Lost and Found - Danielle Steel Page 0,52

like a stranger at home, and was sent to boarding school immediately, which he hated, but not going would have been unthinkable. And he was amazed that his son, Theo, liked his school. William said he had gone to university in England at Oxford, and lived in London while he was married. He said the marriage hadn’t lasted long. It had been an unfortunate mismatch, and he’d only been married once. He admitted that he found all the ancient traditions in England stifling, and he felt freer to do what he wanted in the States, although he missed his son. And he confessed that a small inheritance from a generous relative had allowed him to leave England and come to the States to write. He had moved to California. First L.A., where he’d done some movie scripts, and now Big Sur. He said it was a good place to write his books, but fairly boring living there. You could only admire the view for so long. He went to San Francisco and L.A. for occasional cultural events, but he spent most of his time writing and not much else.

“Me too,” Maddie admitted about her work habits. “I’m something of a workaholic. That and I’m on planes all the time, to some pretty uncivilized places, but I love it. I couldn’t do that when my children were young. It would have been irresponsible.”

“You strike me as a very independent, adventurous woman, and probably fearless in the bargain.”

“Not fearless,” she confessed, although she had been in some very dicey situations that would have terrified most people. “But independent and adventurous, yes. My older daughter has been complaining about it and thinks I should slow down.”

“I don’t believe in that. I think you’ll stay young forever if you keep doing what you love. There’s plenty of time to slow down later, much later, when you have no other choice. But until your arms drop off and your legs fall off, there’s no valid reason to slow down.” She beamed as he said it. He was a year older than she was, at fifty-nine, and was an only child like her.

“That’s what I think. My fall off the ladder was the excuse she’s been waiting for to try and get me to sell the house I love.”

“Nonsense, that’s a terrible idea. I think you should go right on, at full speed, trying to get up the hill on a narrow rocky path with a cast on. It’s quite the right attitude about life,” he said, and she laughed at him. He was nice to talk to and very knowledgeable on a number of subjects that interested her.

“I’ll tell her you said so.”

“Excellent. I’ll send it to her in writing, if you like. Think of all the famous people who went on at full tilt into their eighties and nineties. You have decades ahead of you before you think of slowing down. Keep the house!”

“That’s my theory,” Maddie said happily.

“Stick with it. By the way, would you want to have dinner with me tonight? There’s a very nice little restaurant quite nearby, if you have no other plans.” She liked the idea, and she followed him in her car to a small French restaurant. They had a delicious meal and a lively conversation, and then he drove behind her back to the hotel to make sure she got there safely. He suggested a walk the next morning, and she accepted. It was more fun being with him than taking nature hikes on her own.

He picked her up the next day at eleven, and they walked for two hours, and then had lunch at her hotel. They talked nonstop, laughed a lot, and covered everything from literature to history and art.

She was going to San Francisco the following day, and she agreed to have lunch with William before she left. He took her to a funny hippie place that had been popular in the sixties, and there were a lot of aging surfers there in tie-dyed shirts.

William said he was sorry she was leaving and hoped to see her again sometime, which seemed unlikely.

“I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, Maddie. I get a bit rusty here with nothing but my work.”

“Do you ever come to New York?” she asked hopefully. He had made her stay in Big Sur infinitely more pleasant, and less mournful, after learning of Andy’s death.

“There’s an American publishing house that reprints my work, but my agent and main publisher