Danielle Steel - Changes

Still trembling from her encounter with Pam, Mel stared at Peter as he looked up.” I want that portrait taken down tomorrow.”

“What portrait?” He looked at her as though she were crazy, and she almost looked it.

“The one of your late wife.” She spoke through clenched teeth and he was totally baffled. Maybe the champagne had gone to her head.

“Why?”

“Because this is my house now too, not hers. And I want it taken down. Immediately!” She was almost shouting at him.

“It's by a very famous artist.” He started to stiffen too. Her attitude seemed totally uncalled for and he knew nothing of the exchange with Pam.

“I don't give a shit who it's by. Get rid of it. Throw it out. Burn it. Give it away. Do whatever the hell you want with it, but get it out of my living room!” She was suddenly on the verge of tears as he stared at her in disbelief.

“What in hell is wrong with you, Mel?”

“What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? You move me into a house where not so much as a hat pin is mine, where everything belongs to you and your children and you've got photographs of your first wife all over the house, and I'm supposed to feel at home?”

He was beginning to understand, or so he thought, but she still sounded irrational. And why now? “Then put the photographs away if you want to. But you didn't object to them before.”

“I didn't live here before. But I do now.”

“Apparently.” He was getting annoyed.” I suppose you don't find the decor adequate for you?” There was suddenly a nasty tone in his voice.

“It's perfectly adequate, if you don't mind living in Versailles. Personally, I'd rather live in a house, a home, something a little warmer and on a slightly more human scale.”

“Like that dollhouse you had in New York, I suppose?”

“Precisely.” They stood across the room from each other as each one steamed.

“Fine. Then put the photographs away if you want. But the portrait stays.” He said it just to annoy her, because he didn't like the way she'd broached the subject at all, and Mel's mouth almost fell open.

“The hell it does.” And then, “It goes or I do.”

“Doesn't that sound ridiculous to you? You're behaving like a complete horse's ass, or weren't you aware of that?”

“And you're behaving like a total prick. You expect all the adjustments to be mine, and you don't change a thing, not even the photographs of your wife.”

“Then have some photographs taken of yourself and we'll put those around too.” He was being nasty now and he knew it, but he was tired of hearing her bitch about Anne's pictures. He had thought of putting them away once or twice himself, but the thought depressed him and he didn't want to upset the children. And he reminded her of that now.” I don't suppose you've thought of what reaction you'd get if you threw that portrait out.”

“Oh, yes, I already know that.” She advanced on him with a vicious look.” I was just putting the photographs in question in your study, and your daughter informed me that this is your house and not mine, or more exactly, her mother's.”

And suddenly Peter understood it all. He sat down with drooping shoulders and looked up at Mel. He could just imagine the scene with Pam, and that explained Mel's behavior to him. It hadn't made any sense before. He didn't think she was given to rages. “Did she say that, Mel?” His voice was kinder now, and his eyes were too.

“She did.” Mel's eyes filled with tears and she still did not approach her husband.

“I'm sorry.” He beckoned to her but she didn't approach and she was crying openly now. He went to her and put his arms around her. “I'm so sorry, love. You know this is your home too.” He held her and she began to sob. “I'll take the portrait down tomorrow, it was stupid of me.”

“No, no, it's not that … it's just …”

“I know …”

“It's so hard to get used to living in someone else's house. I'm so used to having my own.” He sat her down beside him on the bed.

“I know … but this is your home now too.”

She looked up at him and sniffed. “No, it's not. Everything is yours and Anne's … I don't even have any of my own things around.” Peter looked pensive as he listened to her.

“Everything I have is yours, Mel.” But she wanted her own, not his.

“Just give me time. I'll get used to it all. I'm just tired, and there's been so much going on, and Pam upset me with what she said just now.” Peter kissed his wife and stood up.

“I'll go up and talk her.”

“No ! Let me handle that. If you intervene, she'll just resent me more.”

“She loves you. I know she does.” But there was worry in his eyes.

“But it's different now. I was just a guest before, and now I'm an intruder in her house.”

Peter looked even more upset at that. Was that how she felt?

“You're not an intruder. You're my wife. I hope you remember that.”

She smiled through her tears.” I do! There's just a lot going on at once, and tomorrow I start my new job.”

“I know.” He understood, but it made him sad to see her cry, and he vowed to himself to take Anne's portrait down the next day. She was right. “Why don't we both go to bed early tonight? We're both tired and it's been a rough week.” Mel didn't disagree. Moving from New York, their wedding, honeymoon, Marie's death … They brushed their teeth and went to bed and he held her close to him in the dark, feeling her warm flesh next to him. This was what he had longed for in the past six months … more than that, the last two years … and even before that, it had never been like that with Anne. She had been so much more distant than Mel. Mel seemed almost like a part of him, and for the first time in a week he felt something deep inside him stir, and as he held her close, he wanted her as never before. And when the old year became the new, he was making love to her.

CHAPTER 28

As per her new contract, negotiated while she was still in New York, the limo arrived for Mel in the early afternoon, and drove her to the station where she would work. And as she walked inside, she was aware of a hundred stares. There was incredible curiosity about her. Mel Adams was starting work. She was introduced to the producers, assistant producers and directors and cameramen and editors and grips, and suddenly despite the new surroundings, Mel felt as though she were in a familiar world. It was no different from New York or Chicago or Buffalo before that. A studio was a studio, and as she looked around the office she was assigned, she suddenly sighed and sat down. In a way, it felt like coming home. She spent the entire afternoon familiarizing herself with the people who came and went, the features and interviews recently done. She had a glass of wine with the producer and his crew, and at five thirty Paul Stevens arrived. The producer introduced them at once, and Mel smiled as they shook hands.

“It'll be nice working with you, Paul.”

“Wish I could say the same.” He shook her hand and walked away, as the producer attempted to fill the awkward gap and Mel raised an eyebrow and turned away.

“Well, at least I know where I stand.” She grinned ruefully. But it wasn't going to be easy working with him. He was furious to have a female anchor share his spot, and he was going to make Mel pay for it in every way he could. She discovered that instantly when they went on the air that night. He was saccharine sweet whenever he spoke to her, but he undercut her and upstaged her in every way he could, trying to make her nervous, throw her off, and generally drive her insane. And it was so obvious to her that his outrage was acute that when they went off the air, she stood in front of Paul's desk and looked down at him. “Is there anything we ought to talk about right now, before this thing gets out of hand?”