Jimmy and Mark promised to get together for dinner one night the following week. And as Jimmy walked up the path to the gatehouse, Mark walked into the guest wing, and smiled to himself again, thinking of his morning coffee, and the woman who had handed it to him. Lucky, lucky Cooper Winslow.





Chapter 7

Liz called Coop the morning after he had met Jimmy and Mark at the pool, and he was delighted to hear her. She had been married for a week, and was still on her honeymoon, but she was worried about him.

“Where are you?” he asked, smiling at the sound of her voice. It still seemed strange not to see her face every morning.

“In Hawaii,” she said proudly. She was using her married name every chance she got, and even though it felt strange, she loved it, and was sorry now she hadn't done it sooner. Being married to Ted was like a dream.

“How plebeian,” Coop teased her. “I still think you should ditch him and come back. We can have the marriage annulled in a minute.”

“Don't you dare! I like being a respectable, married woman.” Far more than she had ever thought she would.

“Liz, I'm disappointed in you, I thought you had more character than that. You and I were the last holdouts. This leaves only me.”

“Well, maybe you should get married too. It's really not that awful. There are even minor tax benefits, or so I'm told.” In truth, she loved it, and she had married the right man. Ted was wonderful to her. And Coop was happy for her, in spite of the inconvenience she had caused him.

“That's what Abe says. That I should get married. He says I need to find a rich woman. He's so unspeakably crude.”

“It's not a bad idea,” she teased him. She couldn't imagine Coop getting married. He had far too much fun playing the field. She couldn't see him settling down with one woman. He'd have to have a harem to keep him amused.

“I haven't met a rich woman in ages, in any case. I don't know where they're hiding. Besides, I prefer their daughters.” Or in recent years, granddaughters, but neither of them said it. He had been involved with his share of heiresses, and a number of very wealthy women of more respectable ages over the years, but Coop had always preferred the young ones. There had even been an Indian princess, and a couple of very wealthy Saudis. But no matter who they were, or how wealthy, Coop always tired of them. There was always a more beautiful, more exciting one just around the corner. And he always turned just one more corner. Liz suspected he always would, and if he lived to be a hundred, he'd still be turning yet one more corner. He loved being free.

“I just wanted to be sure you were behaving,” Liz said adoringly. She really did miss him. She had enormous affection for him. “How is Paloma doing?”

“She's absolutely fabulous,” Coop said, sounding convincing. “She makes rubber eggs, puts pepper on my toast, she turned my cashmere socks into baby booties, and she has exquisite taste. I've actually come to love her rhinestone glasses. Not to mention the fuchsia pumps she wears with her uniform, when she isn't wearing the leopard sneakers. She's a gem, Liz. God only knows where you found her.” But the truth was, much as she irritated him, he was enjoying the animosity that had developed between them.

“She's a nice woman, Coop. Teach her, she'll learn. She worked with the others for a month, some of it must have rubbed off.”

“I think Livermore had her locked up in leg irons in the basement. I may have to try that. Oh and by the way, I met my houseguests yesterday.”

“Houseguests?” Liz sounded startled. She didn't know about them.

“The two men who are living respectively in the gatehouse and the guest wing.” His tenants.

“Oh, those houseguests. How are they?”

“They seemed respectable. One is a lawyer, and the other one is a social worker. The social worker looks like a kid, and went to Harvard. The lawyer looks a little nervous, but he was perfectly pleasant. They seem reasonable and well behaved, as long as they don't start throwing beer bottles into the pool, or adopt undesirable orphans. They don't look like heroin addicts, or criminals. I'd say we got lucky.”

“Sounds like it. The realtor assured me they were nice people.”

“She could be right. I'll reserve judgment till they've been here a little longer. But for the moment, I don't foresee any problems.” It was a great relief to her, she had been worried about it, which was also why she had called him. “Why are you calling me anyway? You should be making mad, passionate love on the beach with that plumber you married.”

“He's not a plumber, he's a stockbroker. And he's playing golf with a client.”

“He brought clients on your honeymoon? Liz, that's a very bad sign. Divorce him immediately.” Coop was laughing, and Liz was relieved to hear him sound happy.

“He ran into the client here,” she said, laughing. “I'll be home in a week. I'll call you. Now, behave yourself, don't buy any diamond bracelets this week. You'll give Abe Braunstein an ulcer.”

“He deserves one. He's the most humorless, tasteless man on the planet. I should send you a diamond bracelet, just to annoy him. At least you deserve it.”

“I'm wearing the beautiful ring you gave me when I left,” she reminded him. She was always grateful to him. “I'll talk to you when I get back. Take care, Coop.”

“I will, Liz. Thanks for calling.” He enjoyed talking to her, and hated to admit it, but he missed her. Terribly. He had felt adrift ever since she left. His house and his life were like a ship without a rudder. He still couldn't imagine what he would do without her.

And when he checked his appointment book that morning, he saw her careful handwriting in it. He was expected at a dinner party at the Schwartzes' that night. They were the social stars of Hollywood, and had been for two decades. He was a major producer, and she had been an actress and great beauty in the fifties. Coop didn't want to go, but he knew they'd be upset if he didn't. He was far more interested in spending another night with Charlene, and he didn't want to take her with him. She was a little bit too racy for that circle. Charlene was the kind of girl he played with, not someone he wanted to be seen with at formal dinner parties. He had many categories of women. Charlene was an “at home” girl. The major movie stars he reserved for premieres and openings, where they would double their impact on the press by being seen together. And there were a whole flock of young actresses and models he enjoyed going out with. But he preferred going to the Schwartzes' parties alone.

They always had a roomful of interesting people, and he never knew who he'd meet there. It was more effective to be alone, and they enjoyed having him as a bachelor. He was fond of both Arnold and Louise Schwartz, and he called Charlene and told her he couldn't see her that night, and she was a good sport about it. She said she needed a night off anyway, to wax her legs and do her laundry. She needed her “beauty sleep,” she said, which was the one thing he knew she didn't need. She had no problem staying up all night, and looking ravishing in the morning. And he was always willing to ravish. But tonight belonged to the Schwartzes.

He met with a producer at lunch, had a massage afterwards, and a manicure. He had a nap, and a glass of champagne, when he woke up, and at eight o'clock, he was wearing his dinner jacket as he stepped out the front door. The driver he hired when he went out was waiting in his Bentley, and Coop looked more handsome than ever in the well-cut tuxedo with his silvery hair.

“Good evening, Mr. Winslow,” the driver said pleasantly. He had driven Coop for years, and he drove other stars as well. He made a good living doing freelance driving. It made more sense for Coop than having a full-time driver. Most of the time he preferred driving himself.

When Coop got to the Schwartzes' enormous mansion on Brooklawn Drive, there were a hundred people already standing in the front hall, drinking champagne and paying homage to the Schwartzes. She looked stylish in a dark blue gown, and was wearing a fabulous collection of sapphires. And all around her, Coop saw the usual suspects, ex-presidents and first ladies, politicians, art dealers, producers, directors, internationally known lawyers, and the usual smattering of movie stars, some more current than Coop, but none as famous. He was instantly surrounded by a flock of adoring admirers of both sexes. And an hour later, they went in to dinner, as Coop followed the herd.

He was seated at the same table as another well-known actor of a similar vintage, and there were two famous writers at their table, and an important Hollywood agent. The head of one of the major studios was also seated there, and Coop made a mental note to speak to him after dinner. He had heard they were making a feature that was perfect for him. He knew the woman on his right, she was one of the better-known Hollywood matrons, whose parties tried to rival Louise Schwartz's but didn't. And on his left was a young woman he had never met before. She had a delicate, aristocratic face, big brown eyes, ivory skin, and dark hair pulled back in a bun, like a Degas ballerina.

“Good evening,” he said pleasantly. He noticed that she was small and lithe, and he wondered if she actually was a dancer. And as a brigade of waiters served the first course, he asked her, and she laughed. It wasn't the first time someone had asked her that, and she claimed she was flattered. She knew who he was, and had been excited to find him sitting next to her. Her place card said Alexandra Madison, which meant nothing to him.

“Actually, I'm a resident,” she said, as though that explained everything, but to him, it didn't mean a thing.

“A resident of where?” he said, with a look of amusement. She was not his usual profile, but she was strikingly pretty, and he saw that she had lovely hands, with short nails, and no polish on them. She was wearing a white satin gown, and had a young girl's face and figure.

“At a hospital. I'm a physician.”

“How interesting,” he said, looking momentarily impressed. “What kind? Anything useful?”

“Not unless you have children. I'm a pediatrician, a neonatologist to be exact.”

“I detest children. I eat them for dinner,” he said with a wide smile that showed off the perfect white teeth he was known for.

“I don't believe you,” she said with a giggle.

“Truly. And children hate me. They know I eat them. I only like them when they turn into grown-ups. Particularly women.” At least he was honest. He had had a lifelong distrust of children, and an aversion to them. He generally tried to choose women who didn't have them. They complicated everything, and had spoiled many an evening for him. Women without children were much more fun to be with, from his standpoint. You didn't have to rush home to pay babysitters. They weren't sick at the last minute. They didn't spill their juice all over you, or tell you they hated you. It was one of the many reasons why he preferred younger women. Over thirty, most women seemed to have kids. “Why couldn't you be something more entertaining? Like a lion tamer. Or actually, being a ballerina would suit you. I think you should consider a career change now, before you get in any deeper.” Alexandra was having fun sitting next to him. She was impressed with him, but she was enjoying playing with him, and in spite of her unfortunate choice of jobs, and severe hairdo, according to Coop, he liked her.

“I'll have to give it some thought. What about being a veterinarian? Would that be better?” Alexandra asked innocently.

“I don't like dogs either. They're filthy. They get hair all over your trousers, they bite, snap, and smell. Almost as bad as children. Not quite, but a close second. We'll have to think of an entirely different career for you. What about acting?”

“I don't think so,” she laughed, as a waiter spooned caviar onto her blini. Coop loved the food at the Schwartzes' dinners, and Alexandra looked comfortable there too. She had an aura of ease and grace about her, as though she had grown up in dining rooms like this one. It was written all over her, despite the fact that she wasn't wearing important jewels. Just a string of pearls, and a pair of pearl and diamond earrings. But something about her spelled money. “What about you?” She turned the tables on him. She was above all intelligent, and he liked that about her too. At the dinner table at least, it provided a challenge. “Why are you an actor?”

“I find it amusing. Don't you? Imagine being able to play pretend every day, and wear beautiful clothes. It's actually very pleasant. Far nicer than what you do. You wear an ugly wrinkled white coat and children throw up all over you, and scream the minute they see you.”