The Cottage (8 page)

“I think I'll move in this weekend,” he said happily, as he and the realtor shook hands on the deal, and he thanked Abe profusely for bringing him to see it.

“That was a lot easier and more productive than I expected it to be, and faster.” Abe smiled happily as they drove back down the driveway. He had expected him to agonize and have a tougher time making the decision.

“It's probably the craziest thing I've ever done, but maybe I need to be a little crazy once in a while,” Mark volunteered. He was always so serious and so responsible, so measured in everything he did. He wondered now if that was why he had lost Janet to another man, who was probably more exciting. “Thanks, Abe. I love the place, and I think my kids will too. We're going to get awfully spoiled living here for a year.”

“It'll do you good for a while,” Abe said compassionately.

That night Mark called Jessica and Jason in New York, and told them about the guest wing he'd rented from Coop.

“Who's he?” Jason asked, sounding blank.

“I think he's some really old guy who was in movies when Dad was a kid,” Jessica explained.

“That's about right,” Mark said, sounding pleased. “But the main thing is it's a great house, and we have our own wing, on beautiful grounds, with a tennis court and a pool. I think it'll be fun for you two when
you come out.” All three of them were on the phone at the same time.

“I miss our old house,” Jason said, sounding glum.

“I hate my school,” Jessica chimed in. “All the girls are mean, and all the boys are geeks.”

“Give it time,” Mark said diplomatically. It hadn't been his idea to end the marriage, or move the kids to New York. But he didn't want to say anything critical about their mother. He preferred to keep whatever animosity they felt toward each other between them. It seemed better for the kids. “It takes time to get used to a new school. And I'm going to see you soon.” He was flying to New York for a weekend, in February. They had reservations in Saint Bart's in March for their spring break. And he was thinking about chartering a small boat for their Caribbean holiday. He was trying to break out of his familiar mold. “How's Mom?”

“She's okay, she goes out a lot,” Jason complained, but they hadn't said a word yet about the new man. Mark was sure she hadn't introduced them to him yet. She was waiting for things to settle down. They had only been there for three weeks, nearly four. It wasn't a long time, although it felt like an eternity to him.

“Why can't we keep our old house?” Jessica asked mournfully, and when he told her it had just sold, they both cried. It was yet another conversation that ended on an unhappy note. They had a lot of those. And Jessica always seemed to be looking for someone to blame, mostly him. She still hadn't figured out that her mother had wanted the divorce. And Mark didn't want to point the finger at her. He was waiting for Janet to step up to the plate and take responsibility for
it herself, but so far she hadn't. She had just told them that she and Daddy hadn't been getting along, which was a lie. They'd been fine, until Adam came along. Mark wondered how she was going to sell him to the kids, maybe as someone she'd just met. It was probably going to be years before they figured it out, if they ever did, which depressed him too. His children were going to go on blaming him forever for causing the divorce. And one of his worst fears was that his kids were going to be as crazy about Adam as their mother was, and then they would forget him. He was three thousand miles away, in Los Angeles, and he couldn't see them as often as he liked. He could hardly wait for their vacation in Saint Bart's. He had chosen it because he thought it would be fun for them, and for him too.

He promised to call them the next day, as he always did. And he gave the hotel notice that night that he was moving out on the weekend. He could hardly wait. He loved his new digs. It was the first cheerful thing that had happened to him since Janet had hit him with the news. He felt like he'd been in shock for the last five weeks. And that night, he went out and ate a hamburger before he went to bed. For the first time in weeks, he was actually hungry.

He packed his clothes into two suitcases on Friday night, and on Saturday morning, he drove to the estate. He had the code to the gate and opened it, and when he let himself into the guest wing, it was immaculately clean. Everything had been vacuumed and dusted, and the furniture shone. The kitchen was spotless and there were clean sheets on his bed. And for a surprisingly long moment, it felt like coming home.

After he'd unpacked, he took a walk around the grounds. They were beautifully tended. He went out and bought groceries, and fixed himself lunch, and afterwards he went to lie beside the pool, to soak up some sun. He was in great spirits that afternoon when he called the children. It was the end of the day for them, on a snowy Saturday in New York. And both kids sounded bored. They were tired of being shut in. Jessica was going out with friends that night, but Jason said he had nothing to do. He missed his dad, and his house, and his friends, and his school. There was apparently nothing he liked about New York.

“Hang in, sport, I'm coming to see you in two weeks. We'll find something to do. Have you played any soccer this week?” Mark chatted with him, and Jason continued to complain.

“We can never play because of the snow.” Jason hated New York. He was a California kid, and had lived there since he was three. He didn't even remember living in New York before. All he wanted to do was go back to California, which still felt like home to him.

They talked for a while longer, and then Mark finally got off. He checked out where things were in the kitchen, and put a video on that night, and he was amused to see that Cooper Winslow had a walk-on part in it. He was certainly a good-looking man, and Mark wondered when and if they'd meet. He had seen someone drive in behind him in a Rolls-Royce convertible that afternoon, but he was just far enough ahead that all he could see was a man with silver hair, presumably Coop, and a pretty girl next to him in the
front seat. Mark realized Coop had a far more interesting life than he. After sixteen years being faithfully married, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to start dating again, and had no desire to. He had too much on his mind, too many memories, too many regrets, and all he could think about were his kids. For the moment, there was no room for a woman in his life. Room maybe, but no heart. He was just grateful that when he went to bed that night, he slept like a baby, and woke up happy the next morning after dreaming that his children were living with him. That would in fact have made it a perfect life for him. But in the meantime, what he had was an improvement over his room at the hotel. And he'd be seeing them in two weeks. It was something to look forward to, and all he needed now.

He went to cook himself breakfast, and was surprised to discover that the kitchen stove didn't work. He made a note to call the realtor about it, but he didn't really care. He was just as happy with orange juice and toast. He wasn't much of a cook, except when the kids were around, he would cook for them.

And in the main part of the house, Coop was making similar discoveries. His cook had left earlier that week, after finding another job. Livermore was already gone. And both maids were off for the weekend, and leaving the following week. The houseman was already working for someone else. And Paloma didn't come in on weekends. Pamela was cooking breakfast for him, wearing bikini underwear and one of his shirts. She claimed to be a whiz in the kitchen, as
witnessed by a mound of rock-hard scrambled eggs and burnt bacon she handed him on a plate in bed.

“Aren't you a clever girl,” he said admiringly, with a look of concern as he glanced at the eggs. “I take it you couldn't find the trays?”

“What trays, darlin'?” she asked in her Oklahoma drawl. She was very proud of herself, and had forgotten napkins and silverware. She went back to get them as Coop used a cautious finger to poke the eggs. They were not only hard, but cold. She'd been talking to a girlfriend on the phone while she cooked. Cooking had never been her strong suit, but what she did in bed with him was, and he was pleased. The only problem was, she couldn't talk. Except about her hair, and her makeup and her moisturizer, and the last photo shoot she'd been on. She was extremely limited, but it wasn't her conversation which fascinated him. He just liked being with her. There was something very invigorating about young girls. He had a marvelous way with women her age, he was debonair and fun and worldly-wise and sophisticated, and besides which, he took her shopping nearly every day. She had never had as much fun in her life as she was having with Coop. She didn't care how old he was. She had a whole new wardrobe, and he'd bought her diamond earrings and a diamond bracelet the week before. There was no question about it. Cooper Winslow knew how to live.

He flushed the eggs down the toilet when she went back downstairs to get him a glass of orange juice, and she was proud to see that he had eaten everything.
And as soon as she ate hers, he brought her back to bed with him, where they spent the afternoon. And that night, he took her to Le Dome for dinner. She loved going to Spago with him too. It was a real thrill for her to see everyone stare at them as they recognized him and wanted to see who he was with. Men looked at him enviously, and women raised an eyebrow as they looked at them, and Pamela liked that too.

He drove her back to her apartment that night, after dinner. He'd had a fun weekend with her, but he had a busy week ahead. He was shooting a car commercial, which was a big deal, and they were paying him handsomely for it, and it was going to be Liz's last week.

Coop was actually happy to climb into his bed alone that night. Pamela was a lot of fun, but after a while, she was just a kid. And he no longer was. He needed his beauty sleep. He went to bed at ten o'clock, and slept like a rock, until Paloma threw back the curtains and lifted the shades the next day. He woke up with a start, and sat up staring at her.

“Why on earth are you doing that?” He couldn't imagine what she was doing in his room, and was relieved to note that he'd put on silk pajamas the night before. Otherwise he might have been sprawled naked across his bed. “What are you doing in here?” She was wearing a clean uniform, this time with rhinestone sunglasses, and bright red high-heeled shoes. She looked like a combination between a nurse in the white uniform, and a gypsy fortune-teller, and he wasn't amused.

“Miss Liz said to wake ju up at eight o'clock,” she
said, glaring at him. She had a powerful dislike for him and it showed. And Coop hated her too.

“Couldn't you knock on the door?” he barked at her, falling back into his bed with his eyes closed. She had woken him from a sound sleep.

“I try. Ju don' answer. So I come in. Now ju wake up. Miss Liz say ju gotta go to work.”

“Thank you very much,” he said formally, his eyes still closed. “Would you mind making me breakfast?” There was no one else now who could. “I'll have scrambled eggs and rye toast. Orange juice. Black coffee. Thank you.”

She was muttering to herself as she left the room, and Coop groaned. This was going to be a painful alliance, he realized with total clarity. Why in hell did she have to be the one they kept? Couldn't they have kept one of the others? No, of course not, he complained to himself… she was cheap. But he had to admit, twenty minutes later when he came out of the shower, and found his breakfast sitting on a tray on his bed, the eggs were good. Better than Pamela's. That was something at least, although she had made huevos rancheros instead of scrambled eggs. He would have complained about her not cooking what he'd asked for, but they were delicious and he devoured it all.

Half an hour later, he was out the door, impeccably dressed, as usual, in a blazer, gray slacks and blue shirt, a navy blue Hermes tie, and his hair as beautifully groomed as it always was. He was a vision of elegance and sophistication as he slipped into his old Rolls, and drove off. And Mark followed him down the drive, on his way to work. He wondered where
Coop was going at that hour, and couldn't imagine it. He was alone for once, which was unusual for him, but so was leaving the house at that hour.

Liz passed them both on the way in, and waved at Coop. She still couldn't believe this was her last week.

Liz's last days in
Coop's employ had a bittersweet quality to them. He had never been as sweet to her, or as generous. He gave her a diamond ring that he said had been his mother's, which was one of those stories she was always skeptical of. But whosever ring it had been, it was beautiful and fit her perfectly, and she promised him she would always wear it and think of him.

He took her to Spago on Friday night, and she had too much to drink, and by the time he dropped her off at her house, she was crying about how miserable she was going to be without him. But he had resigned himself to her departure by then, reassured her that she was doing the right thing, left her at her place and drove home, where he had a new flame waiting for him. Pamela was on location for a magazine in Milan. And he had met Charlene while doing the car commercial he'd just done. She was a spectacular-looking woman, and at twenty-nine, she was old for him. But she had the most extraordinary body he'd ever seen, and he'd seen many of them. Hers was worthy of the Cooper Winslow Hall of Fame.

Charlene had enormous breasts that she insisted were real, and a waist he could circle with both hands. She had long jet-black hair, and she had enormous catlike green eyes. She said her grandmother was Japanese. She was an amazing-looking girl, and she had been completely bowled over by him. She was more intelligent than Pamela, which was something of a relief. Charlene had lived in Paris for two years, modeling on the side, and going to the Sorbonne, and she had grown up in Brazil. She was a wonderful mélange of international flavors, and she had gone to bed with him by the second day of the shoot. Coop had had a very good week.

He had invited her to spend the weekend with him, and she had accepted with a squeal of delight. He was already thinking of going to the Hotel du Cap with her. She would look fabulous with her top off at the pool. She was in his bed when he got home after his dinner with Liz, and he joined her without ceremony. They spent a very interesting, somewhat acrobatic, night together, and on Saturday they drove to Santa Barbara for lunch, and came home in time for dinner at L'Orangerie. He was enjoying her company, and he was beginning to think it was time to kiss Pamela goodbye. Charlene had a lot more to offer, and she was a more sensible age for him.