“Tygue, I said no!”
“You always say no. Besides, I don’t care what you say!”
“Go to your room!” There was a moment of fierce glaring between them and Tygue gave in first. It was fortunate for him because his mother was in no mood to fool around. She had gotten in just after four in the morning. Tillie had left at six-thirty. And it was now only seven. Kate had had two and a half hours of sleep. This was not the day for Tygue to decide to give Bert a bath before school, with her best soap from Licia. Any other day, Kate would have laughed. Today, she wasn’t laughing. And her head was still full of what had happened in L.A. She called Tygue back when breakfast was ready. “Are you going to be reasonable now?” But he said not a word as he sat down to his cereal. She drank her coffee in silence, and then suddenly she remembered something. It was in her suitcase. “I’ll be right back.” It wasn’t really the right time to give it to him, but maybe it was what they both needed. A silly moment. Of her spoiling him and his feeling loved. She had felt so lonely driving home last night. As though she had lost. But she had forced herself out. No one had sent her away. The whole thing was stupid. So what if the guy remembered a football player named Harper? Why did she have to leave like that? And she knew Stu would be angry at her. She had arranged for the hotel to deliver a message to him first thing in the morning: “Was called home unexpectedly, please cancel magazine interview. Terribly sorry. Thank you for everything. Love, Kate.” But he’d be mad anyway. She knew it. And she was angry at herself as well. And then with a soft whisper of pleasure she remembered the feel of Nick’s hand when she’d said good-bye to him in the car.
“What are you thinking about? You look silly.” Tygue had wandered into her room and was watching her from the doorway, his bowl of cereal in his hand, tilting at a precarious angle.
“Don’t walk around with your breakfast. And what do you mean, I look silly? That’s not a nice thing to say.” She sounded hurt, and he looked down into his bowl.
“I’m sorry.” He was still mad at her for leaving.
“Go put that in the sink and come back here.” He looked up at her and then vanished, clomping loudly along the floor. He was back in seconds with an expectant look on his freckled face. “Wait till you see what I brought you.” It was totally outrageous. She had found it in the children’s shop at the hotel, and she had had to have it. She had bought it at a scandalous price, but why not? He was the only son she had, and he was never going to have another outfit like this.
“What is it?” He looked suspiciously at the fancy dress box, and the pale blue curlicues of ribbon put him off.
“Go ahead. It won’t bite you.” She grinned to herself, thinking of the dusty blue velvet suit they’d had too. The idea of her son in that getup had made her laugh right there in the shop, much to the salesperson’s horror. But blue velvet on a boy of six was pushing it. Tygue wouldn’t have worn it at two. She watched him as, gingerly, he pulled off the ribbons, and then stared at the box for one brief moment before yanking off the lid, pushing aside the tissue paper, and then gasping as he saw it.
“Oh, Mom! Oh! … Mom! …” There were no words to describe what he felt, and tears burned her eyes as she watched him. They were still tears of fatigue and excitement, but they were tears of joy too. He pulled it out of the box and held it up. A miniature cowboy suit in leather and suede. There was a fringed vest, and chaps. A cowboy shirt, a belt, and a jacket. And when he tore off his clothes and tried it on, it fit him perfectly.
“Well, hotshot? You look gorgeous.” She beamed at him from her seat on the bed.
“Oh, Mommy!” She hadn’t heard “Mommy” in a while. Only “Mom.” Now “Mommy” was saved for special occasions, when no one else was around to hear. He ran up to her in the little cowboy suit and threw his arms around her with a huge mushy kiss.
“Am I forgiven?” She hugged him close with a smile.
“For what?”
“Going away.” She cringed at the precedent she was setting, but her son was smarter than she was.
“No,” he said matter-of-factly, with a big smile. “But I love the suit. And I love you best of all.”
“I love you best of all too.” She sat down on the bed, and he piled into her lap. “You should take that off. It’s a little fancy for school, darling, isn’t it?”
“Awww, Mommm … please …”
“Okay, okay.” She was too tired to argue. And then, unexpectedly, he looked up at her.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, I did. I was on TV, and I stayed in a big hotel, and I had lunch with some people, and went to a party with some other people.”
“It sounds terrible.” She laughed and looked at him. Maybe he was right. Maybe it had been terrible. But she couldn’t really make herself believe that. “When are we going back to San Francisco?”
“Soon. We’ll see. Do you want Tillie to take you down to the Adams place today, so you can ride in your new suit?” He nodded vehemently, looking down at the vest with delight. “I’ll leave Tillie a note.”
But the boy looked up in terror. “Are you going away again?”
“Oh Tygue …” She held him tight. “No, sweetheart. I’m just going to see … to teach.” Jesus. She had almost said it. To see Tom. She was exhausted. She was really too tired to drive up there too. But she felt that she had to. It had been days. “I’ll even try to come back early today, and we’ll have a nice quiet dinner. Just us. Okay?” He nodded warily, but the terror had left his eyes. “I told you, silly. I’m not going to run off and leave you. Just because I’m gone for a day, or even a couple of days, doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. Got that?” He nodded, silent, his eyes huge. “Good.” And then the honking of his car pool threw them both into chaos. Lunch pail, books, hat, big kiss, squeeze, good-bye, gone. Kate sat in the kitchen for a moment, trying to summon enough energy to get her jacket and go. She was crazy to make the trip on two hours’ sleep. But it was never the right time to go to Carmel anymore. There was always something else she wanted to do. She picked up her bag and her jacket, wrote a note for Tillie, and left as it started to rain.
The soft rain continued as she drove up to Carmel, and it pattered gently on the roof of the cottage as she visited with Tom. It was the kind of gentle summer rain that made her want to turn her face to the sky and run barefoot through the long summer grass, feeling twigs tickle her toes. She didn’t do that though. She was too tired to do more than walk to the cottage and sit down. She had nothing much to tell him. She couldn’t tell him about L.A., he wouldn’t understand. But he was in a peaceful mood. The rain seemed to soothe him. and they sat hand in hand, side by side, he in his wheelchair. she in a cozy rocker, and she told him stories. They were the stories she had known as a child, the same ones she had told Tygue for years. Tom loved them too. And shortly after lunch, he fell asleep. The rhythm of the rain soothed them both and she had to jolt herself a few times to keep from falling asleep too. But once Tom had drifted off, she sat for a moment, watching his peaceful face, letting the rush of memory drift over her … the thousand times she had seen that face asleep before, in other places, other days. It made her think of Cleveland, so long ago, and then unexpectedly of Nick Waterman. She didn’t want to think of him here. This wasn’t his place, it was Tom’s. She kissed him gently on the forehead, ran a hand softly over his hair, put a finger to her lips as she looked up at Mr. Erhard, and tiptoed carefully from the room.
It was a long drive home. The roads were fairly deserted and she was anxious to get back, but she didn’t dare drive as fast as she normally did. And eventually she had to open the windows and turn on the radio to keep awake. Twice she had to pull over to the side of the road to shake the cobwebs out of her head. She was pushing it and she knew it. She was tempted just to stay there and sleep for a while, but she knew Tillie would want to get home. It was Friday and there was always some member of her family coming for dinner, or the weekend. She only had another fifty miles to go, and she decided to make a run for it, as the thunder clapped and the lightning flashed, and the rain splashed in over the top of the window and washed her face. It made her smile as she felt it. It felt good just being back in her part of the world again. She didn’t belong in L.A., but it had been fun for a visit, for a moment. And never again. What totally mad people. She let her mind drift back to the pink dressing room, the tension of the Red Room, and then the opulence of the party in Beverly Hills … and then the feeling of Nick Waterman holding her as they waited for his car. She pushed that from her mind with the rest of it, and turned up the radio. L.A. was their world. Not hers.
She turned off at the familiar exit and followed the back road until she reached her driveway. There was a rainbow over the hills. And there was a car in her driveway. As she saw it her foot hit the brakes, hard, and she jolted forward. How … but how did … where … it was a dark-blue Ferrari, and Nick Waterman was standing in the driveway next to Tygue. Tillie waved sheepishly from the door. And with her heart pounding, Kate pulled slowly into the drive. The sound of the gravel startled them both and they turned to look at her. Tygue ran toward the car, waving, with a big grin of excitement, and Nick simply stood there and watched her, with that endless smile of his. She stopped the car and stared back. What could she say? And how had he found her? Weinberg, of course. That was easy. She should have been angry at Stu, and normally she would have been. But she wasn’t. Suddenly all she wanted to do was laugh. She was so goddamn tired, all she could do was laugh. And Tygue was reaching into the car window and talking as fast as he could.
“Hey, you, wait a minute, slow down. Wait till I get out of the car.” But the child certainly looked happy.
“Did you know Nick was a football hero? And he worked in a rodeo?”
“Oh really?” What had happened to him? When Weinberg had been there for only an hour, Tygue had instantly detested him. But Nick was a football hero and a rodeo star. Apparently, he had the touch. She stooped to kiss Tygue and looked across at Nick. He hadn’t moved. He just stood there. She walked slowly toward him with a careful smile on her face. Her eyes looked tired, but there was still laughter in them, and the smile was turning into the mischievous one he remembered from lunch.
“How was teaching?”
“Fine. Should I ask what you’re doing here?”
“If you like. I came to see you. And Tygue.”
She was standing in front of him now, and he looked down at her as though he wanted to kiss her, but Tygue and Bert were already underfoot.
“You make a terrific detective.”
“You’re not hard to find. Are you angry?” For a moment, he looked worried.
“I suppose I should be. At Stu, not at you. But”— she shrugged—“I’m so damn tired, I couldn’t get mad at anybody if my life depended on it.” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
“You couldn’t have gotten much sleep, Mrs. Harper. What time did you get home?”
“About four.” She liked the feel of his arm around her. It was heavenly as they walked slowly back to the house. For a moment she worried about Tygue, but he didn’t seem to notice. She couldn’t understand how Nick had put the boy so quickly at ease.
“Why did you leave like that?”
“That badly?” He still didn’t believe her.
“The party was over. Cinderella had been to the ball. And what was the point of spending the night in a strange hotel, when I could have been here?”
He looked around and nodded. “I see your point. But I didn’t feel that way about it this morning when I called. I got this sinking feeling that … that I’d never see you again.” His face sobered as he remembered it, and they walked into the house. “Weinberg was damn dose-mouthed about it too.”
“What changed his mind?” Kate peeled off her damp raincoat. She was wearing jeans and a blue gingham shirt. It was a far cry from the lady in the navy halter dress of the night before. Cinderella was just Cinderella again.
“He changed his mind because I threatened never to play tennis with him again.”
“Now I know where his allegiance lies, not to mention his priorities.” Kate looked at him and laughed. This was crazy. She had met him yesterday at lunch and now he was here? In her house? With Tygue leaping at his feet? Suddenly it all seemed ridiculous. She sat down in a chair and started to laugh, and she couldn’t stop till tears ran down her face.
“What’s so funny?” Nick looked blank.
“Everything. You, Weinberg, me, that damn crazy party you took me to last night. I can’t even begin to sort out what’s real and what isn’t.” And then Nick started to laugh too, but now there was mischief in his face and he went to his briefcase. He hoped he had guessed right.
“What are you up to over there, Waterman?”
“Well, Kate”—he had his back to her, but there was humor in his voice and Tillie was smiling broadly as she watched the proceedings—“I know what you mean about not being able to sift what’s real from what isn’t, so … to figure things out”—Kate was already grinning as she listened—“I thought I’d come up here once and for all and find out if you were really Cinderella, or just one of the ugly stepsisters.” And with that he wheeled around, and produced a glass slipper, reposing on a gold-bordered red velvet cushion. It was a life-sized shoe, the best plastic made, and it had taken his secretary three hours to locate it through the prop department at Paramount. And now she was sitting there, in her blue jeans, laughing again.
“Well, Cinderella, shall we give it a go?” He walked over to where she sat, and she saw that the slipper was a high-heeled, pointed-toe number with a glass rosette. He kneeled at her feet while she broke into fresh whoops of laughter, as she stuck out the “dainty” red rubber boot she had worn in the rain.
“Nick Waterman, you’re crazy!” But the entourage was loving it. Tillie couldn’t stop laughing, Tygue was hopping around like a flea, and even Bert was chasing and barking as though he knew what was going on. But the boot came off, the shoe slid on, and Nick sat back on his heels with a grin.
“Cinderella, I presume.” He couldn’t help feeling victorious, and looking it. He had guessed exactly the right size.
She stood up on it gingerly and broke into laughter again. “How the hell did you guess my size?” Practice, obviously. But whatever else he did, he certainly didn’t do this every day. “And how did you find it?” She sat back down in the chair with a thud and a grin and looked into those magical blue eyes of his.
“God bless Hollywood, Kate. But it did take us a while.”
“What time did you get here?”
“About three. Why? Was I late?” He laughed again, and sat down hard on the floor, narrowly missing Bert, who then crawled onto his lap, leaving two muddy footprints on his clean beige linen trousers. But Nick didn’t seem to care. He was more interested in Kate, who was looking at him in astonishment.
“You got here at three? What have you done all this time?” It was already past five.
“Tygue took me down to look at the horses. With Tillie of course.” He smiled in her direction, and she blushed, not unlike Kate. There was something about him, so open, so direct; there was no avoiding him, no shying away. “Then we went for a walk down by the river. We played cards for a while. And then you came home.”
“Just call me Cinderella.” She glanced down at her foot again, and wondered if she could keep the shoe. “You came up here just for this?” She couldn’t get over it, but he averted his gaze.
“I was coming up this way anyway, as a matter of fact. I rent a house in Santa Barbara from time to time. I have it this weekend.” Something made her doubt him, but she wasn’t quite sure what. Why would he lie to her? “May I invite you two over to visit tomorrow?” He looked hopeful, but Tygue immediately jumped in with a fierce shake of his head.
“No!”
“Tygue!” Now what? The man had come all the way up from L.A. with a glass slipper, and Tygue was going to keep her from seeing him? But she wanted to see him! To hell with Tygue.
“But Joey’s mom invited me for the weekend! And they have two new goats and his dad said he might get a pony tomorrow!” It was the best news Kate had had all day.
“Hey, podner, that’s dynamite!” Nick looked enormously impressed, and Tygue looked at him as though they were the only two people in the room who made any sense.
“Can I go?” He looked imploringly at his mother.
“Why not? Okay. And tell Joey he can come here next weekend. I may regret that, but I’ll take my chances.”
“Can I call Joey and tell him?”
“Go ahead.”
Tillie took her leave as Tygue dashed into the kitchen to use the phone, and Kate held out a hand to Nick. He took it in his, as he sat down more comfortably near her chair.
“I’d like to know what you did to win him over. It must have cost you a fortune.”
“Nope. Not yet anyway.”
“What does that mean? Nicholas Waterman, what have you been up to? Any man who can show up here with a glass slipper, and in the right size, is a man to be reckoned with.”
“I’ll accept that as a compliment. No, honest, I didn’t do a thing. I just promised to take both of you to Disneyland.”
“You did?” She was stunned. He carefully took off the glass shoe, and she wiggled her toes.
“Yes, I did. And your son accepted. He thinks Disneyland is a terrific idea. And he invited me to San Francisco to meet his Aunt Licia. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. ‘Aunt Licia’ would love you. Which reminds me, would you like a martini?”
“That’s it? The whole shot? A martini?” He laughed again. “All or nothing, huh?”
“You can have coffee. But the only booze I have right now is the stuff Licia leaves here to make her martinis.”
“Your sister?” He was only slightly confused, but he liked the chaotic family scene he was seeing. And he loved the boy.
“Felicia is my best friend, my conscience, and my alter ego. And she spoils Tygue rotten.” That rang a familiar bell with Nick but he wasn’t sure why. “Anyway, a martini?”
“I think I’ll opt for the coffee. By the way, am I totally disrupting your life?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” And then his face grew serious and he stopped teasing for a moment. “I mean it though. I asked Weinberg if he thought I’d get punched in the mouth by some six-foot-nine sumo wrestler when I got here, and he said he didn’t think so, but he didn’t really know. He suggested I take my chances, and proceed at my own risk. Which I did. But all kidding aside, am I going to make trouble for you by being here?” He seemed upset at the thought. She had looked so unhappy at the end of the party the night before. He didn’t want to see her that way again. But he had had to see her, even if only once more.
“Of course you’re not going to make trouble. Who would you make trouble with? Tygue seems to approve of you. He’s the only sumo wrestler around here.” She knew what he meant, and she liked him for asking. As she got up to make him coffee, she was wearing one red boot and one stockinged foot and her hair was tangled and loose, the way he liked it. He thought she looked even more beautiful than she had on the show.
“Let me just get this straight. Tygue is the only one around here to object?” He said it slowly and carefully, as though she might not understand.
“That’s right.”
“Seems to me you said something about a friend.” She looked at him quizzically and then shrugged. “Someone who spoils the boy. You said it at lunch yesterday.” And then they both grinned and they said it together, as Nick suddenly understood.
“Aunt Licia.”
He smiled broadly and followed her out to the kitchen, where Tygue hung up the phone.
“Okay, Mom. All set. His dad’ll pick me up tomorrow morning. And he’ll even bring me home Sunday afternoon.” He looked up at both of them matter-of-factly, as though he’d known Nick forever. “What’s for dinner? Did you know Nick is going to take us to Disneyland? Right, Bert?” Bert wagged his tail, and Tygue left the room in search of Willie, without waiting to hear what was for dinner.
“He’s a riot.”
“Sometimes.” Kate smiled at his retreating back as he left, and then looked up at Nick. “He’s a nice kid and I love him a lot.”
“You’re a good mother. What is for dinner, by the way?”
“Does that mean you’d like to stay for dinner?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
It was amazing. She hardly knew him, and here he was, hanging out in the kitchen, and asking to stay for dinner. But it felt good. Her defenses were not what they should have been; she was just too tired.
“It’s not too much trouble. And you made it here just in time for Tygue’s favorite gourmet treat.”
“What?”
“Tacos.”
“That’s my favorite too.”
She handed him a mug of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. It was a long way from Carmel right now. A long way from Tom.
“What were you thinking just then?”
“When?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.” He was suddenly very intense as he reached out again for her hand. “Are you happy here. Kate?” She looked up at him honestly and nodded.
“Yes. Very.” Then what was the shadow? Why the fleeting lightning bolts of pain?
“Are there good people in your life?” he wanted to know. Suddenly it mattered to him.
“Yes. Very. You’ve met them all now. All except one. Licia.”
“That’s it?” He looked shocked. “Just the boy?”
“And Tillie, the woman who was here with Tygue when you got here. And Bert, of course.” She smiled, remembering her threat to talk about him on the show.
“Of course. But you’re serious? This is it?”
“I told you. I’m a hermit.” No wonder she had freaked at the party. “I like it this way.”
“Was it like this when you were married?” She shook her head, but her eyes gave nothing away.
“No, it was different.”
“Does Tygue remember his dad?” His voice was very soft as they sipped their coffee in the quiet kitchen, and she shook her head again.
“He couldn’t. His dad died before he was born.”
“Oh God, how awful for you, Kate.” He looked at her as though he understood what it must have been like. It was the first time in a long time that she had thought of it.
“It was a very long time ago.”
“And you were alone?”
“Nope. I had Felicia, she was here with me.” Maybe that was it. All that incredible aloneness. Maybe that was the pain he saw.
“No family, Kate?”
“Only what you see. This is it. It’s a lot more than most people have.” And more than he had. She had hit close to home, without even meaning to. All those chicks with the big tits that he’d been taking out for the last twenty years, and where was that? He was thirty-seven years old and he had nothing.
“You’re right. Kate.”
“What?”
“Will you come to Santa Barbara tomorrow, for the day?” She was the sort of woman he felt he had to say that to. For the day. If he even hinted at more, she wouldn’t come. But she nodded slowly, watching him, as though weighing something, considering.
“Okay.”