mom. Not morning sickness.”

“I had colds the whole time I was pregnant with you. It's something about your immune system lowering so you don't reject the baby. And you said you've been throwing up for the past four days.”

“From stomach flu, not a baby.” She was annoyed at her mother's casual and obviously inept diagnosis.

“Why don't you check it out. These days that's very easy.”

“I know what I've got. I have the Asian flu, or consumption or something. Everyone at the office has it.”

“It was just a thought. All right, then go to the doctor.”

“I am. In the morning.” She lay in bed afterward, annoyed at what her mother had said, and silently calculating. Her period was two days late, but that often happened to her when she got sick. She wasn't even worried. Or she hadn't been, until she talked to her mother. Now she was, and she lay in bed thinking about it. That would be truly awful. It was the last thing she wanted. She had a great life, a terrific career, a man she loved, a wonderful house. And she did not want a baby.

She got so nervous about it finally that she got up, dressed, and drove to the nearest drugstore, where she bought a pregnancy test. Jeff wasn't home yet. Feeling stupid for even doing it, she followed the directions, did the test, left it on her sink, went back to bed, and turned on the TV. She'd almost forgotten about it half an hour later, and went back to her bathroom to see what the results were. She knew they were going to be not pregnant. She had been careful all her life, and aside from one or two scares when she was in college, she had never played baby roulette. She wasn't on the Pill. But with rare exceptions, she and Jeff were always careful, except at the right time of month, when she knew she had no worries.

She picked up the test with a smug look, glanced at it, looked again, and then fumbled in the garbage for the instructions. There were two lines on the test, and she suddenly couldn't remember if there were supposed to be one or two if she wasn't pregnant. The diagram stated it clearly so anyone could read it. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. She looked again. Two lines. There was a mistake. It was a false positive. The test was defective. There was a second test in the box, so she used it. This time she stood tapping her foot, with a knot in her stomach, staring at herself in the mirror while she waited. She looked awful. This was ridiculous. She wasn't pregnant. She was dying. She glanced at her watch, then looked at the test. Two lines again. She stared at herself in the mirror again and saw herself go sheet white.

“Oh my God…oh my GOD! This isn't happening!” she shouted at the mirror. “I AM NOT !” But the test said she was. She threw both of them in the garbage, and then walked around her bathroom with her arms crossed, hugging herself. This was the worst news of her life. “SHIT!” she shouted out loud, and as she did, Jeff walked into the bathroom, looking worried. He had just come home from the office. Her mother was right.

“Are you okay? Were you talking to someone?” He thought maybe she was on the phone. She looked awful.

“No. No. I'm fine.” She brushed past him, went back to bed, and dug herself under the covers.

“Do you want to go to the hospital? Do you feel that bad?”

“I feel worse,” she said, nearly shouting at him.

“Then let's go. Don't wait till tomorrow, you'll just get sicker. You probably need antibiotics.” He was of the old school that still believed they cured all. He had been urging her to get some all week.

“I don't need antibiotics,” she said, glaring at him.

“Is something wrong? I mean other than that you're sick?” He felt sorry for her. The poor thing had been feeling awful for two weeks. It was depressing. But aside from that, he thought she was acting a little psycho. “How high is your fever?”

“I'm pregnant.” There was no point hiding it from him. She would have to tell him sooner or later. He just stared at her as though he didn't understand what she'd said. Neither did she.

“What?”

“I'm pregnant.” She started to cry as she said it. Her life was over. This was a nightmare. She still felt sick. In fact, she felt worse. He sat down on the foot of the bed.

“Are you serious?” He didn't know what else to say. He could see that she did not consider this good news. She looked like she was about to jump off the roof.

“No, I'm kidding. I always kid about suicidal events in my life. Of course I'm serious. How the hell did that happen? We're always so careful. We never slip.”

“Yes, we do,” he said honestly.

“Well, not at the wrong time. I'm not stupid. I know better than that. And so do you.”

He was thinking back, and suddenly looked sheepish. “I think it might have happened the night of your grandmother's wedding.”

“No, it didn't. We went right to sleep.”

“We woke up in the middle of the night,” he corrected her. “I think you may have been half asleep …I didn't force myself on you,” he said, looking unhappy. “We just kind of… did it… and went back to sleep.” She did a rapid calculation, and groaned audibly. That had to be it. If they had wanted to plan it, they couldn't have hit it better. Or in this case, worse.

“Was I out of my mind? How much did I have to drink?”

“You had a few drinks… and a lot of champagne, I guess.” He smiled at her lovingly. “You seemed fine to me, but you were a little out of it in the middle of the night…. You looked so cute. I couldn't resist.”

“Oh my God,” she said, jumping out of bed again and pacing around the room. “I can't goddamned believe this. I'm almost forty years old, and I'm pregnant. Pregnant!”

“You're not too old, Sarah … and maybe this is something to think about… maybe it's our last chance. Our only chance. Maybe this isn't such bad news.” It wasn't to him. To her it was dire.

“Are you crazy? What do we need with a baby? We don't want a baby. I don't at least. I never did. I told you that right from the beginning. I never lied to you.”

“No, you didn't,” he said fairly. “But to be honest, I'd love to have our kids.”

“Then you have it. I won't.” She was storming around, looking like she wanted to kill someone, preferably him. But in her head, she was blaming herself.

“Look, it's your body. You have to do whatever you feel you have to do… I'm just telling you how I feel about it. I love you. I'd love to have a baby with you,” he said kindly.

“Why? It would ruin our life. We have a nice life. A perfect life. A baby would just screw it up.” She was in tears.

He looked sad as he watched her. He had been here before. Marie-Louise had had two abortions with him. And for the only time since they'd been together, Sarah was sounding like Marie-Louise. It wasn't a memory he wanted to revisit. He got up and put his briefcase in his office. When he got back, Sarah was back in bed, sulking. She didn't speak to him for several hours. He offered to make her dinner, and she said she was too sick to eat.

Gingerly, he suggested that until they figured out what they were doing, she should. She told him to go to hell.

“I have figured it out. I'm going to kill myself. I don't need to eat.”

He went downstairs, ate by himself, and afterward came back upstairs. When he did, she was asleep, and in her sleep, she looked as sweet as ever. He knew it had been a hell of a shock for her. He wanted her to keep their baby, but he couldn't force her to do it. He knew she had to make that decision herself.

She was sullen and silent at the breakfast table the next day. He offered her breakfast, and she made tea and toast for herself. She hardly said a word. She left for her doctor's appointment, and she never called him. She was already at home when he got back that night, and he could see how upset she was. The doctor had obviously confirmed it. Jeff said nothing, and she went back to bed. She was asleep by nine o'clock, and the next morning, she looked better. She apologized to him at breakfast.

“I'm sorry I've been such a witch. I just need to think this out for myself. I don't know what to do. The doctor said if I ever want a baby, I should probably go ahead with it now at my age. I really don't. But maybe one day I will…or I'll regret it if I don't have one. I just never wanted a kid. In fact, I very much didn't want a kid. But if I ever did want one, I'd want it with you,” she said, and started to cry. Jeff walked around the breakfast table and took her in his arms.

“Do whatever you need to do. I love you. I'd love to have our baby. But I love you. If you really don't want a kid, I can live with that. It's up to you.” His being so nice about it only made it harder for her. She nodded, blew her nose, and cried when he left for work. She had never been so confused and unhappy in her life.

It went on for two weeks. She ranted. She raged. She tortured herself and browbeat him. Somehow he managed to stay calm. He only lost his temper once, and was sorry he did. It had been the same with Marie-Louise, and in the end, she got rid of it, both times. But Sarah wasn't Marie-Louise. She was just angry and upset and terrified. She didn't feel ready to be a mother, and didn't want to condemn a child to an unhappy life. He offered to marry her, which frightened her even more. All the ghosts of her past had come back to haunt her, mostly her own miserable childhood, and her father. But Jeff wasn't him. He was a good man, and she knew it.

It took her nearly three weeks, and then she made a decision. She never told her mother, or anyone. She figured it out for herself. It was the scariest thing she'd ever done in her life. She told him she wouldn't marry him, for now anyway, but she wanted to have their child. Jeff almost cried when she said it. And they made love for the first time in a month that night. By then, she was two months pregnant, or very nearly. Three weeks later they went to the first sonogram together, and there it was. A little blip with a heartbeat. Everything was normal. It was due on the twenty-first of September. Jeff had never been so excited in his life.

It took Sarah longer to get used to the idea. But the first time she felt it move, she lay in bed and smiled and told him it felt weird. He went to all her sonograms, even the one at five months where they saw it sucking its thumb. He went to the amnio with her, and four weeks later, they told them it was healthy and a boy. By the time she was six months pregnant, she didn't feel ready, but she was glad. She thanked him for putting up with her neuroses and terrors. From then on, she was fine. It was their baby, not just hers. She had told her mother and Mimi, and everyone was excited. He had offered to marry her several times, but that was too much for her right now. She told him one thing at a time. First, the baby, then they'd see. Jeff was almost beside himself with excitement, knowing that he and Sarah were having a son. He told her it was the greatest gift of his life.

They were walking down Union Street one Saturday in August, when Sarah was eight months pregnant, when they ran into Phil. She almost didn't recognize him at first, and then she did, and he saw her. He looked surprised, and was with a girl who looked about twenty-five. She hadn't seen him in over a year and a half.

“Wow, what happened to you?” he said, smiling. All she could remember was the last time she'd seen him, in bed with someone else. She had never seen him again.

“I have no idea,” she said, looking blank. “I went to this fabulous party about eight months ago, I got drunk out of my mind, and the next thing I knew, I woke up and looked like this. What do you think it is?” The girl with him was laughing. Phil looked embarrassed to see her, as well he should.

“Damned if I know,” he said. She looked beautiful and happy. She could see for a minute that he was sorry. And she was glad. She looked at Jeff with a loving smile, and introduced him to Phil. The famous Phil that he had heard so much about. He looked like a fool with the girl. “I see you got married,” Phil said, looking at her enormous belly. She could see he hadn't, but neither had she. And for the first time, she realized that she wanted to be Jeff's wife, not just bear his child. All her notions of independence and freedom flew right out the window, as Phil and his bimbo walked down the street. She didn't want to be one of them. She wanted to be with Jeff, and their baby, for the rest of her life. She wanted to be his. For real. Not just because they were living in the same house for now.

“He looks like a jerk,” Jeff said, as he helped her into the car. She could hardly move, and they both laughed.

“He is. Remember?”

“I remember,” he said, as he drove her home. And when they got back, she started dinner.

She was still working, but she was getting tired. She was going to take six months' maternity leave after the baby came. She was going to figure out if she wanted to work part-time or full-time after that. He would have loved it if she'd retire from the law firm, and restore houses with him, but that was up to her. It all was. She had to make her own decisions. She always had. In the end, she always made the right ones.

They were finishing dinner when she looked at Jeff with a shy smile. “I was thinking,” she began, and he waited for the rest. It looked like it was going to be good, but it was better than he thought, or even dreamed. “I was thinking maybe we should get married sometime.” He stared at her in disbelief, and she laughed.

“What brought that on?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's time. I don't want to be a bimbo all my life,” she said, and he laughed even harder.

“Sweetheart, you sure don't look like a bimbo right now. You look like the mother of my son.”

“I think I want to look like your wife. It's a nice look.” He leaned over and kissed her in response. He had begun to think they would never get married, but the baby was enough. She had to want all of it, and now she did.

“Anytime you want. Before the baby?”

“I don't know. What do you think? Maybe after.” Her mother and Mimi were coming for Thanksgiving, and she wanted them there when they got married. Maybe she even wanted the baby there. She wasn't sure. “I'll think about it and let you know.”

“That would be nice.”

They cleaned up the kitchen together and went upstairs, and she realized as she lay there that night that Mimi's wedding had been their special gift. It had brought them all this.

Chapter 25

As part of her plan, Sarah had decided to work till her due date. She finished work on the last day, they gave her a shower and a lunch, and she couldn't imagine what she would do without going to the office. The whole concept seemed odd to her. She was an attorney. She went to an office every day. Or she used to. Now she was going to stay home for six months, with a baby. She was afraid she would go out of her mind with boredom. She told them she might come back early, and one of the women lawyers told her she might not want to come back at all, which Sarah thought was absurd. Of course she would. Unless she went into business with Jeff, restoring houses commercially. That appealed to her, too, particularly with him. She loved the idea of working with him every day. It was a period of transition and change for her. Everything in her life was shifting and moving, even the baby in her womb. After the shower and the lunch, she packed her briefcase and went home. And then she waited. Nothing happened. Her doctor told her that was normal, particularly with first babies. It was driving her nuts. She was never late, with anything. She wasn't this time, either. The baby was.

“What am I supposed to do?” she complained to Jeff one night. The baby was ten days late by then. It was the first of October. Nine months to the day of Mimi's wedding day. They were having a ball in Palm Springs, and never came to San Francisco anymore. But they had promised to come for Thanksgiving, to see the baby. If it ever came. Maybe it never would. She wished she had kept working. But she was too tired and too big. She needed his help now getting out of bed. She felt like the proverbial beached whale. The baby was huge.

“Enjoy yourself. Have fun. Relax. Go shopping,” he suggested, and she laughed at him.

“Nothing fits anymore except handbags.”

“Then buy some.” She had started seeing her old friends again, the ones who had children. She finally had something in common with them.

Jeff was trying to work from his office at home as much as he could. He wanted to be around if something happened, or she needed him. They had set up the nursery in Mimi's childhood room. It seemed fitting, since the baby had been conceived on her wedding night, and Mimi herself had been born in that room. Her own mother had given birth to her there. Lilli, who had broken so many hearts and died so young. Sarah was forty now. It seemed the right age now for her first child. She had waited a long time for everything to be right. First Jeff, and now this.

They went for a walk around the neighborhood that afternoon. They walked to Fillmore Street and back, and she could hardly make it up the hill, but she did, with Jeff's help. They were talking about what they were going to do, and if they were going to buy a house to resell. She was tempted to do it. She was still thinking about it that night, after dinner, as she sat in the bathtub, with the same contractions that she had had for weeks. They weren't real ones yet, just practice ones. Braxton Hicks. They were getting her ready, if the baby ever came. She sat in the tub, relaxing, while Jeff watched TV. He came in once to check on her, and rubbed her back. It ached all the time now, because the baby was so heavy. The doctor was going to induce her in another week, he said, but not till then. The baby was fine, and so was she.

She went downstairs after her bath, to get something to eat, and then came back upstairs again. She felt as though she needed to move around. She couldn't sit or lie down tonight. It was getting closer, but she wasn't there yet. She was seeing her doctor in the morning, and hoped it might provoke something. She was ready.

“Are you okay?” Jeff had been watching her all night. She was restless, but she was in good spirits and looked fine.

“Yeah, I'm just tired of sitting around,” she said, nibbling a cookie. She had heartburn now all the time, which nothing helped. But she knew it would be gone soon. Jeff felt sorry for her as she struggled back into bed, and then got up three times to go to the bathroom. She said the snack she'd eaten had given her a stomachache.

“Why don't you try and get some sleep?” he said gently.

“I'm not tired,” she said plaintively. “My back really hurts.”

“No wonder. Come here. I'll rub it.” She lay on her side and turned her back to him. It felt better after he massaged it, and then finally she fell asleep and he watched her, with a loving smile.

These were the sweetest days of his life, waiting for his son to be born, with Sarah lying beside him. He finally fell asleep himself an hour after she did. And in the middle of the night, he woke up out of a dead sleep. He could hear her moaning and panting in the dark next to him. When he reached out for her, her face was covered in sweat, and he quickly turned on the light, suddenly wide awake.

“Sarah? Are you okay?”

“No.” She shook her head back and forth, barely able to speak.

“What happened? What's wrong?” The contractions she was having took her breath away, literally. Finally. She couldn't speak. She had woken up out of a sound sleep, having a baby, and was too stunned to even wake him.

They had both realized by then that the contractions in the bathtub had been real, not “fake,” and her restlessness, backache, and stomachache had been labor, for a long time. They had missed all the signs. He touched her stomach and looked at his watch. They were two minutes apart. They had been told to go to the hospital at ten. The baby was coming. Now. He didn't know what to do. Suddenly Sarah started screaming. It was a long, primeval howl between sharp screams.

“Sarah, come on, please, sweetheart … we have to go to the hospital. Now.”

“I can't… can't move….” She screamed again withthe next contraction, and tried to sit up, but she couldn't do that, either. She was pushing. He grabbed the phone and called 911. They told him to leave the front door open and stay with her. But she wouldn't let him leave her. She had a death grip on his arm, and she was crying.

“Come on… Sarah…I have to go downstairs and open the door.”

“No!” As she said it, her face turned purple and she looked at him in terror. She was writhing in pain and pushing at the same time, and suddenly in the room there was a long thin wail between her screams, and a bright red face between her legs with silky black hair, as their son slid into the world, looked at both of them, and stopped crying. He just lay looking up at them as they both cried, and hugged each other, as they heard sirens outside.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” She nodded, and he touched the baby's face, and then gently lifted him onto her stomach. The doorbell was ringing. “I'll be right back.” He raced down two flights of stairs, let the paramedics and fire department in, and ran back to her with them.

After the paramedics checked both of them, they said she was fine and so was the baby. A burly paramedic cut the cord, wrapped the baby in a sheet, and handed him to Sarah as she beamed. Jeff couldn't stop crying. She and the baby were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. They put her in an ambulance with the baby, to check them out at the hospital, and Jeff rode with them. The baby was perfect. They sent them home three hours later, and Sarah called Audrey and Mimi. William de Beaumont Parker had been born, in the same house where his great-grandmother had come into the world eighty-three years before, and his great-great-grandparents had lived. His parents were ecstatic. A great blessing had come to them in Lilli's house. Sarah held the baby, with Jeff's arms around her, and all three of them fell asleep. Although she had never expected it to be, it was the best day of Sarah's life.

Chapter 26

Thanksgiving was more hectic than usual that year. Mimi and George came, and she invited her usual cronies. Audrey and Tom flew in from St. Louis. Sarah nursed the baby, while Jeff cooked the turkey and Audrey helped him. They ate at the big table in the kitchen, while William slept in a basket after Sarah fed him. Sarah had never looked better, Jeff looked slightly frazzled and sleep deprived, and everyone agreed William was the prettiest baby they'd ever seen. He was a beautiful, healthy boy. His parents had waited a long time to have him, but he had come at the right time. Mimi loved visiting him in her old room. Sarah had painted it blue herself, with Jeff's help, to keep her off the ladder right before William was born.

The meal was the same one they ate every year, following tradition. And Mimi said the pies were perfect.

“He's the best baby, isn't he?” she said proudly. He slept right through dinner, and didn't wake up again until Jeff and Sarah got upstairs, and Audrey had helped clean up the kitchen. William was seven weeks old on that day. He weighed twelve pounds, and had been born at just over nine. George said he looked six months old. And Tom held him expertly, as the master grandfather he was.

Both his grandmother and his great-grandmother held William the next day, and took care of him while Sarah got dressed. Jeff went downstairs to their third guest room to try and get some sleep. He didn't have to be dressed till six. Sarah almost forgot to wake him, and then sent Tom to get him up. They had to wake him twice. Fatherhood was more exhausting than he had expected, but much better. He loved Sarah more than he ever had before.

Sarah was still dressing when Audrey brought the baby in to nurse. It made Sarah half an hour late when she came downstairs, and by then everyone was waiting. Mimi was holding the baby, Jeff was wearing a dark blue suit and was wide awake and looked refreshed. Tom and George were standing side by side, and all heads turned as Sarah came slowly down the stairs in a long white dress. It was a size bigger than she would have liked, but she looked exquisite. The dress was a simple creamy lace with long sleeves and a high neck, and showed off her figure, which was better than ever, even if slightly fuller. She was wearing her hair in a loose bun, with lily of the valley in it, and she held a bouquet of them in her hands. Jeff's eyes filled with tears when he saw her. He had waited so long for this. She had been worth the wait.

They both cried when they exchanged their vows, and their hands shook as they put each other's rings on, and just as they did, William woke up and looked around. The minister christened him at the same time. As Jeff said afterward, it was a full-service wedding. They got it all done at once.

Afterward they ate and danced and drank champagne, and took turns holding the baby. And finally Jeff danced slowly around the ballroom with his wife. It was the first time they had used it. They were going to give a big party there for Christmas this year. They were slowly growing into the house, each other, and their lives. Sarah had become Mrs. Jefferson Parker. She had extended her maternity leave to a year, and they had just bought a small house to remodel, to try it out as a joint project. They would see what happened after that, and how much money they made on it. If it went well, she was going to leave the law firm. She was tired of chasing tax laws and writing wills.

As she danced with Jeff, Sarah thought of Stanley's words way at the beginning, telling her not to waste her life, to live it and dream it and savor it, to look to the horizon, and not make the mistakes he had. He had made it possible for her to do it right. The house had brought Jeff into her life…and William… and Tom into her mother's…. So many lives had been touched by Stanley, and this house.

“Thank you for making me so happy,” Jeff whispered, as the ballroom spun around them, with all its splendid gilt and mirrors.

“I love you, Jeff,” she said simply. She could hear their baby cry as someone held him, and his parents danced on their wedding night. The baby that had been born in Lilli's house.

In the end, they had all been touched by Lilli. The woman who had run away so long ago had left a legend and a legacy behind her. A daughter she had barely known, a granddaughter who was a fine woman, a great-granddaughter who had brought Lilli's house back to life with infinite tenderness and love. And a great-great-grandson, whose journey had just begun. The generations had rolled on without her. And as Sarah danced in Jeff's arms, she sensed that the mysterious creature who had been Lilli was at peace at last.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DANIELLE STEEL has been hailed as one of the world's most popular authors, with over 560 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include H.R.H., Coming Out, Toxic Bachelors, Miracle, ImPossible, Echoes, and Second Chance. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina's life and death.

a cognizant original v5 release october 15 2010

WATCH FOR THE NEW NOVEL

FROM

DANIELLE STEEL

On Sale in Hardcover

February 13, 2007

Four sisters, a Manhattan brownstone, and a tumultous year of loss and courage are at the heart of Danielle Steel's new novel about a remarkable family, a stunning tragedy— and what happens when four very different young women come together under one very lively roof.

Sisters

on sale February 13, 2007

Chapter 1

The photo shoot in the Place de la Concorde, in Paris, had been going since eight o'clock that morning. They had an area around one of the fountains cordoned off, and a bored-looking Parisian gendarme stood watching the proceedings. The model stood in the fountain for hours on end, jumping, splashing, laughing, her head thrown back in practiced glee, and each time she did it, she was convincing. She was wearing an evening gown hiked up to her knees, and a mink wrap. A powerful battery-operated fan blew her long blond hair out in a mane behind her.

Passersby stopped and stared, fascinated by the scene as a makeup artist in a tank top and shorts climbed in and out of the fountain to keep the model's makeup perfect. By noon, the model still looked like she was having a fabulous time, as she laughed with the photographer and his two assistants between shots as well as on camera. Cars slowed as they drove by, and two American teenagers stopped and stared in amazement as they strolled by and recognized her.