Danielle Steel - Family album

“Hi, there.” They hadn't introduced themselves and he didn't know her name, but he volunteered to help with the bags. He was juggling both tennis rackets, a suitcase in each hand, and his own briefcase, which was no small feat, and Vanessa was awkwardly attempting to help and thanking him, as everything fell in a heap in front of their door and he looked at her. “You guys sure drag a lot of stuff around.” And then in a soft voice, as Louise stepped inside, “Want to come down for a glass of wine?” Vanessa was tempted to, but she had the feeling he was putting a fast move on her. She didn't go to men's apartments, and she didn't really know who he was. He could have been the Boston Strangler for all she knew, but he seemed to read her mind. “You won't get raped, I swear. Not unless you agree.” He looked her over appraisingly and she blushed, as he wondered exactly how old she was. She looked about twenty-one but she had said she was an undergraduate. Maybe twenty, or even nineteen. She had a calm, tranquil air, and all that healthy blond beauty, which appealed to him. He was dying to spend some time with her.

Instead of going downstairs with him, she invited him in to join her roommate and herself for a beer. It wasn't what he would have preferred, but since he seemed to have no choice, he accepted gracefully, put the rest of their stuff inside the hall, closed the door, and looked around at what they'd done to the place. It had all been painted pale yellow and there were plants and magazines, and a lot of rattan, and some Indian prints, and there was a photograph of a large family on the wall. A massive group standing next to a swimming pool. It looked very California to him, and he inquired as to who they were, and then suddenly recognized Van, standing next to Valerie, with Lionel next to her.

“Those are my folks.” She said it simply and he didn't question her about who they were, and then suddenly Louise laughed as she strolled by with a beer can in her hand.

“Aren't you going to ask her who her Mom is?”

Vanessa blushed to the roots of her hair and she could have killed her friend. She hated talking about that, but Louise had been impressed ever since she had discovered that her mother was Faye Thayer. She had seen all her films, including the ones she had acted in years before.

“Okay.” The tall young man with auburn hair looked at her with an obliging smile. “Who's your Mom?”

“Dracula, who's yours?”

“Cute.”

“Want another beer?”

“Sure.” He liked the way her eyes danced when she smiled, and he was curious now, as he glanced at the photograph again. There was something familiar about all of them, but nothing specific came to mind as he looked at Vanessa again. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“Okay, big deal. My Mom is Faye Thayer.” It was easier to get it over with than to play coy. It wasn't all that important to her, and she hadn't bragged about it since third grade. In fact, she had learned to keep her mouth shut most of the time. It wasn't easy being the child of a celebrity, let alone one who had won three Academy Awards. Somehow, it made people expect more of you, or else they were quick to criticize. And Vanessa liked getting by quietly in life. The boy was looking at her now, with narrowed eyes, as he nodded his head.

“That is very interesting. I like her films. Some of them.”

“So do I.” She smiled. At least he hadn't fallen all over himself the way some people did. “What did you say your name was again?” He had never really said. It had all been pretty casual as he carried their bags upstairs.

“Jason Stuart.” He smiled at her. She certainly didn't seem stuck up about who she was. Her friend was a lot more impressed. He glanced at the picture again. “Who are all the other kids?”

“My brothers and sisters.”

'That's quite a mob.” He was impressed. He was an only child, and large families had never appealed to him much. He liked his life the way it was. His parents were older and had retired to New Hampshire, and everything would come to him one day, not that there was much. His father was an attorney, with a small country practice now, though he wasn't really interested in pursuing it anymore, and he did as little as he could. Jason had thought he might like to go into law too, but when he thought of it seriously, writing had a lot more appeal to him. He was going to write a play, after his thesis, he told Vanessa over their third beer. It wasn't so much that he liked to drink, but the heat was killing them. The whole building seemed to be baking after a day of it, and after Louise went to bed, they went outside to get some air. They walked along Riverside Drive for a while, he telling her about New England, and she talking about Beverly Hills.

“I'd say they're worlds apart, wouldn't you?” He smiled down at her again. She seemed mature for her age, and quiet, and unassuming. She laughed a little later on and told him about her twin.

“We're worlds apart, too. All she wants to do is be a big star. She just got a part in a horror movie with blood streaming out of her ears.” He made a face and they both laughed. “I'd like to write a screenplay one day, but you couldn't pay me to act.” And then, for no reason in particular she thought of Lionel, and she had a feeling he would like this man, and Jason would like him. Both of them were honest, unpretentious, and bright. “My brother's making films too.”

“You people must be quite a group.” Overwhelming at best.

“I suppose we are. I'm used to us. And everyone's going their own way now. There's only one left at home.” Poor little Anne with her runaway days in the Haight, and the baby she'd had to give away. Vanessa felt sorry for her sometimes, although she didn't understand her now any better than she ever had. They all seemed so far away now, as though they were part of another world. She wondered when they would all be together again, or if. It seemed unlikely now, although she had promised them she would try to come home for Christmas this year. But who knew what would happen between now and then, or where Lionel or Val or Greg would be.

“Do you like your family?”

“Some of them.” For no reason in particular, she was honest with him, but she had no reason not to be, as long as she didn't tell him too much, like about Lionel or Anne, but she had no intention of doing that. “I'm closer to some than others. My older brother is really neat.” She had come to respect him more and more for standing up for what he was. She knew how difficult it had all been for him.

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-one, his name is Lionel, and my other brother Greg is twenty, then there's Val, my twin, she's eighteen too obviously, and Anne is fifteen.”

“Your folks sure didn't lose any time.” He smiled and Vanessa smiled back, and they walked slowly home, as the river drifted nearby. And he walked her to her door. “Want to have lunch tomorrow?”

“I can't. I have to work.”

“I could come downtown.” The idea didn't really appeal to him much. He wanted to stay uptown and write, but she appealed to him a lot.

“Wouldn't that be too much trouble for you?”

“Yes.” He looked at her honestly. “But I like you. I can spare an hour or two.”

'Thanks.” She left him then.

He picked her up at the reception desk at Parker's the next day, and they went for a long walk, and wound up eating avocado sandwiches in a health-food restaurant he knew. He was interesting to talk to, he took himself seriously in some ways, and he thought Vanessa should too. He thought writing screenplays was junk, and he suggested she think about writing a serious play.

“Why? Because that's what you want to do? Movies don't have to be junk, you know.” He liked the way she stood up to him, and he invited her to dinner that night too, but she turned him down. “I promised I'd meet Louise with some friends.” He was dying to come along, but he didn't let on. He wondered if there was another man involved, which there was. But the boy was Louise's date. Vanessa just didn't want to look too anxious to him. But she liked him just as much as he liked her. And she thought of him all that night, as they ate spaghetti and clams on Houston Street, and it seemed hours before they came back uptown. And when they did, she noticed that his light was still on. She wondered if he was writing or just hanging out, and she made as much noise as possible clattering up the stairs and slamming their door, hoping he'd call. But he didn't call for two days. He had decided to play it cool, and when he did, she was gone for the weekend. They didn't meet again until the middle of the following week, when he saw her coming home from work one night, looking hot and tired, after an endless ride on the bus uptown.