“This is the perfect way to spend a Sunday morning,” she announced, and he grinned over at her, he had been reading the entertainment section.
“I agree with you entirely.” It was absolutely perfect.
They showered and dressed afterward, and went for a drive in her MG, which Bill loved to drive. And they stopped in Malibu for a long walk on the beach, and at sunset they drove slowly home with the top down and the wind in their faces. They looked happy and relaxed and young, and the world seemed to be theirs. They stopped at the supermarket where they had met, and then they went back to his place and made dinner. He poured champagne for both of them before they ate, to celebrate their union.
“To the marriage of two hearts …with a third to come,” he smiled as he toasted her, and then kissed her. “I love you, my darling.” They kissed again. And they spent a quiet evening at home, watching TV again, and she talked about going home. She didn't want to intrude on him, and she did have her own apartment, after all, but he wouldn't hear of her leaving. He wanted to move some of her things in that week. He couldn't see the point of her staying in the dismal emptiness of her old town house, and she had to agree with him. It didn't have much appeal, not now, when she could be with him, which was all she wanted.
He drove her to work the next day, and told her he'd bring her home after the six o'clock news, and then take her back for the late show. And when Zelda saw her, smiling at her desk, she knew something had happened to her. But she didn't pry. She just guessed, and hurried down the hall, feeling happy for her. And when he stopped in at noon, Zelda knew exactly who it was, and precisely what must have happened.
“It worked!” Bill beamed.
“What did?” A bear had attacked a child at the zoo, and the child had nearly died, and Adrian had to make a decision about what part of the tape to run, but she was happy to see him anyway, as she looked up and saw him smiling broadly. “What worked?” she said a little more gently. It had been a busy morning, but everything seemed to be bathed in a haze of happiness and pleasure.
“Your idea. About Harry being the baby's father. It works out perfectly. And everyone on the show is pleased, especially the director. George Orben is a pleasure to work with, and everyone is delighted about his getting a bigger part. You're a genius!”
“Anytime, Mr. Thigpen. Anytime.” She smiled. She was still hoping that one day his job offer might work out, and she could be working on his show instead of in the newsroom.
“Can you go out to lunch?” He looked hopeful, but she shook her head. There was too much going on, the bear at the zoo, a policeman had been brutally murdered an hour before, and the government had fallen in Venezuela.
“I don't think I'm going to get out of here till after the six o'clock news.” He nodded, kissed her, disappeared, and was back half an hour later with a huge hamburger, a cup of soup, and a fruit salad.
“It's all good for you. Eat it.”
“Yes, sir.” And then she whispered, “I love you,” under her breath, and saw out of the corner of her eye the look of disapproval on her secretary's face, and she realized what she had done. Her secretary didn't even know she and Steven had separated, and here she was kissing another man. There were several interested stares, and she knew that they would be even more so, once people started figuring out that she was pregnant.
“Who was that?” one of the editors asked her bluntly as Bill left.
“His name is Harry,” she said mysteriously, “his wife died several months ago.” She was paraphrasing his new plot for his soap, but of course no one knew it. “…She was Helen's best friend …” The editor raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and went back to work, as Adrian went back to work too. And when he turned to look back at her as he left, he saw that she was smiling.
SEPTEMBER SPED BY WITH HARD WORK AND HAPPY nights, and blissful weekends. And toward the end of the month, people were beginning to suspect that she was pregnant. She was almost six months, and no matter how loose her clothes, it was easy to figure out that there was something beneath them. She had not asked for maternity leave yet, though, and she had decided to work till the very end, and take time off after it was born, which seemed simpler.
“If I take time off before, I'll die of boredom,” she told Bill, and he didn't disagree. He thought that as long as the doctor said she was in good health, she should do what she wanted. And he had suggested to her again that she think about working on his show after the baby came and maybe hand in her notice in the newsroom in December.
They went out a fair amount, to quiet restaurants where they could relax like the Ivy and Chianti and the Bistro Garden, and then occasionally to the noisier, livelier ones like Morton's, and Chasen's, and, of course, Spago. And they talked to the boys at least twice a week, and they were fine too. And the ratings on Bill's show were better than ever. Everything was going smoothly, and Bill kept reminding her that the next time she went, he wanted to join her at the doctor. It was his baby now, too, no matter whose genes were involved, but they had made love often enough, and grown close enough that somehow, he felt he should have been the father, and Adrian didn't deny it.
She had heard nothing from Steven since June, or from his attorney since July, and she didn't worry about it. She assumed that the divorce was still in the works, but she didn't think about it very much. She was too busy at work, and too happy with Bill. And she hadn't slept in the town house since August, the night the boys left.
But the call from her attorney on October first still surprised her. He was calling to tell her that Steven wanted the condo put on the market. She had expected it, but she was startled anyway. It was nice knowing that she had a place to live, a place of her own, even if she didn't live there.
“They want to be sure you won't be there when it's shown,” the lawyer said.
“That's fine,” she said coolly.
“And they want you to make your key available to the realtors, and leave the apartment in good order.”
“That's not difficult. Did they tell you he'd taken every stick of furniture with him? All I have is the bed and my clothes in the closets, one carpet, and a stool in the kitchen. I'll do my best to leave it neat.” Somehow as dismal as it all was, she realized that it was also amusing.
“And you haven't refurnished?” Her attorney sounded surprised by what she had just told him. She had forgotten to tell him before. And Steven's attorney hadn't told him that, but he suspected that there was a lot more that Steven's attorney hadn't told him, like why he was rejecting his own baby, and ending his marriage to a woman who was both reasonable and decent.
“No, I haven't. The apartment is empty.”
“It might not show well that way. They probably think you've refurnished.”
“Steven should have thought of that before he cleaned it out. I'm not going to furnish it just so he can sell it out from under me.”
“Do you have any interest in buying him out, Mrs. Townsend?”
“No, I don't. And even if I did, I couldn't afford it.” The lawyer had told them what he wanted for it, and she thought it was too high. But if he got it, then she'd get half, so she wasn't going to argue. “How's the divorce coming?” she asked cautiously. It was still a delicate subject with her.
“Everything is in progress.” He hesitated and then decided to ask, even if her husband didn't want to know. “How is your pregnancy going?”
“Fine.” And then, “Did Steven's attorney ask about it?”
“No, he didn't,” he said regretfully, and she only nodded.
“Is there anything else?”
“No. Just the apartment. We'll proceed with the realtors, and advise you who'll be handling it. How soon could you start showing it?”
She thought about it for a minute and then shrugged. “Tomorrow, I guess.” There was really nothing to do. Even her closets were fairly neat, especially now that half her belongings were across the complex in Bill's guest room closet.
“We'll be in touch.�
� She thanked him and they hung up and she was still pensive when Bill picked her up to take her home after the six o'clock news. He did that a lot now. And people talked. They knew who he was, but they were curious about the implications, and she continued to make no comment whatsoever about being pregnant. And when one woman she didn't like had asked, she had looked her right in the eye and said, no, she wasn't.
“Something happen today?” He sensed her mood as they drove home. He had picked up fresh crab for dinner.
“Nothing much,” she lied. She was still disturbed about the call from her lawyer.
“You seem quiet.”
“You're too smart for your own good.” She leaned over and kissed him. “My attorney called today.”
“What's up?” For a moment he looked worried.
“Steven's putting the town house on the market.”
“Do you mind?” He frowned as he glanced at her while he drove home. He never really enjoyed their conversations about Steven. But she didn't love hearing reminiscences about Leslie either.
“Sort of. It's nice to know I have a place of my own, even though I never use it.”
“Why? What difference does it make?”
“What if you get tired of me, or we have a fight or … I don't know …what'll we do when the boys come back for Thanksgiving?” Even though she doubted that it would be sold by then.
“We tell them we love each other and you're having a baby, and we're living together, that's what we tell them. No big deal.”
She smiled ruefully at him. “You've been writing soap operas for too long. That might sound normal to you, but it wouldn't to most people, and it won't to Adam and Tommy. And maybe if I lived there all the time, they'd feel crowded and resent me.” She had been thinking about it all day and she was worried about it.
“So what are you telling me? You want to get your own place?” He looked markedly unhappy.
“No, that seems foolish. I'm just telling you that I'm not thrilled he's selling it. It's just nice to have it.”
“How much does he want for it?” She told him and he whistled. “That's an awful lot, but at least you get half of that, I assume, if he gets it. Maybe it'll be nicer having money in the bank than an apartment you don't use and just sits there.”
She sighed, nodding at the wisdom of what he'd just said. “You're probably right, and it's no big deal. It's an adjustment, that's all.” And there had been a lot of them since June. And also a lot of very wonderful changes.
“Does he want to talk to you?” Bill asked calmly as they pulled into his parking space. They were driving the woody. But she shook her head. He didn't.
But she called Steven at his office the next morning. She recognized the secretary's voice, and politely asked to speak to her husband.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Townsend is not available. He's in a meeting.”
“Could you please let him know I'm calling,” she countered.
“I'm not sure I can disturb him.”
“Please try,” she urged, getting increasingly annoyed. He had obviously told his secretary that if his wife ever called, not to put her through, and Adrian didn't deserve that.
The secretary disappeared and came back on the line two minutes later. It hadn't been long enough to tell anyone anything, she was just faking. “I'm sorry, Mr. Townsend will be tied up all day, but I'd be happy to take a message.” Tell him to drop dead, she was tempted to say into the phone, but she didn't. And there were other possibilities, too, but she resisted them all.
“Just tell him I called about the apartment,” she started to say, and then decided to really leave him a whopper, “and the baby.” The bomb dropped and there was silence. “Thank you very much.”
“I'll tell him right away,” the secretary said in haste, as though he didn't already know. But Adrian knew that Steven would hate getting the message. If his secretary knew, sooner or later, people would start talking.
But he didn't call. His attorney did, half an hour later. Steven had called him within seven minutes. And the attorney had tried to call her attorney but couldn't reach him. So he called Adrian himself so he could call Steven back immediately and assuage his client's panic.
“Is there a problem, Mrs. Townsend? I understand you called your …Mr. Townsend this morning.”
“That's right. I wanted to speak to him.” For a mad moment, she had wanted to ask him why he was doing this to her, why he was taking everything away that had been theirs, and had rejected their baby. Now that it was moving, that it was alive, that she felt it, and could see the bulge that it caused in her body, she was even less able to understand how he could push them both away. It still didn't make sense, and she wanted to talk to him about it. It had nothing to do with how much she loved Bill. She did. But Steven was still the baby's father.
“Would you mind telling me why you were calling him?” He tried to sound kind. Steven had been adamant in his instructions.
“Yes, I would. It was personal.”
“I'm sorry.” He paused and Adrian understood all over again.
“He's not going to speak to me, is he?”
He didn't want to answer her directly, but the lack of an answer told her the same thing just as clearly. “He feels that … it would just be too difficult for both of you, particularly given the circumstances.” He was afraid she was going to get emotional and try and force the baby on him. He had no idea that she was living with a man who genuinely loved her, and wanted her baby. And he would never have been able to understand it.
“Is there a problem with the pregnancy? Something that relates to Mr. Townsend, in spite of his legal stance vis-&-vis the child?” She wanted to tell him to shut up, to knock off the legalese and deal with her like a human being. But the sad thing was that he was trying.
“No, never mind. Just tell him to forget it.” Which was exactly what he wanted. He had told the attorney that he wanted to forget everything about her, but the lawyer would never have told her.
She hung up the phone, and she was even more depressed that afternoon, and Bill sensed it again, but figured it was still about the apartment, even though he thought it was silly. But he had no idea that she had tried to call Steven, just to talk to him, just to ask him why, it wasn't that she even wanted to change his mind anymore, she just wanted to know why he hadn't loved her, and had refused to accept their baby. There had to be a reason, something more than just a difficult childhood. But she didn't want to tell Bill. She knew that it would hurt his feelings. Instead, she just sat quietly in the living room, and suggested they call the boys after dinner. Talking to them always cheered her up. And the next day, her lawyer called her again and gave her the name of the real estate agent who would be showing the apartment.
That weekend, she and Bill went away, and on Monday she felt better. The apartment didn't seem so important anymore, and she realized that she didn't need a place of her own. She was perfectly happy living with Bill. And the apartment she had shared with Steven wasn't worth trying to hang on to.
They had gone to stay with friends of his in Palm Beach, an actor who used to be on the show in his youth, and had gone on to make several very successful pictures. He was an interesting man, with a lovely family and a wife Adrian really liked. It had been a perfect weekend, and they had teased Bill a lot about the baby. They assumed it was his, and they didn't find it at all unusual that they weren't married. But they had also been very warm to the idea, and Janet, the actor's wife, had been wonderfully supportive about the “marvels” of being pregnant. There were times when Adrian wondered if she would ever survive it, and other times when she actually forgot she was pregnant at all. It seemed to depend on the day and the mood and what else had happened. But the thing to keep in mind, Janet had reminded her, was that at the end of the road, the reward was not fat thighs, which went away, Janet promised, but the greatest wonder of all: a baby. They had both come back from the weekend feeling refreshed and excited about the baby. Bill pulled out some of the boo
ks he had bought her that they had never read, and read her all kinds of things that would have terrified her if she hadn't been in such a good mood. And in the end, they made love, which was much better.
And the next morning, at work, her attorney called her again and surprised her by announcing that there was an offer for the apartment, and Steven wanted to accept it. It was within ten thousand dollars of his asking price, and Adrian couldn't believe it.
“Already?”
“We were very surprised, too, and the buyer wants to close in thirty days, if that's all right with you. We realize that that may be too soon for you.” But all of a sudden she didn't care. It would be November by then, and the boys would be coming home for Thanksgiving, and Bill insisted that he wanted her to continue to stay with him, and he had already suggested that they turn the guest room into a nursery sometime in the next few months, which had bowled her over. “How do you feel about the thirty-day closing?” the attorney asked her directly.
“It's fine.” He was surprised to hear it.
“And the price?” She sat quietly for a minute, but only because in her head, she was saying good-bye to the apartment and to Steven.
“It's fine too.”
“You accept it?”
“Yes.” Christ. Push, push, push.
“I'll get the papers over to you this afternoon. You can sign them and I'll send them back to your husband's attorney.”
“Fine.”
“We'll send them right over.” And when he did, it seemed odd to see Steven's signature looking up at her. She hadn't seen any part of him in so long that seeing his handwriting was like a jolt into the past. But there was nothing else, no note, no letter, nothing jotted on the forms. He had completely removed himself from her life and he wanted to keep it that way, no matter what. It was almost as though he was afraid of her, but she couldn't understand why. It seemed so unreasonable, but maybe it no longer mattered.
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