She and Harry danced long after Chauncey and Felicia and their guests left. Frieda sat happily in her wheelchair, enjoying the music and watching the people. They all had midnight supper, and it was two in the morning when all three Rubinsteins left. Frieda said that if she hadn't broken her ankle and been in a cast, she would have danced all night. She said it was the most magical evening of her life. Just seeing how thrilled she was to have been there touched Harry's and Olympia's hearts.
Charlie had made a point of coming to say goodbye to them before he left with the girls. They were going to a private club to dance some more. It was a night none of them would ever forget. Charlie had whispered to his mother before he left, “Thanks again, Mom, I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” She smiled at him. For that one night, everything that mattered bonded them to each other. Both girls had come to thank her. Even Veronica said she'd had a great time, which was exactly what Harry said as they left.
“I had a terrific time, Ollie,” he said, looking at her tenderly. He loved what she had done for his mother. She had known instinctively how much it meant to Frieda, and nothing in the world could have stopped Olympia from getting her there. Each in their own way, they had all come out that night. Perhaps Harry most of all. He had given up his radical ideals for just a moment, allowed himself to be mellowed, and discovered that it wasn't such a travesty to move in many worlds. Frieda's eyes were still sparkling as they got in the limousine. Tonight Frieda was Cinderella, Olympia had been her fairy godmother. And Harry had turned out to be the handsome prince after all.
The three of them gathered in the kitchen when they got home, where Harry made omelets. Frieda was still wearing her beautiful black velvet dress, as Harry loosened his tie. They sat at the kitchen table, talking about each special moment of the night.
“That was quite a dress Felicia was almost wearing,” Harry said as he finished his omelet, and Olympia laughed.
“She suits Chauncey to perfection, better than I did,” Olympia said generously. “Maybe Veronica broke the ice with her goofy tattoo. Madame Butterfly. Maybe I should get one, too.”
“Don't you dare!” Harry growled at her, looking more handsome than ever to his mother and his wife.
Olympia helped Frieda get into bed, while Harry cleaned up the kitchen. Frieda looked up at her daughter-in-law from her pillows, with stars in her eyes.
“Thank you, Olympia. I had the best time I've ever had.”
“Me too,” Olympia said honestly. “I'm so happy you and Harry were there.”
“He's a good boy,” Frieda said proudly. “I'm glad he did the right thing.”
“He always does,” Olympia said, and kissed her good night, then she turned off the light and left the room. Harry was waiting for her in the hallway outside his mother's room. They walked upstairs hand in hand and quietly closed the door to their bedroom, so they didn't wake Max. The sitter Harry had called at the last minute had left when they got home. She'd been fast asleep in Charlie's room, since it was nearly three. It was almost four when Harry unzipped Olympia's dress and looked at her with pleasure, and then she remembered what she hadn't been able to tell him until then. Her eyes grew serious as she looked at him.
“Charlie told me something very important tonight.”
“That he has a tattoo, too?” he teased, and she shook her head. She wasn't sad for Charlie. She had enormous respect for him.
“Charlie came out tonight, too.”
“Out of what?” Harry asked, looking confused, and then he understood. It didn't completely surprise him, although he had never been sure. But he had wondered once or twice, and didn't want to say anything to Olympia, in case his suspicions weren't accurate. He was afraid it might upset her. It hadn't. It had surprised her, but she loved him more than ever.
“He told me,” she said proudly. She was touched by the faith he had put in her. “When we were dancing, right before you got there.”
“I wondered what he was saying to you. I was watching you while you danced with him. You looked beautiful.” He came to put his arms around her then. “Are you okay with it?” He looked concerned. It was a big admission for her son to make, with many ramifications that would affect him and all of them for years. For the rest of his life.
“I think I am. I just want him to be happy. He looked a lot happier once he told me than he has in a long time.”
“Then I'm glad. And relieved for both of you. You know,” he said as he sat down on their bed and looked at her. “You were right. I think a coming-out party is a good thing. It's a lot like a bat mitzvah. It's one of those times that makes everybody feel good, not just the girls, but all their friends and families, and everyone who shares it with them. I loved seeing my mom there. And I loved dancing with you and the girls. And stupid as it sounds, when Chauncey shook my hand on the dance floor, it brought tears to my eyes.”
There had been tears in his eyes several times that night, and in hers. It had been a night of love and celebration, a night of hope and remembrance, a night when girls became women, children became adults, and strangers became friends. Just as she had said it would be, it was a rite of passage, and a lovely tradition, and nothing more. It was a night when he had come out from an old world into a new one, when others got a glimpse backward into an old one. When the past and future met in one shining moment, when time stopped, sadness slipped away and was forgotten, and life began.
About the AuthorDANIELLE STEEL has been hailed as one of the world's most popular authors, with over 560 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include Sisters, H.R.H., The House, Miracle, ImPossible, Echoes, Second Chance, Ransom, and other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina's life and death. Visit the Danielle Steel Web Site at www.daniellesteel.com.
BUNGALOW 2
on sale June 26, 2007
It was a beautiful hot July day in Marin County, just across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco, as Tanya Harris bustled around her kitchen, organizing her life. Her style was one of supreme order. She loved having everything tidy, in its proper place, and in control. She loved to plan, and therefore she rarely ran out of anything, or forgot to do anything. She enjoyed a predictably efficient life. She was small, lithe, in good shape, and didn't look her age, which was forty-two years old. Her husband, Peter, was forty-six. He was a litigator with a respected San Francisco law firm, and didn't mind the commute to Ross, across the bridge. Ross was a prosperous, safe, highly desirable suburban community. They had moved there from the city sixteen years before because the school system was excellent. It was said to be the best in Marin.
Tanya and Peter had three children. Jason was eighteen and was leaving for college at the end of August. He was going to UC Santa Barbara, and although he couldn't wait to go, Tanya was going to miss him terribly. And they had twin daughters, Megan and Molly, who had just turned seventeen.
Tanya had loved every moment of the last eighteen years, being a full-time mom to her kids. It suited her perfectly. She never found it burdensome or boring. The tedium of driving car pools had never seemed intolerable to her. Unlike mothers who complained of it, she loved being with her children, dropping them off, picking them up, taking them to Cub Scouts and Brownies, and she had been head of the parents' association of their school for several years. She took pride in doing things for them, and loved going to Jason's Little League and basketball games, and whatever the girls did as well. Jason had been varsity in high school, and was hoping to make either the basketball or tennis team at UCSB.