“Give up The Cottage?” Coop laughed even more heartily this time. “Now that is an insane idea. I've lived here for more than forty years.”

“Well, someone else will be living here if you don't start tightening the belt. That's no secret, Coop. I told you that two years ago.”

“Yes, you did, and we're still here, aren't we, and I'm neither bankrupt nor in jail. Maybe you need to take mood elevators, Abe. They might help that dismal point of view.” He always told Liz that Abe looked like an undertaker, and dressed like one. Coop didn't say it, but he strongly disapproved of Abe wearing a summer suit in February. Things like that bothered him, but he didn't want to embarrass him by commenting on it. At least he wasn't suggesting Coop sell his wardrobe too. “You're serious about the staff, aren't you?” Coop glanced at Liz, and she was looking at him sympathetically. She hated knowing how uncomfortable he would be.

“I think Abe's right. You're spending an awful lot on salaries, Coop. Maybe you should cut back just for a little while, until the money starts rolling in again.” She always tried to allow him his dreams. He needed them.

“How can one Salvadorian woman possibly run this entire house?” Coop said, looking momentarily stunned. It was a truly absurd idea. To him at least.

“She won't have to, if you rent out part of it,” Abe said practically. “That'll solve one problem at least.”

“Coop, you haven't used the guest wing in two years, and the gatehouse has been closed for nearly three. I don't think you'll really miss either one,” Liz gently reminded him, sounding like a mother trying to convince a child to give up some of his toys to give to the poor, or eat his meat.

“Why on earth would I want strangers in my house?” Cooper asked, looking bemused.

“Because you want to keep the house, that's why,” Abe said doggedly, “and you won't be able to otherwise. I'm dead serious, Coop.”

“Well, I'll think about it,” Coop said, sounding vague. The whole idea just didn't make sense to him. He was still trying to imagine what his life would be like without help. It didn't sound like much fun to him. “And you're expecting me to cook for myself, I assume,” he said, looking nonplussed.

“Judging by your credit cards, you're out for dinner every night anyway. You'll never miss the cook. Or the rest of them. We can get a cleaning service in from time to time if things get out of hand.”

“How charming. A janitorial service perhaps? Maybe we could get a crew of convicts on parole, that might work.” There was a spark in Coop's eyes again, and Abe looked exasperated.

“I've got their checks, and letters giving them all notice,” Abe said, looking grim. He wanted to be sure that Coop understood he was really going to fire them. There was no other choice.

“I'll talk to a realtor on Monday,” Liz said in a soft voice. She hated upsetting him, but he had to know. She couldn't just do it without warning him. But she thought renting out the two guest facilities was actually not a bad idea. Coop wouldn't miss the space, and they could get a very high price for the rent. She thought it was one of Abe's better ideas. And it would be a lot easier on Coop than selling the place.

“All right, all right. Just make sure you don't bring some serial killer into my house. And no children for God's sake, or barking dogs. In fact, I only want female tenants, and damn attractive ones. I should audition them myself,” he said, only half-joking. Liz thought he was being exceptionally reasonable not to make a fuss about it, and she was going to try to find tenants as soon as she could, before he balked. “Is that all?” he asked Abe, as he stood up, signaling that he'd had enough. That had been a strong dose of reality for Coop at one go. And it was obvious he wanted Abe to leave.

“It'll do for now,” Abe answered, standing up. “And I meant what I said, Coop. Do not buy anything.”

“I promise. I'll make sure that all my socks and underwear have holes in them. I'll let you inspect them the next time you come.”

Abe didn't respond as he walked to the door. He handed the envelopes he'd brought to Livermore and asked him to distribute them to the staff. They all had to be gone in two weeks.

“What a disagreeable little man,” Coop said with a smile at Liz after Abe left. “He must have had a miserable childhood just to think like that. He probably spent his boyhood years pulling the wings off flies. Pathetic, and God, someone should burn his suits.”

“He means well, Coop. I'm sorry, it was a tough meeting. I'll do my best to get Paloma trained in the next two weeks. I'll have Livermore show her how to handle your wardrobe.”

“I shudder to think what that's going to look like. I suppose she'll be putting my suits in the washing machine. I might start a whole new look.” He refused to be daunted by it, and continued to seem vaguely amused as he glanced at her. “It'll certainly be quiet here with just you and me and Paloma, or Maria, or whatever her name is.” But he saw a strange look in Liz's eyes as he said it. “What's that about? He's not firing you too, is he?” For a fraction of a second, she saw a look of panic, and it nearly tore her heart out. And it took her an eternity to answer him.

“No, he isn't, Coop… but I'm leaving “She said it in a whisper. She had told Abe the day before, which was the only reason why he wasn't firing her too.

“Don't be silly. I would rather sell The Cottage than have you leave, Liz. I'll go out and scrub floors myself to keep you.”

“It's not that…” there were tears in her eyes, “I'm getting married, Coop.”

“You're what ? To whom? Not that ridiculous dentist in San Diego?” That had been five years earlier, but he lost track of things like that. He couldn't even conceive of losing Liz, and it had never occurred to him she might get married. She was fifty-two years old and it seemed not only like she'd been there forever, but always would be. She was family after all these years.

There were tears rolling down her cheeks as she answered. “He's a stockbroker in San Francisco.”

“When did he come into the picture?” Coop looked shocked.

“About three years ago. I never thought we'd get married. I told you about him last year. I just figured we'd go on dating forever. But he's retiring this year, and he wants me to travel with him. His kids are grown up, and he finally said now or never. I figured I'd better grab the chance while I still have it.”

“How old is he?” Coop looked horrified. It was the one piece of bad news of the day he had never expected to hear, and which had shaken him up.

“Fifty-nine. He's done very well. He has a flat in London, and a very nice house in San Francisco. He just sold it and we're moving to an apartment on Nob Hill.”

“In San Francisco? You'll die of boredom, or get buried in an earthquake. Liz, you'll hate it.” He was reeling from the impact. He couldn't begin to imagine managing without her. And she was blowing her nose and couldn't stop crying.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I'll come running back. But I thought I should at least get married once, just so I can say I've done it. You can call me anytime, Coop, wherever I am.”

“Who's going to make my reservations, and talk to my agent? And don't tell me Paloma, whoever the hell she is!”

“The agency said they'd handle as much as they can for you. And Abe's office will handle all the bookkeeping. There's really not much else I do here,” other than field calls from his girlfriends, and keep his press agent fed with fresh information, mostly about who he was dating. He was going to have to start making his own phone calls. It was going to be a new experience for him. She truly felt as though she had betrayed him, and was abandoning him.

“Are you in love with this guy, Liz, or just panicked?” It hadn't occurred to him in years that she still wanted to get married. She had never said anything to him, and he never asked about her dating life. It was rare for her to mention it to him, or to even have time to date anyone. She was so busy juggling Coop's appointments, his purchases, parties, and trips, she had hardly seen the man she was going to marry in the last year, which was why he had finally put his foot down. He thought Cooper Winslow was a narcissist and an egomaniac, and he wanted to save Liz from him.

“I think I'm in love with him. He's a good person, he's nice to me. He wants to take care of me, and he has two very nice daughters.”

“How old are they? I can't imagine you with kids, Liz.”

“They're nineteen and twenty-three. I really like them, and they seem to like me. Their mother died when they were very young, and Ted brought them up himself. He did a nice job of it. One of them works in New York, and the other one is at Stanford in premed.”

“I can't believe this.” He looked absolutely shattered. The day had become instantly disastrous for him. He didn't even remember he was about to rent out his gatehouse and his guest wing. He didn't care about that now, only about losing Liz. “When are you actually marrying him?”

“In two weeks, right after I leave here.” She started crying again as soon as she said it. It suddenly seemed like a terrible idea, even to her.

“Do you want to do it here?” he said generously.

“We're doing it at a friend's house in Napa,” she said through her tears.

“It sounds awful. Are you having a big wedding?” He was truly stunned. He had never expected this.

“No. Just us and his daughters and the couple whose house we're getting married at. If it were any bigger, I'd have invited you, Coop.” She hadn't had time to plan a wedding. She was too busy taking care of him. And Ted didn't want to wait any longer. He knew if he did, she'd never leave Coop. She felt responsible for him.

“When did you decide all this?”

“About a week ago.” Ted had come down for the weekend and put a lot of pressure on her. And their decision coincided perfectly with Abe's decision to fire everyone. In a way, she knew she was doing Coop a favor. He couldn't afford her either. But she knew it was still going to be hard for both of them to say goodbye to each other. She couldn't imagine leaving him, and it broke her heart to do it. He was so innocent and so helpless—in his own inimitable way. And she had spoiled him over the past twenty-two years. She constantly worried about him and mothered him. She knew she would lie awake nights in San Francisco, fretting about him. It would be a tremendous adjustment, for both of them. Taking care of Coop had replaced the children she'd never had and finally stopped wanting years before.

He still looked shell-shocked when she left the house, and before she did, she answered the phone. It was Pamela, his latest romance. She was twenty-two years old, young even by his standards. She was a model, and aspiring to be an actress. He had met her at a shoot he had done for GQ. They had hired half a dozen models to stand beside him adoringly, and she had been the best looking of the lot. He'd only been dating her for about a month and she was totally infatuated with him, although he was old enough to be her grandfather, but he didn't look it fortunately. He was taking Pamela to The Ivy for dinner, and Liz reminded him to pick her up at seven-thirty. He gave her a big hug before she left, and reminded her to come back to him if she hated being married. And secretly, he hoped she would. Coop felt as though he were losing his younger sister and best friend.

Liz started crying again as she drove away. She loved Ted, but she couldn't imagine what life would be like without Coop. Over the years, he had become her family, her best friend, her brother, her son, her hero. She adored him. And it had taken every ounce of courage and strength she had to agree to marry Ted, and then to tell Coop. She hadn't been able to sleep for the past week, and she had felt sick about it all morning before Coop came home. She was grateful Abe had been there to distract her. And as she drove out the main gate, she nearly hit a car driving by. She was totally unnerved. Leaving Coop would be like leaving the convent or the womb. She just hoped she had made the right decision in the end.

Coop was still standing in the library when she left, and poured himself another glass of champagne. He took a sip, and then, still holding the glass, he walked slowly upstairs to his bedroom. He passed a small woman in a white uniform on the way. There was a large stain on the front of her dress that looked like tomato sauce, or soup. She was wearing her hair in a long braid down her back, and she was wearing sunglasses, which caught his attention, as she vacuumed noisily on the stairs.