“Everything's just fine, Mel.” He was smiling, looking ghoulish and suddenly she knew that she couldn't do it. She stood up, the pen still clutched in her hand, and shook her head at them, looking at the men she had worked for.

“I'm sorry. I can't do it.”

“But what's wrong?” They were stupefied. Was she crazy? She would have told them that she was if they had asked her. “It's all there, Mel. Everything you asked for.”

“I know.” She sat down again, looking broken. “I can't explain it. But I can't sign the contract.”

As a single body, they began to look ugly, and George with them. “What the hell …”

She looked up at each one of them, still shaking, and tears stung her eyes, but she couldn't cry now. She wanted it so badly she could taste it, but there was something else she wanted more and which she knew would last a lifetime, not just a year. And Peter was right. She could work in L.A. Her career wouldn't be over just because she left New York. She stood up again and said in a strong voice. “Gentlemen, I'm moving to California.”

The room was stunned into silence. “You signed with the network there?” Now they knew she was crazy. They couldn't have offered her more money. Or had they? The flashy assholes. But Mel had always had more class than that. No one understood what had happened, least of all her own attorney. She gulped then, and spoke to no one in particular.

“I' m getting married.” And then without another word, she strode from the room, rushed into the elevator, and left the building before anyone could stop her. She walked all the way home, and when she got there she found that she felt a little better. She had just thrown her whole fucking career out the window, but she thought that Peter was worth it. She just hoped she wasn't wrong, as she picked up the phone and dialed his number, and the operator in the hospital paged him, and found him. He was on the phone in less than a minute, busy and distracted, but happy to get the call.

“Are you okay?” He was only half listening to her answer.

“No, I'm not.”

And then he heard her, and the strangeness of her voice. God, something had happened. He had sounded like that when Anne died … the twins … “What is it?” His heart pounded as he waited.

“I went to sign the contract …” She sounded numb. “And I didn't.”

“You didn't what?”

“I didn't sign it.”

“You what?” His legs turned to Jell-O beneath him. “Are you crazy?”

“That's what they said.” And suddenly she panicked, terrified that he had changed his mind and now it was too late. She had thrown everything out the window. She almost whispered. “Am I?”

And then he understood what she had done and why, as tears came to his eyes. “Oh, baby, no you aren't… yes, you are … oh God, I love you. Do you mean it?”

“I think so. I just threw away a million bucks for the year. I think maybe I must mean it.” She sat down and started to laugh, and suddenly she couldn't stop laughing and he couldn't stop either. She took off her hat and veil and tossed them in the air. “Dr. Hallam, as of the thirty-first of December, which happens to be New Year's Eve, I'm unemployed. Practically a vagrant.”

“Terrific. I've always wanted to marry a vagrant.” The laughter at her end died into silence. “Do you still?”

His voice was very gentle. “Yes. Will you marry me, Mel?” She nodded and he waited, terrified. “I can't hear you.”

“I said yes.” And then, desperately nervous, “Do you think they'll hire me in L.A.?”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed again. “By tonight, they'll be beating your door down.” But there were other things on his mind. “Mel, let's get married on Christmas.”

“Okay.” She was still in a kind of stupor, and everything he said sounded fine to her now. “When on Christmas?” It was all like a dream, and she wasn't sure yet how long she'd been dreaming. She remembered a room full of men in dark suits, and her refusing to sign a contract, but after that everything was a blur except this phone call. She could hardly remember how she had gotten home now. Had she walked? Taken a cab? Flown?

“How about Christmas Eve?”

“Sure. When's that?”

“In about three and a half weeks. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. And then, “Peter, do you think I'm crazy?”

“No, I think you're the bravest woman I've ever met, and I love you for it.”

“I'm scared shitless.”

“Don't be. You'll get a great job out here, and we'll be happy. Everything is going to be wonderful.” She hoped he was right. All she could think of now was what she had done by refusing to sign the contract, but if they had asked her again, she would have refused again. She had made her decision, and now she would have to live by it, whatever that took, and of that she wasn't sure yet.

“What'll I do with my house?”

“Sell it.”

“Can't I rent it?” She felt sick at the thought of giving it up forever. She had to take such giant steps now.

“Are you planning to move back there?”

“Of course not, not unless you do.”

“Then why keep it? Sell it, Mel. You can use the money to invest in something out here.”

“Will we be buying a new house?” She felt confusion begin to sweep over her as she sat staring into space and she heard her doorbell ringing in the distance but she didn't answer. It was Raquel's day off and there was no one she wanted to see now, particularly reporters, if they'd heard the news.

“We don't need a new house, Mel. We have this one.” He sounded so happy, but as she listened she knew she didn't want to live there. It was Anne's house … their house … not her house … but maybe just in the beginning … “Look, you just relax. Have a drink or something. I've got to get back to work here. I'll call you later. And remember. I love you.”

“I love you too.” But her voice was only a whisper, and she didn't move from the chair for an hour as she contemplated what she'd done, and when George called she attempted to explain it. He told her that he thought she was crazy, but it was an intensely personal decision. He agreed to sound out the L.A. networks, and by that night she had three offers, and by the following week she had a contract, for the same money she had wanted in New York, and had had to wait two months for. But of course this was L.A., and not New York. But the furor she had created was beyond measure, and it was an agony to go into work now. They had asked her to stay until December 15, and then she could leave two weeks before the end of her contract. But everywhere she was treated like a traitor, even Grant came to see her to tell her that she was crazy, that it would never work, that she was meant for the big time in New York, not the L.A. market, and marriage wasn't her life-style. She felt as though she were drifting through a nightmare, and the twins kept looking at her as though she had betrayed them.

“Did you know you were going to do it?” Jess asked when she told them, meaning accept Peter's proposal. But it sounded as though she were asking her if she knew she was going to commit murder.

“No, I didn't.”

“When did he ask you?”

“On Thanksgiving.” The reproach she felt was in her eyes each time she looked at her mother, and Valerie was so nervous that she seemed ready to throw up each time Mel looked at her, and even she wasn't totally pleased to be moving. They had to change schools mid-year, leave their home, their friends. And when Mel put the house on the market, she thought it would kill her. It sold on the first weekend, and when she got word, she sat down on the stairs and cried. Everything was happening much too quickly. And only Raquel seemed to know what was going on, as she packed endless boxes for California.

“I tole you, Mrs. Mel … I tole you last summer … in six months …”

“Oh, for chrissake, Raquel, shut up.” But halfway through the packing, Mel realized that she didn't know what she was going to do with Raquel. There was no room for her at Peter's, and the woman had been with her for years. She called him in a panic one night at midnight in California, three A.M. in New York.

“What am I going to do with Raquel?”

“Is she sick?” He had been half asleep when she called him, but Mel was wide-awake.

“No, I mean about bringing her.”

“You can't bring her, Mel.”

“Why not?” She bridled.

“There's no room, and Mrs. Hahn would kill her.”

“Personally, I'd prefer it if Raquel killed Mrs. Hahn.”

“Mrs. Hahn is devoted to my children.” It was the first time he had spoken to her in that tone of voice and Mel didn't like it.

“Raquel is devoted to mine. Now what?”

“Be reasonable.” How reasonable did she have to be? She had given up a job, a house, her children had given up friends and schools, just how much more did he want her to leave behind her? Raquel too?

“If she doesn't come, Peter, neither do I, or the children.”

“Oh, for God's sake.” And then he decided it was too late to argue. “All right. We'll rent her an apartment.”

“Thank you.” Mel announced the news to Raquel the next morning, still feeling annoyed at Peter, but this time Raquel surprised her.

“To California? You crazy? I live here, in New York.” But she smiled at Mel and kissed her cheek. “But thank you. I gonna miss you. But I just don' want to move to California. You gonna have a good life now. You got a good husband. But me, I got a boyfriend here. Maybe sooner or later I' get married too.” She looked hopeful, and determined not to go to California.

“We're going to miss you too.” They would have nothing familiar except each other. Even her furniture was going into storage. There was no room for it in his house. And as the days progressed, Mel realized that this was not going to be easy.