“Wow, Dad, how was it?”

“Interesting. Exhausting.” He looked into Charlie's eyes sympathetically. “How many takes did they do in all?”

“Thirty-two, I think. Maybe more. I forget.”

“The other actor kept blowing his lines, and they had to shoot again and again,” he explained to Mel.

“But it was fun watching anyway. It's incredible how many people are involved.”

“You should see what goes on when they do the show, speaking of which …” She walked slowly toward the door, and waved good night to Mel, who flew upstairs to call her friends and tell them who she'd met. And Oliver walked her out to her car, with a look of ever-growing admiration.

“You are really incredible, do you know that? Worm farms, patience with teenage girls, is there anything else about you I should know?”

“Yes.” She looked happily up at him. It had been a wonderful evening, and all her fears had been dispelled. She hoped they liked her. “I love you very much, Oliver Watson.”

“I love you too, Charlie,” he whispered as he kissed her. And from his bedroom window, Sam stared in amazement as he watched them, and then turned to Aggie, who was turning down his bed.

“Wow, Aggie! Dad just kissed Charlotte Sampson!” That was really something else, but Agnes only clucked at him.

“Mind your own business, young man, and go brush your teeth!”

“Do you think she really likes him?”

“I suspect she does. Your father is a fine man, who wouldn't?”

“But she's a movie star, Aggie … or TV, or … you know …”

“What difference does that make?” And as he went to brush his teeth, still shaking his head over it, Aggie thought they were both very lucky people. And after what she'd seen tonight, so were the children.





Chapter 23


That weekend, Charlotte drove up their driveway in her car, got out, and solemnly rang the doorbell. And when Sam answered, thrilled to see her again, she handed him an odd-shaped cage, covered by a pale blue blanket. There were odd squeaking noises from within, and a pungent smell he didn't mind, and as he pulled off the blanket, he gave a squeal of delight himself. It was a long-haired guinea pig. And she had been right, it did look like a cross between a small dog and a rabbit.

“Wow! Wow! … Look at that, Dad!” He called to his father just coming down the stairs, freshly shaved and showered, “Can I keep it?” He looked from him to Charlotte. And Charlotte looked pleadingly at the senior Watson.

“I guess you can.” He smiled lovingly at her. All she did was make them happy.

“Can I keep him in my room?”

“If you can stand the smell, you can.” The two adults laughed and Sam took the cage from her hand, and hurried up the stairs with it before any of them could change their mind on him.

They went to Malibu that afternoon to play on the beach, and a movie Mel wanted to see that night, some ghastly teenage horror, that Charlie said reminded her of some of her early work, and then they went to the Hard Rock Cafe and she didn't even seem to mind the noise. And the following week they went to Disneyland. Life was a constant holiday with her. She thought of terrific things to do, exciting events to see, and she even invited them to her house and made dinner for them, although Sam admitted reluctantly that Agnes was a better cook, but in every other way, he liked Charlie even better. The guinea pig had even been named after her, and was called Charles, and Charlie for short. And Mel had already told everyone she'd ever met that her father was going out with Charlotte Sampson.

Neither of the children objected to her, and they didn't even look upset when Oliver said he was going out at night, which wasn't often during the week, since she worked so hard and had to be on the set so early. And twice she had even stayed over on the weekend and slept in their guest room. She was a great one for decorum and behavior that wouldn't embarrass the children. And neither of them knew that late at night, their father tiptoed down the hall, and climbed into bed with her with a happy smile as she told him to ssshhh! and giggled.

It was, for all of them, the perfect arrangement. And when George and Margaret came out a month after the children got home, they liked her too. At first they were enormously impressed to meet her. But they forgot quickly that she was famous. She was so unaware of herself, so discreet about her success, so warm to those she cared about, and kind to everyone, it seemed, that everyone fell in love with the woman and not the TV star. As she had said when she first met Mel, her success was nice but it wasn't the most important thing in her life. It was the people she loved who really mattered to her.

But they were all aware of her fame nonetheless, because wherever one went, people wanted her to sign autographs, or intruded at unexpected times asking her if she was … and telling her how much they liked the show … and wanting to know who Mel and Sam were … It annoyed them sometimes, and Oliver tried not to think about it more than heliad to. But Charlie was always gracious to her fans, patient, understanding, and acted as though she had been waiting for them to come over and talk to her all day and was glad they had. Sometimes, Mel asked her how she could stand it without losing her temper.

“It's part of the job, sweetheart. You accept that when you take on this kind of work, or you'll never amount to much. You're doing this for them as much as yourself. And the day you stop caring about them, is the day you stop giving a good performance.”

And most of all Oliver's father, George, thought she was absolutely charming, the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and he only prayed she would marry his son. And before he left, he asked Oliver if he'd ask her.

“Come on, Dad. We haven't even known each other two months yet, don't rush me. Besides, she has quite a career on her hands. I don't know that she wants to settle down with an ordinary mortal and a bunch of kids.” She said she did, but the truth was, he was afraid to ask her.

“I think she does. She's got real honest-to-goodness decent values.”

“I know, but she could have anyone she wants in Hollywood. Give it time.” He still couldn't believe his good fortune. But neither could Charlie.

And they were sitting talking quietly one night, after his father and Margaret had gone back to New York again, when the phone rang and it was Benjamin, and he was crying so hard, Ollie could hardly understand him.

“Take it easy, Son, slow down … that's it … take a deep breath …”He looked worriedly at Charlie, fearing an accident. He hadn't heard front him in weeks, there was never an answer when he called, and he had asked his father to look in on him when he got back, at the house in Purchase. “Benjamin, talk to me, what is it?” All he could hear was still the sound of jagged crying.

“I can't take it anymore, Dad … I just can't take it … I hate her …”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I'm just so tired … all I do is work and pay for stuff for the baby and for her … she gave up her job, and she thought she was pregnant again, but she wasn't.” And this time, the baby wouldn't have been his, at least, he hadn't touched her in two months. “She's been going out with Billy Webb and Johnny Pierson … I don't know, Dad … all she does is go out. Sometimes I have to take the baby to work with me. I love Alex, I don't want to leave him … but I can't …” He started to cry again. “… I can't do this anymore … I just can't. Last week I thought of killing myself, I sat in the garage for an hour, trying to get the guts to turn the car on, but I couldn't. I just kept thinking of Alex and what would happen to him if he was left with her. She doesn't give a damn, Dad. Sometimes she doesn't even remember to feed him all day and he's screaming his lungs out when I get home. Last week he almost fell in the pool when I left him alone with her for ten minutes. Dad … help me please … get me out of this….” The jagged sobbing seemed to go on for hours, but when Oliver suggested he come out to California as soon as he could, Benjamin said he couldn't leave the baby. He loved him too much and Sandra would neglect him too badly.

“Why don't you bring him?”

“She says she won't let me. I told her last week, I'd take him away, and she said she'd call the police if I tried it. She says I have no right to take him, she's his mother. And if I took him, all her friends would think she'd done something really awful, and it would make her look bad. But she doesn't want to take care of him either.”

“What about Sandra's mother? Do you think she'd help?”

“I don't know. Her boyfriend walked out on her and she moved to Bakersfield from L.A.”

“Do you have her number?”

“Yeah. Sandra left it on the kitchen wall” His crying had finally subsided. He was eighteen years old and staggering under an awesome burden. “You know, she hasn't even been home since yesterday morning. She's been screwing around almost since right after Alex was born,” he was five and a half months old by then, “and, Dad, I tried to make it work, I really did, but I just can't,” and then in a voice of shame, “Sometimes I hate her.” Oliver didn't blame him a bit, and suspected that in his shoes, he might have killed her, or certainly walked out on her a long time since. But Benjamin was so determined to do the right thing, by her, and by his son. He was only grateful once again that the boy hadn't married her. At least that much was simple.

“Just relax. Why don't you go to Grampa's for the weekend?”

“What'U I do with Alex?” He sounded suddenly blank, like a helpless child. After almost a year of working two jobs, and supporting a girl who wasn't his wife, and almost six months of caring for his child, the boy was so worn out, he could hardly think straight.