“Wolffs.” He said it modestly, as though it were an unimportant store, and she laughed with wide eyes. No wonder he looked like that. He had the instinctive style of a man who dealt daily with high fashion, yet in a very masculine, unselfconscious way that she liked. In fact there was a lot she liked about him.

She smiled warmly at Bernie then. “It's a wonderful store. I go there every few months just to stand on the escalator and drool at everything. Living up here doesn't give one much opportunity to think about things like that.”

“I've thought about that this summer.” He looked interested and pensive, as though sharing a secret project with her. “I've always wanted to have a store in a place like this. Kind of a small, simple country store, with everything from riding boots to evening wear, but really, really beautiful merchandise, the best quality. People up here don't have time to drive a hundred miles for a good-looking dress, and walking into an enormous store is inappropriate up here, but something small and simple and really good would be exciting here …wouldn't it?” He looked excited and so did she. It sounded like a terrific idea to both of them. “Only the best though,” he went on, “and very little of it. Maybe take one of the Victorians and turn it into a store.” He loved the idea the more he thought of it and then he laughed. “Pipe dreams. I guess once you're a merchant, it corrodes your thinking wherever you are.”

He laughed and she smiled at him. She liked the look in his eyes when he talked about it.

“Why don't you do something like that? We have absolutely nowhere to shop, except a few miserable stores that aren't worth bothering with. And there's a lot of money up here, especially in the summer months, and with the wineries there's actually money here all year round now.”

He narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head. He had afterthoughts of it, but to no avail. “I don't know where I'd find the time. And I'll be going back pretty soon. But it's fun to dream.” He hadn't dreamt in a long, long time. Of anything. Or anyone. And she could sense that. She enjoyed chatting with him, and she liked his idea. But more than that, she liked him. He was an unusual man. Warm and strong and decent. And he had the gentleness of the very strong, and she liked that.

He noticed her beeper then hooked to the back of her belt and he asked her about it. Talking about the store seemed frivolous to him although it interested her more than he realized. “I'm on duty four nights a week, and have office hours six days a week. That keeps me on my toes, when I'm not yawning in someone's face from lack of sleep.” They both laughed and he was impressed. It seemed conscientious of her to work that hard, and even have the beeper with her at a party. And he noticed that she had refused the wine after one glass. “We're short of doctors up here too, not just stores.” She smiled. “My partner and I are the only pediatricians within twenty miles, which may not sound like much, but it gets awfully busy sometimes, like the night I saw you at the hospital. You were my third earache that night. I saw the first one at home, and the other one left the hospital just before you arrived. It doesn't make for a quiet home life.” But she didn't seem unhappy about it. She looked content and satisfied and it was obvious that she enjoyed her work a great deal. She looked excited when she talked about it. And he had liked her style with Alexander.

“What made you go into medicine?” She had to be so dedicated, he had always been impressed by, but never attracted to, that life. And he had known since he was a child that he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps.

“My father is a doctor,” she explained. “He's in obstetrics and gynecology, which didn't appeal to me. But pediatrics did. And my brother is a psychiatrist. My mother wanted to be a nurse during the war, but she only made it as far as the Red Cross volunteers. I guess we all have the medical bug. Congenital,” she pronounced and they both laughed. They had all gone to Harvard as well, which she didn't mention to him. She seldom did. She had gone to Radcliffe, and then Stanford Med School, and had graduated second in her class, a fact that mattered very little now. She was busy doing what she did, healing hot ears, and giving shots and setting bones, and curing coughs, and being there for the children she loved and took care of.

“My father is a doctor.” Bernie looked pleased that they had something in common. “Ear, nose, and throat. Somehow it never seemed very exciting to me. Actually, I wanted to teach literature in a prep school in New England.” It sounded silly now. The era of his passion for Russian literature seemed a thousand years ago and he laughed thinking of it. “I often suspect that Wolffs has saved me from a fate worse than death. I wanted to work for a small school in a sleepy town, as I thought of it, and thank God none of them wanted me, or I might have become an alcoholic by now.” They both laughed at the thought. “Or hanged myself. It's a hell of a lot better selling shoes and fur coats and French bread than living in a place like that.”

She laughed at the description he offered of Wolffs. “Is that how you see yourself?”

“More or less.” Their eyes met and they felt a sudden inexplicable bond.

They were chatting easily about the store when her buzzer went off after that. She excused herself and went to the phone and came back to report that she had to meet someone at the hospital.

“Nothing terrible, I hope.” Bernie looked worried, and she smiled. She was used to this. In fact, it was obvious that she loved it.

“Just a bump on the head, but I want to take a look at him, just in case.” She was cautious, reasonable, and as good a doctor as he had suspected. “It was nice to see you again, Bernard.” She held out a hand, and it was cool and firm in his own, and for the first time he noticed the perfume she wore as she stepped closer to him. It was sexy and feminine in the same way she was, yet not overpowering.

“Come and see me at the store next time you come in. I'll sell you some French bread myself to prove that I know where it is.”

She laughed. “I still think you ought to open the store of your dreams here in Napa.”

“I'd love that.” But it was only a dream. And his time in California was almost over. Their eyes met then, and she left him regretfully, thanked their host, and was gone. He heard the Austin Healy roaring away, and saw her hair flying out behind a moment later. He left the party and went home, a short time afterwards, thinking of Megan, wondering if he'd see her again, and surprised by how much he liked her and how pretty she had looked in the gypsy blouse with the bare shoulders.





Chapter 36

A month later, on a rainy Saturday, Bernie was in Saint Helena doing some errands for Nanny, when he walked out of the hardware store and bumped into Megan again. She was wearing a long yellow slicker and red rubber boots, with a bright red scarf over her dark hair. And she looked startled as they collided, their arms full of packages, and she gave him a friendly smile. She had thought of him a number of times since they'd last met and she was obviously happy to see him.

“Well, hello again. How've you been?” Her eyes lit up like blue sapphires and he looked at her with pleasure as they stood there.

“Busy …fine …the usual …how are you?”

“Working too hard.” But she looked happy. “How're your kids?” It was a question she asked everyone, but she actually gave a damn and it showed.

“They're fine.” He smiled at her, feeling like a kid again himself and enjoying the feeling.

They were standing in the pouring rain, and he was wearing an old tweed hat and an English raincoat that had seen better days over his jeans and he suddenly squinted at her in the rain. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or are you dashing off somewhere?” He remembered the beeper, and the bumped head she had run off to check on Labor Day when she left the party.

“Actually I'm through for the day, and I'd love it.” She pointed to a coffee shop just down the street and he hurried after her, wondering why he had invited her. He always liked her when they met, and then was annoyed at himself because he was attracted to her, and that didn't seem right to him. He had no business being attracted to her. There was the usual awkwardness as they found a table and sat down. She ordered a hot chocolate, and he a cappuccino and then he sat back and looked at her. It was extraordinary, as unadorned as she was, she was beautiful. She was one of those women who look plain at first, and then slowly one realizes that there's a great deal more to them, their features are beautiful, their eyes remarkable, their skin exceptional, and all put together it makes someone very special. But it is not all hung with bright lights that catch one's eye at first. “What are you looking at?” She saw him staring at her and was sure she looked terrible, but he smiled and cocked his head to one side, smiling at her.

“I was thinking how pretty you look in your slicker and boots and red scarf on your black hair.” He looked genuinely enraptured and she blushed furiously at the compliment and laughed at him.

“You must be blind, or drunk. I was probably the tallest girl in my class from kindergarten on. My brother said I had legs like lampposts and teeth like piano keys.” And hair like silk …and eyes like pale sapphires and …Bernie forced the thoughts from his mind and forced himself to say something ordinary to her.

“I think brothers always say things like that, don't they? I'm not sure, having been an only child, but it seems to me that their appointed role in life is to torment their sisters as best they can.”