“Bernie, you shouldn't have done all that! My God …look at that…” She looked at the box of chocolate truffles in her hand, and then with a guilty look, she did exactly what Jane would have done. She offered them to him and then popped one in her mouth, closing her eyes with the ecstasy of it. “Hmm …oh …sooo good …” She made it sound like a sexual experience, and it gave him a chance to admire her again. She was delicate and graceful and really beautiful in a clean-cut American way. She was wearing her long blond hair in one long braid today, and her eyes were as blue as the faded denim shirt she wore and the white shorts showed off her shapely legs. And he noticed that she wore carefully applied red polish on her toenails, which showed a little vanity at least. But she wore nothing on her eyes, and no lipstick at all, and the nails on her hands were cut short. She was a pretty girl, more than that in fact, but she wasn't frivolous, and he liked that about her. She didn't take your breath away, but she warmed your heart… in fact, she warmed more than that as she bent over to put the two bottles of wine away, and then turned to him with a smile much like Jane's. “You've spoiled us terribly, Bernard … I don't know what to say.”

“Listen …it's nice to make new friends … I don't have very many out here.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“Five months.”

“From New York?”

He nodded. “I've lived in New York all my life, except three years in Chicago a long time ago.”

She looked intrigued as she got two beers out of the fridge and offered him one. “That's where I'm from. Why did you go out there?”

“My trial by fire. I went out there to run the store His voice trailed off, thinking of it. “And now I'm here.” It still felt like a punishment to him, although slightly less so as he looked at her, and then followed her into the comfortable living room. The house was small, and the floor was covered with straw mats. The furniture was covered in faded denim and there was driftwood and shells everywhere. The house could have been anywhere, East Hampton, Fire Island, Malibu … it had a nondescript quality, but outside the picture window was the view, a spectacular beach, a vast expanse of sea, and off to one side San Francisco, clustered on the hills sparkling in the sun. It was a beautiful view …and more than that, she was a beautiful girl. She waved him to a comfortable chair, and sat down on the couch herself, pretzeling her legs under her.

“Do you like it out here? In San Francisco, I mean.”

“Sometimes.” He was honest with her. “I haven't seen much of it, I must admit. I've been busy with the store. I like the climate. When I left New York, it was snowing, and when I got here five hours later, it was spring. There's something to be said for that.”

“But?” She smiled invitingly at him. She had a nice way about her, a way that made one want to talk to her endlessly, and share one's private thoughts. He had a sudden insight that she must be a nice woman to have as a friend, and he wasn't sure if that was all he wanted from her or not. There was something about her which appealed to him a lot, something subtly sexy he couldn't define, like the curve of her breast in the old blue shirt she wore, and the way she bent her head …and the way little wisps of her hair curled softly around her face. He wanted to touch her, to hold her hand … to kiss the full lips as she smiled … it was difficult even concentrating on what she said. “It must be lonely for you here without friends. I hated it here for the first year.”

“But you stayed anyway?” He looked intrigued. He wanted to hear about her, wanted to know everything she had to say.

“Yes. For a while I didn't have any choice. I didn't have any folks to go home to by then. My parents died in a car accident during my sophomore year at Northwestern.” Her eyes clouded thinking about it, and he winced on her behalf. “I think that made me a lot more vulnerable, and I fell madly in love with the star of the play I was in, in junior year.”

Her eyes were sad as she thought back. It was funny, she didn't usually tell people about that, but it was easy to talk to him. And they were watching Jane through the picture window as she played in the sand outside, her doll sitting next to her as she waved at them from time to time. And something about Bernie made her want to be honest with him right from the beginning. She figured she had nothing to lose. If he didn't like what he heard, he wouldn't call again, but at least everything would be straight between them if he did. There was something to be said for that. She was tired of the games people played, and the pretense between people from the moment they met. It wasn't her style. And she looked at him with wide, honest blue eyes. “I was at Northwestern …studying drama of course.” She smiled at him, thinking back. “And we'd been in summer stock together the summer right after my parents died. I felt like a zombie I was so numb, and I didn't have anyone in the world anymore. I fell head over heels in love with him. He was a gorgeous man and a nice guy, I thought, and I got pregnant just before we graduated. He said he wanted to get married out here. Someone had offered him a part in a movie in Hollywood. So he came out here first, and I followed him. I had nowhere else to go anymore, and I couldn't accept having an abortion. So I followed Chandler out here, even though things were a little less rosy by then. He wasn't too thrilled about the pregnancy, to say the least. But I was still desperately in love with him, and I thought things would work out.” She glanced out the window at Jane, as though to reassure herself that they had.

“So I hitchhiked to Los Angeles, and met up with Chandler again. Chandler Scott …turned out later his name was really Charlie Schiavo, but he had changed his name …anyway, the part had fallen through for him …and he was busy chasing starlets and jobs while I worked as a waitress and got bigger every day. And we finally did get married, three days before Jane was born. I thought the justice of the peace was going to faint…and then Chandler disappeared. He called to say he had gotten a job doing repertory in Oregon when she was five months old, and afterwards I found out he'd been in jail. It was as if just the act of getting married scared him so much, he had to disappear. Although actually I figured out later that he must have been doing all kinds of strange stuff all along. He got busted for passing stolen goods, then he got arrested again for burglary. Anyway, he came back when Jane was nine months old and lived with us for a few months, and when she was a year old, he disappeared again, and when I found out he was in jail that time, I filed for divorce and that was it. I moved to San Francisco, and I've never heard from him again. He was a con man from beginning to end, and you've never met anyone so convincing in your life. If I met him today, I don't think I'd fall for it all again, but you know, he was so damn smooth, I don't know…. Isn't that depressing to realize? Anyway, I took back my maiden name when I got divorced and here we are.” She looked matter-of-fact about her history, and he was amazed, anyone else would have been wringing their hankie just thinking about it. But she had survived and survived well. She looked wholesome and happy and she had a wonderful little girl. “And Jane is my family now. I think I got lucky in the end.” His heart went out to her at the words.

“What does Jane think of all that?” He was curious about what Liz would have told the child.

“Nothing. She thinks he's dead. I told her he was a beautiful actor and we got married after school and came out here, and then she came along and he died when she was a year old. She doesn't know the rest, and we'll never see him again, so what difference does it make? God only knows where he is. He'll probably wind up in jail for the rest of his life, and he's not interested in either of us. He never was. I'd rather she have a few illusions about how she came to be at least until later.”

“I guess you're right.” He admired her. He admired her a great deal. She was a brave girl and she'd made the best of it, and the child seemed to have suffered not at all, thanks to her mother loving her so much. And there was nothing tragic about this girl, she was all guts and heart and beautiful silky blond hair. And she had made a new life for herself.

California was a good place for that. It was a good place to start a new life. And she had.

“I teach school here now. I used my parents' insurance money and went to school at night for a year and got the credits I needed for a teaching credential out here, and I love my job. I teach second grade, and my kids are just great!” She grinned happily. “Jane goes to my school too, and the tuition is less that way. That was one of the reasons I decided to teach. I wanted her to go to a decent school, and I knew I'd have a hell of a time paying for private school, so everything worked out.” She made it sound like a success story instead of an agony, and it was. It was remarkable. She had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and he could easily understand how it had happened. “Chandler Scott,” or whatever his real name was, sounded like a male version of Isabelle, although he was certainly less of a pro than she, and she had never wound up in jail.

“I got myself involved with someone like that a few years ago.” Her honesty deserved his. “A beautiful French girl, a model I met at the store. She had me in the palm of her hand for over a year, and I didn't get a wonderful little girl out of it.” He smiled at Jane, playing outside, and then Liz, sitting across from him. “I wound up feeling used, and minus several thousand dollars and a watch my parents had given me. She was very slick. Someone offered her a movie career, and I found them making love on the deck of his yacht. I guess they come in all sexes and nationalities, that breed. But it kind of makes you cautious about who you get involved with after that, doesn't it? I've never been that close to anyone again, and that was three years ago.” He paused. “People like that make you question your own judgment afterwards. You find yourself wondering how you could have been such a fool.”

She laughed at him. “You can say that again! I didn't have a date for two years …and even now, I'm cautious … I love my work, my friends. The rest”—she shrugged and threw up both hands—“I can do without.” He smiled at her. He was sorry to hear that.

“Should I leave now?”

They both laughed and she got up to check on the quiche she had made, and when she opened the oven door, the aroma of it wafted into the room.

“Boy, that smells good.”

“Thank you. I love to cook.” She whipped up a Caesar salad for both of them, handling the dressing as expertly as his favorite waiter at “21” in New York, and she poured out a Bloody Mary for him. Then she went to knock on the picture window and signaled to Jane to come in. She had a peanut butter and bacon sandwich for her, and she arrived at the lunch table carrying the chocolate teddy bear, minus one ear.

“Can he still hear you, Jane?”

“What?” She looked confused when Bernie asked.

“The bear …without his ear …”

“Oh.” She grinned. “Yes. Next I'm going to eat his nose.”

“Poor thing. He's going to be in terrible shape by tonight. I'll have to get you another one.”

“You will?” Jane looked thrilled, and Liz served lunch. There were straw mats on the table and a vase filled with bright orange flowers, bright orange napkins, and pretty china and silverware.

“We love being here,” Liz explained. “It's such a nice holiday for us. This belongs to one of the teachers at the school where I teach. Her husband is an architect and they built it years ago. And they go east to Martha's Vineyard to visit her parents every year, so they lend it to us, and it's the best part of our year, isn't it, Jane?” The child nodded and smiled up at Bernie.

“Do you like it here too?” Jane questioned him.

“Very much.”

“Did you throw up on the way?” She seemed fascinated and he laughed at her choice of lunch conversation. But he loved her ingenuousness and her honesty. She was a lot like Liz, and she even looked like her. She was a miniature version of her mother.

“No, I didn't throw up. But it helps when you drive.”

“That's what Mom says. She never throws up.”

“Jane …” Liz warned her with her eyes, and Bernie watched them happily. It was an easy, comfortable afternoon, and he and Liz went for a walk on the beach afterwards, as Jane scampered ahead, looking for shells. He suspected that it wasn't always easy for them. It was difficult to be alone with a small child, but Liz didn't complain about it. She seemed to love it.