Nine Lives - Danielle Steel Page 0,78

even one. She and Jeff had had their ups and downs, and had finally accepted that it would never be exactly what either of them wanted, but it was good enough. But what Paul and Maggie shared was very different. They were like soul mates who had found each other at last, or found each other again. Helen didn’t even think Maggie had been as well suited to Brad, but would never have said it to her, out of respect for the dead. Paul was what every woman dreamed of, and only a rare few ever found. Maggie had.

“If you don’t marry him, I will,” Helen whispered to her, and Maggie laughed.

“He hasn’t asked,” Maggie reminded her. In fact, the subject had never come up, and Maggie hadn’t been longing to marry him, she was comfortable as she was. They had everything they wanted and needed, and she wasn’t sure if marriage was necessary, or if she even wanted it. If she married him, she might wind up a widow again. Although if he was killed racing, married or not, it would be just as bad. “I thought I’d let him calm down a bit, before I think about it. Like maybe when he’s eighty or ninety. I don’t think he’ll be civilized much before that. He needs to burn off some energy first. He’s going helicopter skiing the day after Thanksgiving. He’s officially crazy.” Jeff overheard her say it and questioned Paul about it, who said he’d been doing it for ten years.

“I’m the old man in the group now, but they let me come anyway. I figure I’ll stop doing it next year. I just turned fifty, so I’m going to make this the last time.”

“I’ve always wanted to do that. Helen won’t let me.” Jeff cast a glance at his wife and rolled his eyes.

“No problem. Just leave me the full amount for the boys’ college education in an account, and you can go helicopter skiing anytime you want,” Helen said tartly. “But you’re not leaving me stuck with that.” They all laughed, but Helen looked serious. Having three kids had been a stretch for them financially, even though Jeff had a good job. She’d given up her own job as a copywriter in advertising to raise them, and it hadn’t been easy for them with only one income.

Aden, Maggie, and Paul had dinner in town the next night, and then Aden went out with his friends. The next day they had what Paul called a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving.

“I used to see pictures in magazines of people who had Thanksgivings like this. I’ve never seen one for real, let alone had one.” He looked on the verge of tears again.

The turkey was a perfect golden brown, the vegetables looked like an artist had painted them. Maggie had set the table with her mother’s best lace tablecloth. She had used the china that had belonged to Brad’s parents, and the crystal they had bought to go with it. The food was perfect and smelled delicious. Aden sliced the turkey the way he had seen his father do every year, and Paul opened the bottle of wine Aden had taken him to buy the day before. The food tasted as good as it appeared, and for dessert Maggie had outdone herself with apple, pumpkin, mince, and pecan pies, with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream. It was a feast, and their conversation was lively and happy. Aden put music on and they danced afterwards, the three of them, and then he went out with friends, while Maggie and Paul tidied up the kitchen, and then danced to the music still playing. There was an old song from the forties playing that Maggie had always liked, and remembered her mother singing.

“If I die this minute, I’ll have been a happy man,” Paul whispered to her, and she smiled.

“I’m happy too. I love having you here. I was afraid the house wasn’t nice enough for you. You’re used to such fancy places now.”

“Don’t forget where I grew up,” he reminded her. “I always dreamed of having a house like this. What I have now is an accident. It’s a winning lottery ticket and I know it. This is what I always wanted, and never had. It’s my dream. I love this house, and you in it, and Aden and all the places he showed me when I got here: his school, the pond, all of it.” It was