Danielle Steel - Fine things

“I like him too.” But her eyes said she wasn't quite as sure as she had once been. Things had gotten complicated over the summer. And she instinctively sensed the seriousness of their involvement. “How come you go out with him so much?”

Liz' head pounded ominously as she stared at her daughter silently over her coffee. “I like him.” To hell with it. She decided to say it. “Actually I love him.” The woman and the girl stared at each other over the table. She wasn't telling Jane anything she didn't know, but it was the first time Jane had heard the words and she didn't think she liked them. “I love him.” Liz' voice wobbled on the last word and she hated herself for it.

“So? … So what?” Jane got up and flounced away from the table as her mother's eyes grabbed her back.

“What's wrong with that?”

“Who said there was something wrong?”

“You did, by the way you're acting. He loves you, too, you know.”

“Yeah? How do you know?” There were tears in Jane's eyes now, and Liz' head was throbbing.

“I know because he told me.” She stood up and walked slowly to her child, wondering just how much she should tell her and tempted to say it all. She had to tell her eventually, and maybe it was better sooner than later. She sat down on the couch and pulled Jane onto her lap. The little body was stiff, but she didn't fight her. “He wants to marry us.” Her mother's voice was soft in the quiet room, and Jane couldn't fight back the tears any longer. She buried her face as she sobbed and clung to her mother. There were tears in Liz' eyes, too, as she held the little girl that had once been her baby, and in some ways always would be. “I love him, sweetheart. …”

“Why? … I mean why do we have to marry him? We were okay just us.”

“Were we? Didn't you ever wish we had a daddy?”

The sobbing stopped, but only for a moment. “Sometimes. But we did okay without one.” And she still had the illusion of the father she had never known, the “handsome actor” who had died when she was a baby.

“Maybe we'd do better with a daddy. Did you ever think of that?”

Jane sniffed as Liz held her. “You'd have to sleep in his bed and I couldn't get into bed with you anymore on Saturday and Sunday mornings.”

“Sure you could.” But they both knew it would be different, and in some ways it was sad and in other ways it was happy. “Think of all the good stuff we could do with him … go to the beach, and go for drives, and go sailing, and …think of what a nice man he is, baby.”

Jane nodded. She couldn't deny that. She was too fair to ever try maligning him. “I guess I kind of like him …even with the beard …” She smiled up at her mother through her tears and then asked what she really wanted to know. “Will you still love me if you have him?”

“Always.” The tears spilled onto Liz' cheeks as she held her. “Always and always and always.”

Chapter 9

Jane and Liz started buying all the bride magazines, and when they finally went to Wolffs together to pick out their dresses for the wedding, Jane was not only resigned, she was beginning to enjoy it. They spent an hour in the children's department, looking for just the right dress for Jane and they finally found it. It was white velvet with a pink satin sash, and a tiny pink rosebud at the neck, and it was exactly what Jane wanted. And they were equally successful finding a dress for Liz. And afterwards Bernie took them to lunch at the Saint Francis.

And the following week in New York, Berman had already heard the news. News traveled fast in retail circles, and Bernie was an important man at Wolffs. Berman called him with curiosity and amusement.

“Holding out on me, are you?” There was a smile in Berman's voice and Bernie felt sheepish replying.

“Not really.”

“I hear Cupid has struck a blow on the West Coast. Is it rumor or truth?” He was pleased for his longtime friend and he wished him well. Whoever she was, he was sure Bernie had made a wise choice, and he hoped to meet her.

“It's true, but I wanted to tell you myself, Paul.”

“Then go ahead. Who is she? All I know is that she bought a wedding dress on the fourth floor.” He laughed. They lived in a tiny world run by rumors and gossip.

“Her name is Liz, and she's a second-grade teacher. She's originally from Chicago, went to Northwestern, is twenty-seven years old, and has a delicious little girl named Jane who is five years old. And we're getting married right after Christmas.”

“It all sounds very wholesome. What's her last name?”

“O'Reilly.”

Paul roared. He had met Mrs. Fine several times. “What did your mother say?”

Bernie smiled too. “I haven't told her yet.”

“Let us know when you do. We should be hearing the sonic boom over here, or has she mellowed in recent years?”

“Not exactly.”

Berman smiled again. “Well, I wish you the best of luck. Will I be seeing Liz with you when you come east next month?” Bernie had to go to New York, and then Europe, but Liz was not planning to go along. She had to work, and take care of Jane, and they were looking for a house to rent for the next year. There was no point buying if they were going back to New York so soon.

“I think she'll be busy here. But we'd love to see you at the wedding.” They had already ordered the invitations, at Wolffs, of course. But the wedding was going to be small. They didn't want more than fifty or sixty people. It was going to be a simple lunch somewhere, and then they were leaving for Hawaii. Tracy, Liz' friend from school, had already promised to stay with Jane at the new house while they were away, which was helpful.

“When is it?” Bernie told him. “I'll try to come And I imagine now you may not be in such a hurry to get back to New York.” Bernie's heart sank at the words.

“That's not necessarily true. I'm going to be looking for schools for Jane in New York when I'm there, and Liz will look at them with me next spring.” He wanted Berman to feel pressured to bring him home, but there was no sound at the other end as Bernie frowned. “We want to have her enrolled for next September.”

“Right…. Well, I'll see you in New York in a few weeks. And congratulations.” Bernie sat staring into space afterwards and that night he said something to Liz. He was worried.

“Christ, I'll be damned if I'll let them stick me here for three years like they did in Chicago.”

“Can you talk to him when you go east?”

“I intend to.”

But when he did, when he was in New York, Paul Berman wouldn't commit himself to a sure return date.

“You've only been there for a few months. You have to get the branch on its feet for us, Bernard. That was always our understanding.”

“It's doing beautifully, and I've been there for eight months.”

“But the store has only been open for less than five. Give it another year. You know how badly we need you. The tone of that store will be set for years by what you're doing there right now, and you're the best man we have.”

“Another year is an awfully long time.” To Bernie it felt like a lifetime.

“Let's talk about it in six months.” Paul was putting Bernie off, and he was depressed when he left the store that night. It was the wrong frame of mind to meet with his parents. He had made a date with them at La Cote Basque, because he explained that he didn't have time to go out to Scarsdale. And he knew how anxious his mother was to see him. He had bought her a beautiful handbag that afternoon, a beige lizard with a tiger's eye clasp that was the latest from Gucci. It was a work of art more than a handbag and he hoped she'd like it. But his heart was heavy as he walked from his hotel to the restaurant. It was one of those beautiful October nights, when the weather is perfect for exactly two minutes, and the way it is in San Francisco all year round. But because it's so rare, in New York, it always seems much more special.