“I'm so sorry,” she said the moment she saw him, “I've had the day from hell. One of my kids is sick, the other one missed his ride home from soccer practice, my daughter has a science paper due tomorrow and our nanny has a fever. I'm going nuts, please come in.” He came through the front door, just as Sam wandered into the hall, looking green. “This is my son Sam,” she explained just as Sam threw up again, and Charles stared at him in amazement.

“Oh my,” he said, and looked at Maxine with alarm.

“I'm sorry. Why don't you go in the living room and sit down? I'll be in, in a minute.” She rushed Sam into her bathroom, where he threw up again, and then she ran back to the hallway and cleaned up with a towel. She got Sam into her bed, as Daphne walked into the room.

“When can we do my paper?”

“Oh my God,” Maxine said, ready to cry or have hysterics. “Never mind your paper. There's a man in the living room. Go talk to him. His name is Dr. West.”

“Who is he?” Daphne appeared baffled, and her mother looked crazy. She was washing her hands, and trying to comb her hair at the same time. It wasn't working.

“He's a friend. No, he's a stranger. I don't know who he is. I'm having dinner with him.”

“Now?” Daphne looked horrified. “What about my paper? It's half of my final grade for the semester.”

“Then you should have thought about it sooner. I can't do your paper. I have a date, your brother is throwing up, Zelda is dying, and Jack is probably going to catch pneumonia from standing in the rain at a bus stop for an hour.”

“You have a date?” Daphne stared at her. “When did that happen?”

“It didn't. And it probably never will at this rate. Will you please go talk to him?” As she said it, Sam said he was going to throw up again, and she ran him into the bathroom, as Daphne went to meet Charles with a look of resignation. She managed to toss over her shoulder on the way out that if she flunked, it wasn't her fault, since her mother wouldn't help with the paper. “Why is it my fault?” Maxine shouted back at her from the bathroom doorway.

“I feel better,” Sam announced, but he didn't look it. Maxine put him back in her bed, with towels around him, washed her hands again, and gave up on her hair. She was about to leave the room to see Charles, when Sam looked at her mournfully from the bed. “How come you have a date?”

“I just do. He invited me to dinner.”

“Is he nice?” Sam looked worried. He couldn't even remember the last time his mother had gone out. Nor could she.

“I don't know yet,” she said honestly. “It's no big deal, Sam. Just dinner.” He nodded. “I'll be back in a minute,” she reassured him. There was no way she was going out to dinner.

She reached the living room finally in time to hear Daphne telling Charles all about her father's yacht, plane, penthouse in New York, and house in Aspen. It wasn't exactly what Maxine wanted her to talk about on the first date, although she was grateful Daphne had left out London, St. Bart's, Morocco, and Venice. She gave Daphne a quelling look and thanked her for entertaining Charles. Maxine turned to him then and apologized profusely for Sam's performance when he walked in. What she really wanted to apologize for was Daphne bragging about her father. When she showed no sign of getting up, Maxine told Daphne she needed to get started on her science paper. Daphne was reluctant to leave, but finally did so. Maxine felt like she was going to have hysterics.

“I'm so sorry. My house isn't usually this insane. I don't know what happened. Everything went nuts today. And I'm sorry about Daphne.”

“What are you sorry about? She was just talking about her father. She's very proud of him.” Maxine suspected Daphne was trying to make Charles uncomfortable intentionally, but she didn't want to say that. It was bratty of her, and she knew better. “I didn't realize you'd been married to Blake Williams,” he said, looking a little daunted.

“Yeah,” Maxine said, wishing they could start the evening over, without the scene from The Exorcist on the way in. It would have helped too if she'd remembered they had a date for dinner. She hadn't written it down, and it had gone right out of her head. “That's who I was married to. Would you like a drink?” She realized as she said it that she had nothing in the house except some cheap white wine Zelda used for cooking. Maxine had meant to buy some decent wine over the weekend but had forgotten that too.

“Are we going to dinner?” Charles asked bluntly. It didn't look like it to him, with a sick kid, another one with a paper due, and Maxine looking frazzled beyond belief.

“Would you hate me if we didn't?” she asked honestly. “I don't know how it happened, but I forgot. I had a crazy day today, and I somehow neglected to write it down when we made the date.” She looked near tears, and he felt sorry for her. Normally, he would have been furious, but he didn't have the heart to be. The poor woman looked overwhelmed. “This could be why I don't date. I'm not very good at it.” To say the least.

“Maybe you don't want to date,” he suggested. It had occurred to her too, and she suspected he was right. It just seemed like too much trouble, and too hard to manage. Between her work and her kids, her life was full already. There was no room for anyone else, or the time and effort it took to date.

“I'm sorry, Charles. I'm usually not like this. I run a pretty tight ship.”

“You can't help it if your son and nanny got sick. Would you like to try again? How about Friday night?” She didn't want to tell him that Zelda would be off then. If she had to, she'd ask her to work. Between the root canal the week before, and tonight, Zelda owed her one anyway, and she was a good sport about things like that.

“That would be terrific. Would you like to stay? I have to cook dinner for the kids anyway.” He had a reservation for them at La Grenouille, but he didn't want her to feel bad, so he didn't mention it to her. He was disappointed, but he told himself he was an adult, and he could handle a broken date if he had to.

“I'll stay for a little while. You've got your hands full. You don't have to cook me dinner. Would you like me to have a look at your son, and the nanny?” he offered kindly.

She smiled gratefully at him. “That would be really nice. It's just the flu. But that's more your bailiwick than mine. If they get suicidal, I'll step in.” He laughed. He had been feeling suicidal himself watching the chaos in her house. He was not used to children, and the confusion that surrounded them. He led a quiet, orderly life, and he preferred it that way.

She walked Charles down the hall to her bedroom, where Sam was tucked into her bed, watching TV. He looked better than he had all afternoon. And he looked up when his mother walked in. He was surprised to see a man with her.

“Sam, this is Charles. He's a doctor, he's going to take a look at you.” She was smiling at her son, and Charles could see how crazy she was about her kids. It would have been hard to miss.

“Is that your date?” Sam asked with suspicion.

“Yes, it is,” Maxine said, looking embarrassed. “His name is Dr. West.”

“Charles,” he corrected with an easy smile as he approached the bed. “Hi, Sam. Looks like you're feeling pretty crummy. Have you been throwing up all day?”

“Six times,” Sam said proudly. “I threw up in the taxi coming home from school.” Charles glanced at Maxine with a sympathetic grin. He could imagine the scene.

“That doesn't sound like fun. Can I touch your tummy?” Sam nodded and pulled up the top of his pajamas, as his brother walked in.

“You had to call a doctor for him?” Jack looked instantly worried.

“He's her date,” Sam explained as Jack looked confused.

“Who's her date?” Jack asked.

“The doctor,” Sam told his brother, as Maxine introduced Jack to Charles, who turned to smile at him.

“You must be the soccer player.” Jack nodded, wondering where the mysterious doctor/date had come from, and why he hadn't heard about him. “What position do you play? I played soccer in college. I was better at basketball, but I thought soccer was more fun.”

“Me too. I want to play lacrosse next year,” Jack volunteered as Maxine watched them.

“Lacrosse is a tough sport. You get a lot more injuries in lacrosse than in soccer,” Charles said, as he stood up after examining Sam, and then he looked down at the little boy with a smile. “I think you're going to make it, Sam. I'll bet you feel better by tomorrow.”

“Do you think I'll throw up again?” Sam looked worried.

“I hope not. Just take it easy tonight. Would you like some Coke or ginger ale?” Sam nodded, assessing Charles with interest. As Maxine watched them, she realized how unfamiliar it was to all of them to have a man in their midst, but it was nice. And he had a sweet way with them. She could see that Jack was checking him out too. And a minute later, Daphne walked back in. They were all standing in their mother's bedroom, which seemed suddenly too small with so many people in it. “Where are you hiding the sick nanny?” Charles asked her.

“I'll show you,” Maxine said, and led him out of the room, as Sam giggled and started to say something, and Jack put a finger to his lips to silence him. Maxine and Charles could hear them giggling and whispering as they walked away, as Maxine turned to Charles with an apologetic grin. “This is a little different for them.”

“So I gather. They're nice kids,” he said easily, as they walked into the kitchen and then the hallway beyond. Maxine knocked on the door to Zelda's room, quietly opened it, and offered to have Charles take a look at her. She made the introductions from the doorway. Zelda looked instantly confused. She had no idea who Dr. West was or why he was there.

“I'm not that sick,” she said, looking embarrassed, thinking Maxine had called him just for her. “It's just the flu.”

“He was here anyway, and he just took a look at Sam.” Zelda wondered if he was a new pediatrician she didn't know about. It never occurred to her that Maxine had a dinner date with him. And he told her pretty much the same thing he had told Sam.

A few minutes later, Maxine and Charles were standing in her kitchen, and she handed him a Coke, a bowl of chips, and some guacamole she found in the fridge. He said he was going to leave in a few minutes and let her take care of her kids. She had enough on her hands. She sat down at the kitchen table with him and they chatted for a few minutes. He had certainly had his trial by fire, and had met them all. Sam throwing up as he walked in was certainly one way to introduce Charles to her children, though not the one she would have chosen. As far as Maxine was concerned, he had passed with flying colors. She wasn't sure how he felt about it, but he had certainly been a good sport. This was by no means a standard first date. Far from it.

“I'm sorry tonight was such a mess,” she apologized again.

“It worked out fine,” he said easily, thinking longingly for a minute of the dinner they would have had at La Grenouille. “We'll have a nice time on Friday night. I guess you have to be flexible when you have kids.”

“Usually, not as flexible as this. I'm pretty well organized most of the time. Today just got out of hand. Mostly because Zellie was sick too. I count on her a lot.” He nodded. It was obvious that she had to have someone to rely on, and her ex-husband wasn't around. After what Daphne had told him, he could see why. He had read about Blake Williams over the years. He was a major figure in the jet set, and didn't sound like a family man. Maxine had said as much over lunch.

Charles went to say goodbye to the children before he left, and told Sam he hoped he'd feel better soon.

“Thanks,” Sam said, and waved goodbye. And a moment later, Maxine let Charles out.

“I'll pick you up at seven on Friday,” Charles promised, and she thanked him again for being so nice about tonight. “Don't worry about it. At least I got to meet all your kids.” He waved as he got in the elevator, and a moment later she collapsed on her bed next to Sam with a sigh, as the others walked in.

“So how come you didn't tell us you had a date?” Jack complained.

“I forgot about it.”

“Who is he anyway?” Daphne looked suspicious.

“Just a doctor I met,” Maxine said, looking exhausted. She didn't want to have to justify it to them. Tonight had been bad enough. “And by the way,” she said to her daughter, “you shouldn't brag about your father like that. It's not nice.”

“Why not?” Daphne looked instantly defiant.

“Because talking about his yacht and his plane isn't cool. It could make people uncomfortable.” Which of course was precisely why she had done it. Daphne shrugged and walked out of the room.