Rogue

by Danielle Steel

  “No, he died before I could. I meant to go out to California and meet him. My brother did. He wasn't too impressed. Our mom died of a broken heart. She drank herself to death when I was fifteen. I went to live with my aunt, and she died when I was eighteen. I've been a nanny ever since.” It explained why she had found her place working in families. They offered the stability and love she had never had as a child growing up. Maxine knew that her brother had died in a motorcycle accident years before. Zelda was essentially alone, except for the family she worked for, and the other nannies she had befriended over the years.

  “Did you ever meet your half-brothers and -sisters?” Maxine inquired gently.

  “No, I kind of figured they were why my mother died. I never wanted to meet them.” Maxine knew she had worked for the previous family for nine years, until the kids left for college. It made her wonder if Zelda regretted not having children of her own, but she didn't want to ask.

  They sat at the kitchen table and chatted while Maxine ate dinner, and then they each went back to their own rooms. Zelda very seldom went out in the evening, even on her days off. And Maxine was kind of a homebody too. She went to bed early that night, still thinking about the patient she had lost that morning, and the agony her parents must have been in. It was a relief to try and put it out of her mind and go to sleep.

  She felt better when she woke up the next morning, although still somewhat subdued. She met Blake and the children at Rockefeller Center, and went skating with them. They had hot chocolate afterward at the restaurant at the skating rink, and then went back to his apartment. The children headed straight for the projection room to watch a movie before dinner, and seemed perfectly at home being there with him. They always readjusted quickly when he appeared. Daphne had called two of her friends to come by. She loved showing off his glamorous penthouse, and her handsome father.

  Maxine and Blake chatted easily for a few minutes, and then joined the children watching the movie. It was a film that hadn't even been released yet. Blake knew people everywhere and had privileges few others had. He took it as the norm now, and told Maxine he was going to London after New York. He was meeting friends to go to a rock concert there. He knew the stars who would be performing too. Sometimes it seemed, even to Maxine, as though he knew everyone in the world. Several times, he had introduced his children to wellknown actors and rock stars, and he was invited backstage everywhere he went.

  When the movie ended, Blake rounded them all up for dinner. He had made reservations at a new sushi restaurant that had opened a few weeks before, and was the hot, new trendy place in town. Maxine had never heard of it, but Daphne knew all about it. And they were given the VIP treatment when they arrived. They walked through the main restaurant, and were given a private dining room. It was an excellent dinner, and they all had a good time. They dropped Maxine off afterward, and then Blake and the kids went back to his apartment.

  He was bringing them back to Maxine at five the next day before he left. And as usual, when left to her own devices, she spent the day working. She was at her computer, working on an article, when they got home. Blake hadn't come up, as he was late leaving for the airport, and the kids were overflowing with excitement when they walked in. And Sam was particularly happy to see her.

  “He's taking us to Aspen for New Year,” Sam announced, “and he said we could each bring a friend. Can I take you instead, Mom?” Maxine smiled at the offer.

  “I don't think so, sweetheart. Daddy might like to bring a lady along, and that would be a little awkward.”

  “He says he doesn't have one right now,” Sam said practically, disappointed that his mother had declined the offer.

  “But he might by then.” It never took Blake long to find a new one. Women fell into his hands like fruit off a tree.

  “What if he doesn't?” Sam persisted.

  “We'll talk about it then.” She enjoyed having dinner with Blake when he was in town, and going skating with him and the children. Going on vacation with her ex-husband was a little more of him than she wanted, and undoubtedly more than he wanted of her. When he loaned her his yacht every year, for their summer vacations, he wasn't there. Besides, this was his time to be with the kids. But it was sweet of Sam to ask her.

  They told her about all the things they'd done and seen with him in the past three days, and all three of them were in high spirits. They weren't as sad as they often were when he left town, because this time they knew they'd be seeing him a month later in Aspen. She was glad he had made the plan, and hoped he didn't disappoint them if something better came along, or he got distracted elsewhere. The kids loved going to Aspen with him, and anywhere else. He made everything they did an adventure and fun for them.

  At dinner, Daphne said her father had told her she could use his apartment any time, even when he wasn't around, and her mother looked surprised by the offer. He had never said that before, and Maxine wondered if Daphne had misunderstood him.

  “He said I could take friends over to watch movies in the projection room,” she said proudly.

  “Maybe for a birthday party, or something special,” Maxine said cautiously, “but I don't think you should just hang out there.” She didn't like that idea at all, a bunch of thirteen-year-olds hanging out at his apartment, and she didn't feel comfortable going there herself if he wasn't in town. The subject had never come up before. And Daphne looked annoyed by her answer.

  “He's my father, and he said I could, and it's his apartment,” Daphne said, looking angrily at her mother.

  “That's true. But I don't think you should go there when he's not around.” A lot could happen in that apartment. And it worried her that Blake was being so free and easy about it. It suddenly made her realize that having teenagers with a father like Blake could turn out to be a major challenge. She wasn't looking forward to it. So far, it hadn't been a problem, but it could be. And Daphne looked as though she was willing to battle for the privilege he had offered. “I'll talk to him about it,” Maxine said simply, as Daphne stomped off to her bedroom. What Maxine was planning to say to Blake was to warn him not to be manipulated by his children, nor to set them up for disaster by giving them too much freedom as they headed into their teens. She just hoped that he was willing to cooperate with her. If not, the next several years were going to be a nightmare. All she needed was for Blake to give Daphne keys to his apartment. The thought of it and the kind of things that could go on there made her shudder. She was definitely going to say something to him about it. And for sure, Daphne wouldn't like it. As usual, Maxine had to be the heavy.

  Maxine finished her article that night, and the children watched television in their bedrooms. They were tired after three days of nonstop excitement with their father. Being with him was like traveling with the flying Wallendas, with all of them on the high wire at the same time. It always took them a while to calm down.

  The next morning at breakfast was chaos. Everyone had woken up late. Jack spilled cereal all over the table, Daphne couldn't find her cell phone and refused to leave for school until she did, Sam burst into tears when he discovered he'd left his favorite shoes at his father's apartment, and Zelda had a toothache. Daphne managed to find her phone in the nick of time, Maxine promised Sam that she would buy him the exact same shoes at lunchtime, and prayed that she could find them, and she left for her office to see patients as Zelda was calling her dentist. It was one of those mornings that made you want to rip your hair out and got the day off to a rough start. Zelda took Sam to school on her way to the dentist, and it started raining, as Maxine walked to work. She was soaked by the time she got there, and her first patient was already waiting, something that almost never happened to her.

  She managed to make up the time, see all her morning patients, and find the right shoes for Sam at Niketown, which meant skipping lunch. Zelda called to say she had to have a root canal that day, and Maxine was trying to return her calls when her secretary told her Charles West was on the phone. Maxine w
ondered why he was calling, and if he was referring a patient. She took the call sounding mildly harassed and exasperated. It had been one of those days from beginning to end.

  “Dr. Williams,” she said briskly.

  “Hi there.” It was not the greeting she expected from him, and she was in no mood for a chatty call. Her last patient was due in, and she had fifteen minutes to finish returning her calls.

  “Hello. What can I do for you?” she asked bluntly, realizing as she did that she sounded a little rough around the edges.

  “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was about your patient when I saw you on Friday.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding startled, “that's very nice of you. It was very upsetting. You do everything you can to avoid it, and sometimes you lose them anyway. I felt awful for her parents. How's your ninetytwo-year-old with the hip?” He was impressed that she remembered. He wasn't sure he would have.

  “She's going home tomorrow. Thanks for asking. She's amazing. She has a ninety-three-year-old boyfriend.”

  “She's doing better than I am,” Maxine said, laughing, which gave him just the opening he wanted.

  “Yeah, me too. She has a new boyfriend every year. They drop like flies, and I swear, within weeks she finds a new one. Everyone should be lucky enough to get old like that. I was a little worried when she got pneumonia, but she rallied. I love her. I wish all my patients were like her.” Maxine was smiling at his description of her, and she was still wondering why he had called her.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, doctor?” she asked, sounding slightly daunting and formal, but she was busy.

  “Actually,” he said, sounding awkward, “I was wondering if you'd have lunch with me sometime. I still feel like I owe you an apology for the Wexlers.” It was the only excuse he could think of.

  “Don't be silly,” she said, glancing at her watch. Of all days for him to call her. She had been playing beat the clock since that morning. “It was an honest mistake. Adolescent suicidality isn't your specialty. Believe me, I wouldn't know what to do with a ninety-two-year-old with a hip, pneumonia, and a boyfriend.”

  “That's generous of you. How about lunch?” he persisted.

  “You don't have to do that.”

  “I know that, but I'd like to. What are you doing tomorrow?” Her mind went blank at the question. What was this man doing asking her to lunch, and why? She felt silly. She never took time out of her schedule for professional lunches with other physicians.

  “I don't know …I…I might have a patient,” she said, groping for a reason to decline the invitation.

  “Then what about the next day? You have to eat lunch sometime.”

  “Well, yes, I do … when I have time,” which wasn't often. She felt foolish when she blurted out that she was free on Thursday. She glanced at her appointment book as she said it. “But you really don't have to.”

  “I'll keep that in mind,” he said, laughing at her. He suggested a restaurant that was near her office, to make it convenient for her. It was small and pleasant and she occasionally had lunch there with her mother. It had been years since she took time out to lunch with girlfriends. She preferred to see patients, and at night she stayed home with the kids. Most of the women she knew were just as busy as she was. She hadn't had much of a social life in years.

  They made a date for noon on Thursday, and Maxine looked startled as she hung up the phone. She wasn't sure if it was a date, or a professional courtesy, but either way, she felt slightly silly. She hardly remembered what he looked like. She had been so upset about Hilary Anderson on Friday morning that all she remembered was that he was tall, and had graying blond hair. The rest of his appearance was a blur, not that it mattered. She made a note in her book, returned two more calls as quickly as she could, and saw her last patient.

  She had to cook dinner for the children that night, since Zelda was in bed on painkillers. The day ended as it began, harried and stressful. And she managed to burn dinner, so they ordered pizza.

  The next two days were equally stressful, and it was Thursday morning when she suddenly remembered the lunch date she had made with Charles West. She sat at her desk looking at her appointment book bleakly. She couldn't imagine what had made her do it. She didn't even know him, nor want to. The last thing she needed was lunch with a total stranger. She glanced at her watch and realized that she was already five minutes late, grabbed her coat, and hurried out of the office. She didn't even have time to put on lipstick or comb her hair, not that she cared.

  When Maxine reached the restaurant, Charles West was already waiting at a table. He stood up when he saw her walk in, and she recognized him. He was tall, as she had remembered, and nice looking, and appeared as though he was in his late forties. He smiled and stood up as she approached the table.

  “I'm sorry I'm late,” she said, slightly flustered, as he noticed the look of caution in her eyes. He knew enough about women to know that, unlike his ninety-two-year-old patient, this was not a woman looking for a boyfriend. Maxine Williams looked distant and guarded. “I've had a crazy week in the office,” she added.

  “So have I,” he said pleasantly. “I think holidays drive people nuts. My patients all get pneumonia between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I'm sure yours don't fare well over the holidays either.” He looked very easygoing and relaxed, as the waiter asked if they wanted to order drinks. She declined, and Charles ordered a glass of wine.

  “My father is an orthopedic surgeon, and he always says everyone breaks their hip between Thanksgiving and New Year.” Charles looked intrigued when she said it, wondering who her father was.

  “Arthur Connors,” she added, and Charles instantly recognized the name.

  “I know him. He's a terrific guy. I've referred patients to him.” Charles actually looked like the sort of man her father would have approved of.

  “Everyone in New York refers their hardest cases to him. He's got the busiest practice in town.”

  “So what made you pick psychiatry instead of going into practice with him?” Charles looked at her with interest as he sipped his wine.

  “I've been fascinated by psychiatry since I was a kid. What my dad does always seems like carpentry to me. Sorry, that's an awful thing to say. I just like what I do better. And I love working with adolescents. It seems like you have a better shot at making a difference. By the time they're older, everything's pretty well set. I could never imagine myself with a Park Avenue psychiatric practice listening to a bunch of bored, neurotic housewives, or alcoholic stockbrokers who cheat on their wives.” It was the kind of thing she could only say to another physician. “I'm sorry.” She looked embarrassed suddenly, as he laughed. “I know that sounds awful. But kids are so much more honest, and seem much more worth saving.”

  “I agree with you. But I'm not sure stockbrokers who cheat on their wives go to shrinks.”

  “That's probably true,” she admitted, “but their wives do. That kind of practice would depress me.”

  “Oh, and teen suicides don't?” he challenged her, and she hesitated before she answered.

  “They make me sad, but they don't depress me. Most of the time, I feel useful. I don't think I'd make much difference in the lives of normal adults who just want someone to listen to them. The kids I see really need help.”

  “It's a good point.” He asked her about her trauma work then, and had actually bought her most recent book, which impressed her, and halfway through lunch he told her he was divorced. He said that he and his wife had been married for twenty-one years, and two years earlier she had left him for someone else. Maxine was startled that he sounded so matter-of-fact about it. He told her it hadn't come as a complete surprise, as their marriage had been difficult for years.

  “That's too bad,” Maxine said sympathetically. “Do you have children?” He shook his head and said his wife hadn't wanted any.

  “It's my only regret actually. She had a difficult childhood, and eventually decided she just
wasn't up to having kids. And it's a little late for me to start now.” He didn't sound heartbroken about it, but as though it was something he was sorry he'd missed, like an interesting trip. “Do you have children?” he asked, as their lunch arrived.

  “I have three,” she said with a smile. She couldn't imagine a life without them.

  “That must keep you busy. Do you have shared custody?” As far as he knew, most people did. Maxine laughed at the question.

  “No. Their father travels a lot. He only sees them a few times a year. I have them full time, which works better for me.”

  “How old are they?” he asked with an interested look. He had seen how her face lit up when she talked about her kids.

  “Thirteen, twelve, and six. My oldest is a girl, the two others are boys.”

  “That must be a handful all by yourself,” he said with admiration. “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Five years. We're on very good terms. He's a terrific person, he's just not much of a husband or father. He's too much of a kid himself. I got tired of being the only grown-up. He's more like a wild and crazy uncle for the kids. He never grew up, and I don't think he ever will.” She said it with a smile, and Charles watched her, intrigued. She was intelligent and nice, and he was impressed by the work she did. He was enjoying reading her book.

  “Where does he live?”

  “All over the place. London, New York, Aspen, St. Bart's. He just bought a house in Marrakech. He leads a sort of fairy-tale life.” Charles nodded, wondering whom she'd been married to, but he didn't want to ask. He was interested in her, not her ex-husband.

  They chatted easily all through lunch, and she said she had to get back to see patients, and so did he. He told her how much he'd enjoyed her company, and said he'd like to see her again. She still couldn't figure out if it had been a date, or a professional courtesy, of one physician meeting another. And then he clarified it for her by asking her to dinner. She looked startled when he asked.