“Val … for God's sake …”

“Mom, I have to. Josh gave him to me last week and his parents have a house in Chappaquiddick, he'll be coming over to see us and if I don't …”

“All right, all right. Just get all this junk put together, please, and let's get our asses in a cab and get to the airport or we'll never get there.” Going on a trip with the girls was always a challenge. But the cabdriver actually managed to get almost all of it squashed in his trunk, and they finally took off with Mel and the girls in the backseat, Val carrying the enormous teddy, and Raquel in the front with the hats and the tennis rackets. As they sped along toward LaGuardia, Mel mentally ticked off a list, making sure that she had locked the garden door, and all the windows, turned on the burglar alarm, turned off the gas … there was always that sinking feeling that you'd forgotten something. But they were all in high spirits by the time they got on the plane, and as they left the ground, Mel had a feeling of relief that she hadn't had in weeks, as though she were leaving all her confusion behind in New York, and she would find peace in Martha's Vineyard.

Peter had been calling her once and twice a day, and as much as she enjoyed their conversations, she tormented herself about them. Why was he calling? When would they see each other again? And finally, what was the point? He admitted to the same confusions as she, but they seemed unable to stop moving inexorably forward on this path toward an unseen goal that still frightened them both and that they did their best not to talk about. They stuck to safe subjects, and now and then admitted how much they missed each other. But why, Mel asked herself too often, why do I miss him? She still didn't know the answer, or didn't want to.

“Mom, do you think my bike's still good or it got rusty?” Valerie was staring into space on the plane, hugging her bear, and looking totally happy, as a man across the aisle stared at her in lustful fascination. Mel was just glad she hadn't let her wear the little blue French short shorts she had worn to breakfast, and threatened to wear on the trip to Martha's Vineyard.

“I don't know, love. We'll have to see when we get there.” The woman they rented the house from every year allowed them to leave a few things in the basement.

In Boston they rented a car and drove to Woods Hole, where they took the ferry across to Vineyard Haven. The ferry was the part of the trip they all liked best. It gave one the impression of leaving the real world far behind, and all its responsibilities with it. Melanie stood alone at the railing for a few minutes, letting the wind whip her hair, and feeling freer than she had in months. She realized suddenly how desperately she had needed a vacation. And she enjoyed the few moments alone before the girls came to find her. They had left Raquel talking to some man on the lower deck, and when she joined them at last they teased her about it. And Mel suddenly laughed at a mental image she had of Peter's Mrs. Hahn, she could hardly imagine anyone teasing her, or of her flirting with a man on a ferry. But for all Raquel's independent ways, they loved her, and she was pleased to see Jess give her a hug once before they landed. Even Raquel smiled. The Vineyard was a haven for them all, and when they reached the familiar house in Chilmark, the girls went running barefoot down on the beach, and chased each other as far as they could, while Mel watched them.

It was as easy settling in as it was every year, and by nightfall the four of them looked and felt as though they had been there for a month. They had gotten pink cheeks from the few hours they spent on the beach that afternoon, they were unpacked, and the teddy bear was ensconced in the rocking chair in Val's room. The house was comfortably furnished, but there was nothing fancy about it. It looked like a grandmother's house, with a porch and a wicker swing, and flowered chintzes in all the rooms, and at first it always had a musty smell which went away in a few days, and they no longer noticed. It was just part of the familiarity of Chilmark. The girls had been coming here since they were little, and, as Mel explained to Peter when he called that night, Chilmark was part of home.

“They love it here and so do I.”

“It sounds very New England, Mel.” He tried to envision it from her description. Long beaches, white sand, a casual life-style of shorts and sweat shirts and bare feet, and a smattering of intellectuals who came from New York, and gathered from time to time for lobster dinners and clambakes. “We go to the mountains every year, to Aspen.” It was totally different from Martha's Vineyard, but sounded intriguing too as he described it. “Why don't you come and bring the girls? We're going for the first ten days in August.”

“You couldn't pry them away from here for a million dollars or a date with their favorite rock star. Well …” She reconsidered the last and they both laughed. They had an easy telephone relationship going, but it seemed so unreal at times. They were disembodied voices lodged in the phone night after night, but never getting any nearer.

“I don't suppose I could pry you away.”

“I doubt it.” There was a strange silence then and Mel listened, wondering what was on his mind, but when he spoke again, he sounded as though he were teasing.

“That's too bad.”

“What is?” He wasn't making sense, and she was wonderfully relaxed after dinner. She didn't want to play games on the phone, but he was obviously in a playful mood.

“That you don't want to leave there.”

“Why?” Her heart began to thump. He was making her oddly nervous.

“Because there's a conference I've been asked to attend in New York, to speak to a group of surgeons from all over the East Coast. They'll be gathering at Columbia Presbyterian.” She didn't answer for a moment as she held her breath and then she spoke in a rush.

“They will? And you're going?”

“I could. Normally I'd refuse, particularly at this time of year. New York in July is no treat, but I thought that maybe under the circumstances …” He was blushing furiously at his end, and Mel gasped.

“Peter! You're coming?”

He laughed softly, amused at them both. They really were like two kids. “I told them yes at three o'clock this afternoon. Now what about you and Martha's Vineyard?”

“Shit”—she looked around the room with a grin—“we just got here.”

He was quick to ask, “Would you rather I not come? I don't have to.”

“For chrissake, don't be an ass. How long do you think we can go on like this? Calling each other twice a day and never seeing each other?” It had been only three and a half weeks since she left California, but it felt more like three years to them both, and they needed to get together again to resolve at least some of their feelings.

“That's what I thought too. So …"H e laughed again, pleased with the prospect.

“When do you arrive?”

“Next Tuesday.” And then he added softly. “I wish it was tomorrow.”

“So do I.” Her face sobered. And then she whistled. “That's only six days away.”

“I know.” He grinned, he was as excited as a child. “They took a reservation for me at the Plaza.” But as he spoke, Mel had a thought. She was hesitant to voice it, for fear of putting them both in an awkward spot, but if they could handle it, it might work out well.

“Why don't you stay at the house? The girls won't be there, and you could have their whole floor to yourself. It would be a lot more comfortable for you than a hotel.”

He was silent for an instant, weighing the pros and cons as she had before she asked. Staying under one roof could prove to be very awkward, and it was quite a commitment … but on a separate floor … “You wouldn't mind? It would be easier, but I wouldn't want to put you out, or …"H e bumbled over the words and she laughed and stretched out on her bed, still holding the phone to her ear.

“It makes me just as nervous as it makes you, but what the hell, we're grown-ups, we can handle it.”

“Can we?” He smiled at the phone. He wasn't sure he could. “And can you leave the girls alone?”

“No, but Raquel is here, so that'll be fine.” She was suddenly wildly excited that he was coming. “Oh, Peter, I can't wait!”

“Neither can I!”

And the next six days dragged unbearably for them both. They spoke on the phone two and three times a day, and Raquel finally caught on that there was someone important calling Mel but the girls seemed not to see it. On Sunday night, Mel casually mentioned that she had to go to New York for a few days, and she'd be leaving on Tuesday morning, but the news was met with dropped jaws and staring eyes. She had never gone back to New York for anything, except the year Jess broke her arm and Mel wanted her to see an orthopedic man in New York. But they had only stayed for two days, and that was important. This time Mel said she'd be back on Friday afternoon, which meant four days away. They found it hard to believe that she was going, but she insisted that there was a problem with one of her features at work and she had to go back and watch them edit. The girls were still amazed when they went back to the beach that night to meet some friends and build a fire, but Raquel eyed her shrewdly as they cleared the table.

“It's serious this time, huh?”

Mel avoided her eyes, and carried a stack of plates into the kitchen. “What is?”

“You can't fool me. You got a new man.”

“That's not true at all. The man is a subject I did an interview with.” But she couldn't meet Raquel's eyes, and she knew that if she did, she couldn't convince her. “Just keep an eye on the girls while I'm gone, especially Val. I notice that the Jacobs boy is all grown-up, and drools every time he sees her.”