He drove her to the city, as they chatted comfortably, about business, as usual. And the first house they saw was a disappointment. But after that, they saw two others, both of them in Pacific Heights. One needed too much work, though it was a pretty, old house and had great views, and the other seemed a little small to her, although Cal liked it. But she thought it was a little claustrophobic.
“Depends how many kids you plan to have,” he said, as they got back in his car. He had just suggested they have lunch at The Waterfront, they were both starving.
“Very funny. You know I don't want kids, Cal. I have Dow Tech now. That's my new baby.”
“I'm not sure your husband is as clear on that as I am,” he smiled. “He said something about it to me when you two came to dinner, after he'd been swimming with my children.”
“I know,” she said uncomfortably. It was a sore subject. “He keeps pushing, and I think that's part of why he wants to move out here. I just can't see it for me, now more than ever.”
“I think you're just scared, and I still believe in my earlier theory.”
“What? That I'm not committed to Steve? Now that you've met him, how can you say that?”
“I'm not saying you're not committed to him,” he corrected her. “I think you are, as much as anyone ever is. Maybe you don't trust the relationship, or the future.” It was an old theory with him. She had heard it that first week and here it was again.
“After nearly fifteen years, I don't know what's not to trust. He's not going anywhere, and neither am I. I just trust my own instincts. I know myself, and just as you said about Charlotte a long time ago, I'm not very maternal. I think it's a mistake to go against that.”
“Is that what you always agreed on right from the beginning?” he asked, as they headed down Divisadero Street toward the water.
She hesitated before she answered. “Probably not. But I was twenty-three years old when we got married, I'm not sure I knew myself that well then, or understood how much my career would come to mean to me. It takes a while to figure that out,” she said very clearly.
“I know. But there's usually more to it than careers, and I think you know that.”
“I don't know what you mean when you say that, Cal.”
“I've known people who were married to the same people for years, and never had kids, either because they didn't want to, or thought they couldn't, and the next thing you know, they've fallen for someone else, get remarried, and bang, they're pregnant. It's not a new theory. Just the nature of the beast,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Are you saying you think Steve and I will get divorced?” She looked startled by the suggestion. It was something she never even thought of.
“God knows, I hope not. I guess I'm just saying that nothing is predictable in life, and if you look deep enough, I'll bet there are other reasons why you don't want children, not all of them work-related. Maybe you don't think you'd be good parents.”
“I think he would, if he weren't working forty-eight-hour stretches. I'm not so sure about myself. Maybe you're right though. If we'd have wanted kids, we probably would have had them. People do seem to have them no matter what, no matter how wrong the circumstances are, or how bad the timing.”
“Maybe he doesn't really want them either, and he uses you as the scapegoat.” They were all new ideas to her, but some of them were worth a closer look, and she wondered if Cal was closer to the truth than she wanted to believe.
Lunch at The Waterfront was fun, and the view was spectacular. And afterward, they drove by the Palace of the Legion of Honor, and walked around for a little while, chatting, and admiring the paintings. And when they left, he invited her to join him and his children for dinner.
“You're going to get tired of me, if you eat three meals a day with me,” she teased, but he insisted.
“Since I got you stuck alone here all weekend, the least I can do is feed you.” But she was having such a nice time with him that she didn't resist him. He was so easy to be with, and they always had so much to talk about, mostly about his business.
The kids didn't seem surprised to see her that night.
Mary Ellen was at a friend's, and Andy and Julie were watching videos. But when they came down and saw her, they greeted her like an old friend. Andy was all excited about the football game they were going to on Sunday. The ‘Niners were playing the Broncos.
“Are you coming with us?” Andy asked her with interest over dinner.
“No, I'm not,” she said politely.
“Why not?” Cal asked, as he smiled at her. “That's a great idea. Do you like football?”
“Sometimes. I'm a big baseball fan. It's usually too cold in New York to go to football games without freezing to death.”
“It's better here,” Julie reassured her, and somehow Meredith got swept away by the tides of their enthusiasm, and the next thing she knew she had agreed to join them.
“Are you sure the children won't mind?” she asked Cal after they left the table.
“Of course not. Why would they? You're part of the family now, Meredith. They're perfectly comfortable with you.”
“They just liked Steve because he played Marco Polo with them.”
“Yes, they did. But they like you too. Julie thinks you're smart, and Andy thinks you're very pretty. He has good taste,” he said proudly, “he takes after me.”
“And Mary Ellen hates me,” she said, laughing at the double compliment. “Maybe you should ask her.”
“She likes you too. She just takes longer to warm up to people than the others. But the last time you were here, she loved what you were wearing. At her age, that's a major issue. She said you were ‘cool,’ which is a big deal to her. I'm not ‘cool,’ in case you want to know, because I'm her father. She thinks I'm two hundred years old, and really dumb most of the time. Last week she told me I was pathetic.”
“See what I mean,” Meredith said, looking awed by him, he handled it all with such ease, from business to babies. “I wouldn't know how to deal with that. If my daughter told me I was pathetic, I'd be heartbroken.”
“You toughen up eventually. After they tell you they hate you a few million times, you begin to miss it when they don't say it. ‘Pathetic’ is high praise, coming from a fourteen-year-old. It's better than ‘retarded.’ I was ‘retarded’ last year, and ‘evil’ earlier this summer. And last week Julie told me I was really stupid, but that was because I said she can't wear lipstick. You have to learn the jargon.” He was laughing and so was Meredith. He made it all seem so easy.
“I think business school was a lot easier than having children would be.”
“This is different,” he said, and then touched her hand gently. “You're a hell of a nice woman, you know, Merrie. And good company. Thank you for being here this weekend.” He knew it had been a sacrifice for her, and he wanted to make it up to her. And she was so pleasant to be with. He had even enjoyed house-hunting with her, and they had both laughed when the real estate agent thought he was her husband, but it had been a normal assumption. He had noticed that she hadn't been too anxious to find a house, and seemed to find fault with all of them. He wondered if she really wanted to live in the city. He knew it was a concession she was making for Steve, but he was beginning to suspect she wanted to stay in Palo Alto. It would certainly be easier for her. “How are you liking your apartment, by the way? Are you comfortable there?”
“I love it,” she admitted. “I'm going to have to give it up and move into the city. Steve has his heart set on a house there. Actually, I think I prefer an apartment.”