I don't mean the book. I mean why are you out of school for the rest of the year? She groped for an answer and then thought of a good one.

Family problems, she said; it was perfect. My parents are getting divorced. I got really depressed over it, and I have to take a lot of medication ‘ you know, like Prozac. My mom was afraid I might kill someone at school or something, she thinks I get pretty erratic on that stuff, and ‘ She had gone too far and he was smiling at her. Even he recognized her tale as nonsense.

Knock it off, will you please? You don't have to tell me why. Everyone knew, or had guessed anyway. It was the only reason anyone ever dropped out, except to go to rehab. And Sam had never been a druggie. But he didn't tell her what he suspected, and besides, she didn't look it at all, so maybe they were all wrong. Maybe she had some other kind of problem. He had just wanted to be sure that she didn't have anything really awful, like leukemia. They had all lost a friend sophomore year, and he had panicked when he heard she wasn't coming back. That was how it had started with Maria. Are you okay? That's all I wanted to know, he said gently. He'd been seeing someone for a while, but he'd always had a soft spot for Sam, and she knew it.

I'm fine, she said, but the sadness in her soul came through her eyes and he saw it.

Whatever it is, just hang in there. You still going to UCLA in the fall? They were both going and he was relieved when she nodded.

I'll get your book. Come on in. He followed her inside, and he waited in the kitchen while she went upstairs. They hadn't gutted it yet, and Simon was still begging Blaire not to. Maybe now she wouldn't.

Sam was back downstairs with his book five minutes later, and as she handed it to him, he reached out and took her hand, and she looked up at him and blushed. She felt so vulnerable these days, and she didn't know why. It never occurred to her that it was because she was pregnant.

Hey ‘ if you need anything, just call ‘ okay? ‘ We can go out for a ride ‘ or get something to eat. Things look different when you talk about them sometimes, he said gently, and she nodded. He was almost eighteen and mature for his age. His father had died two years before, and he had been helping his mother raise his three younger sisters. He was unusually responsible, and very caring.

There's nothing to talk about, Sam said, looking at the floor and then up at him. And then she shrugged. It was too hard to say anything else, and he understood. He just touched her shoulder and then left. And she stood at the kitchen window, and watched him go in his old Volvo. His family lived in Beverly Hills, and they were comfortable, and respectable, but they didn't have much money. They were still living on the insurance money and what his father had left them. He had a weekend job and he was getting a scholarship to UCLA. And he wanted to be an attorney like his father. She knew he would, too, someday. Among other things, Jimmy had a lot of determination.

And when he was gone, Sam sat down on a chair in the kitchen and just stared into space. There was so much to think about now, so much to decide. Suzanne Pearlman had told her exactly how the adoption worked, and now she had to pick new parents for her baby. It seemed so simple. To everyone but Samantha.

Chapter 15

Things almost settled down in the next two weeks, as much as they ever did, especially in the present circumstances. Sam had seen her mother's doctor by then, and she was fine. The baby was a good size, and seemed healthy. She was doing independent study work from school, and she was still very quiet and withdrawn, but she'd had two more meetings with Suzanne, and they had narrowed it down to four couples now, and Sam had more decisions to make over the next month or two, when they would narrow it down further. Suzanne was going to give her as much information as possible to work with. And she didn't want to rush her. She wanted Sam to make the right decision.

Allegra was trying to finish as much work as she could so she could get to New York for the weekend with Jeff to meet his mother. She wasn't exactly looking forward to it; they had spoken on the phone, and Mrs. Hamilton had asked a lot of very pointed questions, as though she were interviewing her for a job and she was not a likely candidate. It seemed funny to Allegra, and also a little insulting, but she didn't say anything to Jeff. She was trying to get everything organized for Bram's tour. He was starting in San Francisco on Monday and she wanted to be there, for the opening night at least. They were following a zigzag course around the country for the next several months, with a Fourth of July appearance at the Great Western Forum in Ingleside, near L.A., after which they were flying to Japan, and eventually around the world, and ending in Europe. Allegra had said she'd fly in to see him now and then, if she could. The tour was going to earn him a hundred million dollars by the time it was over, a pretty healthy chunk of cash, as Jeff said jokingly when she mentioned it. She would never have quoted the amount except that it had been all over the papers for months, and Bram had foolishly confirmed it.

But everything seemed to be under control right up till the day before Jeff and Allegra were to leave for New York for the weekend. His crew, their itinerary, the promoters had everything arranged. And then at midnight, the night before she was to fly to New York with Jeff, she got the call. The drummer had committed suicide, either intentionally or accidentally, by an overdose of drugs. Everyone was going crazy. The media were all over it, his girlfriend was being held by the police, and the whole tour was on hold until they could line up another drummer.

She was still on the phone with Bram at two A.M. He had just been to the morgue to identify his lifelong friend, and he was deeply upset. But so were the promoters. They had called Allegra ten minutes before Bram did. The phone rang almost constantly until six A.M., and Jeff was in a state by the time they sat down to breakfast. It was impossible to get any sleep with the phone ringing all night, and he had important meetings that morning.

I'm sorry, she said quietly, pouring him a cup of coffee. She had made a statement for the press about it the night before, and it was already on the front page of the L.A. papers. It was a rough night for everyone.

You should have been a cop, or an ambulance driver or something, he said, looking at her ruefully. You have the right constitution for it. I, on the other hand, do not. I need to get a little sleep every now and then, between phone calls.

I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Bram's tour is about to go up in smoke. I have to see what I can do for him today. Her mind had been racing since early that morning. Bram knew of several drummers he could break in, but it would take time, and most of them had other commitments.

Don't forget that our plane is at six o'clock, Jeff said pointedly.

I know, she said, feeling jangled. She left for the office half an hour later, and never stopped all day. She actually sat with Bram, and helped him reorganize the tour, and at four o'clock she looked at her watch, and knew that the shit was about to hit the fan. There was no way she could leave Bram. And she had to leave now, if she was going to make the plane. She had told Jeff she would meet him at the airport.

She called him at home, but he had already left, and he didn't believe in car phones, he said they were too California. So there was nothing she could do except page him at the airport. The much-joked-about white courtesy telephone actually came in handy.

She had him paged at five o'clock when they were supposed to check in, and at five-fifteen, he called her at the office. Alice told her he was on the line, and Allegra pounced on it. He didn't sound pleased to hear her.

Where are you? I guess that's a moot point, since I just called you at the office. What's happening?

The promoters are threatening to pull out of the tour on us, they're saying it's breach of contract, and as of this moment, we haven't lined up another drummer. I don't even know how to begin to say this to you, but I can't walk out on him, Jeff. The tour starts on Monday. She had been planning to fly up to San Francisco on Monday, to see him perform at the Oakland Coliseum. But it was out of the question now. They couldn't go anywhere without a drummer.

Isn't it up to his agent to fix this mess?

If he can, but I'm part of it, and they're going to need me to draw up new contracts.

Can't you fax them from New York?

She wanted to say yes, she hated to disappoint him, but this was her responsibility and she couldn't just walk out on it. She had to tell him the truth, no matter how mad he got about disappointing his mother. I really need to be here.

Okay, I understand, he said quietly, but his voice was like ice, and there was a long silence.

What are you going to do now? She was panicking that he would break it all off. What if she lost him? Will you still go? she asked, sounding nervous.

I'm going to introduce you to my mother, Allegra. I already know her, he said coldly.

I'm sorry, she said, agonizing over letting him down, particularly right in the airport. I tried to get you at home, but I missed you. Should I call your mother and explain?

I'll do it. She'll never understand. I'm going to tell her something outlandish like a death in the family, food poisoning, something. She doesn't know about rock tours.

Jeff, I'm so sorry.

I know. You can't help it. How about dinner? Can you manage that? Or are you fasting too?

I'd love it, she said, grateful that he was willing to forgive her, or at least feed her. She thought it was a good sign. He was an incredibly decent person.