"I'm gonna, Mom." He looked at her with determination all over his face.

"We'll talk about it."

She put him to bed and this time he stayed there. But it had been a very long night, and as Felicia drove home at six-thirty in the morning, she had a feeling that it wasn't over yet. Maybe this time. But Tygue meant what he said. He was going to see his father. She hoped Kate understood that. But at that moment, Kate was already sound asleep in Nick's arms. She got three hours sleep. Stu Weinberg called at nine-thirty.

"Hm?" In the deep haze of sleep, she couldn't figure out who it was. Nick had promised to leave a note out for the car pool, and they would all sleep late. All day, if she could. Nick had said he'd deal with Tygue until she got up.

"Did I wake you?"

"Hm? What? ... No ..." But she was already drifting off again. Nick walked into the room and shook her shoulder.

"Wake up. You're on the phone."

"Huh? Who is this?"

"It's Stu Weinberg, for chrissake. What the h.e.l.l is going on there? Did you go to a wild party last night?"

"Yeah. Very." She sat up in bed, squinting, feeling sick. Her head churned as though she had the worst hangover of her life, but at least now she was functioning. "How's the book?"

"Making you and me both a fortune. In fact, that's why I'm calling. You've got another tour."

"Oh no. Did Nick fix this one too?" She tried to smile, but her face wouldn't comply. What was Nick up to now? But Weinberg insisted Nick had nothing to do with this one. And he sounded sincere. "Then what is it?"

"A week in New York. Your publisher wants you there for promo to keep the book hot on the lists. It's a must, kiddo, especially if you want to hit them pretty soon with the one you're working on now. You'd better stay in their good graces."

"I can't now." There was too much to cope with at home.

"Bulls.h.i.+t, Kate. You have to. You have an obligation to these people. They're making your career." He began to tick off the shows they had booked her on. Too many, maybe. It was going to be an incredible week.

"I told you. I can't."

"You're going to have to. I told them you would."

"How could you do that?" She was ready to cry. And she was still so unbearably tired from the night before.

"I did it because you have no choice. Ask Nick. He knows what this means."

"Never mind that. All right, I'll see. From when to when?"

"You leave in three days. You'll be gone for a week."

"I'll do my best."

"You'll have to do better than that." He was relentless. "I'll call you later to confirm it."

"Okay." She was too weak to argue. She lay back on her pillow and tried to think.

"Who was that?" Nick looked down at her with concern.

"Weinberg."

"Something wrong?"

She nodded. "He called to tell me that my publisher booked me on tour in New York. For a week."

"When?" Nick looked stunned.

"I leave in three days."

"Sonofab.i.t.c.h. I'll kill him." Nick sat down and ran a hand through his hair. "You can't go."

"He says I have to. And he didn't do it. I told you. My publisher did." And besides, dammit, Nick couldn't tell her what she could and couldn't do.

"I don't care who did it. You know G.o.dd.a.m.n well you can't go now. You told him that, didn't you?"

But she hadn't. Even with everything that was happening, she hadn't. Stu had made it sound as if her career were on the line, as though she had to "or else."

"What the h.e.l.l did you tell him?" Nick looked down at her, shocked.

"I told him I'd see what I could do."

"You mean you're going?"

"I don't know. I don't know, dammit. I can't even think. How do I know what I'm doing three days from now?"

"If you have any sense, three days from now you'll be trying to straighten out this mess with your son. That ought to be the number one priority."

"It is, but ... G.o.d.a.m.nit, leave me alone." Would they never get off her back? Nick with his righteous indignation and ideas of perfect parenthood, and Tygue with his overwhelming needs and demands. Jesus, she had a right to some kind of life too. She had a right to the success that was coming her way.

"Falling in love with yourself, aren't you, Kate?" It took every ounce of control not to slap him. "It's not so much fun being a mommy now, is it?"

"Will you leave me alone, d.a.m.n you?" She was shrieking and her voice didn't sound like her own. "What do you want from me? Blood?"

"No, some reality. You have a child who is facing a major crisis in his life. He doesn't need you to go gaily off on tour."

"Well, what about what I need? What about my career? What about what I've given him all these years? Doesn't that count for anything? Don't I get a little time off for good behavior?"

"Is that how you feel about it all, Kate? Is that how you feel about him? About me?" For an insane moment, she wanted to say yes, but she didn't dare.

Her voice was suddenly very quiet. "I just need some time to think. That's all. Just let me work this out for myself." She sat down on the bed and ran a hand through her hair.

"I just don't think you've got much choice."

"I've never had much choice. Maybe right now I need to be able to choose, to make my own decisions."

"You've made decisions before, Kate." Why was he pus.h.i.+ng so hard? Why didn't he get the h.e.l.l off her back? But she didn't say any of what she was thinking. She was suddenly lost in her own thoughts.

"Yeah. I've made derisions before." Like the decision not to tell Tygue about Tom. That had been some great decision, as it turned out.

"What's eating you, Kate? Are you feeling guilty again? Is that it?"

"Dammit, Nick, yes!" She jumped to her feet as she shouted at him again, and this time her eyes were blazing with fury. "Yes, I feel guilty. Okay? Does that make you feel better, to hear me say it? Yes, I feel like this whole mess with Tygue is my own G.o.dd.a.m.n fault. And you know what? It doesn't make me love him any more than I did before. It just makes me want to run away. Because between his being p.i.s.sed off at me and not understanding anything I've done, and you shoving it in my face, I want to get the h.e.l.l away from both of you. How does that sound to you, mister?"

"Just dandy." He turned on his heel and left the room, and she slammed into the bathroom, to emerge ten minutes later looking tidy but still wan. Tygue was still asleep, but Nick was sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee. She poured herself one and looked over at him. He looked like h.e.l.l too.

"I'm sorry I yelled."

"It doesn't matter." His voice was subdued now too, but he looked at her as though examining a visitor from another planet. "Are you going?"

"I don't know."

"It's happening to you, Kate."

"What is?" But she knew what he meant.

"The star trip. The Me-Fabulous-Me syndrome. You have to do what you have to do for your career. Do you have any idea what's happening to that kid right now?" Nick was seething again.

"Do you have any idea what's happening to me? How many ways I'm being pulled?"

"I'm sorry. But you're a grownup. You can deal with it, Kate. He can't ... I know you've had a lot of rotten breaks, but that's no reason to pa.s.s them on to him. He can't help it. And he is totally confused right now about his father."

"And I can't change that. I can't wave a magic wand and make Tom whole again. He's not. And Tygue can't see him. It would be terrible for both of them." She was shouting again.

"I understand that"-he made an effort to lower his voice-"but Tygue doesn't. I just can't believe you'd go to New York now."

"I didn't say I would."

"No, but you will."

"How the h.e.l.l do you know?" She wanted to throw her coffee at him, as he sat there glaring at her, angry and self-righteous. She hated him.

"I know you'll go because you've already been suckered into that whole horses.h.i.+t game of success. The shows, the interviews, the money, the best sellers, all of it. I can see it happening to you, Kate. And I'll tell you something, I'm G.o.dd.a.m.n sorry I had anything to do with it. I'm sorry they put you on the show."

"What does that have to do with it? Look at the money I've made in the last four months. It comes to over a quarter of a million dollars. Me, I made that, all by myself, with one lousy book, with or without your lousy show. Tygue will go to college because of that, he'll go to a good school before college. He'll have everything he needs."

"Except his mother."

"f.u.c.k you."

"You know something? I don't give a d.a.m.n what you do. I just don't want to have to sit here and watch when you tell him you're going to New York."

"Then don't. I'll tell him while you're out."

"You're going, aren't you?" He pushed and he pushed and he pushed ...

"Yes!" It was a long angry wail that seemed to fill the whole house. They were both startled, mostly Kate. She hadn't even been sure she was going. At least, she liked to think that. Actually she had known all along. As soon as Weinberg had told her how important it was for her next book. She wanted that one to do even better than the first. It told her a cold hard empty thing about herself as she sat in the kitchen alone, after Nick had quietly left the room. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was starting to happen to her. The success trip. But not at Tygue's expense ... no ... not Tygue.

She tried to explain it all to him that afternoon, but Tygue didn't want to talk. She tried to make him understand about Tom, about the books, about her work, about what had happened to Tom, about ... but he was only seven. He didn't understand very much. And all he could think about was his father. She gave him an alb.u.m of Tom's old clippings from the golden years of success. Tygue left to devour those in his room. And Kate called Tillie.

Tillie would come to stay in the guest room for the week she was gone. It would ease the burden on Nick, whom Kate barely saw before she left. He came home late both nights, when she was already asleep. And he was out all day. She tried to explain what she felt to Felicia, but she was unsympathetic too. No one understood. Even Tillie seemed cool when she arrived, but perhaps she was only intimidated by the city. Kate was grateful she had come. And Tygue seemed thrilled to see her. In fact, Kate felt suddenly shut out: Tygue was happier to see Tillie than he was to be with her.

"Want me to take you to the airport?" Nick looked at her coolly.

"I can grab a cab. I want to leave Tillie my car here at the house. But it's no big deal."

"Don't be a martyr. I'll drive you."

"I couldn't stand the speeches." There was a chill between them that had never been there before, and it terrified her, but she wouldn't let that show.

"I've made all the speeches I'm going to make. Except for one. You look tired, Kate. Try not to overdo it in New York."

"It's been a rough couple of days. For everyone." She looked over at him and something softened in his eyes.

"Just don't forget that I love you, Cinderella." It was the first time she had seen him soften like that in several days. "What time's your plane?" He smiled a slow smile and she told him what time she had to leave. They both looked at each other with regret. "d.a.m.n." She slipped into her dress. He zipped her up instead of down, and five minutes later they left. It was a quiet trip out to the airport and she was sorry they hadn't had time to make love. It would have done them both good. A reminder of what they had. A peaceful bond before being cannonballed into the madness of New York. But when he kissed her, she knew how much he cared. She waved to him as she boarded the plane, and felt as though she had never been as lonely in her life. She drank a great deal too much wine before reaching New York, but it took the edge off her loneliness, and she slept the last two hours. It was a h.e.l.l of a way to get to New York. Tired and rumpled and hungover. A honeymoon this wasn't. It was for real. And she was alone in the big city. She knew it as she stood on the sidewalk fighting for a cab. The limo they'd sent for her hadn't shown up, and she couldn't find one of her bags. It was a perfect beginning. But things got better after that. In desperation, she shared a cab into the city with a very nice-looking, well-dressed man, an architect from Chicago, somewhere in his late forties. And he was staying at the Regency too.

"How convenient. Do you always stay there?" He made no effort to discover her name, and made pleasant conversation all the way into the city. She looked over at him casually. His hair was gray, his face well-chiseled and fine-featured but worn. His body looked taut and young though. He was attractive, but in a very quiet way. He looked nothing like the healthy, athletic men of California. He looked cosmopolitan and a little pale, but interestingly so.

"I stayed there the last time I was in town."

"I manage to get here about once a month." He glanced at her casually and smiled. They chatted about the buildings, the view, San Francisco, and inadvertently she let slip that she was a writer.

"What a marvelous profession. You must love it." He looked at her with frank envy and she laughed. He made it sound even better than it was.

"I enjoy it a lot." And then, somehow, he drew her out and she found herself telling him about her next book.

"You know, it has a feeling, not a similar plot pattern, but just a family resemblance in terms of mood, to a marvelous book I just read, A Final Season." She began to laugh.

"Have you read it too?" He looked amused as she grinned.

What the h.e.l.l? Why not admit it to him? "Well, not recently. But I wrote it." It took a moment to register and then he looked at her in amazement.

"Did you? But it's a wonderful book!" He looked stunned.

"Then I'll send you a copy of the next one!" She said it teasingly but he immediately whipped out his card and handed it to her with a smile.

"I'll expect you to keep that promise, Miss Harper."

And now he knew her name. She put the card away just as they reached the hotel.

CHAPTER 31.