“You look very professional with that barbecue.” Bill smiled at her and sipped his Coke.

“I learned from an expert.”

“Peter seems to be doing fine,” he said, casting a glance at his patient. Peter was having fun with his friends, and flipping hamburgers, despite the cumbersome neck brace.

“He wants to go back to school next week,” she said, looking worried for a minute.

“If you think he's up to it, let him. I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you.” She turned the barbecue over to Carole and Peter then, and one of their neighbors lent a hand, so she could walk off with Bill for a few minutes. They sat down on two empty chairs and she sipped a Coke. She wasn't much of a drinker. “How are things at the hospital?” It seemed funny being here with him, away from the concerns they had shared about Peter. Now they were on their own, like two ordinary people, and she felt suddenly shy with him.

“Things at the hospital are too busy. And they'll get worse before they get better this weekend. Holiday weekends are killers, literally. Car accidents, gunshot wounds, attempted suicides. It's amazing what people can come up with when they're off work for a few days, especially when you put a steering wheel in their hands.”

“It's nice that you could get off and take the time to come over.”

“I didn't. I'm on call. I've got my pager on, but I figured they could live without me for a while. I left my chief resident in charge. He's good, he won't call me unless he has to. What about you, Liz? How are the holidays for you? They can't be easy.”

“This one is better than I expected. The first of everything has been rough. Valentine's Day, Easter, the kids’ birthdays, Fourth of July, but Labor Day is kind of innocuous. I thought this would be fun for the children.” And everyone seemed to be having a good time, especially her children. They looked happy to have their friends around, it was the first time the family had entertained since Christmas.

“I used to love holidays when I was a kid. Now they're just workdays.” His life sounded lonely to her, but he seemed to like it that way. She had noticed that he was at the hospital constantly when Peter was there, which made it even nicer that he had come to her party. “What do you do with your spare time when you're not working and chasing kids?” He looked at her with interest as he asked the question and she laughed as she answered.

“What else is there? You mean there's life after work and kids? I'm not sure I remember what that feels like.”

“Maybe you need to be reminded,” he said casually. “When was the last time you went to the movies?”

“Hmm …” She thought about it and shook her head. It was hard to believe it had been as long as it had been. She had dropped kids off and picked them up at the movie house in Mill Valley, but she hadn't gone herself in months. “I think the last time I went to the movies was last Thanksgiving.” With Jack of course. They had gone, as they always did, after everyone had settled down after Thanksgiving dinner. It had been a tradition with them.

“Maybe we could go to a movie sometime,” he said hopefully, as his pager went off, and he looked down at his belt where he had clipped it. The display told him it was an emergency, and he took a cellular phone out of his pocket and called the hospital. He listened carefully, told them what to do, and then turned to Liz with a look of disappointment. “They've got a nasty one on their hands, Liz. A couple of kids in a head-on. I'd better get back. I was hoping for a hamburger and a little more time. You'll have to give me a rain check.”

“How about taking a hamburger with you?” she asked as she walked him toward the gate to the backyard. The barbecue was set up right near it, and she asked Peter to wrap one up in some tinfoil, and handed it to Bill as she walked him to his car. It was a ten-year-old Mercedes. He had a certain style about him, although it was hard to tell as he wandered around the hospital in scrubs and clogs. But here he was wearing immaculate, pressed jeans, and well-polished loafers, and his hair was impeccably combed, which it hadn't been any of the other times she'd seen him.

“Thanks for the hamburger,” he smiled. “I'll call you for that movie. Maybe next week?”

“I'd like that,” she said, feeling shy again, and suddenly very young. It had been years since a man had invited her to the movies. But what the hell, he was nice, and respectable, and he was right, she needed to get out more than she had been.

Victoria commented on Bill's brief appearance when Liz stopped for a minute to talk to her after he left.

“He's cute,” Victoria said with a mischievous smile, “and he likes you.”

“That's what Peter says.” Liz grinned, and then looked serious again. “He's great at what he does.”

“Did he ask you out?” her friend asked bluntly, sounding hopeful.

“Don't be silly, Vic. We're just friends.” But the truth was, he had, although Liz was surprised to realize she didn't want to admit it to her. It didn't mean anything. Just a movie. And maybe they'd never do it after all. Liz told herself it wasn't worth mentioning to Victoria, and then moved on to check on her other guests.

The party went on for hours, and it was after eleven when the last guests went home. The food had been good, the wine plentiful, and the people pleasant and happy. They'd all had a good time, and as the kids helped her clean up and carry the stray glasses inside, she was glad she had done it. She was helping Carole load the dishwasher when the phone rang, and she glanced at the clock in surprise, it was after midnight, and she couldn't imagine who would call them.

She answered it, wondering if one of the guests had forgotten something, and was surprised to hear a familiar voice. It was Bill, calling to thank her for the party.

“I thought you'd probably still be up. Has everyone left?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Your timing is perfect. How did your emergency go?”

He sighed before he answered, he didn't like talking about it. Some situations were better than others. “We lost one of the kids, but the other one is doing fine. It happens that way sometimes.” But he sounded as though he took it to heart each time he lost one.

“I don't know how you do it,” she said softly.

“It's what I do.” And it was obvious that he loved it, particularly when he made a difference, as he did much of the time. “So when are we going to the movies?” He didn't even give her time to answer or reconsider. “How about tomorrow? I have a night off, and I'm not on call, a rarity, believe me. We'd better grab it while we can. What about pizza and a movie?”

“Best offer I've had all night … all year,” she smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Me too. I'll pick you up at seven.”

“I'll see you then, Bill. And thank you. I hope it's a peaceful night there.”

“And for you too,” he said gently. He remembered how much trouble she had sleeping.

She was still smiling to herself when she hung up the phone, and Peter walked into the kitchen. He looked at her, and then raised an eyebrow as he asked a question.

“And who was that?”

“No one important,” she said vaguely. But Peter was staring at her with a look of concentration. He didn't believe her, and then suddenly he knew, and grinned as he teased her.

“It was Bill Webster, wasn't it, Mom? Tell the truth. It was … right?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She looked faintly sheepish.

“I told you he likes you! That's terrific.”

“What's terrific?” Megan asked as she joined them in the kitchen. Carole was through loading the dishwasher by then, and the younger children had gone to bed a few minutes after the guests left.

“My doctor likes Mom,” Peter said with obvious pleasure. He liked him.

“What doctor?” Megan looked surprised at what her brother had just said.

“The one who saved my life, dummy. Who else?”

“What do you mean, ‘He likes Mom.’ What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means he called her.”

“For a date?” She looked horrified as she glanced from Peter to her mother, and Peter fired another question at her.

“I don't know. Did he ask you for a date, Mom?” He looked vastly amused, but Megan didn't.

“Sort of,” she admitted, and Megan looked outraged. “We're going to the movies tomorrow.” There was no point hiding it from them, they'd see him pick her up anyway. And besides, she had nothing to hide. He was a nice guy, and Peter's doctor. They were just friends, and she was sure he had nothing more lurid in mind than what he had proposed, pizza and a movie. “It's no big deal. I just thought it might be fun,” she said apologetically, as Megan continued to glare at her.

“That's disgusting. What about Daddy?”

“What about Daddy?” Peter pointedly asked his sister. “He's gone. Mom isn't. She can't sit here taking care of us forever.”

“Why not?” Megan didn't see his point, and what she did see of it, she didn't like. In her opinion, her mother had no reason to be dating. “Mom doesn't need to go out,” she said both to Peter and her mother. “She has us.”

“That is the point exactly. She needs more than that in her life. After all, she had Daddy,” Peter said, sounding firm.

“That's different,” Megan said stubbornly.

“No, it isn't,” Peter insisted, as their mother stayed out of it, but she was fascinated by the conflict of opinions. Megan was adamant that she shouldn't be dating, and Peter was clear that she needed more in her life than just work and children, which was precisely why Bill Webster had invited her out. He had said much the same thing as Peter. But it was equally obvious that Megan felt threatened by the idea of a man in her mother's life who wasn't her father.

“What do you think Daddy would say about your going out, Mom?” she asked her mother directly.

“I think he'd say it's about time,” Peter said simply. “It's been nearly nine months, and she has a right. Hell, when Andy Martin's mom died last year, his father got remarried in five months. Mom hasn't even looked at another man since Dad died,” Peter said fairly, but Megan looked even more worried.

“Are you going to marry the doctor?”

“No, Megan,” Liz said quietly, “I'm not going to marry anyone. I'm going to eat pizza and see a movie. It's pretty harmless.” But it was interesting to her to realize the strong reaction her children had to it, both pro and con. It made her think about it herself as she walked slowly upstairs to her bedroom. Was it wrong? Was it a crazy thing to do, or inappropriate? Was it too soon to be “dating”? But she wasn't dating Bill, they were just going out for movies and dinner, and she certainly didn't want to marry anyone, as Megan had accused. She couldn't imagine marrying anyone after Jack. He had been the perfect husband for her, and anyone else would fall short, she was sure. This was just an evening out, and Bill was just a friend. But Megan was still on the warpath when Bill came to pick her mother up the next evening promptly at seven. Megan glared at him, and stomped up the stairs as loudly as she dared after she let him in. She didn't say a word to him, or introduce herself, and Liz apologized for her being so rude, but Jamie made up for it as he came downstairs with a broad smile to greet Bill. He was happy to see him. And Bill smiled and chatted with him before they left for dinner.

“Did you have fun at the party last night?” Bill stroked the silky dark hair as he asked him.

“It was fun.” Jamie nodded. “I ate too many hot dogs and got a stomachache. But it was fun before that.”

“I thought so too,” Bill agreed, and then pretended to look worried. “You're not going to give me a shot, are you, Jamie?” The child laughed at the joke, and then Bill asked him if he'd ever flown a kite, and Jamie admitted that he hadn't. “You'll have to come fly mine with me sometime,” he said pleasantly. “I have a really great one. It's an old-fashioned box kite I made myself, and it flies really well. We'll take it out to the beach sometime and fly it.”

“I'd like that,” Jamie said with wide eyes and a look of interest.

Rachel and Annie came down to say hi to him then, but Megan never appeared again. She was sulking in her room, and furious with her mother. Peter was out, he'd been picked up by friends since he couldn't drive, and Bill said to say hello to him as they left. Jamie promised to tell Peter when he got back.

“They're great kids,” he said admiringly. “I don't know how you do it.”

“Easy,” she smiled as she got into his comfortable Mercedes, “I just love them a lot.”

“You make it sound a lot easier than it is. I just can't see myself doing that,” he said, as though contemplating a liver transplant, or open-heart surgery. He made it sound painful and difficult, and potentially fatal. Being a parent had always been something of a mystery to him.