Season Of Passion Part 18

"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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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?"

"Just now."

"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 G.o.d, 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 t.i.ts 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."

CHAPTER 19.

She found the house easily with the map he had drawn her. She hadn't let him come to pick her up. She wanted to drive there on her own. It was only half an hour away, but the drive gave her time to think. She wasn't sure why she was going, except that she liked Nick. And he was easy to talk to. He had stayed until almost eleven the night before, when she had started to fall asleep on the couch. She was exhausted, and he just kissed her chastely on the cheek when he left. But it had been a lovely evening. They had built a fire, and he had popped corn for Tygue, and the boy had shown him the new cowboy suit. Nick was in awe of it.

"Where did you ever find that?"

"At the hotel." Other people bought jade and maribou bed jackets, she bought her son the kind of outfit every little boy dreamed of.

"I wish I'd been your kid."

"No you don't. I'm a monster. Ask Tygue." But Tygue had only chuckled and shoved another handful of b.u.t.tery popcorn into his mouth.

"Some monster." He had wanted to kiss her then. But not in front of the boy. He knew she wouldn't like that. And he didn't want to do it that way either. He wanted a lot from this woman. Her love as well as her body, and even more than that. He wanted her time, her life, her children, her wisdom, her gentleness, her compa.s.sion. He saw all that was there. But she saw what was in him too. She had begun to see it that first day. He had cared enough to come looking for her, to find her, to bring her a silly plastic slipper. But he cared enough to be good to Tygue too, to see what was in her eyes, to hear what she didn't say. She had to be careful of that, she reminded herself, as she pulled into the driveway of the address he had given her in Santa Barbara. Nick Waterman saw too much.

It was a white house, with well-tended black trim and beautiful large bronze fixtures. There was a carriage light, and an enormous bronze sea gull hovered on the door as the knocker. She flapped its wings to knock, and then stepped back. The house was on a little hill overlooking the water, and three willow trees stood nearby. It was in sharp contrast to her own simpler house. But this one had less warmth, only beauty.

He opened the door barefoot and wearing cut-off jeans, and his shirt was an old faded tee-shirt that matched his eyes.

"Cinderella!" His face lit up when he saw her, in spite of the teasing words.

"Should I have worn the slipper just to be sure you'd recognize me?"

"I'll take your word for it, Come on in. I was outside painting the deck."

"Sounds like you work hard for your rental." She followed him into the house, and noticed the stern Early American decor. It was as she had thought, all beauty and no warmth. It was a pity, because the house was filled with beautiful things.

"I enjoy puttering around here. The guy who owns it never gets out of L.A. So I dabble around when I have time." He was painting the deck a breezy sky blue, and he had painted two gulls in flight in a corner.

"You need clouds." She said it in a businesslike way, as she looked at the deck.

"Huh?"

"Clouds. You need clouds. Do you have any white paint?"

"Yeah. Over there." He grinned at her, and she smiled back as she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, and then the cuffs of her jeans. "Want some of my old clothes to wear, Kate? I'd hate to have you wreck your stuff." He was serious but she only laughed at him. She had worn comfortable old clothes to lie on the beach. And underneath it all was a little orange bikini. But that was for later. Maybe. She wasn't sure yet.

"How's Tygue?"

"Fine. He said to say hi. He left at the crack of dawn to go see those goats. Now he wants one too."

"He should have his own horse." Nick was painting another gull in the far corner.

"That's what he tells me. Maybe you'd like to buy him one." She was teasing, but she got worried when she saw his face.

"Nick, I'm only kidding. Now, seriously; don't you dare. I've been fighting Felicia off on that one for two years."

"Sounds like a sensible lady. I'll have to meet this Felicia of yours. How long have you known her?"

"Oh, for years. I met her when I was modeling for-" And then she looked up as though she had said something she shouldn't have.

"You think I didn't know?" He smiled at her from his corner. "Come on, love. I'm a producer. I can tell when people have modeled, or done ballet, or lifted weights."

"I lifted weights." She looked over at him with a broad grin and flexed an arm as he laughed at her.

"Great clouds you're painting, Cinderella."

"You like 'em?" She looked pleased.

"Sure do. Especially the one on the tip of your nose."

"Creep. I lied to Weinberg, you know. I told him I'd never modeled. I thought if I admitted it, he'd sell my body to the highest bidder and make me do a lot of publicity stuff."

"That's my girl. Chicken Little." He made rude clucking noises and she threatened to splash paint in his direction.

"Can you blame me for not wanting to do all that c.r.a.p? I'm happy here, away from all that crazy stuff. Nick, I don't belong there."

"n.o.body does." He sat down on the railing and looked at her. "But I'll tell you something else, babe, you don't belong here either. You're wasting yourself. One of these days you're going to have to get b.a.l.l.sy and get back out there, at least part of the time." She nodded somberly.

"I know. I've been trying. But it's rough."

"Not as rough as you thought though, is it?"

She shook her head, wondering how he knew. He seemed to understand so much. She had the feeling he really knew her.

"And there are compensations in getting out in the world," he said. She laughed at that one.