“Now, Raquel, relax!”

“This time it's serious, Mrs. Mel.”

“Yes, it is. But serious and terminal aren't the same.”

Grant called too to say hello. He was madly in love with the weather girl on Channel 5, and there was also a cute little redheaded female jockey in White Plains, not to mention some staggeringly sexy Cuban girl. Mel teased him about it and told him to act his age, and she finally told him about Peter, or rather the girls did. And he sounded hurt when Mel got back on the phone.

“You couldn't have told me yourself? I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but I needed time to think this thing out.”

Grant sounded surprised. “Is it as serious as that?”

“It could be, but we haven't solved the problem of distance yet.”

“Distance?” And then suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. “You little minx, it's the heart surgeon on the West Coast, isn't it?”

She grinned like a little kid and giggled into the phone.

“You jerk. Now what are you going to do? You're here, he's there.”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

“What's to figure out, Mel? You've done it again, found yourself the ‘Impossible Dream.’ Neither of you is going to quit your job for chrissake, and you're both anchored where you are. My friend, you've done it again. You're playing it safe.”

His words depressed her long after she got off the phone, and she spent days wondering if what he said was true. Was she really involved in just another impossible romance?

As if to validate her feelings she dialed Peter in California.

He was excited about Marie's progress, he had seen her that day and she was doing very well. And Mel found herself praying that no new transplant patient would come on the scene in the next week, or he wouldn't be able to fly east for the Labor Day weekend.

He reported that Pam and Matt were ready for the trip east, and Matthew was so excited he could hardly see straight.

“What about Pam?”

“She's more outwardly subdued than Matt, but she's just as excited as he is.”

“So are the girls. They can hardly wait until they get here.” They had made dozens of plans to include Pam, and Mel was going to take charge of Matthew. Even Raquel was excited about the prospective visits, although she pretended to complain about the extra work. And they had spent hours trying to work out the sleeping arrangements. They had finally decided that Mark would sleep on a sleeping bag on the living room couch. Pam would sleep on a rollaway bed in the twins' room, Matt would sleep in the twin bed in Raquel's, and when he came, Peter would have the guest room. It had taken some doing, but the house would accommodate them all.

When Pam and Matthew arrived, there was an aura of festivity throughout the whole house, and all the children went down on the beach as Mel watched them join the others they met there every day. The boy Val had discovered at the beginning of the summer no longer held an interest for her, and there were half a dozen madly in love with Jess, who wouldn't give any of them the time of day. One or two of them thought Pam a remarkably attractive girl, and no one could believe she was only fourteen. She was so tall and she looked so much older, and for the whole week, Mel was happy with her brood of four and reported to Peter twice a day.

“I wish you'd hurry up and get here.”

“So do I. And Mark is practically catatonic with anticipation.” But the night before they were due to leave L.A. the whole trip almost went down the drain. A young woman came in with rejection of the transplant that had been done four months before, and a severe infection. Mel heard the news with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't press Peter about the trip, or urge him to leave the woman in the care of his very capable colleagues. And as it turned out, the poor woman died before morning. He called Mel about it very depressed the next day.

“There was nothing we could do.” But it always depressed him anyway.

“I'm sure there wasn't. It'll do you good to get away now.”

“I guess it will.” But it took some of the shine out of the trip for him, and he was quiet as he and Mark flew to Boston. But on the second leg of the trip, he seemed to revive and he and Mark chatted about Mel and her daughters.

“They're really nice, Dad.” Mark blushed as he tried to sound nonchalant, and Peter smiled at his son.

“I'm glad you think so, I think so too.” It was going to be wonderful to see her again, and suddenly it was all he could think of as the small plane landed on the narrow airstrip, and he hastened off the plane behind Mark, who was practically jet propelled, out the door, and down the rickety metal stairway, and then he came to a screeching halt in front of Val, not sure whether to shake hands or kiss her or just say hi. He stood there stumbling over his own feet and blushing furiously as Val did the same, and Peter pulled Mel into his arms with a ferocious grip and held her, and then he dutifully kissed Pam, and Jess and Val, and then Matt, and then Val and Mark headed toward the baggage claim together, and Peter saw Mark stealthily take her hand and he grinned at Mel.

“There they go again.”

She smiled, glancing at the two lovebirds far ahead. “At least here they can't get lost in the mountains.” But they seemed to go off in a sailboat much of the time over the Labor Day weekend, and Peter had to remind them again about the group rules he had insisted on in Aspen.

“The same rules apply here.”

“Oh, Dad.” It was Mark who objected, almost whining as he hadn't in years, but he wanted so much to be alone with Val. They had so much to tell each other. “We just want to talk.”

“Then do it with the others.”

“Yuck.” Pam rolled her eyes and held her nose. “You should hear the junk they say to each other.” But Mel had noticed that there was a fourteen-year-old boy from down the beach whom Pam had not found particularly “yucky.” Only Jess and Matthew seemed to have maintained their sanity by the end of the weekend. Jessica was already thinking ahead to the first day of school, and Matt was so happy with Mel and his father that he was no trouble at all. He had longed for that kind of security for years, without actually understanding what was missing. And Peter chuckled at Raquel, who obviously approved of him and spent a lot of time telling him how lucky he was to have Mel, how all she'd needed was a good man, and what she needed now was to get married. Mel was horrified when he told her as they lay on the beach on Sunday.

“Are you kidding? She said that?”

“She did. Maybe she's right. Maybe that is what you need. A good husband, to keep you barefoot and pregnant.” He seemed amused by it all, and even more so to watch the children living out their end-of-summer madness. He was keeping a good eye on Mark. He didn't want him getting out of line with Val, and he could see that their hormones were pumping furiously throughout the weekend. Peter turned back to Mel then, remembering what Raquel had said. “What do you say to that?”

“I'm sure the network would be thrilled.” She was amused at the suggestion, but didn't consider it a real threat. All she cared about right now was being with him for the weekend. She'd think about the future later, about what they would do about seeing each other again, and when. And then she remembered something else. “You just reminded me. I have to call my lawyer after the Labor Day weekend.”

“How come?”

“My contract is up in October, and I like getting started nice and early outlining what I want for the next one.” He admired the way she handled her work. In fact, there was a lot more than that he admired about her.

“You must be able to call your own shots by now.”

“To some extent. Not entirely. But anyway, I want to sit down with him sometime in the next couple of weeks and see what he thinks.”

Peter grinned, in a silly mood, the end-of-summer madness was beginning to touch them all. “Why don't you just quit?”

“And do what?” She didn't find the idea quite as funny as he did.

“Move to California.”

“And sell tacos on the beach?”

“No, this may come as a shock to you, but we have television there now too. We even have news.” He was smiling and she thought he had never looked more handsome.

“Do you? How intriguing.” But she didn't take the suggestion seriously for a moment until he reached out and touched her arm, and she saw that he was looking at her strangely.

“You know, you could do that.”

“What?” A chill ran down her spine despite the brilliant sunshine and hot weather.

“Quit and move to California. Someone would put you on the air there.”

She sat up very straight and stared down at him lying in the sand. “Do you have any idea how many years it took me to get where I am here at the network? Do you have even the remotest idea of what Buffalo was like at twenty below, or Chicago? I worked my ass off for this job, and I'm not giving it up now, so please don't joke about it, Peter. Ever.” She was still upset when she lay down in the sand beside him again. She didn't find the suggestion even remotely amusing. “Why don't you give up your practice and start fresh in New York?”

She saw that he was looking at her intently, and she was sorry her tone had been as sharp. He looked hurt. “I would if I could, Mel. I'd do anything to be near you.” And the accusation was that she wouldn't, which wasn't fair.

“Do you understand that it's no easier for me?” Her voice was gentler now. “Leaving New York would be a step down for me now, wherever I went.”

“Even to L.A.?” He looked suddenly depressed. Their situation was hopeless.

“Even to L.A.” And then after a moment's silence when they both stared out to sea licking their wounds, “We'll just have to find some way to be together.”