Winter stared at her friend. "What happens?" she echoed. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Do you get moody and unreasonable back?"

"I guess so. If he snaps at me, I snap at him. I don't deserve to take the brunt of his bad moods. No one does."

"Write that across from your point about his mood swings."

Winter did, and remembered the argument they'd had in late March, which had led to the current separation. Pierre had been upset about some incident at the restaurant where he'd been working. Winter couldn't even recall what it was. He'd come over to her place that evening and growled at her and she'd growled right back. Their disagreements usually began that way. She'd look forward to seeing him all day and, five minutes after he arrived, they'd be yelling at each other.

"What do you do when he stands while he's eating the meal you've prepared?"

"I..." Winter slowly wrote it on the pad. "I insist that he sit down."

"What about the messes he makes?"

"I've bribed and pleaded and begged him to pick up his own stuff. I am not his maid and I am not his mother."

"Exactly."

Winter made another notation on the second side of the pad.

"Okay, read me what you've put as your reactions to the first few things that bother you about Pierre."

"Okay." Winter read them aloud. "I get angry back at him. I demand that he sit down, and I bribe and plead with him."

Alix crossed her arms and nodded. "Okay, Pierre upsets you, and you become angry, demanding and manipulative. Do I have that right?"

Hearing it put that way was like seeing something from a completely different vantage point and Winter suddenly realized the role she'd played in their difficulties. "Yes, you're right." Hard as it was to admit, she had to agree. "The problem is, I don't know what to do about it." She sighed. "He just makes me so mad. Maybe I'm not helping the situation but..."

"If Pierre's cranky and upset," Alix said, "you should let him rant and get it out of his system. That's what Jordan did with me. He listened sympathetically and, when I was finished, he gave me a hug." She grinned. "Well, it wasn't always like that. We both had to work at it. After speaking to Jordan's mother, I saw that my reactions contributed to our troubles. Our conversation that day changed our marriage. I'll always be grateful to Susan."

"Your mother-in-law is a smart woman," Winter said. No wonder Pierre couldn't get away from her fast enough. She harped, pouted, retaliated. It wasn't a pretty picture.

As for his own outbursts, Pierre was seldom angry for long. Once he'd vented, it was over for him--but not for her. Perhaps things could change if her reactions to him did.

"He eats standing up out of habit," Winter murmured. "He tastes food in the kitchen at work and he's on his feet, so it's natural for him to do it at home, too."

"What can you do to get him to sit down?"

"Well, I know that getting angry doesn't work. Perhaps if I tell him the meal's ready and politely ask him to sit with me."

"You could try that. Or you could stand and join him," Alix suggested.

Winter laughed, and for the first time since their separation, she felt real hope.

"How'd your mother-in-law figure all this out?" Winter asked.

Alix shrugged. "Her own experience. That, and because she's talked to so many young wives with similar problems."

"Sounds like you married into a great family."

Alix nodded in agreement. "Jordan's a good husband and he'll be a wonderful father." Alix relaxed in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach. "Talking with Susan helped me confront my fears about motherhood, too. Like I said earlier, I might not be a perfect mother, but I intend to be the best one possible."

"I think your baby's fortunate to have two loving parents."

Winter's compliment produced a huge smile from Alix. "Thank you, Winter."

"And thank you for these ideas. Hey, if you ever decide to change careers--not that I want you to--you could be a counselor."

Still smiling, Alix left the office, and Winter got up to close the door. She returned to her computer and sent Pierre a message saying simply that she looked forward to their meeting next week.

Then she began to plan her first stand-up dinner with Pierre.

Chapter Thirty-Two

T he week passed quickly. I was busy and so was Macy. She had a couple of radio spots that paid the bills for all her animals' vaccinations. She was also helping her friend Sherry Franklin at a local craft show. Sher was a potter who relied on Macy at these events; one day soon, I hoped to see her in action, charming hordes of people into buying Sher's cat-shaped mugs and bowls. Macy had done some work on the mural, but I didn't mind that its completion was delayed by these other commitments. It just meant I'd have her at the clinic longer. In any case, we'd managed to talk every day and see each other three separate evenings. Thursday, the night before the awards dinner, Macy showed me the dress she planned to wear. She sat me down on her sofa, and with all three cats around me, one on each side and Snowball on the back of the sofa, I waited patiently for the grand unveiling. Sammy rested at my feet, his chin on my shoes. It was a characteristic posture of his and one that, according to Macy, signified his approval of me.

When Macy appeared I nearly slid off the sofa. In a word, Macy's dress was stunning. I'm not much for fashion and I couldn't name a designer if my life depended on it, but I knew this dress was out of the ordinary. She'd purchased it at a tremendous discount while modeling for a catalog shoot.

Seeing Macy in that dress took my breath away. "I'll be the envy of every man there," I told her. "You could walk on the red carpet at the Oscars and not be out of place."

Macy blushed with pleasure.

At one time I'd dreaded this whole outing, but now I regarded it with a pleasurable sense of anticipation. I'd be proud to have Macy with me tomorrow evening. Ritchie had purchased tickets for himself and Steph, and Patrick would be at my table, as well as his wife, Melanie. So would our third partner, Yvette Schauer, and her husband. This would be the ideal opportunity to introduce Macy. And of course, I had the ring for later. I pictured Macy and me toasting each other with champagne, imagined slipping the diamond on her finger...

Macy stroked the dress. "It hardly cost anything and I bought it on faith that one day I'd have somewhere special to wear it."

Apparently, buying things on faith was a habit of hers. "Faith, not trust?" I asked.

"No, faith," she insisted. "The way I figured it, if this dress came to my attention, then there'd be an occasion when I'd need it." She fanned out the skirt at her sides. "Now I do have an occasion to wear it. Same with the dog food."

"Dog food? What's the connection between this dress and dog food?"

"There isn't one. But you see, about a month before I found Sammy, I happened upon a closeout sale on dog food and bought a twenty-five-pound bag. Naturally I didn't know at the time that Sammy would turn up in my life, so when he did, I was prepared. Well, sort of."

"Sort of?" I wondered where this answer would lead our conversation. Macy was unlike anyone I'd ever known and she saw the world in what I could only describe as a very individual way. The more I was around her the more I was enthralled. I'd grieved for Hannah so long and so intensely that I'd forgotten how addictive joy could be.

"Well," she went on to explain, "the night I found Sammy I'd forgotten about the dog food and fed him the same thing I do the cats. He was too hungry to be choosy, but all along I had that twenty-five-pound bag of kibble on the back porch and I'd completely forgotten about it. I remembered it the next afternoon. He was a happy camper after that."

I had to laugh. "That explains it, then."

"Will the dress do?" she asked, whirling around one last time to offer me a full view.

"It's perfect." And it was.

She made an elegant little curtsy in response.

"Shall I pick you up at five-thirty?" I asked, reaching down to pet Sammy. "The dinner starts at seven, but there's a social hour first."

"Could you come at five forty-five?" she asked.

I frowned, suddenly suspicious. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

She avoided eye contact. "The shoot for the TV commercial is tomorrow."

I exhaled slowly as understanding dawned. I remembered now. Of course this new job was important to Macy, but tomorrow's dinner was important to me. Important to both of us, although she didn't know that yet. "You're afraid the taping might run late?"

She nodded. "We're supposed to be done by five, but there are no guarantees."

I mulled it over, then gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll make it work."

"How?"

"I'll go on to the dinner ahead of you, and you can join me once you're done, no matter how late it is." This was a sensible compromise. I'd rather have Macy with me when I arrived, but that couldn't be helped. And afterward, I'd bring her back to my house--Hannah's house--for the first time. Because soon, I hoped, it would be Macy's, too.

"You don't mind?" she breathed.

"It'll be fine." Seeing the relief on her face was all the reward I needed. Although I wouldn't object if she wanted to express her gratitude in other ways...

As if reading my thoughts, Macy threw her arms around me and brought her mouth to mine. I pulled her into my lap and kissed her repeatedly, unzipping the back of her dress. While my hands explored her slim body, she smiled and spread happy kisses over my face. I could see that my life with Macy was going to be a wild ride--one I was eager to experience.

Friday night, I arrived at the hotel as scheduled and made excuses for Macy. All during the cocktail hour, I watched and waited expectantly. Obviously, the TV shoot had gone on much longer than planned. I could only imagine how nerve-racking this must be for her.

She still hadn't appeared when the ballroom doors were opened, but I wasn't too concerned, even though the crowd had begun to file in.

"You sure she's coming?" Ritchie muttered, following me into the ballroom. This was a question he'd asked more than once.

"She'll be here," I said confidently as we wove between tables looking for our assigned seating. The room was filling up quickly.

Because I'd been nominated for this award, my table was close to the front of the massive ballroom. I'd told Macy that the table number was listed on the dinner ticket and hoped she'd notice it.

"Is she perpetually late?" Ritchie asked as we found our place.

"She has a part in a commercial," I said. I'd explained as much several times.

We sat down with one empty space next to me. The salads were already on the table and the noise of clanking silverware and conversation rose to the vaulted ceiling. I'd selected my seat so I had a view of the door. I wanted to see Macy as soon as she came in.

The poached salmon with wild rice and asparagus was brought out by an army of servers in white jackets. As they moved smoothly about the ballroom, I became aware of a commotion in the back. The noise level instantly fell as half the room turned to find out what had caused the ruckus.