“Maybe you don't, but at least get yourself someone who's free.” He had been insistent and firm.

“Why? What difference does it make?”

“The difference it will make, my friend, is that you'll wind up spending Christmas and holidays and birthdays and weekends alone, while he sits around happily with his wife and kids.”

“Maybe so. But I'm special to him. I'm the caviar, not the sour cream.”

“You're dead wrong, Mel. You'll get hurt.” And he had been right. She had. Eventually it all began to cause her pain for just the reasons he had feared and there had been a terrible parting in the end, with Melanie looking gaunt and drawn for weeks. “Next time, listen to Uncle Grant. I know.” He knew a great deal, mostly about how carefully she had built walls around herself. He had known her for almost ten years. They had met while she was on the way up, and he had known then that he was watching a bright new star rise in the heavens of television news, but more than that, he cared about her, as a human being and a friend. He cared enough not to want to spoil what they had. They had been both careful never to get involved with each other. He had been married three times, he had a stable of “temporaries” he enjoyed spending his nights with, but Mel was much more than that to him. She was his friend, and he was hers, and with Mel it was important not to betray that trust. She had been betrayed before, and he never wanted to be the one to hurt her again. “The truth is, love, most men are shits.” He had confessed to her late one night after interviewing her on his show, which had been a real kick. And afterward they had gone out for a drink, and sat around at Elaine's until three A.M.

“What makes you say that?” There had suddenly been something distant and cautious in her eyes. She knew one who had been, but it was grim to think that they all were.

“Because damn few want to give as good as they get. They want a woman to love them with her whole heart and soul, but they keep an important piece to themselves. What you need is a man who'll give you as much love as you have to give.”

“What makes you think I have that much love left?” She tried to look amused, but he wasn't convinced. The old hurt was still there, distant, but not gone. He wondered if it ever would be.

“I know you too well, Mel. Better than you know yourself.”

“And you think I'm pining to find the right man?” This time she laughed and he smiled.

“No. I think you're scared to death you will.”

“Touché.”

“It might do you good.”

“Why? I'm happy by myself.”

“Horseshit. No one is. Not really.”

“I have the twins.”

“That is not the same thing.”

She shrugged. “You're happy alone.” She searched his eyes, not sure what she'd find, and was surprised to see a trace of loneliness there. It came out at night, like a werewolf he hid by day. Even the illustrious Grant was human too.

“If I were so happy alone, I wouldn't have married three times.” They both laughed at that, the evening wore on, and eventually he dropped her at her front door with a fatherly peck on the cheek. Once in a while she wondered what it would be like to get involved with him, but she knew it would spoil what they had, and they both wanted to avoid that. It was too good like this.

And in the corridor outside her office, she looked up at him now, tired, but relieved to see his face at the end of a long day. He gave her something no one else did. The twins were still young enough to take from her, they had a constant need, for attention, for love, for discipline, limits, new ice skates, designer jeans. But he put something back in her soul, and there was really no one else who did.

“I'll take a rain check on that hamburger tomorrow night.”

“Can't.” He shook his head with regret. “I've got a hot date with a sensational pair of boobs.”

She rolled her eyes and he grinned. “You are without a doubt the most sexist man I know.”

“Yup.”

“And proud of it too.”

“You're damn right.”

She smiled and looked at her watch. “I'd better get my ass home, or Raquel will lock me out, tyrant that she is.” She had had the same housekeeper for the last seven years. Raquel was a godsend with the girls, but she ran a tight ship. She was inordinately fond of Grant, and had tried to press Mel into a relationship with him for years.

“Give Raquel my love.”

“I'll tell her it was your fault I'm late.”

“Fine, and I'll give you that list of cardiac surgeons tomorrow. Will you be around?”

“I'll be here.”

“I'll call.”

“Thanks.” She blew him a kiss, and he went his way, as she stepped into her office and picked up her bag with a quick look at her watch. It was seven thirty and Raquel was going to have a fit. She hurried downstairs and hailed a cab and in fifteen minutes the driver turned into Seventy-ninth Street.

“I'm home!” She called out into the silence, passing through the front hall. It was done in delicate flowered wallpaper and there was a white marble floor. From the moment one walked in, one sensed the friendly, elegant mood of the place, and from the bright colors, big bouquets of flowers, and touches of yellow and pastel everywhere, one had an instant feeling of good cheer. The house always amused Grant Buckley. It was so obviously a woman's house. One would have to begin decorating from scratch were a man to make his home there. There was a big antique hat rack in the front hall, covered with Mel's hats and the favorites left there by the two girls.

The living room was done in a soft peach, with silky deep couches that invited one to be swallowed up, and delicate moirî curtains that hung in lush folds with French tiebacks, and the walls were painted the same delicate peach shade, with creamy trim on the moldings and delicate pastel paintings everywhere. As Melanie sank down now into the couch with a contented sigh, it was the perfect setting for her with her creamy skin and her flaming red hair. Her bedroom was done in soft blues, in watered silks, the dining room was white, the kitchen orange and yellow and blue. Melanie's home had a happy feeling that made one want to wander around and hang out. It was elegant, but not too, chic but no so much so that one was afraid to sit down.

It was a small house, but perfect for them, with the living room, dining room, and kitchen on the main floor, Mel's bedroom, study, and dressing room were one flight up, and above that were two big sunny bedrooms for the two girls. There wasn't an inch of unused space, and even one extra body in the house would have seemed like too much. But just for them, it was exactly the right size, as Melanie had known it would be when she'd first seen it and fallen in love with it the same day.

She walked hurriedly up the stairs to the girls' rooms, faintly aware of an ache in her back. It had been a hell of a long day. She didn't stop in her own room, knowing already what would be there, a stack of mail she didn't want to see, mostly bills relating to the girls, and an assortment of other things. But that didn't interest her now. She wanted to see the twins.

On the third floor, she found both their doors closed, but the music was so loud, she could already feel her heart pound halfway up the stairs.

“Good God, Jess!” Melanie shouted above the din. “Turn that thing down!”

“What?” The tall, skinny redheaded girl turned toward the door from where she lay on her bed. There were schoolbooks spread all around, and she had the telephone pressed to her ear. She waved to her mother, and went on talking on the phone.

“Don't you have exams?” A silent nod, and Melanie's face began to look grim. Jessica was always the more serious of the twins, but lately she had been losing ground in school. She was bored, and the romance she'd had all year had just gone down the tubes, but that was no excuse, and she still had to study for her exams, even more so now. “Come on, hang up, Jess.” She stood leaning against the desk, arms crossed, and Jessica looked vaguely annoyed, said something unintelligible into the phone, and hung up, looking at her mother as though she were not only overly demanding but rude. “Now turn that thing down.”

She unwound the long coltlike legs from the bed, and walked to the stereo, flinging her long coppery mane over her shoulders. “I was just taking a break.”

“For how long?”

“Oh, for chrissake. What do I have to do now? Punch a time clock for you?”

“That's not fair, Jess. You can have all the leeway you need. But the fact is, your last grades …”

“I know, I know. How long do I have to hear about that?”

“Until they improve.” Melanin looked unimpressed by her daughter's speech. Jessica had been testy since the end of the romance with a young man named John. It was probably what had affected her grades, and for Jessica that was a first. But Melanie already sensed that things were on their way back up. She just didn't want to let Jessica off the hook yet, not till she was sure. “How was your day?” She slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders and stroked her hair. The music had been turned off, and the room seemed strangely still.

“It was okay. How was yours?”

“Not bad.”

Jessie smiled, and when she did, she looked very much as Melanie had when she was a little girl. She was more angular than her mother was, and already two inches taller than Mel in her bare feet, but there was a lot of her mother in her, which accounted for the rare bond the two women shared; there were times when it didn't even require words. And other times when their friendship exploded because of the similarities that made them almost too close. “I saw the piece you did about the legislation for the handicapped on the evening news.”

“What did you think?” She always liked to hear what they said, especially Jess. She had a fine mind, and was very direct with her words, unlike her twin, who was kinder, less critical, and softer in a myriad of ways.

“I thought it was good, but not tough enough.”

“You're mighty hard to please.” But her sponsors were too. Jessica met her eyes with a shrug and a smile. “You taught me to question what I hear and be demanding of the news.”

“Did I do that?” The two women exchanged a warm smile. She was proud of Jess, and in turn Jessica was proud of her. Both twins were. She was a terrific mother to them. The three of them had shared some damn tough years. It had brought them closer, in respect, and attitudes.

Mother and daughter exchanged another long look. In a way, Melanie was just a shade gentler than her oldest child. But she was of another generation, another lifetime, a different world. And for her time, Melanie had already come far. But Jessica would go further, move ahead with even more determination than Mel had. “Where's Val?”

“In her room.”

Melanie nodded. “How are things in school?”

“Okay.” But she thought Jessica sagged a little as she asked, and then sensing her mother's thoughts, she once again sought Melanie's eyes. “I saw John today.”

“How was that?”

“It hurt.”

Melanie nodded and sat down on the bed, grateful for the openness that they always shared. “What did he say?”

“Just ‘hi.’ I don't know, I hear he's going out with some other girl.”

“That's rough.” It had been almost a month now, and Melanie knew that it was the first real blow Jessica had suffered since she had started school. Always near the top of her class, surrounded by friends, and chased by all the best boys in school since she'd turned thirteen. Just shy of her sixteenth birthday, she had experienced her first heartbreak, and it hurt Melanie to watch it, almost as much as it hurt Jess. “But you know, what you've forgotten by now is that there were times when he really got on your nerves.”

“He did?” Jessica looked surprised.

“Yes, ma'am. Remember when he showed up an hour late to take you to that dance? When he went skiing with his friends instead of taking you to the football game? The time he …” Melanie seemed to remember them all, she knew her girls' lives well, and Jessica grinned.

“Okay, okay, so he's a creep … I like him anyway …”

“Him, or just having someone around?” There was a moment's silence in the room, and Jessica looked at her with surprised eyes.

“You know, Mom … I'm not sure.” She was stunned. The uncertainty was a revelation to her.

Melanie smiled. “Don't feel alone. Half the relationships in the world go on because of that.”

Jessica looked at her then, her head turned to one side; she knew how difficult her mother's standards were, how badly she'd been hurt, how careful she was not to get involved. Sometimes it made Jess sorry for her. Her mother needed someone. Long ago, she had hoped it would be Grant, but she knew long since that was not destined to be. And before she could say anything more, the door opened and Valerie walked in.