Danielle Steel - 44 Charles Street

“You’re not so bad either. Why don’t we see where this goes. How about dinner this week?”

“You mean like a date?” She looked shocked.

“That’s the general idea. Dinner, you know, all that stuff. Maybe a kiss goodnight. How about Tuesday?”

“I suck at dates,” she said, looking nervous again. “I’ve given them up.”

“Yeah, me too. But I’m willing to try again with you.” He had known her for almost nine months, he liked everything about her. And he’d had almost a year to get comfortable and get to know her, and see her in situations that were real. He loved what he had seen and knew of her, and she was wonderful with his son. He couldn’t ask for more than that. It seemed like a reasonable beginning to him. What they had was based on friendship, not passion, or blind hope. They knew each other well.

“Okay,” she said quietly, feeling as though rockets were going off in her head. She had never expected this to happen between them. Nothing really had happened, but there was a glimmer of it, a possibility, and she wanted to take a chance with him. “What if it doesn’t work? Then you’ll hate me, you’ll get mad and move out, and I’ll never see you or Ian again. That would be terrible, Chris.”

“Yes, it would,” he agreed. “Let’s try not to let that happen. We’ll work it out.” She nodded and he kissed her again, and then he pulled himself away from her and stood up. She walked him to the door of her living room, and he smiled as he walked up the stairs to his own room. Ian was sleeping with the TV on, and Chris had a wild urge to let out a war whoop of glee. He had kissed her! She was a wonderful woman. He trusted her completely. And what better combination than two relationship-phobics who were scared to death? Better yet that they had started as friends.

ON MONDAY MORNING, the plumber came and fixed the pipe and they drained the kitchen. They were back in business. It had cost Francesca two thousand dollars, which was a stretch for her, but she had no choice.

Marya and Charles-Edouard baby-sat for Ian on Tuesday when Chris took Francesca out to dinner. She had to take Marya into her confidence, otherwise it didn’t make sense.

“Like a date?” Marya looked shocked. She hadn’t picked up even a hint of romance between them, ever, although she loved them both, and could easily see them together. But she had never thought it appealed to either of them and had been sorry it didn’t.

“Yeah. Like a date,” Francesca admitted, looking embarrassed. She felt awkward saying it to anyone. She didn’t even feel like dating material anymore. She had been in neutral for nearly a year. “At least that’s what he said. But don’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I going to tell? Page Six of the New York Post?” Marya was laughing at her. Francesca was a wreck.

“I don’t know-Ian, my mother, Charles-Edouard. I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it is. It’s just dinner.” But it was dinner with Chris, in a restaurant, and he had called it a date. And he had kissed her several times.

“Is it a big deal?” Marya asked her pointedly.

“Maybe… I don’t know… maybe not… maybe it will be. Maybe it shouldn’t be. Maybe we’re both too afraid.”

“What if you’re not? What if it works?”

“That’s even scarier,” Francesca said, looking panicked.

“That’s how I felt about Charles-Edouard. It’s a little frightening getting into a relationship, at any age. And the older you are, the more defined your personality and your life, and the harder it is to put the puzzle pieces together.”

“How’s it going with you and him?” Francesca asked her. Marya looked ecstatic, and so did he.

“It’s fantastic. Other than my late husband, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. I’m a very lucky woman to have two great men in one lifetime. It’s probably more than I deserve, but I’m loving it,” she said humbly.

“You deserve it,” Francesca confirmed to her. “Just don’t say that to my mother. But what the hell, she’s had five helpings at the buffet of life, you only had one. You have a right to seconds.” She was happy for her.

“My best advice to you is to just see what comes with Chris. Don’t anticipate, don’t project, don’t expect him to be someone he isn’t, or try to be someone you’re not. Be yourself. And enjoy it.” It was good advice. “And don’t worry about Ian. I’m happy to baby-sit for him anytime. And Charles-Edouard loves him too. When Chris takes you out, sign us up for Ian. We’ll make cookies or something. Have fun,” Marya said to her, as she went upstairs to dress.

For the first time in months, when Francesca sat in the bathtub, she shaved her legs. She didn’t know yet if she’d wear a dress, but whether she did or not, it was a symbolic gesture. “Welcome back to the world,” she said to herself in the tub, and then she laughed out loud.

“What did you tell them?” Chris asked her as they hurried down the steps and the front door closed behind them. She was wearing a black leather skirt, a red sweater, and high heels. She felt a little like her mother, and worried that she’d overdone it. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. She couldn’t even remember what you were supposed to wear on a real date and didn’t have the wardrobe. Her forays into dating had been minimal so far. And for someone she actually cared about, she was aware that she was supposed to look cute and sexy. She had no idea if she did. But he had smiled at her admiringly when she came down the stairs and knocked on the door of his room to let him know she was ready. Ian was already in his pajamas with freshly washed hair and told her she looked sick.

“I do?” She looked worried.

“Sick is good.” Chris translated for her. “Like ‘hot,’ only cooler and younger.”

“Oh, thanks, Ian… you look sick too,” she said over Chris’s shoulder, and then they ran down the stairs and out the door. Ian knew he was supposed to report to Marya and Charles-Edouard in the kitchen for a cookie-baking fest.

“So what did you tell Marya and Charles-Edouard?” Chris repeated the question. She hadn’t answered.

“I told them you hate their food and wanted to go out for a decent dinner.” With two of the most famous chefs in the world cooking daily meals for them, it was admittedly hard to justify going out. But this was different.

“Very amusing.” He knew she hadn’t really said that.

“I told Marya you invited me to dinner.”

“What did she say?” He was curious at the reaction they were going to get if they started going out. Ian had already said he thought it was funny and let it go at that. He had laughed at his dad as he got dressed.

“She thought it was a good idea. So do I.” She was liking the idea better and better, although she had terrified herself for the past two days, imagining every possible disaster that could befall them if they got involved. But she had still kept their date.

“I like the idea too,” he said, looking pleased with himself as they walked to Da Silvano. He had chosen that because they both liked it. And he didn’t want to do anything too fancy and make her uncomfortable. He wanted her to have a nice time. She already was. It was fun to feel like a girl again, on a date, in a skirt, with a man. Wow!

The headwaiter gave them a good table inside, and there was a chill in the air. Winter was coming, and fall had arrived. Chris was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a brown corduroy jacket, with freshly shined loafers. He looked nice. And he had shaved before they went out. She liked that. The five-day beard stubble look had always turned her off. Trendy or not, it looked dirty to her. Chris looked immaculate and handsome, and they looked right together.

They both ordered pasta and salad, and he ordered a great bottle of Napa Valley wine. And even before the pasta arrived, they were talking and laughing, about how silly they felt all dressed up and out together, about the leak the other night, and things Charles-Edouard did and said. When she thought about it later, she didn’t even know what they had talked about, but they’d had a nice time. A really nice time. It was fun to get away from the house, their work, and even Ian, and just be grown-ups out for an evening together. It was great.

They lingered over dessert and coffee and were the last to leave the restaurant. They wandered home slowly, and everyone was in bed when they got home. Ian was sound asleep, tucked in on his top bunk.

“I had a wonderful time,” Chris said, as he kissed her just outside her room, on the landing. He had walked her upstairs, like a proper date.

“So did I,” she whispered, and he kissed her again.

“I don’t know why we didn’t figure this out six or nine months ago,” he said, smiling down at her. “I feel like we wasted a lot of time.”

“We didn’t. We weren’t ready.” And now they knew each other well. It was better this way.

Chris nodded, and kissed her again. They held each other, and he hated to turn away. She finally let herself into her room, and he ran quickly down the stairs to his own. She walked into her bedroom with a big smile on her face and then laughed. It had been an excellent first date.

Francesca and Chris tried to act like nothing was happening, but it was obvious that something was. Marya smiled every time she saw them together, and Charles-Edouard clapped him on the back with a big grin after their date on Tuesday night.

The next morning at breakfast, it was hard being together, trying to act normal. Chris kept smiling at her, and Francesca blushed shyly, which made him want to kiss her, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to have to say anything to Ian yet. But his son was no dummy either. He chuckled when he saw them together.

Chris took her out again on Friday night, for Mexican food and a movie, and on Saturday morning Ian looked at both of them and burst into a fit of giggles. He was eating his favorite Mickey Mouse pancakes and bacon. Marya had made them for him, since he never tired of them and requested them again and again, and then she and Charles-Edouard had gone to Vermont for the weekend. Their romance was going well, and they both looked happy. So did Francesca and Chris. It was contagious.