Bungalow 2 (16 page)

Douglas let her in himself, and noticed the cab as it pulled away. He was wearing an immaculate T-shirt and perfectly pressed jeans and black alligator sandals. He didn't have a hair out of place, and the house was remarkably quiet. There were no servants around, unlike the night she had come to dinner, when there had been armies of them everywhere waiting on the guests. The house was silent and peaceful, and he walked her out to the pool and invited her to sit down, lie down, or do whatever she wanted. He had a stack of newspapers for her on a table next to a chaise longue. And he disappeared a moment later.

He reappeared, and without asking if she wanted it, he put a drink in her hand. It was champagne and peach juice, a Bellini, one of her favorite drinks, although it was a little early for that, but it was mild.

“Thank you,” she said with a surprised smile, and he put a finger to his lips with a serious look.

“Shhh!” he said sternly. “No talking. You came here to relax. We can talk later if you want.” He settled into his own chair then on the other side of the pool. He read the paper for a while, and then let his chair down and lay in the sun after lathering sunblock on his face and arms. He never said another word to Tanya, and eventually she felt comfortable reading and doing her crossword puzzle, and sipping her Bellini. It was actually a lovely way to spend a Sunday, much to her surprise.

She had no idea if he was sleeping or not, but Douglas lay there without moving for a long time, and eventually she lay down and dozed in the sun. She could hear birds chirping and the sun was warm but not too hot. It was a beautiful September afternoon, and she felt totally relaxed. She was startled when later, she opened her eyes and saw him standing next to her, looking down with an easy smile. She felt as though she had been asleep for hours.

“Did I snore?” she asked sleepily, and he laughed. It was the first time she had ever felt relaxed with him. It was nice. And so was he, this time. It almost made her wonder if they could be friends. Before this she would have never thought it possible. She was seeing a different side of him.

“Loudly,” he teased her in answer to her question. “First, you woke me up. Then the neighbors complained.” She laughed at what he said. He set a plate down next to her, with sliced fruit and salad on it, and a little wedge of cheese with crackers. “I thought you might be hungry when you woke up.” He was being incredibly attentive, and she had to admit, it was enjoyable. She was feeling lazy and spoiled. He was a wonderful host, and had done everything he said he would, including leaving her alone, and not even talking. He disappeared again then after that, and a moment later she heard him playing the piano in the music room off the pool. It had a glass wall that slid back, and after she ate, she got up and wandered into the room. He was playing a complicated Bach piece, and paid no attention to her. She sat and listened to him, amazed by his skill and talent, and finally he looked over at her.

“I always play on Sundays,” he said with a happy smile. “It's the best part of my week. I really miss it when I don't.” She remembered that he had trained as a concert pianist, and wondered why he hadn't pursued it. He had truly amazing talent. And he obviously loved it. “Do you play an instrument?” he asked with interest.

“Just my computer,” she said with a shy smile. He was a most unusual man, with a wide range of abilities and interests.

“I built a piano once,” he informed her as the piece came to an end. “It actually worked. I still have it. It's on the boat. It was a lot of fun to make.”

“Is there anything you can't do?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding emphatically. “Cook. Eating bores me. It seems like such a waste of time.” It explained why he was so thin, and never stopped for lunch during meetings. “I do it just to stay alive. Some people treat it like a hobby. I can't stand that. I don't have the patience to sit at a dinner table for five hours, or to cook for twice as long. Aside from that, I don't play golf, although I can. That bores me, too. And I never play bridge, although I used to. People get nasty and petty about it. If I'm going to fight with someone or insult them, I'd rather do it about something I care about, not a hand of cards.” What he said made sense and made her laugh.

“I feel that way about bridge, too. I played in college, and I haven't played since, for that reason. Do you play tennis?” she asked him for no particular reason, other than conversation, as he started another piece on the piano, which required less concentration than the first one.

“I do. I like squash better. It's faster.” He was a man of little patience who moved at top speed in all things. He was an interesting person to study, and she thought about putting someone like him in a short story sometime. She could do amazing things with a character with so many facets.

“I've played squash, but I'm not great at it. My husband plays, too. I'm better at tennis.”

“We'll play sometime,” he said, as he focused on the music for a while and she enjoyed listening to him. Eventually, she went back to the pool to lie down so she didn't disturb him. He seemed to be lost in the piece. It was another hour before he stopped playing and wandered out.

“I loved listening to you play,” she said with admiration, as he sat down in a chair near her. He looked energized and refreshed and his eyes were bright. Playing always did that to him. It was easy to see why he loved it. He was so good at it, and a real pleasure to listen to.

“Playing the piano feeds my soul,” he said simply. “I couldn't live without it.”

“I feel that way about writing,” she confided in him.

“I can tell by the way you write,” he said, looking at her. She looked comfortable and relaxed, which she wouldn't have thought possible when he invited her to spend the day at his pool. He had surprised her, and it had been a lovely, totally easy day. She felt restored. “That's why I always wanted to work with you, because I knew from reading you that you had that kind of passion and love for your work, just like I do with the piano. Most people don't have that. I knew you did from the first piece I read. It's a rare gift, for both of us.” She nodded, flattered, and didn't comment. They sat in silence for a while, and then she looked at her watch. She was surprised to see it was five o'clock. She had been there for six hours and the time had flown by.

“I should go. If you call a cab, I'll go back to the hotel,” she said, starting to gather up her things and put them back in her bag. He shook his head at the mention of the cab.

“I'll take you back.” It wasn't far, but she didn't want to bother him. He had done enough. It had been a perfect day, and her grief and guilt over not seeing Peter and the children had vanished.

“I'll be fine in a cab,” she insisted.

“I know you will. But I'm perfectly happy to drop you off.” He walked inside to get his keys and a moment later emerged, as she stood up. He walked her into the garage, which was so immaculate it looked like an operating room, and opened the door of a silver Ferrari. She got in on the passenger side, as he started the car, and a moment later they were heading back to her hotel. They rode in comfortable silence, after the relaxing afternoon they had spent together. Although they had said little, she felt as though they had made friends. She had learned new things about him that afternoon that previously she hadn't even guessed, and loved listening to him play the piano. It had been the high point of her afternoon.

The Ferrari slid under the roof covering the driveway at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and he looked at her with a smile. “It was a great day, Tanya, wasn't it?”

“I loved it,” she said honestly. “I feel like I had a vacation.” It had been the next best thing to going home, which she hadn't expected at all, and surely not with him. She had always felt tense when he was around. Today she had even slept across the pool from him, and read for hours without talking. There were few people she could do that with, other than her husband. It was an odd thought.

“So did I. You're the perfect Sunday guest, other than the snoring of course,” he teased her, and then laughed.

“Did I really snore?” She looked embarrassed, and he pretended to look mysterious.

“I won't tell. I'll turn you over next time. They say that works.” She laughed, and didn't really care if she had, which was even more amazing. In a single afternoon, she had gotten comfortable with him. It was going to make working with him a lot nicer from now on, having seen this side of him. “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” he asked her casually. It was a spur-of-the-moment thought. “I was going to grab some Chinese takeout. We could eat it there, or I could bring it back to the hotel. We both have to eat, and it's not as dreary, having dinner with a friend. Any interest?” It sounded good to her. She'd been planning to order room service while working at her computer. Chinese takeout sounded like more fun.

“Sure. That would be nice. Why don't you bring it here?”

“Perfect. Seven-thirty? I have some calls to make, and I swim laps every night.” He seemed to keep active and was very athletic. It explained how he stayed so trim and fit.

“Sounds fine to me,” Tanya said easily.

“What do you like to eat?” he asked politely.

“Spring rolls, sweet and sour anything, beef, shrimp, whatever you like.”

“I'll get an assortment of stuff,” he promised. She thanked him, got out, and he sped off with a wave in the sleek silver car.

Tanya went in and showered, and checked her messages. There was a call from Jean Amber about the script. When Tanya called her back, she was out. She called Peter and the girls then. They had just come in from a baseball game. They were Giants fans, and had season tickets. They were all in a good mood, and no one seemed too upset that she hadn't come home. She was both relieved and saddened by it all at once.

“How was the game?” she asked with interest.

“Great! We won, in case you didn't watch it on TV,” Peter told her, sounding jubilant.

“I didn't. I went to Douglas Wayne's house for the day.”

“How was that?” Peter sounded surprised.

“Fine. Surprisingly easy. Good for work relations, I hope. He was very nice. We hardly said ten words to each other all day.” She didn't tell him no one else was there. She was about to, but Molly got on the phone.

“Hi, Mom, great game. We missed you. We took Alice, to thank her for all the dinners she cooked for us. And Jason came home for the game.”

“I thought he was busy,” Tanya said, feeling left out suddenly. “I called him Thursday, and he said he had a hot date.”

“She canceled, so he drove up to go to the game.” It occurred to Tanya that he hadn't called her when the date got canceled. He went home to Ross instead to go to a baseball game. They'd all been there together, with Alice, and she was alone in L.A. “He drove back after the game. He'll be back in Santa Barbara tonight.” It was still a weird feeling to know that her whole family had gone to a baseball game and had fun without her. She felt like a kid who didn't get invited to a birthday party. But she was working in L.A. It wasn't their fault, it was hers, and she could hardly expect them to stay home in her honor.

She talked to Megan after that, and she sounded fine. Alice got on the phone and said they were all doing well and they missed her, and so did she, and to get her ass home next weekend so they could gossip. Tanya laughed talking to her, and then talked to Peter again briefly. They were about to order pizza, standard Sunday-night fare. “I miss you,” she reminded him, and he told her he missed her, too. She realized when she hung up that she hadn't mentioned she was having dinner with Douglas. There was nothing meaningful about it, she just liked telling Peter what she was doing, so he felt part of it. But she told herself it was so insignificant that she forgot.

She just had time to take a bath and change before Douglas showed up with their dinner. She put on clean jeans and another T-shirt, and when she opened the door to the bungalow to him, she was in bare feet. She stepped aside, and he walked in.

“I know this bungalow. I stayed here once, when they were redoing my house. I like it,” he said, looking around.

“It's very comfortable,” she said easily. “It'll be fun when the kids come down.” She took out plates in the kitchen, and they helped themselves from the five cartons he'd brought. He had gotten everything she liked, including something with lobster, and shrimp fried rice. They sat at her dining table, and made their way through the easy meal. “Thank you. That was perfect. You have definitely spoiled me today.”

“I have to take care of my star writer.” He smiled at her. “We can't have you getting homesick and pining away here, or running back to Marin.” He was teasing her, but she didn't mind. “I thought I'd show you that we have Chinese takeout here, too.” And then he remembered the fortune cookies and handed one to her. He groaned when he saw his. “Did you put this in here when I wasn't looking?” She shook her head, and he handed it to her to read.

“â€A good friend will be good news today.” She read it aloud and looked at him with a smile. “That's nice. It sounds about right.”

“I always want them to be more exciting, but they never are. What's yours?” Douglas asked with an amused look.

She read it and raised an eyebrow as she did.

“What does it say?”

“ â€A job well done is its own reward. Not too exciting, either. I like yours better.”

“Me too.” And then he smiled at her again. “Maybe you'll win an Oscar for the script.” He hoped she would. And Best Picture for him. It was his goal. It always was.

“That's not what it says,” she pointed out to him, and cleaned up the mess from their dinner.

“Next time we should write our own.”

He helped her throw the empty cartons away, and a few minutes later he left. She thanked him for dinner, and he told her he'd had a great day. So had she. His fortune cookie was right. A good friend had been the good news of the day. For the first time since she'd met him, she felt like he could be. And what an interesting friend he was.

Chapter 8

T
anya went home to Ross for the next two weekends, and she loved being with Peter and the kids. She had lunch with Alice one Saturday, and they chatted and gossiped about the people Tanya had met. Alice was as titillated by it as the girls.