Danielle Steel - One Day at a Time

“What do you approve of?” Coco asked. The dogs were sound asleep in the back, utterly worn out from their long run on the beach, particularly when they chased after the horses. Sallie had tried desperately to herd them, but they had gotten away. She had had to content herself with chasing birds, while Jack lumbered after her. He was so tired he could hardly walk by the time they left, and he was snoring loudly now. It made a soft, steady purr from the back of the van.

“I approve of your living here,” Leslie said comfortably. “In case you need to hear that from someone. In fact, I envy you.” She smiled at what he said. It was nice to hear.

“Thank you.” She liked knowing that he saw the beauty of it, and the value of the life she lived. He didn't think she was a hippie or a freak, and he didn't think her home was a dump. He had experienced it like a warm embrace, and loved seeing that piece of her. All the pieces of her fit seamlessly. She was just totally different from Jane, which was too difficult for her family to accept. They all fit into a single mold, Coco didn't, and she seemed far better to him for that.

They drove through Mill Valley quietly, and onto the Golden Gate Bridge in Sunday night traffic. She got off the ramp after the bridge into Pacific Heights, and asked him if he wanted to stop somewhere to pick up food. He really didn't. He was totally sated from the good feelings of the day, and relaxed after their long walk on the beach. He had even dozed in the car on the way home, as Coco drove in silence. In spite of who he was, which no longer impressed her as it did when she first met him, and the shock of seeing him in her sister's kitchen, they were totally at ease with each other. She was surprised at how comfortable she was being with him, and he had noticed the same thing and commented on it during their walk on the beach. He said that it was rare for him, and he usually protected himself from strangers. But she was no longer a stranger. They were already friends, even after two days.

“How about if I make you an omelette? I'm rather good at those, if I do say so myself. You could make one of your lovely California salads,” he said hopefully, and she laughed.

“I'm not much of a cook,” she confessed. “I live on salads, and the occasional piece of fish.”

“You look it,” he said as a compliment. She seemed healthy, strong, trim, and very thin. He could tell even in her T-shirts that she had a lovely body, but so did her sister, who was a good decade older. Leslie had to try harder, went to the gym every day, and worked out with a trainer intensely before every film. His livelihood depended on it, and so far so good. He didn't show his age, and his body hadn't changed in ten years. But it wasn't easy. And his penchant for ice cream was a curse.

“The omelette sounds delicious,” she said as the ancient van labored up the hill on Divisadero. They barely made it to the crest on Broadway and the dogs were still asleep when they got out. “Everybody out!” she called to rouse them, as Leslie picked up the groceries they'd brought back with them, and she carried in the big straw bag full of clean clothes. They looked no different than the rest of what she had at Jane's. She always wore the same things, in different colors, and more often than not white T-shirts and jeans. She had a closet full of them, and since losing Ian, she never bothered to dress up. There was no one to see or care what she wore. All she needed was to be clean, warm, and have decent running shoes for work. It was a simple life, and far, far less complicated than his. Every time he went out, he had to look like a star. He had mentioned that he had a whole wardrobe to replace now, and didn't really care about that at the moment either, since no one was seeing him, and he wasn't going anywhere. It was a relief not to have to think about it, and a blessing not to have to worry about paparazzi in L.A. No one knew he was in San Francisco, except Coco and her sister and partner. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Leslie Baxter had disappeared. It defined freedom to him, which was what Coco cherished in her life too. Freedom and peace. It was almost like a blessing he was catching from her, and he liked it. It was an easy way to live.

While Coco turned off the alarm Leslie turned on the lights in the house. She left her tote bag at the foot of the stairs, and they put the groceries away together in the kitchen, while the dogs stood around waiting for dinner. She fed them, and then set the kitchen table with some of Jane's impeccable French linen place mats and elegant silver, while Leslie got out the ingredients for their omelette. And Coco made the salad he had asked for. She made a Caesar dressing, and half an hour later, she lit the candles, and they sat down to a simple dinner. As promised, the omelette was delicious.

“What a terrific day,” he said, looking happy, as they chatted about nothing in particular. The day at the beach had been great for both of them, and they finished the meal with Dove bars again.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked as they rinsed the dishes and he looked pensive.

“I think I'd like to take a swim. I checked the pool yesterday and it's very warm. I have to work out every day in L.A., but I'm too lazy to do it tonight,” he said with a grin. Jane had a very professional-looking gym, where she worked out daily with a trainer. Coco never bothered, nor did Liz, who always complained about ten extra pounds but did nothing about it. Jane was a perfectionist in all things, including her appearance.

“I get my exercise walking the dogs every day,” Coco said.

“After looking at the ocean all day, I really fancy a swim.” She smiled at the expression. Now and then he reminded her of Ian, with his very British expressions, that were the same as the Australian ones Ian had used. They were comfortable and familiar, and a little nostalgic for her. “I trust there are no sharks in the pool.”

“Not lately,” Coco reassured him, and he invited her to join him. She usually didn't bother to use her sister's pool, but it sounded like fun with him. “Okay,” she agreed.

They left the kitchen, went to their bedrooms, and five minutes later met at the pool, while Coco turned the lights on. It was spectacular, and indoors, since the weather in San Francisco was usually chilly. She knew that Jane swam in it daily and occasionally Liz.

They swam together for nearly an hour. Coco swam laps while Leslie watched her, and then not to be outdone, he swam laps alongside her. He was winded long before she was, but she was younger and in better shape.

“Good lord, you have the endurance of an Olympic swimmer,” he said in admiration.

“I was captain of the women's swimming team at Princeton,” she confessed.

“I rowed in my youth,” he volunteered, “but if I tried it now it would kill me.”

“I was on the crew team for a year, sophomore year, I hated it. Swimming was easier.” They were both relaxed and tired as they got out of the pool. He had worn plain blue swim trunks, and she wore a simple black bikini that showed off her figure, but there was nothing overtly seductive about her. She was a pretty woman with a good body, but she never flirted with him. She was coming to value their friendship.

They both put on the thick terrycloth robes Jane kept at the pool, and went back to their bedrooms to shower, dripping water on the carpet. He came to her bedroom a few minutes later, showered and clean, wearing the robe from the pool. She had on her flannel pajamas, and had just started a movie, not one of his this time, so as not to embarrass him. She knew it made him uncomfortable to see himself on screen, from what he had said the night before. “Want to watch? It's a chick flick. I'm addicted to them.” It was a well-known romantic comedy that she had already seen many times and loved. He said he had never seen it, and she patted the bed beside her. Jack hadn't taken his favorite place yet, and was passed out on the floor with Sallie. They had worn the dogs out totally that day, which Leslie considered a blessing. They still made him a little nervous when they got lively, particularly the bull mastiff, however gentle Coco said he was. He was still a two-hundred-pound dog.