“What'll I do with my house?”

“Sell it.”

“Can't I rent it?” She felt sick at the thought of giving it up forever. She had to take such giant steps now.

“Are you planning to move back there?”

“Of course not, not unless you do.”

“Then why keep it? Sell it, Mel. You can use the money to invest in something out here.”

“Will we be buying a new house?” She felt confusion begin to sweep over her as she sat staring into space and she heard her doorbell ringing in the distance but she didn't answer. It was Raquel's day off and there was no one she wanted to see now, particularly reporters, if they'd heard the news.

“We don't need a new house, Mel. We have this one.” He sounded so happy, but as she listened she knew she didn't want to live there. It was Anne's house … their house … not her house … but maybe just in the beginning … “Look, you just relax. Have a drink or something. I've got to get back to work here. I'll call you later. And remember. I love you.”

“I love you too.” But her voice was only a whisper, and she didn't move from the chair for an hour as she contemplated what she'd done, and when George called she attempted to explain it. He told her that he thought she was crazy, but it was an intensely personal decision. He agreed to sound out the L.A. networks, and by that night she had three offers, and by the following week she had a contract, for the same money she had wanted in New York, and had had to wait two months for. But of course this was L.A., and not New York. But the furor she had created was beyond measure, and it was an agony to go into work now. They had asked her to stay until December 15, and then she could leave two weeks before the end of her contract. But everywhere she was treated like a traitor, even Grant came to see her to tell her that she was crazy, that it would never work, that she was meant for the big time in New York, not the L.A. market, and marriage wasn't her life-style. She felt as though she were drifting through a nightmare, and the twins kept looking at her as though she had betrayed them.

“Did you know you were going to do it?” Jess asked when she told them, meaning accept Peter's proposal. But it sounded as though she were asking her if she knew she was going to commit murder.

“No, I didn't.”

“When did he ask you?”

“On Thanksgiving.” The reproach she felt was in her eyes each time she looked at her mother, and Valerie was so nervous that she seemed ready to throw up each time Mel looked at her, and even she wasn't totally pleased to be moving. They had to change schools mid-year, leave their home, their friends. And when Mel put the house on the market, she thought it would kill her. It sold on the first weekend, and when she got word, she sat down on the stairs and cried. Everything was happening much too quickly. And only Raquel seemed to know what was going on, as she packed endless boxes for California.

“I tole you, Mrs. Mel … I tole you last summer … in six months …”

“Oh, for chrissake, Raquel, shut up.” But halfway through the packing, Mel realized that she didn't know what she was going to do with Raquel. There was no room for her at Peter's, and the woman had been with her for years. She called him in a panic one night at midnight in California, three A.M. in New York.

“What am I going to do with Raquel?”

“Is she sick?” He had been half asleep when she called him, but Mel was wide-awake.

“No, I mean about bringing her.”

“You can't bring her, Mel.”

“Why not?” She bridled.

“There's no room, and Mrs. Hahn would kill her.”

“Personally, I'd prefer it if Raquel killed Mrs. Hahn.”

“Mrs. Hahn is devoted to my children.” It was the first time he had spoken to her in that tone of voice and Mel didn't like it.

“Raquel is devoted to mine. Now what?”

“Be reasonable.” How reasonable did she have to be? She had given up a job, a house, her children had given up friends and schools, just how much more did he want her to leave behind her? Raquel too?

“If she doesn't come, Peter, neither do I, or the children.”

“Oh, for God's sake.” And then he decided it was too late to argue. “All right. We'll rent her an apartment.”

“Thank you.” Mel announced the news to Raquel the next morning, still feeling annoyed at Peter, but this time Raquel surprised her.

“To California? You crazy? I live here, in New York.” But she smiled at Mel and kissed her cheek. “But thank you. I gonna miss you. But I just don' want to move to California. You gonna have a good life now. You got a good husband. But me, I got a boyfriend here. Maybe sooner or later I' get married too.” She looked hopeful, and determined not to go to California.

“We're going to miss you too.” They would have nothing familiar except each other. Even her furniture was going into storage. There was no room for it in his house. And as the days progressed, Mel realized that this was not going to be easy.

On the fifteenth of December, two weeks earlier than her contract required, she did the eleven o'clock news for the last time, from New York. And she knew that approximately two weeks later, she would be coming on the air, on another network, from L.A., but this era in her life was over. Gone forever. And she cried as she put down her mike, and walked out of the studio, and outside Grant was waiting. He hugged her, and she cried in his arms, and he shook his head, like an astonished father, but he was proud of her too. She had done something good for herself, and he was glad. Peter Hallam was a fine man. Grant just hoped that everything would work: the careers, the kids, the move. It was a lot to ask. But Mel could handle it, if anyone could.

“Good luck, Mel. We'll miss you.” They had wanted to give her a party, but she had refused. She couldn't bear it. Her emotions were too raw now. She promised to come back and visit, and introduce everyone to Peter. To them it was a fairy story. She had gone to do an interview and fallen in love with the handsome doctor, but it all hurt so much now. Leaving them, closing the house, leaving New York.

“Good-bye, Grant. Take care.” She kissed his cheek, and walked away with tears running down her face. She was leaving all that was familiar to her and all her old friends, and five minutes later she left the building, the building where she had aspired to so much and gone so far, and now she was leaving, and when she got home that night, all she saw was a mountain of boxes. The movers were coming the next morning, and it would be Raquel's last day as well. They would slay at the Carlyle Hotel for the weekend, and cm Monday they would close on the house, she would pick up the white wool Bill Blass dress she'd bought at BendeI's, and the day alter, on December 19, they'd fly to L.A., five days before her wedding … her wedding … she sat up in the dark, feeling it all close in around her. Her wedding. She was getting married …

“Oh my God.” She sat in bed and looked at the chaos around her, and the tears slid slowly down her face, as she wondered what madness bad overtaken her life. Even the thought of Peter waiting for her in L.A. didn't console her.





CHAPTER 24

The girls were waiting downstairs for her with Raquel, in the front hall, but she had wanted to see the view from her bedroom one last time. Never again would she lie in bed in the morning, looking out the window, listening to the birds in the small garden. There would be other birds in California, another garden, a whole different life. But it was impossible not to think of how much it had meant to her when she bought this house. It was a lot to give up for a man she loved, and yet it was only a house after all.