Prodigal Son (32 page)

“To our renaissance,” Maggie said, lifting her glass to him, “our rebirth.”

“That’s a nice way to put it,” Peter said, smiling. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it’s true. I’m enjoying my work more than ever. I
really like it here, and I lucked out with this firm.” And then he had another thought. “And I found you again.” And they both knew what that had led to, his saving her life. In great part that was thanks to Bill and the research he had done on the Internet, convinced that his father was poisoning her. Only Bill’s dogged pursuit of his suspicions had saved her. But Peter had helped.

Peter had another idea during dinner. He wanted to explore Europe. He loved living there and all the places they could go that were so nearby. “Do you want to go to Paris sometime? We could take Bill and Lisa. Or even the boys, when they come.”

“I’d love it.” Maggie looked thrilled at the idea. Everything was new now, and fun. The only thing that made her sad sometimes was when she thought about Michael. It was almost as though he had died. And in some ways, for her, he had. Peter had seen the shadow cross her eyes, and gently patted her hand. It brought her mind instantly back to the present where it belonged. The past was too dangerous for them both, a minefield where neither of them wanted to venture.

“Let me know when you want to go, and I’ll arrange it.” He had a wonderful new secretary who seemed to be able to organize anything.

“Anytime,” Maggie said happily. “Lisa will love it. Paris is such a wonderful city.” She wasn’t sure how Lisa would feel about going to Paris with Peter, but Maggie thought it would do them all good. They were family after all.

“What about in two weeks?” Peter suggested. “I’m going to a soccer match with Bill this weekend. And he’d kill me if we cancel.” She laughed. Paris would be far less appealing to her son than soccer.

And once again Peter made all the plans. He told them about it that Sunday night when they had dinner at her place. They were taking the Eurostar to Paris, which would arrive right in town. He had made a reservation for three rooms at a charming little hotel on the Left Bank. They only served croissants in the morning with a café au lait in bowls, Peter explained. They were going to eat dinners in little bistros and do enough shopping to keep the ladies happy. And on Sunday night they’d come back. Maggie beamed as she listened, and Lisa was smiling too. And even Bill thought it sounded like fun, as long as Peter went. A shopping weekend in Paris with his mother and sister was his idea of hell. But Peter assured him they’d find something male to do, maybe a soccer match one afternoon while the women shopped.

“Okay, I’ll come,” Bill conceded.

And the following weekend, the four of them went. They loved the little hotel he’d found in the sixth arrondissement. He had made reservations at restaurants that were fun for the young people. He managed to find a soccer match on Saturday afternoon for him and Bill. Peter had done his homework, and made an excellent tour guide. They strolled around the Place Vendôme, and the Faubourg St. Honoré. And on Saturday night after dinner at a restaurant called Market, he and Maggie sat in the Hemingway Bar at the Ritz in cozy elegance and relaxed. It had been a busy day.

“Alana must be crazy,” Maggie said happily as she sipped a glass of champagne.

“No. Just spoiled. Why?” He didn’t know what she meant.

“Because you’re the most attentive man I’ve ever met. You see to it that everyone has a good time. You made all the plans. You made
sure Lisa and I had shopping time, you got Bill to a soccer game so he’s happy. You took us to a restaurant we loved. The hotel is fabulous. You think of everything. How could she ever let you go?”

“I never said she was smart,” he said, and then laughed. “I’m just kidding. She’d rather be in L.A. than anywhere on earth, near her father. It suits her. It’s all rhinestones and flash. And don’t forget, I lost my job and all our money. That wasn’t what she had in mind. I’ll make it again one day,” he said, looking serious for a moment. And he was being handsomely paid in London. They had offered him a partnership in two years, maybe sooner. But he knew he had a long climb back up to where he’d been, if he ever got there. It wasn’t quite as easy at his age as it had been in his twenties and thirties, and it was a different era. Money had been free and easy then, and it no longer was. Times had changed. “I’m not sure it matters to me as much anymore,” he said honestly. He was always honest with Maggie. She was easy to talk to. “Maybe it would have fallen apart with Alana anyway, even if I hadn’t lost my money. Looking back, I’m not sure how much we had in common, other than our kids. I never had time to think about it. I was too busy working.”

“And I wasted twenty-three years of my life being sick,” Maggie said sadly. She’d never get back those lost years.

“You had help. He
made
you sick, or think you were, so he could control you. What does it say in the Bible, something about you’ll get back the years the locust hath eaten? That’s true for both of us. We lost a lot, but look what we have now.” They were both enjoying their lives more than ever before, and they had someone to do it with, even though they no longer had partners or spouses. Friendship was perfect when it was as comfortable as this. Neither of them wanted more than that for now.

They talked for a long time at the bar, and took a cab back to their hotel at two
A.M.
Peter kissed her on the cheek, and she thanked him again. And she was surprised to find Lisa still awake in the room they shared. She had waited up and greeted her mother with a look of interest.

“Did he kiss you?” she asked, sounding more like mother than daughter.

“Of course not!” Maggie laughed at her. “Don’t be silly. Why would he kiss me? We’re friends. Besides, he’s my brother-in-law.”

“So what? He’s divorced. And you’re …” They both knew that her marriage was over too, even if she was still legally married to Michael. But she wouldn’t be forever. She and Peter were both free. “Besides, he likes you. Can’t you tell? Why do you think he brought us to Paris?”

“So we’d all have a good time. Not to kiss me, you goof.” She ruffled her daughter’s hair and unzipped her dress and stepped out of it, and she saw that Lisa was looking worried. She had no reason to.

“You looked pretty tonight, Mom.” She’d worn another new dress. She’d bought three for the trip to Paris. And new shoes.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Don’t worry about Peter. Honestly, we’re just friends.” Lisa was quiet for a minute.

“Maybe you should kiss him,” Lisa said pensively. “I guess Daddy’s never coming back.” She looked sad.

“No, he’s not,” Maggie said as she put her arms around her. “I’m not ready to kiss anyone, and when and if I am, it probably won’t be Peter.”

“Why not?”

“Because sometimes being friends is better, and I wouldn’t want to spoil it.” Lisa nodded, reassured, and a minute later, they slipped into
bed together. She lay thinking about what Lisa had said for a long time. Maggie hadn’t lied to her, and she believed what she had said. Sometimes friendship was better. She was just grateful for her new life, and she felt like she’d been born again. Paris was just the icing on the cake. And Peter was exactly what she had said. A friend. And a moment later, she was asleep.

When the train pulled into the St. Pancras Station in London on Sunday night, they had all had a fabulous time, thanks to Peter and his impeccable arrangements. He had been thoughtful and generous to them all weekend. They didn’t make dinner plans that night because they had eaten on the train. And in the cab on the way home, Peter said he thought they should do that in a different city every weekend. He was teasing, but they had certainly had fun. They had spent so much time exploring the Marais on Sunday afternoon that they almost missed the train and had to hurry to catch it. And they had played several rowdy games of cards on the trip back. Peter was good company, and so was Maggie. She said she hadn’t laughed so much in years. She had forgotten what being carefree felt like.

He dropped Maggie and Lisa off first with the cab, and then took Bill home, and then went home himself.

Maggie called him as soon as he got in. “I don’t know how to thank you for such a wonderful weekend. We loved it.”

“So did I,” he said generously, and he meant it. “You have wonderful kids.”

“So do you,” she said, and meant it too. She loved his boys, and they were so sweet, just as he was.

“That’s because we’re such wonderful people,” he teased her. “I’m glad you had fun. We’ll have to do it again. I’m trying to organize a ski trip for the boys, by the way. Maybe the three of you should come with us. We’ll make it a family vacation.” And it would be an important one. They all needed some fun before the trial, which was scheduled for early January.

“I don’t ski,” she said, sounding embarrassed.

“Neither do I. I blew out my knees playing football in college. I’m strictly a hot toddy at the fireplace guy. We can play cards.” She had to admit, she liked the idea. They were providing each other the family and adult companionship that they both lacked. “I’ll let you know what I come up with. I’m thinking Switzerland or France.”

“Bill would go nuts. He’s a big skier.”

“So are the boys. I’ll figure out something. We can talk about it when they come out for Thanksgiving. Do you want to join us for that, by the way? It’s not a holiday here, so we’ll have to create it ourselves.”

“I was thinking about that too.” And they didn’t have friends here yet, although Lisa was meeting Americans at school. “Why don’t I do it at my place? Lisa and I can cook.”

“That’s good. Otherwise we’ll be having Chinese takeout, or curry, for Thanksgiving, and the boys might be a little upset.”

“We’ll do it,” Maggie volunteered, sounding happy. “Anyway, thank you for a fantastic weekend in Paris.”

The next day she sent him two very good bottles of Bordeaux to thank him, and he called to scold her.

“You don’t have to do that. We’re family.”

“Are you kidding? We had a ball.” He had treated them to everything and even paid for the train. He had spoiled them. “You’re very good to us, Peter,” she said kindly.

“We’re good to each other, Maggie,” he said gently. “That’s what life is all about.” They were both nice people. He was right about that. And they had both been badly bruised before this. It made them grateful for the good times. “I loved it too.” He had to leave for a meeting then and he promised to call her on the weekend. When he did, the kids were busy with friends, and he took her to a movie and a simple Indian dinner afterward. And on Sunday night, they had their usual dinner at his apartment. It was becoming a routine they all enjoyed. And she noticed that Lisa seemed more relaxed with him after her reassurance in Paris, or maybe she was just more used to him. Lisa was finally coming out of her shell after all she’d been through, and so was Maggie.

And when the boys came to London for Thanksgiving, it felt like a party. The four kids had pillow fights, played wild games of cards, played monopoly and cheated liberally, went to the movies, and Maggie and Lisa cooked a superb Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone was so stuffed they could hardly move. And the next day, they drove out to the country for the day.

“What’s happening with your mom and my dad?” Ryan asked Lisa, as they walked in the woods, with their parents trailing behind them, enjoying watching them and talking.

“Nothing. Why?” Lisa looked surprised, wondering if he knew something she didn’t.

“I wish something would. They’re nice together,” Ryan commented. “I’d hate it if he got together with some woman we don’t like. It would ruin everything.”

“I guess it would,” Lisa said thoughtfully. “My mom says they’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, looking disgusted. “They’re both stupid. It would be cool if we were brother and sister instead of cousins,” he said wistfully, and Lisa smiled.

“Maybe it would,” she conceded.

“If they stay like that, she’ll end up with some creepy guy you’ll hate one of these days, and my father will end up with some bimbo, and we’ll all be screwed,” Ryan said, and Lisa laughed.

“My mom says being friends is better.”

“That confirms it,” Ryan said unhappily. “We’re screwed. Are they dating anyone else?” Ryan asked her, looking worried.

“She’s not. My mom’s still married to my father.”

Ryan nodded. “We’re already divorced.”

“I guess we will be too.” They both knew what had happened with her father and never talked about it.

At dinner that night, Peter reminded Maggie about the skiing trip he was planning with the boys after Christmas.

It was another wonderful weekend that they all hated to see end when the boys flew back to L.A on Sunday. And they were due back in three weeks for Christmas vacation, right after their mother’s wedding in L.A. Neither of the boys was enthused about the wedding, and Bruce seemed to be wearing a little thin, but Peter still had the impression that he was nice to the boys, which was all he cared about. And he wished Alana well. He was no longer in love with her, and his ego had recovered after being dumped. And he was having a wonderful time in London with Maggie and her kids. They satisfied all his needs for companionship for the moment. There was a very pretty woman in his office, but he didn’t have time to take her out,
and then he heard she was engaged. He took some woman out a few times and was bored with her, so he stuck to Maggie and her kids. And all of them were looking forward to the holiday in Courchevel. The photos of the chalet looked terrific, and all the kids had approved. Maggie was touched again by his kindness to them.

By the time the boys came back, there was snow on the ground in London, it was freezing cold, and Peter had put a tree up for them. Maggie and her children had helped him decorate it, and he and Maggie had talked endlessly as they strung up the lights and hung the decorations. It was the first time Maggie had decorated a tree since she was married. She and Peter did most of it, since Lisa and Bill were watching something special on TV in the other room. Decorating the tree, or even watching someone else do it as she had had to for years, always brought back memories of her childhood. And it did for Peter too, though his weren’t as pleasant.