Danielle Steel - Bungalow 2

She walked into the bathroom, and the huge bathtub looked inviting. She put bath salts in and turned on the Jacuzzi, and sank into it five minutes later. She hadn't had dinner, and had a headache, and then she realized she could call room service and order anything she wanted. A club sandwich and a cup of tea sounded like a gift from heaven. When she got out of the tub, and put on her cashmere bathrobe, she called room service, and ten minutes later her sandwich and tea arrived. She smiled to herself, realizing that this wasn't quite the punishment she remembered. There were a few advantages at least, and some luxuries that made it tolerable. She turned on the TV while she ate, and watched an old Cary Grant movie, and then climbed into the bed, with perfectly pressed sheets. She missed having Peter's arms around her, but aside from that she spent a warm, comfortable night and felt rested when she woke up in the morning to a brilliantly sunny day. Sunlight was streaming into the room. And as she looked around, she felt surprisingly at home. This was her own private little world, separate from her family and home. It was so odd having two lives, one where she loved to live, with people she loved, and another where she worked. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought, she told herself, and she'd be home for vacation in three weeks. With luck, she'd get home that weekend, too. For a sudden instant, she felt almost schizophrenic about it, as though she were one person there, and a different one here. It was the first time she had felt that way.

She called Peter, and he was already on his way to work, fighting traffic on the bridge. He had left early that morning, and had a call holding on the other line. She said she'd call him that night when he got home, and told him she loved him before he clicked off. And then she got up and dressed for work.

There was the usual chaos on the set when she got there, and people seemed in good spirits after the four-day break over Thanksgiving. Max looked happy to see her, and even Harry wagged his tail when he saw her. It felt a little bit like coming home, just as it had when she walked into the bungalow the night before. She felt slightly guilty for what she was feeling. It wasn't nearly as bad as she remembered when she was in Ross with Peter and her children. She felt pulled now between two vastly disparate worlds. The good news was that she could have both. The confusing part was that it made her feel like two people, and she was momentarily unsure which one she was. The writer or the wife and mother. She was both. The wife and mother were what mattered most to her. But this wasn't bad either. She felt like a traitor, as she sat down in a chair next to Max and patted Harry. They both seemed like old friends now.

“So how was domestic bliss over Thanksgiving?” Max asked her, and she smiled.

“It was great. How was yours?”

“Probably not as blissful as yours, but not bad. Harry and I had turkey sandwiches and watched old movies on TV.” His kids were in the East, and he didn't want to fly cross country for a few days, so he had stayed in L.A., but he was going to see them for Christmas.

“I nearly didn't come back,” she admitted to him. “It was so nice being home with them.”

“But you did, so at least we know you're not crazy. Douglas would have sued your ass from here to forever,” Max said quietly.

“That's what Peter said.”

“Smart man. Good lawyer. You'll see, the picture will be over before you know it. And then you'll want to do it again.”

“That's what Douglas says. I don't think so. I like being home with Peter and the kids.”

“Then maybe you won't do it again,” Max said philosophically. “That might be true in your case. You're saner than the rest of us, and you have something worth going home to. For a lot of people, this is all there is. And it screws up the rest of your life, so there's nothing to go home to. We're all trapped on a desert island and can't get off. You were smart to live the life you have till now. You're a tourist, Tanya. I don't think the movie business will ever be your life.”

“I hope not. It's too crazy for me.”

“That it is.” He smiled, and then started giving orders to get people moving. They started shooting again half an hour later, once the lighting was set and the actors were ready.

They didn't finish till midnight, and Tanya called Peter from the set, so it didn't get too late for him. She had to walk away to call him, and spoke in a whisper. He said he'd had a good day and the girls were fine, and she told him what they'd been doing. It had been kind of a fun day. And then she had to get off and go back, Jean was having trouble with her lines again. She always did. Tanya had rewritten them a hundred times, and she still couldn't get them right. It was painstaking work.

It was one o'clock when she got back to the hotel, and two before she unwound and could get to sleep. The days were crushingly long. And she saw Douglas on the set the next day. He asked her how Thanksgiving had been, and she said it had been fine. He had flown to Aspen for three days to see friends. He had a very nice life.

He invited her to a party on Thursday night, as they had a short shooting schedule, and she hesitated. She didn't really want to go out. She wasn't in the mood. She was happy in her bungalow at night after work. Going to some fancy party with Douglas seemed like a lot of trouble, but he insisted.

“It'll do you good, Tanya. You can't work all the time. There is life after work.”

“Not in my life.” She smiled.

“Then there should be. You'll enjoy it. It's a screening of a new movie. It'll be a very casual evening, with some fun people. You'll be home by eleven.” In the end, she agreed to go.

And he was right. It was fun. She met some of the biggest stars in Hollywood, two famous directors, and a rival producer who was one of Douglas's closest friends. It was a star-studded evening, and the film was great. The food was good, the people were pretty, and Douglas was great company. He introduced her to everyone, and saw to it that she had fun. And when he brought her back, to thank him she invited him in for a drink. He had champagne, while she had tea and thanked him for the evening.

“You need to do more of that, Tanya. You need to meet people here.”

“Why? I'm doing a job, and then I'm going home. I don't need to make connections down here.”

“You're still so sure you're going home?” He looked cynical about it again.

“Yes, I am.”

“Very few people do. I could be wrong. You may be one of them. I don't know why, but I have the feeling you won't want to in the end. I think you know it, too. That's why you fight it so hard. Maybe you're afraid you won't want to go home.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I want to go home.” She didn't tell him that she nearly hadn't come back after Thanksgiving.

“Is your marriage really that good?” he asked, a little more determined and daring, after the champagne.

“I think it is.”

“Then you're a lucky woman, and your husband more fortunate still. I don't know any marriages like that. Most collapse like soufflés. Particularly with the pressures of long distance, and all the temptations that Hollywood provides.”

“Maybe that's why I want to go home. I love my husband, and our marriage. I don't want to screw it up for all this.”

“Good lord,” he said, with the look that made her think of Rasputin, or had in the beginning. She knew him better now, although he still had a wicked streak and loved to play devil's advocate. But he wasn't as dangerous as she first thought. He just looked it. “A virtuous woman. It says in the Bible that a virtuous woman is worth more than rubies. And surely a lot more rare. I've never had a virtuous woman,” he said, pouring himself another glass of champagne.