The Cottage (24 page)

She was asleep in his arms in less than five minutes, and when the alarm went off at five, she almost turned over and went back to sleep, but Coop pushed her gently out of bed and told her he'd call her later. Twenty minutes later, she was grinding down the driveway in her ancient car, and wide awake. The night before seemed like a dream. Until she saw herself in the morning papers. There was a big photograph of her with Coop on their way into the Oscars.

“She looks like you,” one of the nurses said as she ogled it, and then looked up wide-eyed when she saw the name under the picture. Alexandra Madison. Coop had forgotten to tell them she was a doctor, and Alex had teased him about it. She told him she had worked hard for her title, and expected him to use it.

“Can't I just tell them you're my psychiatric nurse?”
he had teased her back. She looked radiant in the photographs, and Coop was holding her hand and beaming. It was a message to the world that all was well with him, and he wasn't hiding. It was exactly the message he had wanted to convey, and his press agent congratulated him later that morning.

“Good for you, Coop,” he said. Without saying a word, it countered all the filth and rumors in the tabloids. The subliminal message was, so what if he had gotten a minor porn actress pregnant, he was still who he was, and involved with respectable women.

There was another photograph of them in the afternoon paper. And when Coop called her, he told her that several of the gossip columnists had called him, from the respectable press, not the tabloids.

“They wanted to know who you are.”

“And did you tell them?”

“Of course. And this time, I remembered to tell them you're a doctor,” he said proudly. “They also wanted to know if we're getting married. I told them it was much too early to comment, but that you are the special woman in my life and I adore you.”

“Well, that should keep them busy,” she smiled as she sipped a Styrofoam cup filled with cold coffee. She had been working for twelve hours by then, but fortunately it had been a relatively easy day. She was more tired than she'd expected. She wasn't used to carousing all night and working all day. Coop had slept till eleven, and then had a massage, a manicure, and a haircut. “Did they ask about the baby?” she inquired, sounding concerned. She knew how much that upset him.

“Not a word.” And he hadn't heard anything from Charlene either. She was too busy talking to the tabloids.

But two weeks later, he heard from her lawyer. It was early May, and she claimed to be three months pregnant. She wanted support for the duration of the pregnancy, and she was ready to start negotiating child support and palimony with him.

“Palimony? For a three-week fling? She's crazy,” Coop complained to his lawyer. But she was claiming she was so sick she couldn't work until after she had the baby. According to her attorney, she was unusually nauseous. “Apparently not too nauseous to give interviews. Christ, this woman is a monster.”

“Just pray the baby isn't your monster,” his lawyer told him. And they agreed that whatever Coop offered her temporarily, had to be offset by a promise from her to have an amniocentesis that included a DNA test. “What are the chances it's yours, Coop?”

“I guess about fifty-fifty. As good as anyone's. I slept with her, the condom broke. Depends how my luck is running these days. What would be the odds in Vegas?”

“I'll have to check on that for you,” his lawyer said, sounding somber. “I hate to be crude, but as one of my clients put it, ‘You stick it in, you pay forever.’ I hope you're being careful now, Coop. That was a very pretty woman I saw you with at the Oscars.”

“And a smart one,” Coop said proudly. “She's a doctor.”

“And hopefully not a gold digger like the last one. The prospective mom is good-looking too. Eurasian or
something, isn't she? But whatever she is, she has a heart like a cash register. I hope the rest of her was worth it.”

“I don't remember,” Coop said discreetly, and then hastened to defend Alex. “My doctor friend is anything but a gold digger. With her family background, she doesn't need anything from me. Not by a long shot.”

“Really? Who are they?” he asked with interest.

“Her father is Arthur Madison. None other.” The attorney whistled.

“Now that is interesting. Have you heard from him yet about the baby?”

“No, I haven't.”

“I'll bet you will, sooner or later. Does he know you're dating his daughter?”

“I'm not sure. He and Alex don't seem to talk much.”

“Well, it's no secret now. The two of you are in every paper in the country.”

“Worse things could happen.” And had. Charlene was in all the tabloids.

And a week later, so was Alex. They were rehashing the same news, only now they added Alex's photos to Charlene's and Cooper's. She looked like a young queen in the tabloids, and the headlines were predictably ugly. Mark kept buying all of the papers to show Jimmy, and Jessica was enamored with Alex, whom she ran into at the pool regularly, whenever she wasn't working. The two had struck up an easy friendship, and Alex liked her, although she didn't say anything
to Coop. She knew how he felt about them, and he had enough on his plate for the moment.

He was getting calls from Abe these days too, reminding him that he was spending too much money, and concerned over the child support he was going to have to pay Charlene. “You can't afford it, Coop. And if you miss a payment, she'll put you in jail. That's how those things work, and from the look of her, she'll do it.”

“Thanks for the good news, Abe.” He was spending less money than he usually did on Alex because she had simple tastes, but his overhead was still too high, according to Abe. He kept assuring Coop that the reckoning was coming.

“You'd better marry the Madison girl,” he said, chuckling, wondering if that was why Coop was going out with her. Given who she was, it was hard to imagine Coop didn't have an ulterior motive, and he was still examining his own conscience. He was daily more convinced that he loved her.

And Liz had also called him about the furor in the tabloids. She was outraged.

“What a rotten situation! You never should have gone out with her, Coop!”

“Now you tell me,” he chuckled ruefully. “How's marriage?”

“I love it, although San Francisco takes a little getting used to. I'm always cold, and it's awfully quiet.”

“Well, you can leave him, and come back to me. I always need you.”

“Thank you, Coop.” But she was happy with Ted, and loved his daughters. She was only sorry she had
waited so long to get married. She realized now how much she had sacrificed for Coop. She would have loved to have children of her own, but it was too late for that now. At fifty-two, she had to content herself with Ted's daughters. “What's Alex like?”

“An angel of mercy,” he said, smiling, “the girl next door. Audrey Hepburn. Dr. Kildare. She's terrific. You'd love her.”

“Bring her to San Francisco for a weekend.”

“I'd love to, but she's always working, or on call. She's the senior resident. It's a big responsibility.” It was an odd match for him, Liz couldn't help thinking, but she was obviously very pretty. And the papers said she was thirty, which was the outer limit of the age he liked them. Anything between twenty-one and thirty was fair game for Coop.

Liz also asked him how much he was working. She hadn't seen him in anything lately, not even a commercial. He'd been calling his agent, but nothing seemed to be brewing, for the moment. But as his agent reminded him, he wasn't getting any younger.

“I've been working less than I'd like to, but I've got some irons in the fire. I just talked to three producers this morning.”

“What you need is one big juicy part to get everyone's motors going again. Once they see you in a big part, they'll all want you. You know what sheep producers are, Coop.” She didn't want to say it to him, but he needed a big part playing someone's father. The trouble was Coop still wanted to be the leading man, and no one wanted to hire him for that. But Coop just couldn't see himself as any older, which was why he
was so comfortable with Alex. He never even thought about being forty years older than she was. And neither did Alex. She had pondered the issue initially and as she got to know him and fell in love with him, she dismissed it.

They were lying on his terrace talking about nothing in particular that weekend, when her pager went off. She was on call, but when she glanced down at it, she saw that it wasn't the hospital. She instantly recognized the number, and waited half an hour to pick up her cell phone. Coop was stretched out in a deck chair in the shade next to her, reading the paper, and only listening with half an ear to her conversation.

“Yes, that's right. I had a good time. How are you?” He had no idea who she was talking to, but the exchange didn't sound friendly, and she was frowning. “When?…I think I'm working…I can see you for lunch at the hospital, if I'm covered. How long will you be here?… Fine… see you on Tuesday.” He couldn't tell if she was talking to a friend or someone like a lawyer, but whatever it was, she didn't look as though she'd enjoyed it.

“Who was that?” Coop looked puzzled.

“My father. He's coming to LA on Tuesday for meetings. He wants to see me.”

“That should be interesting. Did he say anything about me?”

“Only that he saw that I was at the Oscars. He never mentioned you by name. He'll save that for later.”

“Should we take him to dinner?” Coop offered generously, although it still unnerved him to think that the man was younger than he was, and far more
important. Arthur Madison was not only made of money, but of power.

“Nope,” Alex said, glancing at him. She was wearing dark glasses, so he couldn't read her expression, but it was definitely not warm and fuzzy, nor was she enthusiastic about seeing her father. “Thanks anyway. I'll see him for lunch at the hospital. He's flying back after his meeting.” Coop knew he had his own 727.

“Maybe next time,” he said pleasantly. But he could see that she wasn't looking forward to the meeting. And ten minutes later, she got called to the hospital for an emergency.

She didn't come back until dinner. And when she did, she went out to the pool for a swim and ran into Jimmy and Mark and his children. And for the first time since she'd met him, she thought Jimmy looked more cheerful. And the kids were delighted to see her. Jessica told her how beautiful she'd looked at the Oscars.

“Thank you. It was a lot of fun,” Alex said easily after swimming around the pool for half an hour. Jessica was in the pool with her and Mark, and Jason and Jimmy were throwing a baseball. Jimmy was telling him how to correct his throw and Jason was listening intently.

And ten minutes later, Jessica was quizzing Alex about what all the stars had been wearing, when Alex heard a whizzing sound overhead, and Jason threw the ball right through Coop's main living-room window.

“Shit!” Mark said under his breath, as the two
women stared and Jimmy gave a whoop of excitement.

“Great throw!” he shouted at Jason before he realized where it had landed. The sound of tinkling glass punctuated his exclamation as Mark and Alex exchanged a look, and Jason looked panicked.

“Uh-oh,” Jessica added, and within instants, Coop was at the pool in barely controlled fury.

“Are we trying out for the Yankees, or just indulging in a little idle vandalism?” He addressed them generally, and Alex was embarrassed for him. There was no doubt about it. He hated mess and disruptions and children.

“It was an accident,” Alex said calmly.

“Why in God's name are you throwing baseballs at my windows?” Coop shouted at Jason. He had seen the catcher's mitt, and it was no mystery who had done it. The boy looked near tears in the face of Coop's outrage, and he was sure he was going to get in big trouble with his father, who had warned him about not rocking the boat by upsetting Mr. Winslow. He had already had one run-in with him with his skateboard.

“I did it, Coop. I'm really sorry.” Jimmy stepped forward. “I should know better.” It broke his heart to see how upset his young friend was, and there wasn't much Coop could do to Jimmy. “I'll replace it.”

“I should hope so. Although I don't believe you. I think it was young Mr. Friedman who did it.” He glanced from Jason to Mark and then back to Jimmy, as Alex got out of the pool and grabbed a towel.

“I'll replace it if you want, Coop,” Alex said generously. “No one meant to do it.”

“This isn't a ballpark,” he said angrily. “Those windows take forever to make, and they're damn near impossible to install.” They were curved and had been blown specially for the house. It was going to cost a fortune to replace it. “Keep your children under control, Friedman,” Coop said unpleasantly and disappeared back into the main house as Alex looked apologetically at the others.

“I'm really sorry,” she said softly. It was a side of him she didn't like to see, but he had warned her often enough that he hated children.

“What an asshole,” Jessica said loudly.

“Jessie!” Mark said sternly, as Jimmy looked at Alex.

“I agree with her, but I'm really sorry. I should have taken him out on the tennis court to throw balls. It never occurred to me he'd throw one through a window.”

“It's okay,” Alex said sympathetically. “He's just not used to kids. He likes everything peaceful and perfect.”

“Life isn't like that,” Jimmy said simply. He dealt with kids every day, and nothing was ever peaceful or perfect or the way you expected, that was what he loved about it. “At least mine isn't.”

“Neither is mine,” Alex said realistically, “but his is. Or he likes to think it is.” They were all thinking of the mess in the tabloids. “Don't worry about it, Jason. It's just a window. Not a person. You can always replace things, not people.” And as she said it, she could have cut her tongue out, as she glanced at Jimmy.

“You're right,” he said softly.

“I'm sorry… I didn't mean that “She was horrified.

“Yes, you did. And you're right. We all forget that sometimes. We get so attached to our stuff, our ‘things.’ It's the people that matter. The rest is all bullshit.”