“Would you like to go out to dinner tonight, or are you too jetlagged?”

“I'd love it,” she said quickly. It was clearly a peace offering from him, and she was looking forward to seeing him.

“Our old standby?” He meant La Grenouille, of course.

“How about Café Boulud? It's not as formal, and it's closer to home.” She knew she might be tired later on, after a day in the office on the heels of the long trip. And she wanted to see her kids.

“I'll pick you up at eight,” he said quickly, and then, “I missed you, Max. I'm glad you're home. I was worried about you.” He had thought about her all weekend in Vermont.

“I was fine.”

And then with a sigh, “How was Blake?”

“He's trying very hard to make a difference, and it's not easy. It never is in those situations. I'm glad I went.”

“We'll talk about it tonight,” he said brusquely. They hung up, and she glanced at the messages on her desk before her first patient showed up. It looked like nothing dramatic had happened over the weekend. Thelma had faxed her a brief report. None of Maxine's patients had had problems, or had to be admitted over the weekend. She was pleased. She worried about them too.

The rest of the day went smoothly, and she managed to be home by six o'clock so she could see the children after work. Zelda had gone to an appointment, and when she came back, she was wearing high heels and a suit, which was rare.

“Where have you been?” Maxine asked, smiling at her. “You look like you had a hot date.” That hadn't happened to Zelda in years.

“I had to see a lawyer about something. No big deal.”

“Everything okay?” Maxine looked momentarily worried, but Zelda said it was fine.

Maxine told her children about the work their father was doing in Morocco, and they were extremely proud of him. She said she was too. She told them everything except about the orphanage. She had promised him that she would let him tell them about it, and she kept her word.

She even managed to be dressed on time when Charles showed up just before eight o'clock. He said hello to the children, who muttered greetings and disappeared into their rooms. They were a lot less friendly now that they knew about the wedding plans. He had become the enemy overnight.

Maxine ignored them, and they walked to the restaurant on East 76th Street. It was a warm balmy night, and she was wearing a blue linen dress and silver sandals, a far cry from her army surplus gear and combat boots that she had been in twenty-four hours before, in a different world with Blake. He had called her to thank her again that afternoon. He said he had already made some contacts to further his plans. He was embarking on it with the same determination, energy, and focus that had won him his success over the years.

They were halfway through dinner when Maxine told Charles about the rehearsal dinner Blake was giving for them the night before the wedding. Charles stopped and stared at her with his fork halfway to his mouth.

“What did you just say?” He had begun to relax and warm up to her again, when she hit him with that.

“I said that he wants to give the rehearsal dinner for us, the night before the wedding.”

“I guess my parents would be doing that if they were alive,” Charles said regretfully, as he set his fork down and sat back in his chair. “Do you want me to do it?” He looked a little startled by the whole idea.

“No,” Maxine said, smiling at him. “I think for a second wedding, it's pretty much up for grabs. Blake is like family anyway. The kids will be thrilled to have him do it.”

“Well, I'm not,” Charles said bluntly, pushing away his meal. “Are we ever going to get rid of that guy, or is he just going to tag along forever? You told me you had a decent relationship, but this is ridiculous. I feel like I'm marrying him too.”

“Well, you're not. But he is the children's father. Trust me, Charles, it's better like this.”

“For who?”

“Well, for my kids.” And for her too. She would have hated to have an ex-husband she never spoke to, or where they were constantly fighting over the kids.

Charles was glaring at her. She had never seen someone as jealous, and she couldn't help wondering if it was because of who Blake was and what he had achieved, or because she'd been married to him. It was hard to tell.

“And I suppose if I say no to the rehearsal dinner, your children will think I'm a prick.” The answer to that was yes, but she was afraid to say that to Charles. “This is a completely no-win situation for me.”

“No, it isn't. If you let him do it, the children will have a ball planning it with him, and he puts on a great party.” As she said it, Charles looked angrier by the minute. It had never occurred to Maxine that he would be that upset. Blake was her family, and she had hoped Charles would understand. “Maybe I should just invite my ex-wife too.”

“That would be fine with me,” Maxine said gently, as Charles signaled for the check. He was in no mood for dessert, and Maxine didn't care. The jet lag had finally caught up with her, and she didn't want to fight with Charles about Blake, or anything.

He walked her back to her building in silence, and left her outside. He said he'd see her the next day, hailed a cab, and left without another word to her. Things were definitely stressful between them, and she hoped the wedding plans didn't make things worse. They were meeting with the caterer in Southampton that weekend. Charles had already told her he thought both the tent and the wedding cake were too expensive, which was annoying since she was paying for all of it herself. Charles was a little tight about things like that. But Maxine wanted everything beautiful for their wedding.

As she rode up in the elevator, she thought about telling Blake not to do the rehearsal dinner, but she knew that he'd be so disappointed. And the kids would be upset too, if they got wind of it. She hoped that Charles would get used to the idea, and even relax about Blake in time. And if anyone could soften Charles up, it was Blake. He had an easy way with everyone, and no one had ever been able to resist his charm and sense of humor. If Charles could, it would be a first.

In spite of his anger at her the night before, the next morning Maxine had to ask Charles to come by that night, to go over the guest list and details about the wedding. The caterer had called for more information, and wanted to know several things before their meeting on Saturday. Charles grudgingly came over after dinner, still in a bad mood from the night before. He was mad about the rehearsal dinner, and he still hadn't completely swallowed her trip to Morocco. There was a little too much Blake Williams in his life these days, even at his wedding. It was a lot for Charles to digest.

Charles sat down at the kitchen table with the children as they were finishing dessert. Zelda had made apple pie with vanilla ice cream, and he willingly had a piece, and said it was very good.

And just as they were about to leave the table, Zellie cleared her throat. It was obvious that she was going to say something, but they had no idea what it was.

“I…uh… I'm sorry to do this right now. I know with the wedding coming up, and…” She looked apologetically at Maxine, who was suddenly convinced Zelda was going to quit. That was all she needed right now. With the wedding in August, and Charles moving in, she wanted as much stability and continuity as possible for them. This was no time for a major change, or for someone important to them to leave their lives. And Maxine had relied on her for years. Zelda was family now. Maxine looked up at her in panic. The children stared, having no idea what to expect. And Charles looked nonplussed as he finished his pie. Whatever Zelda had to say had nothing to do with him, or so he thought. Who Maxine employed or didn't was entirely up to her. It wasn't his problem, and she seemed fine to him, and a pretty good cook. But in his mind, like anyone else, she could always be replaced. That wasn't how Maxine and her children felt about it, by any means.

“I… I've been doing a lot of thinking…,” Zelda said, twisting a dish towel in her hands. “You guys are growing up,” she said, looking at the children, “and you're getting married,” looking at Maxine, “and I just feel like I need something more in my life too. I'm not getting any younger, and I don't think my life is going to change anymore.” She smiled lopsidedly. “I guess Prince Charming lost my address…so I've decided…I want a baby… and if that doesn't work for you guys, I understand, and I'll leave. But I've made up my mind.” For a long moment, they all stared at her, stunned. Maxine wondered for an instant if she had sneaked off to a sperm bank and gotten pregnant. It sounded like it to her.

“Are you pregnant?” Maxine asked in a choked voice. The children said nothing, nor did Charles.

“No. I wish I were,” Zelda answered with a rueful smile. “That would be great. I thought about it, but the last time you and I talked about it, Max, I told you I've been loving other people's kids all my life. I have no problem with that. So why have morning sickness and get fat? And this way I can keep working. I'll have to. Kids aren't cheap,” she said, and smiled at them. “I went to see a lawyer about adopting. I've seen him four times. A social worker came to do a home study here. I had the physical and I've been approved.” And through all of that, she hadn't said a word to Maxine.

“When are you thinking about doing this?” Maxine asked, holding her breath. She was not ready to have a baby in the house right now. Or maybe ever. This was a lot to swallow, with a new husband moving in too.

“It could take up to two years,” Zelda said, as Maxine breathed again, “if I hold out for a designer baby.”

“A designer baby?” Maxine asked, looking blank. She was still the only one doing the talking. The others were too stunned.

“White, blue-eyed, healthy, both parents Harvard grads who decided that a baby doesn't work with their lifestyle. No alcohol or drugs, upper middle class. That can take a long time. Generally, these days, those girls don't get pregnant in the first place, or they have abortions, or they keep their babies. Babies like that are pretty rare. Two years is optimistic, particularly for an unmarried middle-aged woman like me, working class. The designer babies go to people like you.” She glanced at Maxine and Charles, and Maxine could see Charles shudder and shake his head.

“No, thank you,” he said with a smile. “Not for me. Or us.” He smiled at Maxine. He really didn't care if Zelda was planning to adopt a baby in two years, whatever kind it was, designer or otherwise. It was definitely not his problem. He was relieved at that.

“So you think two years from now, Zellie?” Maxine asked hopefully. By then, Sam would be eight, Jack and Daphne in high school at fourteen and fifteen, and she could worry about it then.

“No. I don't think I even have a shot at a baby like that. I considered international adoption, and I looked into it, but there are too many unknowns, and it's too expensive for me. I can't go sit in Russia or China, for three months, waiting for them to give me some random three-year-old from an orphanage, who might have all kinds of damage that I only figure out later. They don't even let you pick your baby, they pick it for you, and most of them are three or four years old. I want a baby, a newborn if possible, that no one else has screwed up.”

“Except in the womb,” Maxine warned her. “You have to be very careful you know what you're getting, Zellie, and that there were no drugs or alcohol used during the pregnancy.” Zelda looked away for a minute.

“That's kind of my point,” Zelda said, looking back at her again. “My best shot is a somewhat high-risk baby. Not a special-needs one like spina bifida or Down's or anything. I don't think I could handle that. But a relatively normal kid from a girl who might have done some drugs or had a few beers while she was pregnant.” She didn't look frightened at the prospect, but her employer did. Very.

“I think that's a big mistake,” Maxine said firmly. “You have no idea what kind of problems you'd be getting into, particularly with a mother who did drugs. I see the results of that in my office all the time, and a lot of the kids I see were adopted and had drug-addicted biological parents. Those things are genetic, and the effects can be pretty scary later on.”

“I'm willing to take that on,” Zelda said, looking her in the eye. “In fact,” she took a deep breath, “I just did.”

“What do you mean?” Maxine frowned at her as Zelda went on, and now Charles was paying attention too, and so were the kids. You could hear a pin drop in the kitchen as Zelda spoke.