“Oh, Dad.” It was Mark who objected, almost whining as he hadn't in years, but he wanted so much to be alone with Val. They had so much to tell each other. “We just want to talk.”
“Then do it with the others.”
“Yuck.” Pam rolled her eyes and held her nose. “You should hear the junk they say to each other.” But Mel had noticed that there was a fourteen-year-old boy from down the beach whom Pam had not found particularly “yucky.” Only Jess and Matthew seemed to have maintained their sanity by the end of the weekend. Jessica was already thinking ahead to the first day of school, and Matt was so happy with Mel and his father that he was no trouble at all. He had longed for that kind of security for years, without actually understanding what was missing. And Peter chuckled at Raquel, who obviously approved of him and spent a lot of time telling him how lucky he was to have Mel, how all she'd needed was a good man, and what she needed now was to get married. Mel was horrified when he told her as they lay on the beach on Sunday.
“Are you kidding? She said that?”
“She did. Maybe she's right. Maybe that is what you need. A good husband, to keep you barefoot and pregnant.” He seemed amused by it all, and even more so to watch the children living out their end-of-summer madness. He was keeping a good eye on Mark. He didn't want him getting out of line with Val, and he could see that their hormones were pumping furiously throughout the weekend. Peter turned back to Mel then, remembering what Raquel had said. “What do you say to that?”
“I'm sure the network would be thrilled.” She was amused at the suggestion, but didn't consider it a real threat. All she cared about right now was being with him for the weekend. She'd think about the future later, about what they would do about seeing each other again, and when. And then she remembered something else. “You just reminded me. I have to call my lawyer after the Labor Day weekend.”
“How come?”
“My contract is up in October, and I like getting started nice and early outlining what I want for the next one.” He admired the way she handled her work. In fact, there was a lot more than that he admired about her.
“You must be able to call your own shots by now.”
“To some extent. Not entirely. But anyway, I want to sit down with him sometime in the next couple of weeks and see what he thinks.”
Peter grinned, in a silly mood, the end-of-summer madness was beginning to touch them all. “Why don't you just quit?”
“And do what?” She didn't find the idea quite as funny as he did.
“Move to California.”
“And sell tacos on the beach?”
“No, this may come as a shock to you, but we have television there now too. We even have news.” He was smiling and she thought he had never looked more handsome.
“Do you? How intriguing.” But she didn't take the suggestion seriously for a moment until he reached out and touched her arm, and she saw that he was looking at her strangely.
“You know, you could do that.”
“What?” A chill ran down her spine despite the brilliant sunshine and hot weather.
“Quit and move to California. Someone would put you on the air there.”
She sat up very straight and stared down at him lying in the sand. “Do you have any idea how many years it took me to get where I am here at the network? Do you have even the remotest idea of what Buffalo was like at twenty below, or Chicago? I worked my ass off for this job, and I'm not giving it up now, so please don't joke about it, Peter. Ever.” She was still upset when she lay down in the sand beside him again. She didn't find the suggestion even remotely amusing. “Why don't you give up your practice and start fresh in New York?”
She saw that he was looking at her intently, and she was sorry her tone had been as sharp. He looked hurt. “I would if I could, Mel. I'd do anything to be near you.” And the accusation was that she wouldn't, which wasn't fair.
“Do you understand that it's no easier for me?” Her voice was gentler now. “Leaving New York would be a step down for me now, wherever I went.”
“Even to L.A.?” He looked suddenly depressed. Their situation was hopeless.
“Even to L.A.” And then after a moment's silence when they both stared out to sea licking their wounds, “We'll just have to find some way to be together.”
“What do you suggest? Weekends in Kansas City?” This time it was Peter who sounded angry and bitter, and he looked down at her now with fire in his blue eyes. “What do you think this will be when it grows up, Mel? A holiday romance? We meet for long weekends with our kids?”
“I don't know what to suggest. I can fly to L.A., you know, and you can come here.”
“You know how rarely I can leave my patients.” And she couldn't leave the girls all the time, and they both knew it.
“So what are you telling me? That I should give up now? Is that what you want?” Suddenly, she was frightened by the gist of their conversation. “I don't have the answers, Peter.”
“Well, neither do I. And something tells me you don't want to find them.”
“That's not true. But the reality is that we both have important jobs at opposite ends of the country, and neither one of us can just dump what we're doing and move, nor would we want to. And we're not ready to yet, anyway.”
“Aren't we?” He looked angry again. “Why not?”
“Because we've only known each other for four months, and I don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like very long to me.”
“I'd have married Anne five minutes after I met her and I was right.”
“That was Anne.” She was shouting at him now, but they were alone on the beach. The children had all gone to play volleyball somewhere else and Matt was with Raquel looking for seashells. “I'm not Anne, Peter, I'm me. And I'm not going to follow in her goddamn footsteps. Even if you did take me to Aspen, which is where you went with her every year.”
“So what, dammit. Didn't you like it?”
“Yes, I did. But only after I overcame the creepy feeling I had every time I thought that you'd been over every inch of that place with her, and probably even slept in the same bed.”
He was on his feet now and so was she. “It may interest you to know that this time I ordered a different condo. I'm not as totally insensitive as you seem to think, Miss Adams.” And after that they both stood very still, and suddenly Mel hung her head.
“I'm sorry … I didn't mean to hurt you …” She looked up at him again then. “It's difficult, sometimes, knowing how attached you were to her.”
Peter pulled her slowly toward him. “I was married to her for eighteen years, Mel.”
“I know … but I feel like I'm always being compared to her. The perfect wife. The Perfect Woman. And I'm not perfect. I'm me.”
“Who compares you?” He looked shocked. He had never said anything like that. But he hadn't had to.
Mel shrugged as they sat very close on the sand again. “You … the children … maybe Mrs. Hahn.”
Peter was watching her very closely. “You don't like Mrs. Hahn, do you? Why?”
“Maybe because she was Anne's. Or because she's so cold. I don't think she likes me either.” Mel smiled, thinking of Raquel, and Peter laughed, knowing what she was thinking.
“No, she certainly isn't Raquel, but no one is. Except Raquel herself.” He had come to like her too, but he wasn't sure he could live with her loose tongue in his household. He liked Mrs. Harm's restraint and the way she controlled the children. Raquel was more like a friend with a mop in one hand, and a microphone in the other.
“Were you serious about me moving to California, Peter?” She looked worried as she asked, and slowly he shook his head.
“I guess not. Just dreaming. I know you can't give up your job here. I wouldn't want you to anyway. But I wish there were a way we could be together. This is going to be a terrible strain commuting back and forth.” Grant's words echoed in her ears … dead end … dead end … And she didn't want it to be.