“What about you?” he asked, always concerned about his daughter. Like her mother, he thought she worked too hard, but he was enormously proud of her, and just very sorry she was alone. It didn't seem fair to him, and he resented Blake for how things had turned out, far more than Maxine did herself. She had made her peace with it long since. Her parents never had.
“I'm fine,” Maxine said blandly, in answer to her father's question. She knew what he meant. They always asked.
“Any nice young man on the horizon?” He looked hopeful.
“Nope,” she said with a smile. “I'm still sleeping with Sam.” Both her parents smiled.
“I hope that changes one of these days,” Arthur Connors said, with a look of concern. “Eventually, those kids are going to grow up, before you know it, and you're going to find yourself alone.”
“I think I've got a few years left before I need to panic about it.”
“It goes mighty fast,” he said, thinking about her. “I blinked and you were in medical school. And now look at you. You're an authority in your field on childhood trauma and adolescent suicide. When I think about you, Max, I still think you're fifteen.” He smiled warmly at her, and her mother nodded.
“Yeah, me too, Dad. Sometimes I look at Daphne, wearing my clothes and high heels, and I wonder how that happened. Last time I looked, she was three. Jack's suddenly as tall as I am, overnight, and five minutes ago, Sam was two months old. It's weird, isn't it?”
“It's even weirder when your ‘children' are the age you are. You'll always be a kid to me.” She liked that about their relationship. There had to be somewhere in the world, and people in it, where you could still be a kid. It was too hard to be a grown-up all the time. That was the nice thing about still having parents, there was a feeling of safety not having to be the oldest member of the family yet.
She wondered sometimes if Blake's crazy wild behaviors stemmed from a fear of getting old. She couldn't totally blame him if that was the case. In many ways, responsibility was what he feared most, and yet he had been so extraordinary in business. But that was different. He had wanted to be a “wunderkind” or golden boy forever, and now he was all grown up and middle-aged. She knew it scared him more than anything else, and he couldn't run fast enough to get away from facing himself. It was sad in a way, and he had missed so much. While he was running faster than the speed of sound, his kids were growing up, and he had lost her. It seemed like a high price to pay to be Peter Pan.
“Well, don't talk yourself into being old yet,” her father said then. “You're still a young woman, and any man would be lucky to have you. At forty-two, you're still a kid. Don't lock yourself up, and forget to go out and have some fun.” They all knew that she didn't go out much. He was afraid sometimes that she was still in love with Blake and pining for him, but her mother insisted that wasn't the case. She just hadn't met anyone yet. And they both wanted her to find the right man this time. Her father had tried to fix her up with a few physicians initially, but it had never worked out, and Maxine had said she preferred to find her own dates.
She helped her mother clear the table and make order in the kitchen, but Marguerite told her the housekeeper would be back the next day, so they joined the others in the living room, avidly watching the game on TV. And reluctantly, at five o'clock, Maxine pried the children away. She hated to do it, but she didn't want them to be late for Blake. Every moment they shared with him was precious. Her parents were sorry to see them leave. They hugged and kissed, and she and the children thanked them for the terrific meal. It was what everyone's Thanksgiving should be, and Maxine was grateful for the family she had. She knew just how lucky she was.
She and the children walked slowly back up Park Avenue to their own building. It was five-thirty by then. The kids changed out of their good clothes, and unusually promptly for him, Blake called at six. He had just gotten in. He was on his way in from the airport, and told them to be at his place at seven. He said everything was set and waiting for them. He was having dinner catered by a restaurant, and knowing they would have had turkey at their grandparents', he said he had ordered something different. Dinner would be ready by nine, and they could hang out till then. Just hearing about it, the children were thrilled.
“Are you sure you still want me to come?” Maxine asked cautiously. She hated to intrude on their time with him, although she knew Sam would be more comfortable with her around. But he had to get used to being with Blake at some point. He never spent enough time with him to get over that hump. Blake didn't mind. He loved having Maxine around, and always made her feel welcome. Even five years after the divorce, they still enjoyed each other's company, as friends.
“I'd love it,” Blake said in answer to her question. “We can catch up while the kids run around.” The children always had a ball at his place, playing video games, and watching movies. They loved his projection room and the enormous, comfortable seats. He had every modern high-tech gadget there was, since he was a kid himself. Blake always reminded her of Tom Hanks in the movie Big, an enchanting boy masquerading as a man. “See you at seven,” Blake promised as Maxine hung up and reported to the kids. They had an hour to relax and pack their things to stay with him. Sam looked a little uncertain about it, and she reassured him that he'd be fine.
“You can sleep with Daffy if you need to,” she reminded him, and he looked pleased with that. She mentioned it to Daphne a few minutes later and told her to take care of Sam, and suggested that Sam sleep with her. Daphne didn't mind.
All four of them were in a cab together an hour later, on their way to Blake's apartment. Just going up in the elevator reminded them of being in a rocket ship. You needed a special code to get to his penthouse apartment. He had two entire floors, and from the moment he opened the door to them, it was pure Blake and the magical world he lived in. The music on the extraordinary sound system was blaring, the art and lighting were amazing, the view was beyond spectacular with glass exterior walls, picture windows, and enormous skylights. The inner walls were mirrored to reflect the view, the ceilings were nearly thirty feet tall. He had taken over two floors and turned them into one apartment with a circular staircase in the middle, and he had every possible game, toy, stereo, TV, gimmick, and gadget. He had a movie playing on a screen that covered an entire wall, and handed Jack the headphones to watch it. He kissed and hugged all of them, and gave Daphne a new cell phone in pink enamel with her initials engraved in it, and he showed Sam how to work the new video game chair and paddles he'd had installed in his absence. They were all busy playing with toys, and getting acclimated to their rooms again, when Blake finally had a peaceful moment to smile at his ex-wife and put a friendly arm around her.
“Hi, Max,” he said calmly. “How are you? Sorry about all the chaos.” He was as dazzling as ever. He had a deep tan, which made his electric blue eyes even more startling. He was wearing jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and black alligator cowboy boots that had been made for him in Milan. There was no question, Maxine reminded herself, he was a knockout. Everything about him was appealing, and incredibly handsome, for about ten minutes. And then you realized you couldn't count on him, he never showed up, and no matter how charming he was, he was never going to grow up. He was the best-looking, smartest, most adorable Peter Pan in the world. It was great if you wanted to play Wendy, but if not, he just wasn't the right man. She had to remind herself of that at times. Being in his aura was a heady experience. But she knew better than anyone that he wasn't a responsible adult. Sometimes she felt like he was her fourth child.
“They love the chaos,” she reassured him. Being with him was a three-ring circus. And who didn't love that at their age? It was a lot harder to take at hers. “You look great, Blake. How was Morocco, or Paris, or wherever you were?”
“The house in Marrakech is going to be terrific. I've been there all week. I was in Paris yesterday.” She laughed at the contrast between their lives. She had been at Silver Pines, seeing Jason, on Long
Island. It was a far cry from the glamor of her ex-husband's life, but she wouldn't have traded places with him for the world. She couldn't have lived that way anymore. “You look great too, Max. Still too busy? Seeing a million patients? I don't know how you do it.” Particularly knowing what heavy things she dealt with. He admired the work she did, and the kind of mother she was. She had been a great wife too. He always said so.
“I like it that way,” Maxine said, smiling. “Someone has to do it, and I'm glad it's me. I love working with kids.” He nodded, knowing how true that was.
“How was Thanksgiving with your parents?” He used to feel stifled at those Thanksgivings, and yet in a funny way he loved them too. They were what every family should be, and so few were. He hadn't had a holiday like that in five years.
“It was nice. They love the kids, and they're so sweet. They're both in remarkably good shape for their age. My father is still operating, though not as much, and teaching and practicing full time, at seventy-nine.”
“You will be too,” Blake said, as he poured champagne into two glasses and handed her one. He always drank Cristal. She took it and sipped it, admiring the view from his apartment. It was like flying over the city. Everything he owned or touched had that magical quality to it. He was what people dreamed of being if they hit it big, but very few people had Blake's style and ability to pull it off.
She was surprised he didn't have a woman with him this time, and a few minutes later, he explained it with a rueful smile. “I just got dumped,” he said, by a twenty-four-year-old supermodel, who had run off with a major rock star, who Blake said had a bigger plane. Maxine couldn't help laughing at the way he said it. He didn't seem upset, and she knew he wasn't. The girls he went out with were just playmates for him. He had no desire whatsoever to settle down, and didn't want more kids, so eventually the young women he went out with had to marry someone else. Marriage with him was never an option, and the farthest thing from his mind. As they sat in his living room and chatted, Sam wandered in, and hopped up on his mother's lap. He sat watching Blake with interest, as though he were a family friend and not his father, and then inquired about the girlfriend he'd had with him the previous summer. Blake looked at him and laughed.
“You've missed two since then, champ. I was just telling your mom. I got dumped last week. So it's just me this time.” Sam nodded at the explanation, and glanced at his mother.
“Mom doesn't have a boyfriend either. She never goes out. She has us.”
“She should go out,” Blake said, smiling at both of them. “She's a very beautiful woman, and one of these days you guys are going to grow up.” It was exactly what Maxine's father had said that day after lunch. She had another twelve years until Sam left for college. She was in no hurry, despite everyone else's concerns. He asked Sam about school then, not knowing what else to say, and Sam told his father he had been the turkey in the school play. Maxine had emailed Blake the pictures of it, as she always did of important events. She had sent a slew of them to him of Jack at his soccer games.
The children wandered in and out, chatting easily with their parents, and getting used to Blake again. Daphne looked at him with open adoration, and when she left the room, Maxine told him about the incident with the beer, just so he was aware of it, and didn't let it happen when Daphne was with him.
“Come on, Max,” he chided her gently, “don't be so uptight. She's just a kid. Don't you think restriction for a month is a little over the top? She's not going to turn into an alcoholic from two beers.” It was the kind of reaction she expected from him, and not one she liked. But she wasn't surprised. It was one of the many differences between them. Blake didn't believe in rules, for anyone, and least of all himself.
“No, she isn't,” Maxine said quietly. “But if I let them have beer parties now, at thirteen, where are we going to be at sixteen or seventeen? Crack parties when I'm out seeing patients, or heroin? She's got to have limits, and respect for boundaries, or we're going to be in deep shit in a few years. I'd rather put the brakes on now.”
“I know,” he sighed, the blue eyes looking brighter than ever as he glanced at her sheepishly. He looked like a boy who had just been scolded by his mother or teacher. It was a role Maxine didn't like, but had had with him for years. She was used to it by now. “You're probably right. It just doesn't seem like such a big deal to me. I did a lot worse at her age. I was stealing scotch out of my father's bar at twelve, and selling it in school for a hell of a profit.” He laughed and so did Max.
“That's different. That's business. You were an entrepreneur at that age, not a drunk. I'll bet you weren't drinking it.” He was not an excessive drinker as a rule, and had never done drugs. He was just wild in every other way. Blake was allergic to boundaries of any kind.
“You're right.” Blake laughed harder at the memory. “I didn't do that till I was fourteen. I was more interested in staying sober and getting the girls drunk that I went out with. That seemed like a much better plan to me.”
Max shook her head, laughing at him. “Why is it I think that hasn't changed?”
“I don't need to get them drunk anymore,” he confessed with a shameless grin. They had the strangest relationship, like great friends, more than people who had been married for ten years and had three children. He was like the crazy pal she saw two or three times a year, while she was the responsible one, bringing up children and going to work every day. They were night and day.
Dinner arrived promptly at nine o'clock, and everyone was hungry by then. He had ordered it from the best Japanese restaurant in the city, and it was prepared in front of them, with all kinds of flourishes and exotic touches, and a chef who flamed everything, chopped up the shrimp and flipped it in the air and caught it in his pocket. The kids loved it. Everything Blake did or organized was spectacular and different. Even Sam was looking relaxed and happy by the time she left. It was nearly midnight by then, and the kids were watching a movie in the projection room. She knew they'd be up till two or three A.M. It wouldn't do them any harm, she didn't begrudge them a minute of their time with him. They could sleep when they came home to her.
“When are you leaving?” she asked him as she put her coat on, afraid that he would say “tomorrow,” which she knew would upset the kids. They wanted at least a few days with him, particularly not knowing when they would see him again, although Christmas was coming, and he usually managed to spend some time with them during the holidays.
“Not till Sunday,” he said, and noticed the look of relief on her face.
“That's good,” she said softly. “They hate it when you leave.”
“Me too,” he said almost sadly. “If it's okay with you, I want to take them to Aspen after Christmas. I don't have any firm plans yet, but it's a nice time to be there, over New Year's.”
“They'll love it.” She smiled at him. She always missed them when they went away with him, but she wanted them to have a father, and it wasn't easy to manage with him. You had to catch him when he was willing, and able to make plans with them.
“Do you want to have dinner with us tomorrow night?” he offered, as he walked her to the elevator. He still enjoyed spending time with her, he always had. He would have stayed married to her forever. It was Maxine who had wanted out, and he didn't blame her. And he'd had a good time since then. But he loved still having her in his life, and was glad she had never shut him out. He wondered if that would change when she found a serious man, and he never doubted that she would one day. He was surprised it had taken this long.
“I might,” she said, looking relaxed. “See how it goes with the kids. I don't want to intrude.” They needed time alone with their father, and she didn't want to interfere with them.
“We love having you along,” he assured her, and then hugged her goodbye.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said as she got on the elevator, and waved at him as the doors closed. The elevator shot down fifty floors, and her ears popped as she stood there thinking ab
out him. It was strange. Nothing had changed. She still loved him. She always had. She had never stopped loving him. She just didn't want to be with him anymore. It didn't even bother her that he went out with girls in their twenties. It was hard to define their relationship. But whatever it was, and however strange, it worked for both of them.
The doorman hailed her a cab as she came out of the building. As she rode uptown to her own apartment, she thought about what a nice day it had been. It was strange to find it silent and dark when she walked in. She turned on the lights, walked into her bedroom, and thought of Blake and her children in his insanely luxurious apartment. The one she lived in looked better to her than ever. There was no part of his life that she still wanted. She had no need for that kind of excess and self-indulgence. She was happy for him, but what she had was all she wanted.
For the thousandth time since she left him, she knew she had made the right decision. Blake Williams was every woman's dream, but no longer hers.
Chapter 5
Maxine was sound asleep at four A.M. when the phone rang at her bedside. It took longer than usual to wake her up, as she had been sleeping deeply. She often fell into a deeper sleep when her children weren't around. As she glanced at the clock, she hoped that nothing had gone wrong at Blake's apartment. She wondered if Sam had had a nightmare and wanted to come home. She answered the phone automatically, before fully waking up and without thinking.
“Dr. Williams,” she said briskly, to mask the fact that she'd been sound asleep, although who would have expected her to be otherwise at four A.M.?
“Maxine, I'm sorry to call you at this hour.” It was Thelma Washington, the doctor on call for her over the Thanksgiving holiday and weekend. “I'm at New York Hospital with the Andersons. I thought you'd want me to call. Hilary overdosed last night. They found her at two A.M.” She was a bipolar fifteen-year-old with a heroin problem, who had attempted suicide four times in the past two years. Maxine was instantly awake. “We got her in as fast as we could. The paramedics administered naloxone, but it's not looking good.”
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