“I hate this. I don't know why I let you talk me into it. I don't want to write a stupid script,” she said, crying like a child, as Molly handed her a wad of tissues to blow her nose. She smiled at the tall, darkhaired twin. Boys had been checking out both girls since they'd arrived, and had been disappointed to find they weren't arriving freshmen. Megan thought it looked like a great school. Molly's first choice was now USC.

“You're going to be fine,” Peter reassured her again. It was after four, and it was going to be at least midnight when they got home to Marin. Tanya had a much shorter drive to L.A., and all she wanted now was to go home with them. She was thinking about riding back with them, and flying down to L.A. early the next morning, but it would just prolong the agony, and she had an eight A.M. breakfast meeting with Douglas Wayne and the director the next day. She would have had to take a six A.M. flight, which seemed silly. She had no choice but to say goodbye to her husband and children now. Saying goodbye to Jason would have been more than enough. This was far too much. “Okay, girls,” Peter said, turning to his daughters. “Say goodbye to your mom. We'd better get going.” They walked her to her car, and the driver was waiting, looking bored. The limo sitting in the parking lot looked about a thousand feet long, and had colored lights and a couch inside.

“Erghk, that's awful,” Megan said with disgust as she glanced in, and then at her mother. She didn't relent for a moment and hadn't in two months. And when Tanya reached out to hug her, Megan looked at her with hard eyes, and took a step back, to avoid her. It nearly broke her mother's heart, as Peter looked at her and shook his head.

“Say goodbye to your mom, Meg. Nicely,” he said firmly. He wasn't going anywhere until she did. Reluctantly, she hugged her mother, as Tanya continued to cry. She was choking on small sobs as she hugged and kissed first Megan and then Molly. Molly held her tight, and started to cry herself.

“I'm going to miss you so much, Mom,” she said, as the two clung to each other, and Peter patted their backs.

“Come on, guys, you're going to see each other on Friday. Mom will be home on Friday night,” he reminded them both as Megan walked away. She had nothing to say to their mother. She had said it all during the course of the summer. Molly finally pulled away from her mother and wiped her eyes with a tearful smile.

“I'll see you Friday, Mommy,” she said, sounding like a little girl again, although she didn't look like one. She was a beautiful young woman.

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart, and of Dad and Meg.” Molly was the one who would, and she hoped Alice would look in on them. She was going to call her that night, and tell her she'd seen James, and remind her to check on Peter and the girls. Alice had promised to call Tanya the minute she thought anything was wrong with either of the girls, if they looked sick, or tired, or unhappy. She was a good mother, and had a nice way with kids, and Tanya knew that Molly and Megan trusted Alice and felt comfortable with her. They had practically grown up in her house, with Melissa and James, even though they were slightly older. Like Peter, Alice had reassured her the girls would be fine, and would adjust to her absence within days. Besides, she would be home on weekends—it wasn't like she was going away forever, or even very far. If anything happened, Alice had reminded her only the day before, she could hop on a plane and be home in less than two hours. Alice had promised to look in on them whenever she could, as much as they were willing to put up with. Once they got used to their mother being gone, she was sure the girls would be busy with their usual activities, and many friends. The girls shared a car so they could get to wherever they needed to go on their own. They were good, solid, sensible, wholesome kids. Alice had told her again and again that she didn't need to worry, but she knew Tanya would anyway.

Saying goodbye to the girls was hard, but it was worse saying goodbye to Peter. She clung to him like a motherless child, and he gently helped her into the limo, and teased her when he saw the colored lights inside that Megan had objected to. It was tacky, but he thought it was funny. “Maybe I should ride to L.A. with you, and let the girls drive home on their own,” he said, teasing her. She smiled, and then he kissed her.

“I'm going to miss you so much tonight,” she said softly. “Take care of yourself. I'll see you Friday.”

“You'll be so busy you won't even miss me.” he said, although in spite of himself, he looked sad, too, but he was glad she was doing this. He wanted it to be great for her, and had every intention of doing all he could to make it work for her.

“Call me when you get home,” Tanya said softly.

“It'll be late”—closer to one than midnight now. Their goodbyes had taken a long time. She could hardly bear to let them go.

“I don't care. I'll worry till I hear from you.” She wanted to know that they were home safe and sound. She didn't expect to get a lot of sleep that night without him. “I'll call you on your cell phone in the car.”

“Why don't you relax, go for a swim, get a massage. Order room service. Hell, take advantage of what you've got. Before you know it, you'll be home cooking for us again. You're never going to want to come home to Marin, after the high life in Beverly Hills.”

“You're my high life,” she said sadly, sorry that she had agreed to write the script. All she could think of now was who wouldn't be in L.A. and what she'd be missing—her husband and children and the good times they shared.

“We'd better go.” He could see that the girls were getting restless. Megan was fuming, and Molly looked sadder by the minute, and Tanya could see it, too. She kissed him one last time, and reached out to the girls. She and Molly kissed through the limo window, and Megan stared at her and turned away. There was sadness mixed with anger in her eyes, and a terrible look of betrayal, and then she got into the van. Molly climbed into the front seat next to her father, and all three of them waved as he started the van. Tanya sat watching them with tears rolling down her cheeks, and then with a wave, they rolled away. She kept waving to them from the window, and the limo followed Peter out of the parking lot. They drove toward the freeway side by side, and then Peter headed north, and the limo headed south. Tanya waved until they were out of sight, and then laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She felt their absence like a physical pain, and then with a start she heard her cell phone ring. She found it in her handbag and answered it. She wondered if it was Jason, telling her he had forgotten something. She could turn back and get to the dorm in a few minutes if he needed help. She suddenly wondered if Peter had remembered to give him enough money, in case he needed cash. He had his first checking account, and a credit card. It was a first step into grown-up life. Responsibility had begun.

It wasn't Jason, it was Molly. “I love you, Mom,” she said with her characteristic sweetness. She didn't want her mother to be sad, or her sister to be angry, or her father to be lonely. She always wanted to make things right for everyone. She was always quick to sacrifice herself. Tanya always said she was a lot like her father, although she had a sweetness all her own.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Tanya said softly. “Have a safe drive home.”

“You, too, Mom.” Tanya could hear the music blaring in the car and missed it. She would have felt foolish turning it on in the limo, particularly their kind of music, but she would have liked to. She was already lonely, traveling in solitary grandeur. She could no longer remember why she'd done this, or why it had seemed like a good idea to her, Walt, or Peter. It seemed stupid to her now. She was going to Hollywood to write a screenplay, where she would be alone and miserable for nearly a year, and at home in Ross she had the perfect life.

“I'll talk to you tomorrow,” Tanya promised. “Give Meg and Dad my love, and a big squishy hug to you.”

“You too, Mom,” Molly said, and hung up, as Tanya sat in the limo, heading south. Thinking about them, she just stared out the window, too sad to cry.





Chapter 4




It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening as Tanya's limo drove up to the Beverly Hills Hotel, and stopped at the covered entrance. A doorman immediately appeared to take her bags, and greeted her with decorum as she emerged. Her blue jeans, T-shirt, and sandals seemed underdressed here somehow. There were beautiful girls who looked like models drifting by in shorts and high-heeled sandals, with perfect pedicures and masses of blond hair. Tanya was wearing hers in a braid, which made her feel oddly out of place, and embarrassingly plain. Her Marin Mom look seemed far too understated here. Even half-dressed in halter tops or see-through shirts, everyone looked glamorous and like a star to her. She looked and felt as though she had just crawled out of her backyard in Ross. And after the emotions of saying goodbye to Peter and her children, she felt like she'd been hit by a bus, or dragged through a bush backward, as the English said. It was an expression she loved using in her scripts for the soaps. It seemed so apt, and just how she felt now. Mugged. Sad. Lonely. Lost. Alone.

A bellman whisked her bags away, and gave her a claim check to turn in at the desk. Once there, she stood cautiously behind a Japanese couple, and some people from New York, as what appeared to her to be Hollywood types wandered through the lobby. She was so distracted when it was her turn that she didn't even notice that the assistant manager at the front desk was waiting for her.

“Oh … sorry …” she apologized. She felt like a total tourist as she looked around. The lobby had been magnificently redone. She had had lunch here once or twice, when she came down for the day and met with the producers of her most lucrative soap.

“Will you be staying with us for long?” the young man asked, when she gave her name. She almost burst into tears when he asked.

“Nine months,” she said, looking grim, “or something like that.” He asked her for her name again, and then apologized instantly when he realized who she was.

“Of course, Miss Harris, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it was you. We have Bungalow 2 waiting for you.”

“Mrs. Harris,” she corrected, looking bereft.

“Certainly. I'll make a note of that. Do you have a claim check for your bags?” She handed him the stub, and he came around the desk to take her to the bungalow. She didn't know why, but she dreaded seeing it. She didn't want to be there. All she wanted to do was go home. She felt like a kid who had been sent to camp. She wondered if Jason was feeling that way in his dorm room, but she suspected that he didn't. He was probably having a terrific time with the other kids. She felt like a new kid at school, too, probably far more than he did. She thought about him as she followed the assistant manager over a little walkway through a profusion of vegetation, and she found herself in front of the bungalow that was going to be her home until postproduction was over, whenever that was, at worst next June. Nine months away. An absolute eternity to her, without Peter and her children. Waiting nine months for her babies had been a lot more fun. Now she was going to have to give birth to a script.

She walked into the living room of the suite, and immediately noticed a vase of flowers nearly as tall as she was. She had never seen anything like it. There were roses, lilies, orchids, and gigantic flowers she didn't even recognize. It was the most beautiful arrangement she'd ever seen, and its exotic scent perfumed the room. The room itself looked newly done, in a soft blush pink, with comfortable furniture and an enormous TV. Beyond it she saw the dining room, and the little kitchen they'd promised her. And as soon as she saw her bedroom, she felt like a movie star, only to realize that the second one was bigger, with a gigantic king-size bed. It was done in the palest pink, with elegant furniture, and beyond it there was a spectacular pink-marble bathroom with a huge bathtub with Jacuzzi, and a stack of towels and a terrycloth robe with her initials on the pocket were waiting for her. There was a huge basket of lotions and cosmetics. A bottle of champagne was cooling in a silver bucket in the living room. There was a huge box of her favorite chocolates, as she wondered how they knew. And when she checked, the fridge was full of everything she loved to eat. It was as though her very own fairy godmother had been at work, and then she saw a letter on the desk. She opened it, and the handwriting was a strong male scrawl. It said, “Welcome home, Tanya. We've been waiting for you. See you at breakfast. Douglas.” He had obviously somehow found out everything she liked, and then she realized he had probably talked to Walt, or maybe even Peter, or his secretary had. It was perfectly done. In the master bedroom, there was a cashmere bathrobe for her from Pratesi, with matching cashmere slippers in the perfect size, also a gift from Douglas. And much to her amazement there were silver frames with photographs of her children, and she realized for sure that they had talked to Peter, and even had him send pictures for them to frame. He hadn't said a word to spoil the surprise. They had done absolutely everything they could to make her feel at home, including a huge bowl of M&;M's and Snickers bars, and a drawer full of pens and pencils and writing supplies, which was convenient. She'd been working on the script for two months, but she wanted to add some final touches to it that night before their meeting, assuming they'd want to discuss it. She was still looking around as her bags arrived and her cell phone rang at the same time. It was Peter, still on the drive home.