Fine things (31 page)

She looked at him hesitantly, calculating the time. “I go on duty at eleven …which means I should leave town by nine-thirty” She smiled at him sheepishly. “Would you hate me if we went for a hamburger somewhere? It might be quicker. Patrick gets upset right now if I show up late to go on call for him. His wife is eight months pregnant and he's scared to death she's going to go into labor while I'm tied up somewhere. So I really have to get home on time tonight.” Not that she wanted to. She would have liked to spend hours talking to Bernie.

“I wouldn't mind a hamburger. In fact”—he signaled for their check at L'Etoile and the waiter appeared at once, as Bernie pulled out his wallet—“I know a fun place not far from here, if you don't mind a bit of a mixed crowd.” There was everything from longshoremen to debutantes, but he liked the atmosphere there and suspected she would too. And he was right. As soon as they walked in, she loved it. They ate their hamburgers and apple pie at the longshoreman's bar on the wharf called Olive Oyl's, and she left him with regret at nine-thirty to drive back to Napa. She was afraid she'd be late, and he walked her quickly back to her Austin Healy after dinner.

“Will you make it home all right?” He was worried about her. It was late to be driving to Napa alone, but she smiled at him.

“Much as I detest the words referring to my size, I'm a big girl now.” He laughed at her. She was sensitive about her height. “I had a wonderful time.”

“So did I.” And he really had. It was the most fun he had had in a long, long time. It was easy being with her, and comfortable sharing his most private thoughts and listening to hers.

“When are you coming back up to Napa again?” She looked hopeful.

“Not for a while. I have to go to Europe next week, and Nanny doesn't take the children up when I'm away. It's too much trouble packing up, schlepping everything around. I'll be back in less than three weeks. I'll call you when I get back, maybe we can have lunch up there.” He looked at her with a smile, and then he thought of something. “When are you going home for the holidays?”

“Christmas.”

“So are we. To New York. But we thought we might have Thanksgiving in Napa this year.” He didn't want to be in town for that, thinking of what was no more. “I'll call you when I get back from New York.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't work too hard.” He walked her out to her car, and smiled as she said that to him.

“Yes, Doctor. You too, and drive safely.”

She waved and he looked at his watch as she drove away. It was exactly nine thirty-five. And he called her at eleven-fifteen, from his house. He asked her service to page her if that was possible. And she said she had just walked in the door and hung up her coat when she answered.

“I just wanted to make sure you got home all right. You drive too fast.” He scolded her.

“You worry too much.”

“It's in the genes.” He laughed and in his case it was true. He had worried all his life, but it also made him good at things. He was a perfectionist about almost everything he touched, with excellent results at Wolffs at any rate.

“It's beautiful in Napa tonight, Bernie. The air is crisp and clear and the stars are all out.” The city was swathed in fog, and he was happy in either place, although he would have enjoyed being with her again. The evening had ended too quickly. “Where are you going in Europe, by the way?” She was curious about his life. It was so different from what she did.

“I'll be in Paris, London, Milan, Rome. I go twice a year for the store. I have to stop in New York afterwards for meetings.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is. Sometimes.” It had been with Liz. And before that. Lately it was less so. Like everything else he did, it was lonely.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Bernie, thank you.”

He laughed, thinking of their dinner at Olive Oyl's on the wharf. “It certainly wasn't Maxim's.”

“I loved it.” And then her buzzer went off and she had to leave him.

He could still hear her voice in his ears after he hung up, and just to clear his head afterwards, he walked into his closet, and took a deep breath of the very faint scent of Liz' perfume still lingering there. One had to work harder now to catch it, and he closed the door softly, feeling guilty. He wasn't thinking of Liz tonight, but of Megan. It was suddenly her perfume he longed for.

Chapter 38

Bernie stayed in New York longer than he had planned. This was an important year for ready-to-wear, there were major changes happening in the trade, and Bernie wanted to be on top of things. But he was pleased with the way things had gone when he finally left for San Francisco again. And he didn't remember the scarf he'd bought for Megan at Hermes until they went to Napa. He suddenly remembered it, tucked into a corner of his briefcase, and went to look for it. He found it, and decided to deliver it to her himself. He drove the car into town, and stopped outside the Victorian where she lived, and where her offices were. Her partner said she was out and he left the small tan box for her, with a note that read only “To Megan, from Paris. Best, Bernie.”

She called him that night to thank him for it, and he was pleased she liked it so much. It was navy and red and gold, and it had reminded him of her in her red boots and jeans and yellow slicker.

“I just got home and found it on my desk. Patrick must have left it there for me when you dropped it off. And it's beautiful, Bernie, I love it.”

“I'm glad you like it. We're opening a boutique for them here in March.”

“How fabulous. I love their things.”

“So does everyone. That ought to be good for us.” He told her about some of the other deals he'd made and she was impressed.

“All I did was diagnose three earaches, seven streps, a budding bronchitis, and a hot appendix in three weeks, not to mention a million cuts, splinters, bumps, and one broken thumb.” She sounded disappointed in herself, and he wasn't.

“That sounds a lot more meaningful to me. No one's life depends on my Italian luggage boutique or a line of French shoes. What you do gives some meaning to life. It's important.”

“I suppose it does.” But she was feeling down again. Her partner's wife had had the baby that week, a girl, and she had had that same ache again. But she didn't tell Bernie. She didn't know him that well and he was going to start thinking she was neurotic about other people's babies. “Did they tell you when you're moving back to New York?”

“Not yet. And for once, we didn't even have time to talk about it. There's a lot happening at the store just now. At least it's interesting. Would you like to have lunch tomorrow?” He was going to offer to meet her at the coffee shop in Saint Helena.

“I wish I could. Patrick's wife had the baby this week, and I have to cover for him. I could stop by the house on my way to the hospital to do rounds. Or would that upset Jane too much?” She was being honest with him. She had felt how strong Jane's resistance was when they met before, and she didn't want to upset her.

“I don't see why it should.” He didn't see what Megan did, or at least not as clearly.

“I don't think she's crazy about having ladies around.” She meant around him, but she didn't say it.

“She's got nothing to worry about.”

She wasn't sure Bernie understood the nature of it. She was protecting her mother's memory, and it was understandable. Megan just didn't want to rock her boat too hard. There was no need for it. “I don't want to upset anyone.”

“You'll upset me if you don't stop by. Besides, it's time you met Nanny Pip. She's the best member of the family. What time were you thinking of coming by?”

“About nine. Is that all right or is it too early?”

“Perfect. We'll be having breakfast then.”

“See you tomorrow.” And his heart raced at the thought of seeing her again. He told himself it was because she was such an interesting woman and he forced himself not to think of the shining black hair or the sensation he got in the pit of his stomach when he thought of her.

Megan arrived the next morning at nine-fifteen, after he had set another place for her. And as he put the place mat down, Jane had looked up at him questioningly.

“Who's that for?”

“Dr. Jones.” He tried to look noncommittal as he pretended to shuffle through
The New York Times.
But Nanny was watching him. And so was Jane. Like a vulture.

“Who's sick?” Jane pursued.

“No one. She just wanted to come by for coffee.”

“Why? Who called her?”

Bernie turned to look at her. “Why don't you relax, sweetheart? She's a nice woman. Now drink your juice.”

“I don't have juice.” They were eating strawberries, and he looked up distractedly and grinned.

“Drink it anyway.”

She smiled, but she was suddenly suspicious of him. She didn't want anyone in their life. They had everything they needed now. Each other, Alex, and Nanny Pip. It was Alex who had started calling her Pip and the name had stuck immediately. Nanny Pippin was too much for him.

And then Megan arrived, with a big bunch of yellow flowers and a sunny smile for everyone. Bernie introduced her to Nanny Pip, and Nanny pumped her hand with a radiant smile and it was obvious she was impressed with her from the first.

“A
doctor
, how wonderful! And Mr. Fine said you were kind to poor little Alex with his ear.” Megan chatted pleasantly with her and Nanny made it clear that she approved of her, as a doctor, and a woman, by lavishing every possible attention on her. She poured her coffee, gave her muffins, eggs, bacon, sausages, and an enormous bowl of strawberries as Jane stared at her with barely veiled hatred. She was angry at her for coming by, angrier at her for making friends with Bernie.

“I don't know why Daddy asked you to come by,” she said loudly, as Megan praised the delicious food and smiled at her. “No one's sick here.” Bernie was stunned by her rudeness, as was Nanny, who growled at Jane, but Megan smiled at her pleasantly, looking undisturbed by the child's words.

“I like getting to know my patients when they're well too. Sometimes”—she explained patiently, looking undaunted by the black looks Jane was giving her openly— “it's actually easier to treat someone if you've known them a little bit when they're not ill.”

“We go to a doctor in San Francisco anyway.”

“Jane.” It was a single warning word. Bernie wasn't pleased with her. He glanced at Megan apologetically, as Alexander sidled over to her and stood staring up at her.

“Lap,” he announced. “I wanna sit on your lap.” His English still sounded like an awkward translation from the Greek, but Megan understood him perfectly, and plopped him on her knees, and handed him a strawberry which he shoved into his mouth in one piece as Megan smiled down at him. And as Bernie watched, he suddenly noticed that Megan was wearing the scarf he had dropped off to her the day before. It pleased him to see her wearing it, but almost at the same instant he noticed it, so did Jane. She had seen the box on his desk the day before and asked him what it was. He said it was a scarf for a friend, and Jane had rapidly figured it out. She remembered the Hermes scarves he had brought Liz. And this time he had also brought one for Nanny Pippin. A beautiful navy and white and gold that she could wear with her uniforms and navy coat and brogues, and the hat that made her look like Mary Poppins.

“Where did you get that scarf?” She acted as though Megan had stolen it, and the pretty young woman gave a start and then rapidly recovered. It had almost been Jane's point, but in the end, it was Megan's.

“Oh …that… I got it from a friend a long time ago. When I lived in France.” She instantly knew what she had to do and Bernie was grateful to her. It was as though they had begun a conspiracy, without ever intending to, but now they were suddenly partners.

“You did?” Jane looked surprised. She thought Bernie was the only person in the world who knew Hermes.

“Yes.” She sounded totally credible, and calmer now. “I lived in Provence for a year. Have you been to Paris with your daddy, Jane?” she asked innocently, and Bernie concealed a smile. She was good with kids. Hell, she was great with them. And Alex was cuddling up to her happily with little warm noises and snuggles. And having eaten all her strawberries, he was now assisting her with her eggs, and gobbled a piece of her bacon.

“No, I haven't been to Paris. Not yet. But I've been to New York.” She suddenly felt important.

“That's terrific. What do you like best there?”

“Radio City Music Hall!” Unwittingly, she was getting pulled into it. And then suddenly she looked suspiciously at Megan. She had just remembered that she didn't want to like her, and she refused to continue the conversation, answering only in monosyllables until Megan left.

Bernie apologized to her as he walked her to the car. “I feel terrible. She's never rude like that. It must be some kind of jealousy.” He was genuinely upset and Megan shook her head and smiled at him. He was an innocent in matters she understood only too well. The heartaches and dilemmas of children.

“Stop worrying about it. It's perfectly normal. You and Alex are all she's got. She's defending her turf.” Her voice was gentle, but she didn't want to cause him pain by being too blunt with him. He was still fragile too, and she knew it. “She's defending her mother's memory. It's very hard for her to see a woman around you, even a nonthreatening one.” She smiled. “Just don't take any sexy blondes home to her, or she'll poison them for you.” They both laughed as he opened the car door for her.

“I'll remember that. You handled her beautifully, Meg.”

“Don't forget that's my line of work, more or less. You sell bread. I know kids. Sometimes.” He laughed and leaned toward her, suddenly wanting to kiss her, and then just as quickly backed off, horrified by his own reaction.

“I'll try to keep that in mind too. See you soon, I hope.” And then he remembered what he'd wanted to ask her. Thanksgiving was only two weeks away, and they weren't coming back till then. “Do you want to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?” He had thought a lot about asking her, all the way home from New York in fact.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you think Jane is ready for that? Don't push her too fast.”

“What am I supposed to do? Sit alone in my room for the rest of my life?” He sounded like a disappointed child. “I have a right to friends, don't I?”

“Yes. But give her a chance to catch her breath. Why don't I just come for dessert? That might be a good compromise.”

“Do you have other plans?” He wanted to know who she was seeing. She seemed so busy all the time, and he wondered with whom. It was hard to believe her work could keep her that busy and yet it seemed to.

“I told Patrick's wife, Jessica, I'd give her a hand. They have relatives coming from out of town, and she could use a hand cooking dinner. Why don't I get her on her feet and then come here?”

“Anything else you're planning to do? Give mouth-to-mouth to someone on the way?” He was amazed by her. She was constantly doing something for somebody. And rarely for herself.

“It's not as bad as that, is it?” She looked surprised. She never thought of it. It was just the way she was, and one of the things he liked best about her.

“Seems to me you're always doing things for everyone but yourself,” Bernie said with concern in his eyes.

“I get what I need out of it, I suppose. I don't need much.” Or at least she never had before. But lately she was wondering. There were things that seemed to be missing from her life. She knew it when Alexander stood looking up at her and pointing at her lap, and even when Jane stared at her so angrily. Suddenly she was tired of just looking into ears and down throats and testing reflexes.

“See you on Thanksgiving then. For dessert if nothing else.” But he was still disappointed she wouldn't come for more, and he secretly blamed it on Jane, and was annoyed with her when he went back inside again. And even more so when she spoke up against Megan.

“Boy, is she ugly, isn't she, Daddy?” She was looking piercingly at him and he glared at her.

“I don't think so, Jane. I think she's a very good-looking girl.” He was not going to let her get to him, no matter what.

“Girl? Yuck! She looks about four hundred years old.”

He clenched his jaw and looked at her, trying to speak quietly. “Why do you hate her so much?”

“Because she's dumb.”

“No.” He shook his head. “She's not dumb. She's very smart. You don't get to be a doctor by being dumb.”

“Well, I don't like her anyway.” There were suddenly tears in her eyes, and a plate slipped from her hands and broke as she tried to help Nanny Pip clear away the dishes.

Bernie walked over to her quietly. “She's just a friend, sweetheart. That's all she is.” Megan was right. Jane was frightened of a woman coming into his life. He could see that now. “I love you very much.”

“Then don't let her come here anymore.” She was crying now and Alexander was staring at her, worried but fascinated, with no idea of what they were talking about.

“Why not?”

“We don't need her here, that's why.” And with that, she ran from the room and slammed her bedroom door, and Nanny Pip looked at him quietly and held up a hand as he made a move to follow her.

“Leave her alone for a little while, Mr. Fine. She'll be all right. She has to learn that things aren't always going to be this way.” She smiled gently at him. “I hope not anyway, for your sake. And for Jane's. I like the doctor very much.” She made “very” sound like “vera.”

“So do I.” Bernie was grateful for the encouragement. “She's a nice woman and a good friend. I wish Jane hadn't gotten so worked up about nothing.”

“She's afraid of losing you.” It was exactly what Megan had said.

“She'll never do that.”

“Be sure you tell her so. Frequently. And for the rest, she'll just have to get used to it. Go slowly …and she'll come around.” Go where? He wasn't going anywhere. With Megan or anyone. And he looked at Nanny solemnly.

“It's nothing like that, Nanny Pip. That's what I wanted Jane to understand.”

“Don't be so sure of that.” Nanny looked at him honestly. “You have a right to more than the life you're leading now. It wouldn't be healthy to live like this for the rest of your life.” She knew exactly how celibate he was, and she also knew about the closet full of clothes that he and Jane still wandered into now and then, pretending to look for something else. She thought it was time to get rid of them, but she also knew he still wasn't ready.