“Jamie was right,” she said, looking worried, “the girls wiped him out.”

“Girls have a way of doing that,” he smiled, “but I think it was good for him, a little taste of real life to balance the ICU. He needs that.” They talked about when he could go home then, and Bill thought they could count on his being home by Labor Day, less than two weeks away. He just wanted to be sure all the swelling had gone down in his brain, so there wouldn't be complications, and that sounded sensible to her. But it reminded her of something she wanted to discuss with the children. Their annual Labor Day party. They hadn't been planning to give it this year, but after what had happened, and the tragedy they'd been spared, she thought it was time for a celebration. And going back to Lake Tahoe was now impossible. It was too much for Peter to travel so soon.

“Can he go back to school on schedule?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Close enough. Maybe a week late. Nothing too dramatic. He can't drive though.” And Liz had been planning to take him on a college tour in September. That would have to wait awhile too, until he was stronger.

They talked about the details of his recovery for a while, and he invited her back to his office for a cup of coffee before she left, and she sank into a chair looking exhausted.

“Long day?” he asked, looking sympathetic. She had so much responsibility, he knew, and he was impressed by how well she handled it, how calm she was, and how loving she was with her children.

“No longer than yours,” she said kindly.

“I don't have five kids, and one in the hospital.” Or a child who was learning-delayed, and obviously needed more careful attention than the others, not to mention three adolescent daughters, who were clamoring for her attention. “When I think about it, I don't know how you do it.”

“Neither do I sometimes. You just do what you have to.”

“And you?” he asked quietly, looking at her over his coffee mug. “Who takes care of you, Liz?”

“I do. Peter sometimes. My secretary, my housekeeper, my friends. I'm pretty lucky.” It was an odd way to look at it, from his perspective. After losing her husband whom she counted on for twenty years. She was trying to do it all on her own. He admired her a lot for what she was doing, and it was obvious to him she did it well.

“When I look at you, I feel guilty for how little responsibility I have. I don't even have a goldfish. Just myself. I guess I'm pretty selfish.”

Compared to her, he felt as though he had very little to deal with.

“Just different. Everyone has different needs, Bill. You obviously know yours, and you have it the way you want it.” He was old enough to have done something about it, if he didn't. He was forty-five years old, he had said a few days before, and his life obviously suited him, just as hers did. “I'd be lost without my kids.”

“I can see why. They're all terrific. And that doesn't just happen. You put a lot into it, and it shows.” He remembered what Jamie had said about her coaching him for the Olympics. He couldn't help wondering when she found the time.

“They're worth it, and they make me happy. Speaking of which,” she said, putting down her mug and standing up, “I'd better get home before they disown me. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'm off for a few days, but Peter will be in good hands.” He gave her the doctor's name, and told her when he'd be back. He was going up to Mendocino.

“Have fun,” she said, smiling at him, “you've earned it.”

And that night when she went home, she talked to the kids about the Labor Day party, and she was surprised to find they had mixed emotions about it. Megan and Jamie thought it was a great idea, but Rachel and Annie thought it was a betrayal of their father to have it without him. It had been their father's favorite holiday, other than the Fourth of July.

“Who'll do the barbecue?” Rachel asked plaintively.

“We will,” Liz said calmly. “We do barbecues all the time. Peter can help. I just think we need to celebrate the fact that he's okay, and still with us.” And when she put it that way, they grudgingly accepted. By the end of the week, they were actually excited about it. They were all going to invite friends, and so was Liz. They had about sixty names on the list, and Liz was looking forward to it. It was the first time she had entertained since Jack died, but it had been eight months and seemed respectable. And Peter was thrilled when they told him about it.

And by the time he was ready to come home, four days before Labor Day, more than fifty people had accepted. She was working out Peter's discharge plan and his therapy schedule with Bill Webster, when she thought of extending an invitation to him. “It's kind of a celebration for Peter,” she explained, “it would be great if you could come. It's very informal, just jeans and sweaters.”

“Can I wear scrubs? I don't think I own anything else. I never have time to go anywhere.” But he looked pleased to be invited, and told her that if he wasn't working, he'd be there.

“We'd love to have you.” They had a lot to thank him for, and it was a nice way to do it. She had sent him a case of wine too, and he'd been pleased to receive it from her. But suddenly it seemed right that he be there to celebrate Peter's homecoming. Without him, Peter might not have been there at all, it was an intolerable thought.

Most of all, Bill urged her not to let Peter overdo it. He was young, and he'd be straining at the bit once he got home, wanting to see his friends and run around with them. But otherwise, Bill thought he'd be fine, and have no residual effect of the accident, once he finished his therapy, which would be by Christmas. “Keep a tight rein on him for a while,” he admonished her, and she nodded.

“I'll do that.” He wasn't going to be able to drive for a month or two, until he got the brace off his neck, and she knew that that was really going to be hard on Peter, and she'd be playing chauffeur more than she had time for. But someone had to do it, and a lot of the time, Carole was busy with the girls and Jamie. “We'll manage.”

“Keep in touch. And call me if he has any problems.”

On the morning Peter left the hospital, Bill came to say good-bye to both of them, and he shook Liz's hand with a warm look. It was obvious that he was going to miss her. She had spent a fair amount of time in his office, drinking coffee and chatting, and they had grown comfortable with each other. She reminded him about the Labor Day party, and he said he'd do his best to be there.

“He'll be there, Mom,” Peter confirmed as they drove away.

“Not if he has to work,” she said matter-of-factly, but she was sorry to see the last of him too. After the experience he'd gotten them through, he felt like a friend now, and she would be forever grateful to him.

“He'll be there,” Peter repeated smugly. “I told you, he likes you.”

“Don't be such a wiseass,” she said with a grin, unconcerned by what he was saying. He was just Peter's doctor.

“I'll bet you ten bucks he comes,” Peter said, readjusting his neck brace.

“You can't afford it,” his mother said, and slipped quietly into the traffic. And whether or not Bill came to their Labor Day party, she assured herself, was entirely unimportant. She had convinced herself of it, though not Peter, as he smiled at her.





Chapter 8

The Labor Day party was a big success. All of the kids’ friends came, and most of their parents, and some people Liz hadn't seen since before Jack died. Victoria and her husband came, and brought the triplets. Liz and Peter manned the barbecue, and he did very well, despite his neck brace. And Annie, Rachel, and Megan mingled with the guests. Everyone seemed to have a good time, and half an hour after the party began, Bill Webster wandered in, and looked a little lost until he saw Jamie.

“Hi, remember me?” He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, his hair was neatly combed, and Jamie smiled as soon as he saw him.

“I remember you. You don't like shots either.” Jamie grinned up at him.

“Right. How's Peter doing?”

“Pretty good, except he yells at me when I jump on him.”

“He's right, not to yell, but you need to be a little careful with him. His neck is kind of broken.”

“I know. That's why he wears the big necklace.”

“I guess you could call it that. Where's your mom?” Bill asked, smiling.

“Over there.” He pointed to the barbecue, and Bill nodded, watching her make hamburgers. She was wearing a barbecue apron over jeans, and her red hair stuck out in the crowd, as did Peter's. And in spite of the fact that she was hard at work, she was smiling, and looked very pretty. Her hair had grown over the summer, and she was wearing it long on her shoulders. And as though sensing Bill watching her, she looked up, and saw him. She waved a spatula toward him, and he approached slowly, followed by Jamie. And when he got there, Bill saw that Peter was standing near her, wearing what Jamie called his “necklace.”

“How's it going?” the doctor asked his patient, and Peter grinned, and spoke to his mother in an undertone, pretending to hand her something.

“You owe me ten bucks, Mom.”

“He came to see you,” she whispered sotto voce, and then turned to greet Bill and offer him a glass of wine. He smiled at her, and asked for a Coke instead, since he was on call. The mood around them was casual and festive.

“You look very professional with that barbecue.” Bill smiled at her and sipped his Coke.

“I learned from an expert.”

“Peter seems to be doing fine,” he said, casting a glance at his patient. Peter was having fun with his friends, and flipping hamburgers, despite the cumbersome neck brace.