One Day at a Time (7 page)

“I've been trying to say no to them all my life. That's why I moved to Bolinas. At least it puts a bridge between us. But you'll notice who's babysitting the house and the dog.”

“One of these days you'll surprise yourself and put your foot down,” he said kindly. “You'll do it when it's time and feels right. And Jane's not easy to turn down, even for me. She's a strong woman, and hard in a lot of ways, although I like her a lot, and she's so incredibly smart. Liz is too but she's a much gentler person. She mellows Jane out a lot, or at least she tries.”

“Jane's a lot like my dad. She's very blunt and direct. My mother is more manipulative to get her way. She cries a lot.” And then Coco laughed at herself as she looked at him across the table. “I guess I do too. I'm sorry. You didn't come here to listen to my sad stories about running away from a famous family in Hollywood to live in a shack at the beach. It's a pretty easy life.”

“Your stories don't sound so sad to me,” he said honestly “except for your Australian friend. That's sad for him, and for you. But you're young, you've got years and years and years ahead of you, to figure out what you want to do, and find the right person. And it sounds like you have a good time and a good life in the meantime. That's pretty enviable, if you ask me. I think you're doing better than you know. And they don't have to approve of what you do. My parents still worry about me. They think I missed the boat on marriage and kids, and they may be right. They love Chloe, but they'd love to see me married, with four kids, and back in England with all of them, where they think I belong. That's their assessment, not mine. This Hollywood thing comes at a high price. Sometimes you wind up giving up the wrong things. I've figured that much out myself.”

“It's not too late,” Coco reassured him. “You could still wind up married with ten kids, and probably will. There's no one to set the rules about when that has to happen.”

“It's a lot more complicated when you're famous,” he said thoughtfully. “The good ones are wary and figure you must be some kind of freak, or a player at best. And the ones that come like moths to a flame are the weirdos and groupies and some really bad people, like the one I'm running away from. Once you're famous, you stand out like a beacon in the darkness to them. And those are the ones that make me run like hell. Although this time, I didn't see this one coming. She hid her game pretty well at first, I thought she was a genuinely nice girl, and I thought maybe it would be easier because she's famous too. Big, big mistake. She turned out to be everything I don't want.”

“So you'll try again,” Coco said, smiling at him, and then got up to clear the table. She offered him some ice cream, and when he accepted with delight, she handed him a Dove bar from the freezer. She had bought half a dozen flavors for him that afternoon, since she didn't know what he liked. They were in effect strangers, and yet they were sharing their deepest secrets, regrets, and fears with each other, and they both felt comfortable about it.

“I get tired of trying again sometimes,” he admitted as the ice cream dribbled down his chin, and he looked like a kid himself.

“I felt that way when people were trying to set me up. That's why I stopped for a while. I figured if it's going to happen, it'll just happen by itself. And if it doesn't, I'm fine the way I am.” He laughed at that.

“Miss Barrington,” he said formally, “I can assure you that, at twenty-eight, it's not over, and you're not going to wind up alone. It may take you a while to find the one you want. But any man would be fortunate to have you. And I promise you, the right one will come along. Just give it time.”

She smiled at him then, “I am going to make you the same promise, Mr. Baxter. The right one
will
come along. I promise. Just give it time,” she repeated his own words back to him. “You're a terrific guy, and if you stay away from the psychos, a nice woman will find you. And that's a promise.” She stuck her graceful hand across the table, and he shook it. They both felt better for having talked to each other, and winding up in Jane's house at that time had turned out to be a blessing for them both. They each felt as though they had a new friend.

“What happens in this town on a Saturday night?” Leslie asked her with interest, and she laughed.

“Not much. People go out for dinner, and by ten o'clock everyone is off the streets. This is a small town, not like New York or L.A.”

“At your age, you should be out having fun on a Saturday night, not sitting around talking to an old fart like me,” he chided her, and she laughed again.

“Are you kidding? I'm sitting here talking to the biggest movie star in the world, in my sister's kitchen. Every woman in the country would give their right arm to spend Saturday night like this,” she said admiringly. It was heady stuff, even for her. She hadn't been around her parents' world in years, or even her sister's. “Not to mention what Saturday night is like in Bolinas, where I live. There would be ten old hippies sitting at the bar, if that. Everyone else would be home in bed by now, and me too, watching one of your movies.” They both laughed at that. He helped her put their dishes in the dishwasher, turned off the lights on the main floor, and he walked slowly upstairs behind her, as the dogs followed. It still made him nervous to be around the bull mastiff. Sallie was smaller and less imposing, and seemed less ominous to him. Jack could have knocked him down in seconds, although Coco knew he wouldn't do that. He was even gentler than Sallie. But he weighed more than Leslie did.

They said goodnight to each other on the landing, outside their respective bedrooms. Leslie asked what she was doing the next day, and she said she had no plans. She never worked on Sundays, although she would have loved to go home for the day, and was thinking about it.

“I wouldn't mind seeing that funny little beach town where you live,” he said hopefully. “How far is it from here?”

“Less than an hour,” she answered, smiling at him. She would have loved to show it to him.

“I'd like to see that shack of yours, and walk on the beach. There's always something so restorative about the ocean. I had a house in Malibu for a while. I was really sorry after I sold it. Maybe we can take a drive over to Bolinas tomorrow,” he said, stifling a yawn. Now that he was relaxing and felt safe again, he realized that he was exhausted. “I'll make you waffles when we get up,” he promised, and then kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for listening tonight.” He really liked her. She was such a decent, honest person, and there was nothing she wanted from him. Not fame, not fortune, no press or publicity, she didn't even want dinner. He felt surprisingly comfortable with her, considering he had only met her that morning. One sensed easily that she was someone to be trusted, and she felt the same way about him.

He heard his cell phone ring as he walked into his room. The number that showed on his caller ID was blocked, but he was almost sure it was the psycho bitch from hell, trying to stalk him. He let it go to voice mail, and a minute later he got a text message from her, threatening him again. She had lost it. He deleted it and didn't answer. He closed his door, took off his clothes, and got into bed. He lay there for a long time, thinking about Coco and the things they'd said to each other. He loved her openness and honesty about herself. He had tried to be equally so with her, and thought he had been. He let his mind wander when he turned off the light, but he couldn't sleep.

An hour later, he decided to go down to the kitchen for a glass of milk, and saw that the lights were still on in her bedroom. He knocked softly on her door to ask if she wanted anything, and she called out and said to come in. She was lying between both dogs in a pair of faded flannel pajamas, watching a movie. He glanced at the screen and looked into his own face. It was like seeing himself in a giant mirror, as he stared at it in amazement, and Coco looked embarrassed to have been caught watching his film.

“Sorry,” she said, looking sheepish, and like a little girl again, “it's my favorite movie.” He smiled then. It was quite a compliment from a woman he had come to admire in a single day. She wasn't trying to flatter him. If he hadn't come in, he wouldn't even have known she was watching his movie.

“I liked that one too although I thought I was awful in it,” he admitted casually, grinning at her. “I'm going downstairs. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.” It was nice of him to ask. They felt like two kids at a pajama party, in Jane's very sophisticated house. Coco had left her clothes all over the floor of the bedroom. It made it look homier to her. Everything was so neat when Jane was around. Coco thought her mess added humanity to it, although her sister wouldn't have agreed.

“See you in the morning. Enjoy the movie,” Leslie said to her, as he closed the door, and went downstairs for the glass of milk he had wanted and another ice cream. He half hoped that Coco would come down and join him, but she was too engrossed in the movie. He went back upstairs after he finished the milk and ice cream. And this time, when he went back to bed, he fell into a sound sleep within minutes, and didn't stir until morning. He felt as though he had left all his worries behind in L.A., and he had found just what he had wanted when he came here. A safe place, out of harm's way, far from people who wanted to hurt him. And in the safe place, he had found something even more rare. He had found a safe woman. He hadn't felt that way since he had left England and come to Hollywood. And he knew that, tucked away in this house in San Francisco, with this funny girl and the two big dogs, nothing bad could ever touch him here.

Chapter 4

It was another perfect sunny day when they both woke up the
next morning. The weather was warm, and the sky was a brilliant blue. Leslie came downstairs before she did, and had already made bacon to go with their waffles. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, and put the kettle on to make tea for both of them. He was pouring the water into two mugs when Coco walked into the kitchen. She had just let both dogs out into the garden. She was going to take them for a long walk after breakfast.

“Smells delicious,” she said, as he handed her a mug of green tea that he had found in the cupboard. He had helped himself to some English Breakfast tea, and drank it without milk or sugar. And a moment later he set a plate of waffles down on the table for her. The maple syrup was already on the table. They both laughed as they remembered the scene of utter chaos when he had walked into the kitchen the day before. “Thank you for making breakfast,” she said politely as he sat down across from her, with his own plate of waffles and bacon.

“I'm not sure I trust you in the kitchen,” he said, teasing her, and then glanced out at the bay through the enormous window. “Are we going to the beach today?” he asked, looking at the sailboats already gathering in race formations. There was constant activity on the bay and an endless flock of boats.

“Would that be all right with you?” she asked cautiously. “I can go by myself if you don't want to. I need to pick up some things, and I should check my mail.”

“Would you mind if I go with you?” He didn't want to overstep his bounds with her, or be a nuisance. She probably had things to do, or might prefer some peace and privacy at her cottage, or even a chance to see friends.

“I'd love it,” she said honestly. And how painful could it be spending a day in Bolinas with Leslie Baxter? “I want to show it to you. It's a crazy little village, but it's terrific.” She had told him about there being no signs, so no one could find them.

An hour later, they got in her van with both dogs, wearing jeans, T-shirts, and flip-flops. She warned him that it could get chilly if the fog rolled in, so they had both brought sweaters. And there was no sign of anything but blue skies as they drove down Divisadero toward Lombard, and joined the flow of traffic heading north to the Golden Gate Bridge. They chatted easily as he told her about growing up in England, and he admitted that sometimes he missed it. But he also confessed that it was different now when he went home. His fame had even changed the way people treated them there. No matter what he did to convince them otherwise, the ordinary people he had known growing up now acted as though he were special or different in some way, no matter how ordinary he still felt.

“Tell me about Chloe,” Coco said, as they drove across the bridge, and up the hill to the rainbow tunnel in Marin.

“She's delicious,” Leslie said, and his face lit up the moment he thought about her. “I wish I saw her more often. She's very smart, and extremely adorable. She takes after her mother.” He said it with a look of deep affection, not only for the child, but also for the woman who had been his girlfriend long before. “I'll show you pictures of her when we get to Bolinas.” He always kept a batch of them in his wallet. “She wants to be a ballerina or a truck driver when she grows up, apparently she thinks they're interchangeable and equally interesting professions. She says truck drivers get to dump things all over the road, which she thinks is extremely entertaining. She takes every imaginable kind of lesson. French, computer, piano, ballet.” He looked proud and happy whenever he talked about his daughter. He said his relationship with her and her mother was easy and straightforward and always had been. “Her mother had a serious boyfriend for a while recently, and I thought she was going to get married. I was a little worried. He was Italian, and Florence would have been even harder for me to get to than New York. I was relieved when they broke up, although Monica deserves to have someone in her life too. To be honest, I was jealous of him with Chloe. He got to see more of her than I do. I don't think her mother's seeing anyone right now,” he said as they took the Stinson Beach turnoff and drove through Mill Valley.

“Would you ever go back to her, because of Chloe?” Coco asked him with interest, and he shook his head.

“I couldn't, and neither could she. The trail is cold on all that now. It's been too long, and there's too much water under the bridge. It was really over for us before Chloe was born. She was just a wonderful accident that happened. Chloe is the best thing that ever happened to either of us. She makes everything worthwhile.”