It was early November when they finally made it up. They decided to have early Thanksgiving with her, since they were flying east to spend it with Peter. And shortly after they arrived, Richard mentioned to her that Andrew said he had called her. Paris looked faintly embarrassed.

“I know. I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I never called him.” But she really didn't want to.

“I think he was afraid he had offended you. He's a hell of a nice guy,” Richard staunchly defended him.

“If he calls again, I'll talk to him. I promise.”

“I'll tell him.”

And after that they sat down to dinner, and had a traditional Thanksgiving meal. But there was nothing traditional about the look on their faces when Paris told them she wanted to adopt a baby. Both her children looked like they were going into shock.

“You what?” Meg stared at her, for the first time not willing to support her. “Mom, that's crazy. You're too old to have a baby.”

“That's possible,” Paris conceded, “although I'm not entirely sure of that either. But that's not what I have in mind. I want to adopt one. And I'm certainly not too old to take care of a baby. Women older than I am are having them by in vitro fertilization.” She defended her position, but so far hadn't convinced them.

“They have husbands.” Meg was almost shouting, and she was looking to Richard to be her ally. So far he had said nothing. And Wim looked horrified. His whole family was going crazy. His parents had divorced, his father had married a girl almost half his age, now they had a six-month-old baby, he had two stepbrothers, and now his mom wanted to adopt a baby. Neither he nor Meg was enthused by the project, and they made no bones about it.

“Single women adopt babies, and so do single men,” Paris said calmly.

“Let them,” Meg said childishly. “I think it's stupid for you to adopt a baby. Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I'm lonely,” Paris answered quietly, and both of her children stared at her. “You two are grown up, and have your own lives. I don't. Except for my job. You were my life. And I'm not your responsibility. I have to make my own life worthwhile. I want to have a baby, to love and take care of, and keep me company, until it grows up too. It doesn't mean I don't love both of you, of course I do. But I don't want to be alone either.” There was a deafening silence, and Richard looked at her with great compassion, as though they were the only two adults in the room, and he got it. He put an arm around his wife and tried to explain it to her.

“Your mom has a right to do anything she thinks is right to make her life better. It's not easy being alone. This is hard for her. And it would be a wonderful thing to do for a baby.”

“Why can't you just get married?” Meg asked plaintively.

“Because I can't, or I haven't,” Paris answered, “and I'm not going to sit here and wait for the Messiah to come and improve my lot in life. That's pathetic. I need to take responsibility for my own life,” Paris said, and Richard admired her for it.

“What if I have a baby? You won't even care about it, if you have your own,” Meg asked, sounding pathetic, and Paris smiled at her. In her own way, Meg was still a baby herself. And so was Wim. Alice had been right. This wasn't as easy as she had thought.

“Of course, I'll care about your baby, sweetheart. And I'll care about both of you, and all the children you have. But I need to do something to make my own life better, and this is what seems right to me.”

“It sounds pretty dumb to me,” Wim contributed. “Babies make a big mess.” He was seeing that with the half-sister Peter and Rachel had given him. Their baby seemed to scream all the time, and as far as Wim was concerned, every time he tried to play with her, she threw up, and Rachel got worried. It didn't sound like a terrific idea to him.

“Let's see what happens. I'll tell you both what I'm doing, and if a baby comes up. I just lost an opportunity recently, two actually. I turned one down, and the other one turned me down. This probably won't happen for quite a while,” she reassured them.

“How long?” Meg asked, as though she'd just been told she had to face a firing squad.

“Maybe a year, more or less.” All Meg could hope was that her mother would change her mind in the meantime.

And before they left on Sunday afternoon, Richard took a minute to talk to Paris alone. “Don't worry about Meg, Paris. She'll adjust. So will Wim. This is your life, and you have to do what's right for you. I admire what you're doing. It takes a lot of guts to take on a commitment like that at our age.” He was, after all, only a year older than she was, and had a different perspective than her daughter, even though they were married.

“You'd better not say that.” She smiled at him, grateful for his vote of confidence in her. “What if Meg has a baby?” She was hoping they would at some point, and from all they'd said, they intended to have children one day.

“That's different,” he said to his mother-in-law. “I'm a lot more cowardly than you. I don't think I could adopt one. That doesn't worry you?” he asked her openly, and she shook her head, feeling great affection for him. He was not only her son-in-law, he was becoming her friend.

“It doesn't worry me at all.”

Wim and Meg and Richard left on Sunday at the same time. It had been a turbulent weekend for all of them, but Paris was confident they'd calm down. And she knew Richard would help with Meg. And maybe even with Wim. He had promised to talk to him in a few days. God only knew what Peter would think of her plan when he heard of it. She wasn't counting on him to calm their children. He had his own life and problems, and his own baby they were somewhat hesitant about, because they still weren't sold on Rachel. And she had an unfailing knack for irritating them. She was a very strong woman, and she had broken up their parents' marriage, so she started out with two strikes against her in their eyes, if not three.

And as Richard and Meg drove away, he made a mental note to himself to say something to Andrew again. He still thought Andrew should call Paris, even if they only became friends. They seemed so much alike to him. And this time, if for no other reason than out of respect for her son-in-law, she had promised to take the call, if he did. There was no harm in it. She wasn't going to date him, but as Bix said, it was always good to have another friend.





Chapter 31




The following week Andrew Warren called Paris again. He said he had come to town to work on a screenplay with one of his clients, who was having trouble modifying it, and he wondered if Paris had time for lunch. She remembered her conversation with Richard and her promise to him, so she agreed to see him that week when he got in. It was a courtesy lunch, if nothing else. He was, after all, her son-in-law's partner and friend, and she didn't want to seem rude, although she was frighteningly busy in the office. Christmas was coming. She almost canceled at the last minute when a new client came in to meet with Bix, and he threatened to throw Paris out of the office physically if she didn't go to lunch. He liked Andrew Warren a lot, and was convinced Paris would too, if she gave him a chance, even as a friend.

They met in a deli on Sacramento Street, which wasn't elegant, but it was quick, and she was embarrassed to tell him that she had very little time. But he seemed good-natured about it.

“I'm just happy to get out of my client's apartment. He's been staring at a blank sheet of paper for four weeks, and he says he's not coming out till he writes something. I feel like a psychiatric attendant. I may have to write it for him.” He laughed, finishing his coffee.

“Can you write it?” Paris looked impressed.

“Not really, but I will if it will get him going. I was actually thinking about a stun gun, just to jolt him a bit.”

“There's an idea.” She laughed, and told him about the Christmas parties they were doing, when he asked her. He was fascinated by their business.

“I don't know how you do it. When I invite friends over, we order Chinese food, and eat it out of the cartons.”

“Call Bixby Mason,” she teased. “We'll take care of it for you.”

“I'll bet you would. If Meg's wedding is any indication of what you two do, I'd say you throw a terrific party.” He smiled at her appreciatively.

“We try to,” she said blandly, thinking she had fulfilled her promise and didn't have to meet with him again.

He said he had to get back to his screenwriter then, and she had to get back to the office. It had been a pleasant interlude. He was very much like Richard, and she could see why they were partners. They were both easygoing, intelligent, unpretentious, and very good at their business. They both did a lot of hand-holding for their talent, which showed they had a nurturing nature. Paris couldn't think of a better husband for her daughter. Or maybe a friend for her in Andrew one day.

And as soon as Paris got back to the office, the secretary told her she had a call from Alice Harper.

“I have an interesting birth mother for you,” Alice said, as Paris listened. She had just completed her home study and was ready to go, whenever it happened. “She's a little older than our run of the mill. And she's married. She's twenty-nine years old, and has four kids. She lives in the East Bay, and her husband is a lab tech. They're very tight on money. And apparently, he's been having an affair with their neighbor. He's leaving her, or in fact he's already left. And she didn't want this baby to begin with. I gather he's been pretty abusive to her. No drugs, no alcohol, she's very religious, and she wants this baby to have a good life. She knows it won't if she keeps it. She can't afford the ones she has, in fact, her sister is going to take her little girl who's three, and the birth mother is going to take the three boys, who are eleven and nine, and seven, and she wants to go east to get a job and live with her mother.” It sounded like a tragedy to Paris. Fragmented lives and endless heartbreak. It had happened to her. She couldn't even imagine what it would have been like if she had had to break up her family, farm out her children, and give one up for adoption.

“What happens if she gets on her feet? Will she want this baby?”

“She says he raped her. She told him she wanted a divorce a year ago, and he didn't believe her. He sounds fairly abusive. So he raped her, and she got pregnant. But then he got involved with the neighbor. She filed the divorce yesterday. Now she wants to place the baby, and start life with a clean slate somewhere else. I'm not sure I blame her,” Alice said. She had heard thirty years of these stories, and many of them were tragic. “What I like about her is that she's older, sensible. She knows what she's doing. She knows what it is to take care of a child, and she also knows what she can and can't handle. She's got more on her plate than she can cope with, and she knows it. You'd be a godsend for her.” And maybe she for Paris.

“When's the baby due?” Paris asked, making notes on a scratchpad.

“There's the rub. In two weeks. It's a baby girl, by the way. She had a sonogram last month, and the baby is healthy.” Paris had confided to Alice early on that she would prefer a little girl, it would be easier for her as she got older, particularly with no male role model for a little boy to rely on. But she was willing to take either sex.

“Two weeks?” Paris looked startled. “Next week is Thanksgiving.”

“I know. Her due date is December fifth. Do you want to meet her?”

“I…sure…” She had told her kids it could take a year. But Paris felt that if this was right, she would know it. And she already had a good feeling about it.

Alice called her back half an hour later. She had made an appointment with the birth mother, for Paris, at a coffee shop in San Leandro, the next evening at seven. It was the most exciting dinner date Paris had had in months. Possibly in years.

And the next night she was hurrying out of the office when Bix saw her.

“I'd say you had a hot date, but unfortunately, I know better.” He was extremely discouraged about Paris's current position on dating, although he knew she'd had lunch with Andrew Warren. She had told Bix pointedly that he'd make a great friend, and that was all either of them wanted. They were on the same page about that.

“I do have a hot date. I'm meeting a birth mother in San Leandro.” Paris looked anxious and excited and hopeful all at once.

“You hang out in the nicest places,” Bix teased.