“It's good PR for you. How about lunch? And don't tell me you can't, or you have to do errands for your poor old uncle George, because I won't believe a word of it. How about the Mark Hopkins for lunch, old friend?” She hesitated, but he grabbed her coat and hat and handed them to her. “Come on.” He was impossible to resist.

“Don't you have anything else to do, like fight a war?”

“Not yet. There's still time for lunch, thank God, and George says you never go out. It won't hurt your reputation to eat lunch in broad daylight. We can sit at separate tables if you want.”

“All right, all right. I'm convinced.” She was in a lighthearted mood and so was he; it was almost like the old days on the Normandie, when they'd had their tennis match. They sat at a good table and enjoyed the view. Nick told her funny stories about the men on the base and in his hotel, and for the first time in years she felt alive again. He was easy to be with, funny and smart, and he took her totally by surprise when he asked her what she was doing on New Year's Eve.

“Wait. Don't tell me. Let me guess. You're staying home with Uncle George and the girls.”

“Right!” She grinned. “First prize goes to you.”

“Well, you get the booby prize. Why not let me take you out? I'm safe. And if I misbehave, you can call the MPs and have me removed.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You mean I have a chance?”

“Not a bit. I just want to know what I'm going to miss.”

“Oh, for chrissake.” He grinned at her. “Come on, Liane. It would do you good. You can't lock yourself up in that house all the time.”

“Yes, I can. And I'm happy there.”

“It's not good for you. How old are you now?” He tried to count back. “Thirty-three?”

“I'm thirty-four.”

“Oh, in that case … I had no idea you were so old. Well, I'm forty now. And I'm old enough to know what's good for you. And I think you should go out.”

“You sound just like Uncle George.” She was unconvinced but amused.

“Now, wait a minute. Forty is one thing, but I'm not that old!”

“Neither is he, in his heart. You know he used to be quite a rake in his day.”

Nick smiled. “I can still see it in his eyes. Now, don't change the subject on me. What about New Year's Eve?”

“First it's lunch, and then it's New Year's Eve. You know, you could be quite a rake too, if you tried. Maybe even if you didn't.”

“It's not my style.” He looked at her seriously. “I meant a quiet evening between two old friends who've had a tough time and understand the rules. We deserve that much. Otherwise, what do I do? Sit in my lousy hotel, and you stay home? We could go to the Fairmont for dinner or something like that.”

“I suppose we could.” She looked at him, but she still wasn't sure. “Would I be safe?” It was a straight question and he looked her in the eye.

“As safe as you want to be. I'll be honest with you, I still love you, I always have since the first time we met, and I probably always will. But I'll never do anything to hurt you. I understand how you feel about Armand, and I respect that. I know what the boundaries are. This isn't the Deauville, or even the Normandie. This is real life.”

She spoke softly as she looked at him. “That was real too.”

He took her hand gently in his. “I know it was. But I always knew what you wanted to do after that, and I respected that. I'm free now, Liane, but you're not, and that's all right. I just enjoy being with you. There was more to us than just—” He didn't know how to say the words and she understood.

“I know that.” She sighed and sat back in her chair with a smile. “It's funny that our paths should cross again, isn't it?”

“I guess you could call it that. I'm glad they did. I never really thought I'd see you again, except if I went to Washington sometime and ran into you on the street. Or maybe in Paris ten years from now, with Armand. …” And then he regretted saying his name, she looked pained again. “Liane, he made a choice, a difficult one, and you've stood by. You can't do more than that. Staying home, holding your breath, killing yourself, won't make it any easier for him. You have to go on with your life.”

“I'm trying to. That's why I took the job with the Red Cross.”

“I figured that. But you have to do more than that.”

“I suppose I do.” He made a lot of sense, and if she went out at all, she'd like it to be with him. He understood. And who knew how long he'd be around? He could be shipped out any day now. “All right, my friend, I would be honored to usher in nineteen forty-two with you.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

He paid the check and took her back to work, and the afternoon seemed to fly by. She was happy to get home to see George and the girls. Her uncle noticed the look on her face and didn't say a word. And that night, she casually mentioned to him that she was going out for dinner with Nick on New Year's Eve.

“That's nice.” He knew her well by now, he dared not say more, but he hoped that there was something afoot with “the Burnham boy.” He buried his nose in his book, and she went upstairs to talk to the girls, and at dinner that night, not another word was said about Nick.

Liane didn't mention him again until she came downstairs on New Year's Eve, in a dress she'd bought four years before in France, but it was still beautiful and so was she. George looked her over with a happy grin as she waited for Nick, and whistled softly though his teeth as she laughed.

“Not bad … not bad at all!”

“Thank you, sir.”

The dress had long sleeves and a high neck, it was black wool and reached to the floor, but it had tiny jet-black bugle beads sewn all over the top and a tiny cap to match, and it sat on her blond hair, swept up in a simple knot, and on her ears she wore tiny diamond clips. The outfit was simple and elegant and ladylike, and perfect for Liane. Nick thought the same when he arrived. He stood in the entrance hall for a moment and stared at her. And then he whistled, echoing George. It was the first time in years that she'd felt like a lady admired by men and it felt good. Nick said hello to George and Liane kissed him good night.

“Don't come back soon, it would be a shame to waste that dress. Go show it off.”

“I'll do my best to keep her out.” Nick winked broadly and all three of them laughed. The girls had already gone to bed. There was a festive feeling to the night as they left the house in the car Nick had borrowed. “I'm afraid I don't look half as elegant as you in my uniform, Liane.”

“Want to trade?”

He laughed at her and they reached the Fairmont in high spirits. Nick had reserved a table in the Venetian Room, and they went inside, where he ordered champagne, and they toasted each other and a better year to come before Nick ordered them steaks, preceded by shrimp and caviar. It was a far cry from the exotic goodies of the Normandie, but it was a fine meal and they were both relaxed. They danced several times after dessert, and Nick felt happier than he had in a long time and so did Liane.

“You're easy to be with, you know. You always were.” It was one of the first things he had noticed about her, in his days of misery with Hillary. He mentioned her now, and Liane smiled.

“You're well out of that, you know.”

“Oh, God, yes! I knew it then. But you know why I stayed.” It was because of John. “Anyway, those are old times, and this is almost a new year.” He glanced at his watch. “Are you making any resolutions this year, Liane?”

“Not a one.” She looked content as she smiled at him. “And you?”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

“What?”

“Not to get killed.” He looked her in the eye and she looked back at him. It brought home the point that at any moment he would be going to war, and that the casual dinners were only for a little while, and it suddenly made her stop and think, about him, about Armand, about the others around them going to war. The room was filled with uniforms. Overnight San Francisco had become a military town.

“Nick …” For an instant she wasn't sure what to say.

“Never mind, it was a dumb thing to say.”

“No, it wasn't. Just see that you live up to it.”

“I will. I still have to get Johnny back.” It was something to look forward to when he got back. “And in the meantime, would you like to dance?”

“Yes, sir.” They circled the floor to the tune of “The Lady's in Love with You,” and it seemed only moments later when the horns sounded and there was confetti everywhere in the air, and suddenly the lights were dim, people kissed, the music played, and they found themselves standing in the middle of the floor, looking at each other, their arms around each other, and he pressed her close just as she turned her face up to his and their lips met, and as they kissed, the rest of the room disappeared and they were on the Deauville again … lost in each other's arms … until at last they came up for air, and Liane didn't pull away.

“Happy New Year, Nick.”

“Happy New Year, Liane.”

And then they kissed again. They hadn't drunk enough champagne to blame it on that, and they stayed on the floor and danced for a long time, until at last he took her home and they stood outside her uncle's house as Nick looked down at her.

“I owe you an apology, Liane. I didn't play by the rules tonight.” But the truth was for the last two years he would have given his right arm to have what he had just had tonight. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean—” But she put up a hand and touched his mouth with her fingertips.

“Nick, don't … it's all right. …” Something he had said had touched a place in her heart, about making a resolution not to be killed. And suddenly she knew that they had to take the moments while they could. They had learned once before that the moments might not come again. And they had been given this second chance as a gift. She couldn't turn it back now. She no longer wanted to. She only wanted him.

He kissed her fingertips and then her eyes, her lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She pulled away and smiled at him. “We don't have a right to waste that now. We did what we had to before, and we will again … but right now—” He pulled her close to him with a fierceness that took her by surprise.

“I'll love you all my life. Do you know that?” She nodded.

“And when you tell me to go away again, I will. I do understand what has to be.”

“I know you do.” She touched his face as he held her close. “Then we don't have to talk about it again.” She pulled gently away from him then and opened the door with her key. He kissed her good night, and she watched him drive away. There was no stopping the tides now, and neither of them wanted to. They had held them back for almost two years, and they couldn't now … couldn't … and she had no regrets. She walked quietly upstairs and took off her dress and went to bed, and tonight there were no dreams of anyone. There was a strange weightless feeling of peace and light and joy as she slept on dreamlessly until morning.





“Hi, Uncle Nick.” Elisabeth threw her arms around his neck and cast her mother a guilty smile. “Do we still have to call him Mr. Burnham?”