The next morning Paris rushed out, as she had intended to, to buy everything she needed. She went to a fancy little baby store to buy a bassinet and a changing table, some adorable furniture, with pink bows and butterflies painted on it. And she bought little dresses and hats and booties and sweaters, and a layette fit for a princess. And then she went to three more stores to buy all the practical things. Her station wagon was so full, she could hardly see to drive it, and she got back just in time to unload the car, and put all of it in the guest room upstairs. She was going to put the baby in the bassinet in her own room. But she was going to put everything she needed in the guest room next to hers. She was planning to spend the rest of the weekend organizing it. But there was no hurry. She had all weekend to do it, and at five o'clock she started dinner for Andrew Warren. He had promised to come by at six. Or a little later, if his screenwriter was finally producing something.
She put a roast and some baked potatoes in the oven, and made a big salad. She had bought some crab on the way home, and she thought they could have cracked crab to start, and she put a bottle of white wine in the fridge.
He arrived promptly at six o'clock, and looked pleased to see her. She looked comfortable and relaxed in jeans, and loafers, and a pale blue turtleneck sweater. She didn't make any fuss for him. She didn't consider him a date, but a friend, and he seemed to feel the same. He was wearing an old leather jacket, a gray sweatshirt, and jeans as well.
“How's it going?” she asked him with a warm smile, and he laughed and rolled his eyes.
“God save me from writers with writer's block. When I left, he was on the phone to his shrink. And he had to go to the hospital for an anxiety attack last night. I may have to kill him before we're through.” But he was remarkably patient. And he was more than willing to baby-sit him through it. The screenplay he was writing was for a major movie, with two very major stars, who were represented by her son-in-law. It was a family affair.
They sat in her living room while he ate peanuts and drank wine, and she put some music on.
“What did you do today?” Andrew asked comfortably. He liked her house, it was bright and cheerful, and on a sunny day it was awash with sunlight.
“I did some shopping,” she said, not volunteering what she'd bought. She hadn't told anyone about the adoption, except her kids and Bix so far. And for the moment, she wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want a lot of comments from people she barely knew. And as much as she liked Andrew, they didn't know each other very well. Although he seemed to be very fond of Meg, and said a number of very nice things about her, which touched Paris's heart. He thought she and Richard were going to be a great match. And Paris agreed with him.
They had dinner around seven-thirty, and he loved the dinner she had prepared. He said that crab was his favorite, and the roast came out just right.
“I'm a little out of practice,” she apologized. “I don't cook very often anymore. I'm either working, or I'm too tired to even think of food when I get home.”
“It sounds like you and Bix work very hard.”
“We do, but I love it. And so does he. Next month is going to be crazy for us, the holidays always are. Starting Monday we're going to be working almost every night.” And it was going to be even more complicated for her once the baby came. She was almost hoping it would be late. It would make it a lot easier for her. And Bix had already agreed to let her take off the month of January. But she knew that babies came when they wanted to, witness Jane's, which she'd almost had to deliver herself. At least she wouldn't have to do that this time.
“Do you ever think about just taking some time off for a while?” Andrew asked her casually, and she smiled to herself, thinking of what she had planned.
“Not for very long. I'm actually planning to take some time off after the holidays, but no more than a month. That's a long time for me.”
“I'd love to take a year off one of these days, and take an apartment in Paris or London, and just roam around Europe for a while. Maybe take a villa in Tuscany, or even Provence. It sounds like heaven to me. I keep telling Richard I'm going to do it, and he threatens to have a nervous breakdown every time I suggest it. His actors drive him crazy enough. I don't think he wants my writers on his neck too.” The agency was a huge success, so it wasn't surprising that they had a vast number of difficult personalities to deal with. It was the nature of their work, just as parties and hostesses and brides and their mothers and hysterical caterers were the nature of what she did with Bix. It was obvious that they both enjoyed their work.
