they seem happy, we've done our best. This is when they write The End' across the screen, dear.” She smiled at him and for the first time in their life together he thought she was serious about it.
“What would you do if you retired?”
“I don't know … spend a year in the South of France maybe. Go play somewhere. We don't have anything in the works.” She hadn't liked anything she'd seen lately, and maybe this was what she had been waiting for, Val's Academy Award so she could leave. There was something sweet about ending with that film, the film that had begun Val's career in a big way, like a legacy she could leave her child, a special gift.
“You could write my memoirs,” Ward teased.
“You do that. I don't even want to write my own.”
“You should.” They had certainly had a full life. He looked at her quietly. It had been a long, exciting night, and she might not mean what she said, although he suspected that she did. “Why don't we think about this for a while, and see if you still feel that way in a month or two. Ill do anything you want.” He was almost fifty-six years old and he wouldn't have minded playing in the South of France. In fact, it sounded pretty good to him, like the old days almost, and they could afford it again now, although they no longer spent money as they once had. No one did anymore. “Let's think about this.”
And when they discussed it again, they decided to leave in June. They decided to make it a year off at first, to see how it felt. They rented a house in the South of France for four months, and after that they rented an apartment in Paris for six. And Faye made a point of seeing each of their children before they left. Her suspicions about Lionel had been correct, this new man in his life was one he cared about a great deal. It seemed to be a good match for him, and they were living quietly together in Beverly Hills. It was the man Faye had met the night of the Academy Awards, and Faye liked him very much.
Valerie was deeply engrossed in preparing for a new role, and she and George were talking about getting married sometime that year, after George finished his new film. And Faye made her promise to come to France for their honeymoon. Val insisted they wouldn't make a fuss and would just sneak away to tie the knot, but they'd come to France for their honeymoon afterwards, and probably bring Danny too. The visit with Anne was more difficult, Faye always found it so hard to talk to her, but she went to see her one afternoon, and found her happily taking care of little Max. Faye thought she didn't look terribly well, and wondered why and Anne confessed that she was pregnant again, which startled Faye.
“Isn't that awfully soon?”
Anne smiled at her. How soon they forget. “Li and Greg were only ten months apart.” And then suddenly Faye smiled. It was true. You wanted them to be different, to be happier, better, safer, and always wise, and instead they did half the things you did yourself and had forgotten about … Val's acting … Anne's passion for a big family … the others had struck out on different paths, but they took parts of their parents with them too. Greg would have been just like Ward as a young man, had he lived … and now here was Anne, repeating history too.
“You're right.” The two women's eyes met, differently than they had in a long, long time. It was as though Anne were facing her now, as though it had to be done, before Faye left. Perhaps they would never have quite this chance again. One could never be sure. “Anne … I …” She didn't know where to begin. There were twenty years to unfold … or maybe five … a lifetime of never quite reaching a child that she loved, and she didn't want to miss her now. “I made a lot of mistakes with you. I don't suppose that's a secret to either of us, is it?”
Anne looked at her honestly, with her child in her arms, and there was no anger in her eyes now. “I don't think I ever made it easy for you … I never understood what you were all about.”