“Yes, I am.” Who else would he be? A cat burglar? A stranger off the street? “I won't come in here again. I'll buy a new coffee machine. Maybe it's best if you don't tell Coop,” he said nervously. She was a stunning-looking girl.

“Okay,” she said amiably, as she took out a container of orange juice and poured a glass for Coop, and then she glanced at Mark before he left. “Do you want orange juice?”

“No, thanks… really. I'm fine. Thanks for the coffee,” he said, and disappeared as quickly as he could. He locked the door to the main house again, and then stood grinning in the hallway off his living room where the communicating door was. He couldn't believe the scene he'd just been in. It was like something in a very bad movie. But she sure had one hell of a figure, and incredibly long raven-black hair.

He was still laughing to himself, and the scene seemed to get funnier as he thought about it. And once he was dressed, he couldn't resist walking up to the gatehouse to tell Jimmy. He had already vowed to himself he was going out to buy a new coffee machine that afternoon.

Jimmy was sitting on the patio, drinking a mug of coffee and reading the newspaper, when he looked up and saw Mark grinning at him. He smiled easily, and Mark looked unable to contain his amusement.

“You will never guess where I had coffee this morning, or with whom.”

“Probably not, but from the look on your face, it must have been good.” Mark told him about Paloma and the key, the broken stove and the coffee machine, and that he had walked in on Charlene, standing virtually naked, wearing a G-string and a pair of platform shoes, looking totally unembarrassed as she made coffee for him.

“It was like a scene in a movie. Christ, imagine if I'd run into him. I'd probably have gotten evicted.”

“Or worse.” But Jimmy was grinning too. It was the funniest vision, imagining Mark in his underwear, with a naked woman serving him coffee.

“She offered me orange juice too. But I figured I was pushing my luck, staying another minute.”

“Do you want another cup of coffee, though I'll admit, the service is a little more mundane here.”

“Yeah, sure.” They were like the two new kids on the block who had found each other, and their circumstances were sufficiently similar to form a bond between them. And there was something easy and pleasant about being neighbors. They both had their own friends and lives, but they had both been avoiding their own circles lately. Their tragedies had set them apart, and made them feel awkward even with their closest friends. They had isolated themselves, and now they had each found a partner in their isolation. It was far easier than being with the people who knew them when they were married. It was like starting with a clean slate, even though they had shared their stories. But their old friends' pity was sometimes hard to take.

Mark went back to his place half an hour later. He had brought some work home from the office. But they met up again at the pool later that afternoon. Mark had bought himself a new coffee machine, and Jimmy had finished unpacking by then. He had put up half a dozen pictures of Maggie in key locations. Oddly enough, it made him feel less lonely if he could see her face. Sometimes, late at night, he was terrified he'd forget how she looked.

“Did you get your work done?” Jimmy asked Mark comfortably from a lounge chair.

“Yeah,” Mark smiled at him, “and I bought a new coffee machine. I'm going to give that key back to Paloma in the morning. I'll never do that again.” The vision of Charlene in her thong still made him smile.

“Would you have expected less of him?” Jimmy asked, referring to their landlord.

“Probably not. I just didn't expect front-row seats to his sex life.”

“I suspect that would keep you pretty busy.” Jimmy looked as amused as he did, and they were chatting quietly half an hour later, when they both heard a gate creak open and slam shut, and a moment later, there was a tall man with silver hair, smiling at them. He was wearing jeans and a perfectly pressed white shirt, no socks, and brown alligator loafers. He was a vision of perfection, and they both jumped like two kids who had been caught doing something they shouldn't. In fact, they had both been given access to the pool, and the only reason Coop had come out was to meet them. He had seen them from his terrace. Charlene was upstairs, in the shower, washing her hair.

“Don't let me disturb you. I just thought I'd come down and say hello. As long as you're my guests, I wanted to meet you.” They both had the same feeling of amusement to be called his “guests.” For ten thousand a month, they were not his “guests,” but his tenants. “Hello, I'm Cooper Winslow,” he said with a stunning smile, as he shook hands first with Jimmy and then Mark. “Which of you lives where? Did you know each other before?” He was curious about them, as they were about him.

“I'm Mark Friedman, I live in the guest wing. And no, we met yesterday while Jimmy was moving in.”

“I'm Jimmy O'Connor,” he said easily, as he shook hands with the handsome man towering above him. They both had the feeling of being new boys at school meeting the headmaster for the first time. And both were aware that Coop had come honestly by his reputation for being charming. He looked easy and pleasant, and elegant, and impeccably tailored. Even the perfectly pressed jeans fit every inch of his well-toned body and seemingly endless legs. And if either of them had had to guess, they would never even have pegged him at sixty, he looked far younger. And it was inconceivable that he was seventy. It was no mystery why women adored him. Even in blue jeans, he exuded style and glamour. He was every inch the Hollywood legend, as he lowered himself into a chair and smiled at them.

“I hope you're both comfortable in your respective houses.”

“Very much so,” Mark was quick to answer, praying that Charlene hadn't told him about that morning. He was afraid she had and that was why Coop had come out to see them. “It's a remarkable place,” he said admiringly, trying not to think of the woman in the G-string who had served him coffee. And sensing that that was what he was thinking, Jimmy was grinning, with eyes full of mischief. It was a wonderful story.

“I've always loved it here,” Coop said, referring to The Cottage. “You'll have to come up to the main house sometime. Maybe for dinner one night,” and then he remembered he no longer had a cook or a butler or anyone to serve properly. He was going to have to call caterers now if he wanted to invite people to dinner. There was no way he would have trusted Paloma to produce anything but pizza or tacos, no matter how good her English was now. With or without an accent, she was a rebel and frighteningly independent. If he asked her to serve dinner, there was no telling how she'd behave. “Where are you both from?”

“I'm originally from Boston,” Jimmy answered. “I've been here for eight years, since graduate school. I love it.”

“I've been here for ten,” Mark explained. “I came out from New York.” He was about to add “with my wife and children,” but he didn't. It sounded too pathetic, particularly if he had to explain why they were no longer with him.

“You both made the right decision. I'm from the East too, I can't stand the weather there anymore, particularly the winters. It's a much better life here.”

“Particularly on a property like this,” Jimmy said admiringly. He found himself fascinated by Cooper Winslow, as he sat and chatted with them. He seemed totally at ease in his own skin, and he was obviously used to attention and adulation. There was no question that he was entirely aware of how dazzling he was. He had made his living off it for half a century. They were impressive statistics, particularly given the way he looked, at his age.

“Well, I hope you'll both be happy here. Let me know if you need anything.” Mark wasn't about to complain about the stove or the coffee machine. He had already decided to have them fixed himself and take the appropriate amount off his next rent check. He didn't want to open the conversation about his morning coffee, on the off chance that the woman with the huge breasts had told Coop, even though she'd promised she wouldn't. Mark was afraid to trust her.

Coop smiled winningly at both of them again, chatted for a few more minutes and then left them, as the two much younger men stared at each other once he was gone. They waited several minutes before speaking, to give him a chance to go back into his own house, so he wouldn't overhear them.

“Holy shit,” Mark spoke first. “Do you believe what he looks like? I'm going to hang up my spurs forever. Who could ever compete with that?” He had never been so impressed by any man in his life. Cooper Winslow was the best-looking man he'd ever seen. But Jimmy looked less impressed when he answered pensively.

“There's only one problem,” he said in a whisper. He didn't want Coop to hear him. “It's all about him. You can't help but wonder if there's a heart there, or if it's just charm and good looks and a great tailor.”

“Maybe that's enough,” Mark said, thinking of Janet. She would never have left a man with the looks, wit, and charm of Cooper Winslow. Mark felt like a total geek beside him. All his insecurities had leapt to the surface the minute Coop appeared.

“No, it isn't,” Jimmy said wisely. “The guy's a shell. Nothing he says means anything. It's all about beauty and bullshit. And look at the women he gets. Thirty years from now, do you want a bimbo in a thong serving you breakfast, or a real person you can talk to?”

“Can I take a minute to think that over?” Mark said, and they both laughed.

“Yeah, okay, it's probably fun for a while, but then what? It would drive me insane.” Maggie had been such a whole person. Smart, real, beautiful, fun, sexy. She had been everything he'd ever wanted. The last thing Jimmy wanted was a bimbo. And all Mark wanted was Janet. But on the surface, Cooper Winslow looked like he had all his bases covered. Even Jimmy had to admit he was impressive. “Actually, he can keep the woman with the tits. Given a choice, I want the loafers. They were terrific.”

“You keep the loafers. I'll take the bimbo. Thank God, he didn't mention my encounter with her in his kitchen this morning,” Mark said with a look of relief.

“I knew that was what you were thinking.” Jimmy laughed at him. He liked Mark. He was a nice guy, and he had decent values. Jimmy had enjoyed talking to him, and the prospect of their friendship. It was off to an interesting beginning, and he felt so sorry for him. He could easily relate to the trauma he'd been through, particularly missing his kids. “Well, now we've met him. He looks like a movie star, doesn't he?” Jimmy said, thinking back on the brief meeting. “I wonder who presses his clothes? Mine have been wrinkled since I left home. Mag wouldn't iron anything. She said it was against her religion.” She had been a staunch Roman Catholic, and a vehement feminist. The first time he'd asked her to do a load of laundry, she damn near hit him.

“I've been taking everything including my underwear to the dry cleaner,” Mark admitted willingly. “I ran out of shirts last week, and had to buy six new ones. Housekeeping isn't my forte. I've been paying Paloma to do a little cleaning for me. Maybe if you ask her, she'd do it for you too.” She had been incredibly kind to him. And she seemed not only willing and capable, but intelligent and wise. He'd talked at length about his kids with her, and everything she'd said had been sympathetic and sensible. He respected her a great deal.

“I'm okay,” Jimmy added with a smile. “I'm a real artist with a vacuum and a bottle of Windex. Maggie didn't do that either.” Mark didn't want to ask what she did do. She'd obviously had enough virtues for Jimmy to be crazy about her. And later that afternoon, Jimmy told him they'd met at Harvard. She was obviously a very bright young woman.

“Janet and I met in law school. But she never practiced. She got pregnant as soon as we got married, and she stayed home with the kids.”

“That's why we hadn't had kids yet. Maggie was always torn between giving up her career, and staying home with children. She was very Irish that way. She thought mothers should stay home with their babies. I figured we'd work it out sooner or later.” What he hadn't figured on was what had happened instead.

They went back to talking about Coop again after a while, and at six o'clock, Jimmy went back to the gatehouse. He had promised to meet friends for dinner. He invited Mark to come along, but Mark said he was going to shuffle some papers. He had more reading to do about new tax laws. But when they went their separate ways, they both decided it had been a good weekend. They had each made a new friend, and they were happy in their new homes. And they were both amused at having met Cooper Winslow. He hadn't disappointed either of them. Coop was everything he was said to be. The perfect Hollywood legend.