Fine Things

by Danielle Steel

  “We're going to do a lot of fun things while your mommy and daddy are away.” She called him Daddy now too, and he had asked Liz once if he should adopt her formally.

  “You could,” she had replied. “Officially, her father has abandoned us, so we can do anything we want. But I don't see why you have to go to all that trouble, sweetheart. If she uses your name, it becomes legal by usage over the years, and she decided to call you Daddy all by herself anyway.” He had agreed with her. It didn't seem appropriate somehow to drag Jane through court unnecessarily.

  It was the first time in years he had stayed at his parents' house, and he was surprised at how pleasant it was with Liz and Jane there with him. Liz helped his mother cook dinner, and then clean up afterwards. Their maid was sick, which was the only dismal bulletin she gave that night. But since all Hattie had were bunions she'd had operated on, even that wasn't up to her usual gruesome standards of strokes and heart attacks. And everyone was in a good mood. The only problem was that he felt desperately uncomfortable when Liz wanted to make love to him that night.

  “What if my mother comes in?” he whispered in the dark and she giggled naughtily.

  “I could climb out the window and wait on the lawn until the coast is clear.”

  “Sounds good to me, sweetheart …” He rolled over and slid a hand into the satin nightgown she wore, and they giggled and wrestled and kissed and made love, whispering, feeling like wicked kids, and afterwards as they talked in the dark, he told her what a change she had brought to his entire family. “You can't imagine what my mother was like before you came along. I swear, sometimes I hated her.” It seemed a sacrilege to say it under her own roof, but sometimes it was true.

  “I think Jane is the one who cast the spell.”

  “I think it's both of you.” And as he looked at her in the moonlight, his heart was full. “You're the most remarkable woman I've ever met.”

  “Better than Isabelle?” she teased, and he tweaked her boob.

  “At least you haven't taken my best watch …only my heart. …”

  “That's all?” She pouted prettily, which made him want her again as he slipped a hand between her thighs. “I had something else in mind, monsieur.” She put on an accent for him and he attacked her again, and they both felt as though the honeymoon had begun, and Jane didn't come in to sleep with them that night, which was just as well, because Liz' nightgown seemed to have disappeared somewhere underneath the bed, and Bernie had forgotten to bring pajamas with him.

  But they looked very respectable at breakfast the next day in their dressing gowns, and his mother made an announcement as she and Jane made orange juice. “We won't have time to take you to the airport today.” They exchanged a meaningful look, and Jane didn't look upset at all. “We are going to Radio City Music Hall. We already have the tickets.”

  “And it's the first day of the Easter Show!” Jane was so excited she could hardly control herself, and Bernie smiled as he glanced at Liz. His mother was a smart one. She had set it up so Jane wouldn't have to go to the airport with them, and cry when they left. It was perfect, and instead they waved goodbye to her as she and Grandma got on the train, which was an excitement in itself, and Grampa was going to pick them up at the Plaza Hotel! “Imagine that!” Jane had said. “And we're going to ride in a hansom cab, that's a carriage with a horse! Right into Central Park …” There had been just a moment when they hugged her goodbye that her lip had trembled just a little bit, but a moment later she was gone, and chatting happily with Ruth as Bernie and Liz went back to the house and made love again. They carefully locked the door when they left, and a cab took them to the airport, and the honeymoon began.

  “Ready for Paris, Madame Fine?”

  “Out, monsieur.” She giggled and they both laughed. She still hadn't seen New York. But they had decided to spend three days in New York on the way back. It was easier for Jane this way, to get the hard part over with, with them gone, and then they could spend time with her in New York on the way home. And it worked better for his meetings anyway.

  They flew to Paris on Air France, and landed in Orly bright and early the next day. It was eight o'clock in the morning local time, and they arrived at the Ritz two hours after that, after finding their bags, going through Customs and then getting into town. Wolffs had arranged for a limousine for him, and Liz was awestruck at the hotel. She had never seen anything as beautiful as the lobby of the Ritz, with elegant women, and well-dressed men, and porters walking poodles and Pekingese, and the shops on the Faubourg St.-Honore were even more wonderful than she'd imagined. It was all like something in a dream, and he took her everywhere. Fouquet's, Maxim's, the Tour d'Argent, the top of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, the Bateaux-Mouche, the Galeries Lafayette, the Louvre, the Jeu de Paume, even the Rodin Museum. The week they spent in Paris was the happiest of her life and she never wanted it to end, as they flew on to Rome and Milan for the fashion shows he had to see for the store. He was still in charge of determining all of Wolffs important import lines, and it was an awesome job selecting them. She was impressed at the work he did and she went everywhere with him, taking notes for him, trying on clothes for him once or twice, to see how they moved on an “ordinary mortal” and not someone who was trained to show them off. She told him how they felt, if they were comfortable, how she thought they could be improved, and she was learning a lot about his business as they went from place to place. He also noticed the shows' effect on her. She was suddenly much more aware of fashion, and much more chic. She looked suddenly sleeker and she was more careful about selecting her accessories. She had had a natural flair when they met, and with greater resources she had quickly shown how well dressed she could be. But she wasn't just chic now, she was striking suddenly. And she was happier than she'd ever been, traveling at his side, working with him every day, going back to their hotel room to make love in the afternoon and then stay out half the night, strolling on the Via Veneto or tossing coins into the Fontana di Trevi with him.

  “What are you wishing for, little love?” He had never loved her more than he did right then.

  “You'll see.” She smiled up at him.

  “Will I? How?” But he thought he knew. He wanted the same thing, and they were trying. “Will your wish make you big and fat?” He loved the thought of her that way, carrying his child, but they hadn't been trying for very long, and she smiled at him.

  “If I tell you what I wished, it won't come true.” She wagged a finger at him, and they went back to the Excelsior and made love again. It was a lovely thought, thinking of a baby conceived on this second honeymoon of theirs. But when they got to London for the last two days of the trip, it was obvious that that was not the case and she was so disappointed she cried when she told him the news.

  “Never mind.” He put an arm around her and held her close. “We'll try again.” They did an hour later, knowing it would do them no good, in terms of conceiving a child, but they had fun anyway. And it was obvious how happy they were, when they flew back to New York, after the best two weeks they'd ever shared. And it was obvious they weren't the only ones who'd had a good time. It took Jane two hours to tell them everything she'd done while they were gone. And it looked as though Grandma Ruth had bought out Schwarz for her.

  “It's going to take a truck to take all this stuff home.” Bernie stared at the dolls, the toys, a life-sized dog, a tiny horse, a doll house, and a miniature stove. Ruth looked faintly embarrassed and then stuck out her chin.

  “She had nothing to play with here. All I have are your old trucks and cars,” she said almost accusingly. And she'd loved buying all the new toys.

  “Oh.” Bernie grinned, and handed his mother the box from Bulgari. He had bought her a beautiful pair of earrings made from old gold coins, surrounded by tiny diamonds in a hexagonal shape. He had bought similar ones for Liz and she was crazy about them. And so was Ruth. She clipped them on instantly and hugged them both, and then ran to show Lou, as Liz held
Jane close to her. She had missed her terribly, but the trip to Europe had been so wonderful. And it had done them good to be alone together.

  The days they spent together in New York were almost as good. Dinners at Cote Basque and “21” and Grenouille, his three favorite restaurants, and he shared their specialties with her. They had drinks at the Oak Room in the Plaza Hotel, and the Sherry Netherland, went to listen to Bobby Short play at the Carlyle at night and she fell in love with him. She shopped at Bergdorfs, Saks, Bendel's and the legendary Bloomingdale's, but she insisted she still preferred Wolffs, and Bernie took her everywhere with him. She stood giggling with him one day at the bar at P. J. Clark's, watching all the characters come in.

  “I'm having such a good time with you. Do you know that? You make my life so much fun, Bernie. I never knew it could be like this. I was so busy just surviving before, it seems incredible. It was all so small and intense, and now everything is so lavish. It's like a giant painting …like the Chagall murals at Lincoln Center.” He had taken her there too. “It's all reds and greens and sunny yellows and bright blues now …and before it was all kind of gray and white.” She looked up at him adoringly and he bent to kiss her again, tasting the Pimm's cup on her lips.

  “I love you, Liz.”

  “I love you too.” She whispered and then hiccuped so loudly the man in front of them turned around to look at her and she looked at Bernie again. “What did you say your name was?”

  “George. George Murphy. I'm married and I have seven children in the Bronx. Want to go to a hotel with me?”

  The man next to them at the bar stared in fascination. The place was full of men looking for a quick lay, but most of them didn't talk about their wives and kids.

  “Why don't we go home and make another one?” She suggested brightly.

  “Great idea.”

  He hailed a cab on Third Avenue that took them to Scarsdale by the quickest route, and they got home before his mother came home with Jane. His father was still at the hospital. It was nice being home alone with her. It was nice being anywhere with her, especially in bed, he decided as they slipped between cool sheets. He hated to get up again when his mother and Jane got home. And he hated even more leaving New York and going back to California again. But he had spoken to Paul about it again, to no avail.

  “Come on, Paul. I've been there a year. Fourteen months in fact.”

  “But the store's only been open for ten. And what's your hurry now? You have a lovely wife, a nice house, San Francisco is a good place for Jane.”

  “We want to put her in school here.” But they wouldn't take her application, they'd discovered, unless it was definite that they were coming back. “We can't just hang in limbo out there for years.”

  “Not years …but let's say just one more. There's just no one else as competent for the job.”

  “All right.” He sighed. “But then, that's it. Is that a deal?”

  “All right, all right …you'd think we'd left you in Armpit, West Virginia, for chrissake. San Francisco is hardly a hardship post.”

  “I know. But this is where I belong, and you know it too.”

  “I can't deny that, Bernard. But we need you out there right now too. We'll do our best to bring you back in a year.”

  “I'm counting on it.”

  He hated leaving New York when they did, but he admitted that getting back to San Francisco wasn't so terrible. Their little house was nicer than he remembered it, and the store looked good to him on his first day back. Not as good as the New York store did, but good just the same. The only thing he hated about being back was not being with Liz all day long, and he turned up in the cafeteria at her school at lunchtime their first day back to share a sandwich with her. He looked very citified and grown-up and elegant in a dark gray English suit, and she was wearing a plaid skirt and a red sweater they had bought together at Trois Quartiers, with shoes she'd bought in Italy, and she looked very pretty and young to him, and Jane was very proud to see him there.

  “That's my daddy over there, with my mom.” She pointed him out to several friends and then went to stand next to him, to show that he belonged to her.

  “Hi there, short stuff,” he said, tossing her up in the air, and then doing the same to three of her friends. He was a big hit in the cafeteria, and Tracy came over to say hello to him. She gave him a big hug and announced that her daughter was pregnant again. And he saw the hungry look in Liz' eyes and squeezed her hand. She was beginning to worry that something was wrong with her, and he had suggested that maybe it was he, since she had had a child before. And they had finally both decided to relax about it for a while, and they were trying to, but it still came to mind a lot. They both desperately wanted a baby.

  And in June he had a surprise for her. He had rented a house in Stinson Beach for two months, and she was thrilled. It was the perfect place for them. A bedroom for them, one for Jane, a guest room for friends, a huge spacious living room with a dining area, a sunny kitchen, and a sheltered deck where they could even sunbathe nude if they wanted to, not that they would have if Jane were at home. It was perfect for them, and Liz couldn't have been happier. They decided to move there for the two months, and he would commute every day. But they had scarcely been there for two weeks, when Liz came down with the flu, and it took her weeks to get over it. He mentioned it to his father when he called, and Lou thought it was probably her sinuses and she should see someone about starting antibiotics right away. Her head felt heavy all the time and she was nauseous at the end of the day. She was exhausted and depressed and she couldn't remember ever feeling that terrible. It was a little better the second month they were there, but not much, and she hardly enjoyed the place, although Jane was having a ball with all her friends, and she ran on the beach with Bernie every night, but Liz could hardly walk down the street without feeling sick. She didn't even feel up to going into town to try on her dress for the opening of the opera. She had selected a slinky black satin Galanos that year, with one shoulder and a ruffled cape of its own, and she was shocked when she finally tried it on right after Labor Day.

  “What size is this?” She was stunned. She was generally a six, but she couldn't even close the dress they had sent her. She looked amazed as the salesgirl glanced at the tag and looked up at her.

  “It's an eight, Mrs. Fine.”

  “How's it look?” He poked his head in the door and she glared at him.

  “Terrible.” She couldn't have gained weight. She'd been sick since July. She'd finally made an appointment to see the doctor the next day. She had to start school in a week and she needed her energy back. She was even ready to take the antibiotics her father-in-law thought she should try. “They must have sent the wrong size. It has to be a four. I just don't understand it.” She had tried the sample on when she ordered it, and it had swum on her. And that had been a six, and this was larger than that was.

  “Did you gain weight at the beach?” He came into the fitting room to look. And she was right. The zipper wouldn't come near to closing at her waist and down the side. There were a good three or four inches of her suntanned flesh separating it. He glanced at the fitter standing by quietly. “Can it be let out?” He knew how expensive the dress was and it was a sacrilege to alter it very much. It was better to order it in another size and let that one go, except that now they didn't have time. She'd have to wear something else to the opening if it couldn't be let out. The fitter took a look and shook her head, and then felt Liz' waist and glanced at her questioningly.

  “Madame has gained weight at the beach this summer?” She was French and Bernie had brought her from New York. She had worked for Wolffs for years, and Patou before that.

  “I don't know, Marguerite.” She had worked with Liz before, on her wedding dress and last year's opera gown, and other things she had bought. “I didn't think I had.” But all she'd been wearing were loose old clothes, jogging suits, sweatshirts, baggy old shirts, and she had even worn a shapeless cotton dress into
the store, and suddenly she looked at Bernie and grinned at him. “Oh my God.”

  “You okay?” He looked worried, but she was smiling at him. Her face had gone white, and now it was bright pink, and she started to laugh at him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him and he smiled, as the salesgirl and fitter discreetly disappeared from the fitting room. They liked working with her. She was always so pleasant to them, and they were so much in love. It was nice to be around people like them. “What's up, Liz?” He looked puzzled as he glanced at her, she was still smiling blissfully, in spite of the lost dress, or because of it.

  “I don't think I'll take those antibiotics after all.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think he's wrong.”

  “A lot you know.” He smiled at her.

  “You can say that again.” She had missed all the signs. Every one of them. “I don't think this is a sinus infection after all.” She sat down on a chair and looked up at him with a broad grin and suddenly he understood. He stared at the dress and then back at her, amazed.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No … I didn't even think of it till just now …but I'm almost sure … I just kind of forgot while we were at the beach.” But she suddenly realized that she had skipped a period while they were there. She was four weeks late. But she'd been so sick she hadn't even noticed. And the doctor confirmed it to her the next day. She was six weeks pregnant, he said, and she rushed to the store to tell Bernie the news. She found him in his office, looking at some reports from New York and he looked up the minute she walked through the door.

  “Well?” He held his breath and she grinned, pulling a bottle of champagne from behind her back.

  “Congratulations, Dad.” She set the champagne down on his desk and he threw his arms around her with a whoop of glee.

  “We did it! We did it! Ha ha …you're knocked up!” And she laughed and they kissed and he picked her up off her feet, as his secretary wondered what they were doing in there. They didn't come out for a long time, and when they did, Mr. Fine looked extremely pleased with himself.