Fine Things

by Danielle Steel

  Chapter 35

  Two days later, Bernie took Alexander back to see Dr. Jones. He went to her office this time. It was in a small sunny Victorian house at the edge of town. She shared the office space with another doctor, and she lived upstairs above the office. And Bernie was once again impressed with her manner with the child, and he liked her as much as he had before, maybe even more so. She was wearing a starched white coat over her jeans this time, but her manner was casual, her touch was gentle, and her eyes were warm as she laughed easily with Alexander and his father.

  “His ears look a lot better this time.” She smiled at Bernie, then at his son, sitting next to her. “But you'd better stay out of the swimming pool for a while, my friend.” She ruffled Alex' hair, and for a moment she seemed more like a mother than a doctor, and it tugged at something in Bernie's heart which he was quick to deny to himself.

  “Should I bring him back again?” She shook her head and he was almost sorry that she hadn't said yes. And then he was annoyed at himself. She was pleasant and intelligent, that was all, and she had taken good care of the child. And if Alex had to come back again, Nanny could bring him in next time. That was safer. He found himself staring at the shiny black hair and it annoyed him. And her blue eyes reminded him so much of Liz….

  “I don't think he'll need to be seen again. I should get some information on him though, for my files. How old is he again?” She smiled pleasantly at Bernard and he tried to appear indifferent, as though he were thinking of something else, as he avoided the familiar eyes. They were so blue …just like hers…. He forced his mind back to her question.

  “He's two years and two months.”

  “General health all right?”

  “Fine.”

  “Vaccinations up to date?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pediatrician in town?” He gave her the name. It was easier talking of things like that. He didn't even have to look at her if he didn't want to.

  “Names of the rest of his family?” She smiled again as she wrote it all down, and then looked up at him again. “You are Mr. Bernard Fine?” She thought that was what she remembered from the other night, and he almost smiled at her.

  “Right. And he has a sister named Jane, who's nine years old.”

  “I remember that.” She smiled at him again and then looked at him expectantly. “And?”

  “That's it.” He would have liked to have had another child or two with Liz, but they hadn't had time before they discovered that she had cancer.

  “Your wife's name?” Something in his eyes suggested sharp pain and she instantly suspected an ugly divorce.

  But he shook his head, the pain of her question staggering him, like a blow he hadn't seen before it hit him. “Uh …no …she's not.”

  The doctor looked surprised. It was an odd thing to say and he was looking at her strangely. “Not what?”

  “Not alive.” You could barely hear the words, and she suddenly realized the pain she must have caused him, and she felt desperately sorry for him. The pain of death was something she had never grown immune to.

  “I'm so sorry …” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the child. How terrible for all of them, especially the little girl. At least Alex was too young to understand. And the father looked so devastated as he spoke to her. “I'm sorry I asked.”

  “It's all right. You didn't know.”

  “How long has it been?” It couldn't have been too long if Alexander was just two years old. Her heart went out to all of them as her eyes met Bernie's and she felt tears in her own eyes.

  “Last July.” It was obviously too painful for him to say much more and she went on, feeling a rock in her heart as she thought of it, and after they were gone it troubled her again. He looked so heartbroken when he spoke of it. Poor man. She thought of him all day, and was surprised to see him in the supermarket later that week. Alexander was sitting in the cart, as he always did, and Bernie had brought Jane along. She was chattering rapidly and Alex was pointing at something and yelling “Gum, Daddy, gum!” at the top of his lungs as Dr. Jones almost ran into them, and she suddenly stopped and smiled. They didn't look nearly as sad as she'd imagined. In fact, they looked very happy.

  “Well, hello there, how's our friend?” She glanced at Alex and found a warm welcome in Bernie's eyes when she looked at him.

  “He's a lot better. I think the antibiotics helped.”

  “He's still taking them, isn't he?” She couldn't remember the length of the course she'd given him, but he should have been.

  “Yes, he is. But he's his old self again.” Bernie smiled and he looked normal and harassed and his legs looked nice in hiking shorts. She tried not to notice, but she couldn't help it. He was a good-looking man. And he was noticing the same things about her. She was wearing jeans again, and an oxford shirt and red espadrilles, and her hair was so clean it shone. She was not wearing her doctor coat, and Jane couldn't figure out who she was. Bernie introduced them finally, and Jane held her hand out stingily, as though afraid to open up too far. She watched the woman suspiciously and didn't mention her again until they were back in the car.

  “Who was that?”

  “The doctor I took Alex to the other night.” He spoke casually, but it was like being five years old and dealing with his mother all over again. In fact it made him laugh it was so similar. They were the same questions Ruth would have asked him.

  “Why did you take him to her?” The inflections told him exactly what she thought, and he wondered why she disliked her so much. It never occurred to him that Jane was jealous.

  “Doctor Wallaby gave me her number before we came up, in case one of you had an accident or got sick, like Alex the other night. I was very glad to find her actually. And she was very nice about meeting us at the hospital in the middle of the night. In fact, she was already there, seeing someone else, which says a lot for her.” And he remembered that she had gone to Stanford.

  Jane barely grunted that time, and didn't say anything more. But when they ran into her again a few weeks after that, Jane ignored her totally, and didn't even say hello. And when they went back to the car, Bernie scolded her.

  “You were very rude to her, you know.”

  “Well, what's so great about her anyway?”

  “What's great is that she's a doctor and you might need her sometime. Besides which, she hasn't done anything to you, for heaven's sake. There's no reason for you not to be polite to her.” He was grateful that Alex liked her at least. He had let out a great squeal when he saw her in the supermarket and immediately said hello. He remembered her that time, and she made a great fuss over him, and had a lollipop in a pocket for him. She told him her name was Doctor Meg. But Jane had refused the lollipop she'd offered her, and Megan seemed to take it all in stride and not notice.

  “Just don't be rude to her, sweetheart.” She was so damn sensitive these days. He wondered if she was growing up, or if she still missed Liz as much. Nanny said it was probably a little of both, and he suspected she was right as usual. Nanny Pippin was the mainstay of their lives, and Bernie was devoted to her.

  He didn't run into Megan again until a party he got talked into going to on Labor Day. He hadn't been to any parties in almost three years, not since Liz had gotten sick, and certainly not since she died. But the realtor who had gotten the house for him made such a point of including him in a barbecue they were giving that night that he felt rude not going at least for a little while. And he went feeling like the new kid in town, knowing absolutely not a soul, and feeling overdressed the instant he got out of the car. Everyone had worn T-shirts and jeans and cut-offs and halter tops, and he was wearing white slacks and a pale blue shirt. He looked more like Capri or Beverly Hills than the Napa Valley and it embarrassed him as his host handed him a beer and asked him where he was going afterwards.

  Bernie just laughed and shrugged with a smile. “I guess I've just worked for a department store for too long.” His friend took him aside t
hen and asked if he would be interested in keeping the house for a while. The people who were renting to him were going to stay in Bordeaux for longer than they'd planned, and they were anxious to have him stay on there. “Actually, I might like that, Frank.” The realtor was pleased with the news and suggested he keep it on a month-to-month basis, assuring him that the valley was even more beautiful in the fall, with all the leaves changing colors.

  “The winters aren't even bad either. It might be nice for you to come up whenever you have a chance, and the rent is reasonable enough.” He was ever the salesman, and Bernie smiled, anxious to leave the party.

  “I think that would suit us just fine.”

  “Did Frank just sell you a winery?” a familiar voice asked. Her laugh had a tinkling sound, like silver bells, and Bernie turned and saw the shining black hair and the blue eyes that had startled him wherever they met. It was Megan Jones and she looked very pretty. He realized now how tan she was. Her skin was dark, in sharp contrast to her light blue eyes. And she had worn a white peasant skirt and white es-padrilles with a bright red gypsy blouse. Suddenly she looked very beautiful and it made him uncomfortable. It was easier thinking of her in blue jeans and her starched white coat. This was much too accessible, and the silky smooth shoulders caught his eye, as he forced himself to look straight into her blue eyes. But that was no easier for him. Her eyes always made him think of Liz, and yet they were different. Bolder, older, wiser. She was a different kind of woman. And there was a compassion there which made her seem older than her years, and was useful in her profession. He tried to pull his eyes from her now, but was surprised to find that he couldn't.

  “Frank just extended my lease for a while.” He spoke quietly, and she noticed that no matter how much his mouth smiled, his eyes didn't. They were quiet and sad, and told people to keep their distance. His grief was still too fresh to be shared and she easily sensed that as she watched him, thinking of his children.

  “Does that mean you're going to be staying up here?” She looked interested as she sipped at a glass of local white wine.

  “Just on weekends, I guess. The kids love it here. And Frank says it's beautiful in the fall.”

  “It is. That's why I got stuck up here. It's the only place around here that gets some kind of autumn. The leaves turn just like they do back east, the whole valley turns red and yellow and it's really wonderful.” He tried to concentrate on what she said, but all he saw were her bare shoulders and her blue eyes, and she seemed to be looking deep into his eyes, as though she wanted to say more to him. It made him curious about her. He had been since he first met her.

  “What made you stay out here?”

  She shrugged, and her perfect bronze flesh beckoned him as he reached for another beer and frowned, trying to deny the attraction he felt toward her. “I don't know. I couldn't imagine going back to Boston and being serious for the rest of my life.” The mischief he had suspected danced in her eyes and he listened to the sound of her laughter.

  “I suppose Boston can be that way. Very much so, in fact.” He looked terribly handsome as he chatted with her and she decided to risk asking him something about himself, despite what she already knew about him.

  “And why are you in San Francisco and not New York?”

  “A quirk of fate. The store I work for sent me out here to open their new branch out here.” He smiled thinking about it, and then his eyes clouded as he thought of why he'd stayed after that …because Liz was dying. “And then I got stuck here.” Their eyes met and held, and she understood him perfectly.

  “Are you here to stay then?”

  He shook his head and smiled at her again. “I don't think I'll be here for too much longer. Sometime in the next year I'll probably be going back to New York.” She looked instantly sorry, and in spite of himself it pleased him. And he was suddenly glad he had come to the party.

  “How do the kids feel about moving back?”

  “I don't know.” He looked serious. “It might be hard on Jane. She's always lived out here, and it'll be hard on her going to a new school and making new friends.”

  “She'll adjust to it.” Megan was looking at him searchingly, wishing she knew more. He was a man who made you want to know where he had come from, and where he was heading to. He was the kind of man one seldom met, warm and strong and real, but untouchable. And after seeing him in her office the last time, she knew why. She would have liked to draw him out, to really talk to him, but she wasn't sure how. “What store brought you out, by the way?”

  “Wolffs.” He said it modestly, as though it were an unimportant store, and she laughed with wide eyes. No wonder he looked like that. He had the instinctive style of a man who dealt daily with high fashion, yet in a very masculine, unselfconscious way that she liked. In fact there was a lot she liked about him.

  She smiled warmly at Bernie then. “It's a wonderful store. I go there every few months just to stand on the escalator and drool at everything. Living up here doesn't give one much opportunity to think about things like that.”

  “I've thought about that this summer.” He looked interested and pensive, as though sharing a secret project with her. “I've always wanted to have a store in a place like this. Kind of a small, simple country store, with everything from riding boots to evening wear, but really, really beautiful merchandise, the best quality. People up here don't have time to drive a hundred miles for a good-looking dress, and walking into an enormous store is inappropriate up here, but something small and simple and really good would be exciting here …wouldn't it?” He looked excited and so did she. It sounded like a terrific idea to both of them. “Only the best though,” he went on, “and very little of it. Maybe take one of the Victorians and turn it into a store.” He loved the idea the more he thought of it and then he laughed. “Pipe dreams. I guess once you're a merchant, it corrodes your thinking wherever you are.”

  He laughed and she smiled at him. She liked the look in his eyes when he talked about it.

  “Why don't you do something like that? We have absolutely nowhere to shop, except a few miserable stores that aren't worth bothering with. And there's a lot of money up here, especially in the summer months, and with the wineries there's actually money here all year round now.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head. He had afterthoughts of it, but to no avail. “I don't know where I'd find the time. And I'll be going back pretty soon. But it's fun to dream.” He hadn't dreamt in a long, long time. Of anything. Or anyone. And she could sense that. She enjoyed chatting with him, and she liked his idea. But more than that, she liked him. He was an unusual man. Warm and strong and decent. And he had the gentleness of the very strong, and she liked that.

  He noticed her beeper then hooked to the back of her belt and he asked her about it. Talking about the store seemed frivolous to him although it interested her more than he realized. “I'm on duty four nights a week, and have office hours six days a week. That keeps me on my toes, when I'm not yawning in someone's face from lack of sleep.” They both laughed and he was impressed. It seemed conscientious of her to work that hard, and even have the beeper with her at a party. And he noticed that she had refused the wine after one glass. “We're short of doctors up here too, not just stores.” She smiled. “My partner and I are the only pediatricians within twenty miles, which may not sound like much, but it gets awfully busy sometimes, like the night I saw you at the hospital. You were my third earache that night. I saw the first one at home, and the other one left the hospital just before you arrived. It doesn't make for a quiet home life.” But she didn't seem unhappy about it. She looked content and satisfied and it was obvious that she enjoyed her work a great deal. She looked excited when she talked about it. And he had liked her style with Alexander.

  “What made you go into medicine?” She had to be so dedicated, he had always been impressed by, but never attracted to, that life. And he had known since he was a child that he didn't want to follow in his father's footst
eps.

  “My father is a doctor,” she explained. “He's in obstetrics and gynecology, which didn't appeal to me. But pediatrics did. And my brother is a psychiatrist. My mother wanted to be a nurse during the war, but she only made it as far as the Red Cross volunteers. I guess we all have the medical bug. Congenital,” she pronounced and they both laughed. They had all gone to Harvard as well, which she didn't mention to him. She seldom did. She had gone to Radcliffe, and then Stanford Med School, and had graduated second in her class, a fact that mattered very little now. She was busy doing what she did, healing hot ears, and giving shots and setting bones, and curing coughs, and being there for the children she loved and took care of.

  “My father is a doctor.” Bernie looked pleased that they had something in common. “Ear, nose, and throat. Somehow it never seemed very exciting to me. Actually, I wanted to teach literature in a prep school in New England.” It sounded silly now. The era of his passion for Russian literature seemed a thousand years ago and he laughed thinking of it. “I often suspect that Wolffs has saved me from a fate worse than death. I wanted to work for a small school in a sleepy town, as I thought of it, and thank God none of them wanted me, or I might have become an alcoholic by now.” They both laughed at the thought. “Or hanged myself. It's a hell of a lot better selling shoes and fur coats and French bread than living in a place like that.”

  She laughed at the description he offered of Wolffs. “Is that how you see yourself?”

  “More or less.” Their eyes met and they felt a sudden inexplicable bond.

  They were chatting easily about the store when her buzzer went off after that. She excused herself and went to the phone and came back to report that she had to meet someone at the hospital.

  “Nothing terrible, I hope.” Bernie looked worried, and she smiled. She was used to this. In fact, it was obvious that she loved it.