Charles didn't even glance up, though he was aware that the query had come from a nurse who had just entered the OR from the scrub room. "I really don't need any interruptions just now, nurse."
"Sorry, doctor. But Doctor Richards says he needs your help as soon as possible, please. Car accident victim, a young boy."
Charles swore under his breath. Bad enough these things had to happen at all, but why did they have to happen at the worst possible time too?
"I can't do this in less than half-an-hour," he said, "Tell Richards I'll be with him as soon as I can."
"Yes, doctor."
It was another twenty-eight minutes before Charles stepped back from the patient and told the Resident assisting him to close. "And when you're finished here, tell his daughter he's come through the operation," he added, "She's in the waiting room. Let her know I have another patient, will you?"
Entering the Intensive Care room, Charles went across to Al Houlihan's bed and picked up the notes from the end rail. "Hello," he said, quietly, as Margaret got up from the chair by her father's bedside and came over to him. "How's he doing?"
"You're supposed to tell me, aren't you?" she smiled.
"You can take a pulse just as well as I can, Margaret," he said, though he moved across to check it anyway, "Don't tell me you haven't been checking it all afternoon."
"It's steady," she said, confirming what Charles' own fingers were telling him, "And strong. His colour's good." She waited till he'd finished his checks, then reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Charles."
"He's not out of the woods yet," cautioned Charles, consulting his watch and jotting an entry on the notes, "But so far so good."
"How's the little boy?" said Margaret, "The other doctor told me you'd had to go help."
Charles missed the hook that the notes went on, took a second try, succeeded on the third.
"Charles?"
"He died." He took a breath, let it out slowly. "The internal damage was just... too much for his system to cope with. There wasn't anything we could do."
"Oh, hell. I'm sorry." She looked around at her father, who was sleeping peacefully. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I don't know where the nearest bar is."
He shook his head. "I've just had to tell that boy's mother that her son's dead," he said, "Because some drunk in a car smashed into them. So you'll forgive me if I feel a little queasy at the thought of liquor just at the moment. If you'd like a coffee, though, we can adjourn to my office for a while. I'm due a break."
Back in his office, Charles took the coffee cups Miss Walters brought in, handed Margaret hers, and sat down next to her on the sofa. "God, I hate days like this," he said, "I don't mean your dad..."
"No, I understand," she said, "Losing a patient's always upsetting, but kids - they're the worst."
Charles nodded. "He was only four," he said, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. He sighed. "At least he wouldn't have known much about it, poor little beggar."
"Charles - would it have made any difference if you hadn't been... busy when they brought him in?"
He thought for a moment, knowing she wouldn't appreciate a glib response. "No. No, it was always going to be futile, I think. We just had to try..." He sighed, sipped his drink. "Now I've got to go back downstairs and tell that drunken half-wit what he's done."
"Couldn't one of the Junior Doctors do that?"
"Of course," he said, "But I want to see that moron's face when I break the news to him."
He drained the last of his coffee, and Margaret did the same. "Charles, will it be okay for me to stay with dad tonight?" she said, "I know it's not SOP, but…"
Charles smiled. "I could waste my breath saying 'no', but since your 'uncle' Bob's office is only a few doors along, and since telling you that you can't do something is tantamount to giving you a green light, I might as well just cave in now," he said. "Though you might want to consider availing yourself of my couch over there, if you'd rather? My back's still recovering from sitting up all night with Ellie, so it's not exactly something I'd recommend."
"Oh, Charles, I'm sorry! I've been so worried about dad, I haven't even asked you how she is!"
"Well, she's recovered physically," he said, "But she still gets a bit down sometimes. Maybe you'd have time for a visit tomorrow, I know she'd love to see you."
"I'd like that."
"You can come for dinner, if your aunt doesn't already have plans?"
"I'm sure that'll be fine."
"Good. Then I'll tell Ellie to have a fatted calf slain," he grinned, getting to his feet. "I'll look in on your dad again before I go home, and let the duty nurse know it's okay for you to be there," he promised, leading the way back to the main wing, "Meanwhile – I have an inebriate to rebuke."
As Charles collected the notes from the end of the bed, the patient stirred and moaned, indicating his medication was starting to wear off.
Charles figured the morphine could wait for a few minutes, and went to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Where am I?" said the man, squinting up at him from beneath a mop of unruly curls that clearly hadn't seen a barber for months.
"Boston Mercy," said Charles, "Do you remember anything about how you got here?"
After a moment's thought, the patient shook his head, wincing at the gentle movement. "Guess I was outta my head again," he said, looking down the bed toward his tractioned left leg. "What'd I do this time? Punch another cop?"
"Not so far as I know," said Charles. "What you did do was get into a car and 'steer' it, if I can use that term, into the side of another vehicle. One that contained a small boy and his mother."
"Oh, Christ!" The man's eyes widened with shock. "Are they okay?"
Charles shook his head. "I'm afraid the boy died on our operating table," he said. "You can judge for yourself how his mother is."
The man's face contorted with an agony that Charles was sure could not be attributed to the broken leg. "I trained to be a doctor," he said, "I wanted to save lives, not…"
Charles glanced down at the notes on the clipboard, to check the man's name. John McIntyre. Now why did that…?
He hesitated for a moment, then said: "Trapper?"
McIntyre's jaw sagged open, and he stared up at Charles in utter confusion. "How d'you know that?" he croaked.
"I was Major Burns' replacement at the 4077th," said Charles, "Fortunately for all concerned, I happen to be as brilliant as he was incompetent." A beat. "But I still couldn't save that boy today."
"God, don't rub it in," said McIntyre, "I feel bad enough as it is." He bit his lip. "How old was he?"
Charles paused before he replied. He was beginning to feel sorry for the man – after all, as Ellie was so fond of pointing out, he could still put away a fair amount of alcohol himself when the mood took him. Though never when he had to drive. "He was four," he said adding, with a sigh, "He wouldn't have known anything about it."
"Not much consolation to his mother, is it?" McIntyre turned his head away. "I feel sick."
"Yes, well, as a father myself, I'd say that's no more than you deserve, and that I hope your leg's giving you hell too," said Charles, standing up, beckoning to the nurse, and making a note on the chart. "But as a doctor, I'll have to give you something to help you sleep."
"Doc?"
"Yes?"
"You didn't tell me your name."
"Charles Emerson Winchester," he said, administering the morphine the nurse brought over, "I'm Head of Thoracic Surgery here."
"I coulda done that," said McIntyre, "Once. Long time ago. I coulda done that." He heaved a sigh. "D'you know what's really awful?" he asked, as Charles returned the chart to its rightful place. He grimaced. "I could really use a drink."
Trapper came round slowly, hoping his conversation with that Winchester guy had just been a bad dream. But the pain in his leg was real enough and, when he opened his eyes and saw he was indeed in a hospital ward, the other pain returned – the one he knew he'd never recover from: the boy...
With a sigh, he turned his head to look around a little – and found a very familiar figure sitting in the chair beside him.
"Hawkeye? What…? How…?"
"Margaret called me," said Hawkeye, "And I got on the first plane over here. How are you doing, Trap?"
"I'm kinda confused at the moment. How'd Margaret know I was here?"
"She was upstairs when you were brought in, visiting her father. Charles had just performed a heart operation on him. So when Charles realised who you were, he told Margaret, and she phoned me."
"Oh. You two kept in touch then?"
"Yeah, you could say that. We're still married anyway."
"Oh man. I don't think I can take any more shocks – unless you're going to tell me you named your eldest kid 'Trapper'."
"No. Well, not yet anyway – we don't have any kids." Hawkeye shrugged. "Maybe just as well – Margaret works in Portland most of the week, she just kinda visits me at weekends." He paused. "Would it be awkward of me to ask where Louise is?"
"I wish I knew," said Trapper, "At least then I'd know where my girls are." He sighed, shook his head. "It was all my own fault, Hawk, I know that – too many women, too much drink – but not to let me even see my kids…"
"Was that why… uh…?" Hawkeye gestured at the plaster cast, obviously at a loss to put the rest of it into words.
"I don't know. I guess that was part of it." Trapper looked away. "I stopped needing a reason to drink a long time ago. But I'm trying to promise myself never to drink again. Not after this. I don't know how I'm going to live with myself."
"Well, first thing you've got to do is get better," said Hawkeye, "Then, if you like, you can come stay with dad and me for a while out at the Cove. Just till you get yourself sorted out."
"That sounds good," he said, still unable to meet his friend's gaze, "Can I think about it?"
"Sure. It's not like you'll be going anywhere for a while yet."
Trapper nodded, gratefully. For now though, he needed a change of subject. "I still can't believe you and Margaret got spliced," he said, "And what happened to Frank? Who's this Winchester guy? Did Klinger ever get that Section 8 he was bucking for?…"
May 1956 - Crabapple Cove
As Margaret lifted her bag of groceries from the car and walked up towards the house, she could see Hawkeye and Trapper waving to her from the porch.
"Hey Margaret!" Hawkeye waved an envelope, "Letter from Sherm!"
"That's great, how is he?" she said, as she strode up the steps. She gave Hawkeye a quick kiss and pulled Trappers hat down over his eyes by way of greeting.
"Don't know - thought we'd wait till you got home to open it," said Hawkeye.
"In that case, I'll pour myself a... uh... lemonade, and I'll be right back," she said, leaning against the front door to push it open.
"Margaret, I've told you before, if you want a real drink, have a real drink," called Trapper, straightening his hat - but when she came out again she was carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses on it.
"Daniel down at the creek again?" she asked.
"Yep. He's promised us a fat trout for supper," said Hawkeye.
"Hah!" Margaret poured the drinks and handed them round. "Good thing I bought us some steaks then."
"Oh ye of little faith." Hawkeye put his feet up on the porch rail, took a sip of lemonade, and flourished the envelope. "Roll up, roll up for the grand opening!" he announced, loudly.
"Oh, stow it," said Margaret, good-naturedly, sitting herself down in Daniel's rocking-chair, "Come on, what's the news?"
"Okay, okay." Breaking open the envelope and unfolding the letter, Hawkeye read out loud:
'Dear Margaret and Hawkeye,
Sorry for not writing sooner, things have been kind of busy around here.
I finally let Mildred talk me into putting up that white picket fence she's always wanted, and my painting hand was so tired I couldn't hold a pen for a fortnight! Still, it looks real nice, and Mildred's happy as a horse in hay, so I guess it was worth all the hard work. Next on her list of Things To Do is clearing out the garage, but the river's full of fish practically begging to be brought ashore, and my grandson's coming to stay next weekend, so I'm hoping Mildred will forget about the garage for a while!
Guess you heard from the Klingers? Max sent me a whole box of cigars, and a picture of baby Lee - thankfully, the little guy seems to have his mother's nose!'
"Yeah, we noticed that too!" grinned Trapper.
Hawkeye laughed, nodding, and went on with the letter:
'I also had a letter from Father Mulcahy, and I wonder if he might have the solution to your friend Trapper's search for "something meaningful to do" as you put it in your last letter. Our good Father is handing over care of the orphanage to a younger priest in a couple of months, and returning to the States to work with deaf children, including - get this - making sure they get excellent medical care. Now, I don't know what Mulcahy has in mind, but seems to me it would help both him and your friend if they maybe hooked up with this? If Trapper's willing to consider the idea, why not drop the Father a line? I know he'd love to hear from you anyway, and I never knew him turn down a sincere offer of help - especially if the helper was benefiting too.
Anyway, I better get this finished - I can smell Mildred's lamb roast a-cooking, and I sure don't want that spoiling!
Love to you both, and my best to Trapper.
Sincerely,
Sherman.'
"Father Mulcahy?" mused Trapper, "Well - I guess I've heard worse ideas."
"Told you the Colonel was one of the good guys," said Hawkeye, folding the letter and putting it back in the envelope. "Now all we have to do is remember where we put Father Mulcahy's address!"
June 1956 - Boston
"Your three o'clock appointment has cancelled, Doctor," said Miss Walters, as Charles entered the office. "I've been in touch with your four o'clock, and he thinks he can be here by three-thirty."
"Thanks. Will that be the last one for today?"
"Yes doctor." She passed him a pile of papers, "Though I'm afraid these will all need your signature before you leave."
He sighed. Paperwork! Why was there never any end to it? "Any messages?"
"Your sister. She asked if you'd call back. Would you like me to put the call through?"
"Please."
He went through to his own office, threw the papers into the 'in' tray and dropped into his chair. Honoria must have been practically sitting on the telephone at her end, as the phone buzzed almost immediately with his call.
"You rang?" he said.
"Yes! I couldn 't w..w...wait to t...t...t...t..."
"Tell me?" It had been drilled into Charles from an early age that he Must Not Finish Honoria's Sentences for her, but there were occasions when breaking the rule seemed to be the only way to move the conversation on.
"Yes. Suh...sorry."
"Honoria, calm down. Breath control, remember?"
"It's the excitement," she said, after a moment, "You're g...going to b...b...be an uncle."
"That's wonderful!" he laughed, "My congratulations to you both. When's it due?"
"B...beginning of December," she said, "I already phoned m...mother, but will you t...tell Ellie?"
"You don't want to tell her yourself?" he asked, puzzled.
"Charles, for such an intelligent guy, you can be really suh...stupid sometimes."
"What on earth do you mean by that?"
"I mean - she just lost a p...pregnancy a couple of months ago. I should think the last thing she n...needs right now is to hear me happily informing her that I'm having a b...baby."
"Oh. I see what you mean."
The door opened after the briefest of knocks, and his secretary looked in, 'emergency' written on her face even before she spoke. "Accident at the docks," she said, "Ship brought a crane down, there's going to be casualties coming in at any minute."
"Gotta go, sis, I'll call," he said, throwing the receiver in the direction of its cradle and rushing out. So much for the hope of an early night! he thought.
"Thanks, Parks," said Charles, as the butler let him in. He looked around the empty hall, surprised that Beth hadn't stampeded to meet him as she usually did, "Where is everyone?"
"Breakfasting on the terrace, sir. Shall I take your jacket?"
"You can take the tie too," said Charles, pulling at the knot, "And then bring me out a Full English Breakfast would you?"
He made his way through the house and out onto the terrace. Beth was sitting with her back toward him, and he managed to surprise her for a change by putting his hands over her eyes and saying "Guess who?"
"Daddy!" She dropped her spoon and half-turned to throw her arms around his neck, "Ugh, you're all bristly!" she added, pulling away.
"Yes I expect I am," he grinned, moving around the table to drop a kiss onto each of the twins' heads before leaning down to kiss Ellie, who was sitting in between them. "I haven't had time to shave since yesterday."
"Have you been out all night?" said Beth, her blue eyes round with amazement.
"Daddy's been very busy at the hospital," said Ellie, "Making those people better who were underneath that crane. Remember, we saw the pictures on the TV?" She turned to Charles, as he pulled up a seat between Lauren and Beth, "It was all over the news," she said, "Looked like a real mess."
"It was." He waited while the maid filled a tall glass with orange juice for him, and took a long draught of it. "I can't figure out how a ship gets smashed into a dock like that," he said. "I thought they were supposed to have pilots, coming into harbour?"
"Pilots fly airy-planes," said Beth, knowingly, putting her own juice down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "A Captain parks the ship."
"Docks the ship, honey," said Ellie, "And use your napkin, there's a good girl. Laura, don't chew your bib, darlin', I know there's egg on it but I really don't think you'll like it." She stood up and lifted the baby out of the high chair. "Come on, you and Lauren can show daddy your new trick." She set Laura down for a moment, repeated the exercise with Lauren, then stood them both up, holding them gently around the waist. "Okay," she said, when they'd got their balance, "Now go to daddy."
They only needed to take a few steps, but they made them on their own, and Charles laughed delightedly, picking them up and resting one twin on each knee to give them a kiss. "And you're only eleven months old," he said, "Obviously the superior Winchester genes are making themselves felt again."
Ellie made a face at him, and Beth giggled.
"Er... speaking of Winchester genes," he said, "I had a call from Honoria earlier - I mean, yesterday. She's..." He glanced at Beth. "Uh...expecting," he finished, as delicately as he could manage.
"Oh." For just a moment a shadow crossed Ellie's face, then she shook her head and managed a smile. "When?"
"What?" said Beth, climbing down from her chair and tugging on Charles' sleeve.
"Early December," he said to Ellie, passing the twins back to her one at a time as he noticed Parks exit the French windows bearing a tray. "She wanted me to tell you. She thought you might be - um..."
"Upset?"
"Yes."
"But what?" said Beth again.
"Thank you, Parks," said Charles, inhaling the aroma of bacon, sausage, mushrooms, eggs, tomatoes and hash browns, and pulling his chair closer to the table. "Are you?" he said to Ellie.
"Upset?" She sat down, cradling the twins. "No, of course not, I'm happy for her and David. I am a little... envious, I guess." She looked at the babies. "I know I've no cause to be, really, but..."
"Daddy!" Beth stamped her foot. "What's Aunt 'Noria 'specting?"
"Beth, I'm talking to your mother," he said, as he scattered salt onto his breakfast, "You must learn to wait your turn."
"But I want to know now!"
"If you don't wait your turn," he said, patiently, "We won't be going on holiday."
Her eyes lit up. "Holiday? Where we going?"
Charles pointed his knife in the direction of her chair. "Sit down and finish your toast," he said, "While I talk to mommy. Or we won't be going anywhere."
"Ohhh. It's not fair." Beth scuffed her shoes on the ground as she reluctantly turned around, but she did as she was told.
Charles concentrated on his food for a few minutes, trying to remember when he'd last eaten. Lunch time yesterday, was it? "Sorry," he said to Ellie, between mouthfuls, "I probably should have waited till I could give you my full attention."
"It's okay," she said, passing the twins to Mrs Stone, who had come out to collect them, "We can talk later, once you've had some sleep. But what's this about a holiday?" She held a hand out toward Beth, who scrambled off her chair and trotted round the table to climb onto her lap.
"Well," he said, sipping his tea, "I thought the children might like - uh - well - Disneyland."
"You big softie!" said Ellie, unable to disguise her giggle, "After everything you've said about California!"
"Is that where Mickey Mouse lives?" said Beth, excitedly.
"Yes, honey, and Sleeping Beauty's castle's there too, I think," Ellie replied.
"Will Snow White be there? With all the dwarves? And what about Dumbo the ephelant?"
"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see won't we? Charles, when's this happening?"
"Beginning of July," he said, "Before the schools finish for the summer." He drained his tea and put his cutlery down on his empty plate. "We can stay on the coast – might as well make use of some of the property I invested in over there." He yawned, rubbed his eyes. "I'd better go and get some sleep," he said, placing another kiss on Beth's red-gold curls, "For a few hours anyway." He brushed a hand across Ellie's fringe. "Will you be okay?"
"Of course I will," she said, taking his hand for a moment, "Once I've got Beth organised, I'll phone Honoria myself. Go lie down, before you fall down!"
As he walked back towards the house, Charles could hear Beth's voice protesting: "Ohhh. I still don't know what Aunt 'Noria's 'specting! Nobody tells me anything!"
"Did I miss lunch, Mrs Hall?" said Charles, spotting the housekeeper in the library as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
"No sir. The girls have eaten, but Mrs Winchester said she'd wait for you," she replied, placing a pile of books on the table and moving to the library door as she spoke. "It's all ready though, just needs serving."
"Thanks. I'll let Ellie know," said Charles, turning towards the music room while the housekeeper made for the kitchen. He could hear Mendelssohn's Spring Song being played and realised he'd not heard Ellie practice anything that cheerful for some time.
"Hi," she said, breaking off in mid-arpeggio as he went in, "Did you sleep okay? I thought the phone might have woken you."
"Didn't hear a thing till the alarm clock went off," he said, leaning down to kiss her, "Who phoned? Not Max asking for money was it?"
Ellie smiled. "No, it wasn't. Your mother called. She's asked me to play at her Annual Charity Concert this year."
"For Timmy's Memorial Foundation you mean? You're honoured!"
"Yeah, that's what I said to her," said Ellie, getting to her feet and closing the piano lid. "Anyway, it gave me an idea. There's gotta be research going on into, you know, why ectopics happen, why some women miscarry all the time, right?"
"Pre-natal research, yes of course. Harvard's been doing work in that field for a while, but..."
"Don't tell me - they're always short of funds?"
Charles put his hands on his hips. "Is this conversation heading where I think it's heading?"
She was grinning. "In the direction of giving some of our money away for a good cause? You betcha. Another Winchester Foundation, to help fund the work at Harvard, what do you say?"
"Well, I'd need to give it some thought," he said, but he already knew what his answer would be. Ellie's eyes were alight with a life and enthusiasm that hadn't been there since she came back from the hospital. She needed to do this, he realised, just as his mother had needed to start up her charity for helping bereaved parents.
Before he could say anything further though, Ellie put her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Thanks," she said.
"Ellie, all I said was..."
"Yeah, I heard, but you're going to say yes. I know you are."
Charles sighed, and returned the hug. "I must be getting soft in my old age," he said.
July 1956, Disneyland, California
BJ helped Erin and Beth climb out of the Giant Teacup ride, while Charles turned off his cine camera and collected the twins from Ellie and before helping her step down herself.
"So, what would you like to go on next?" asked BJ
"The flying ephelants," said Beth, pointing, while Erin nodded agreement
BJ grinned. "Yeah, they do look kind of fun, don't they? You two lead the way then, but not too fast - remember, Ben and the twins can't walk as fast as you."
"Not for lack of trying!" said Ellie, holding on to the reins as the twins set off determinedly after the two older girls. Beside her, Peg was holding fast to her two-year-old's hand.
"One for you after that, Ben," said BJ, looking at his map, "The Astro-jets are just over there."
"And then perhaps a little poker on the Mark Twain Riverboat?" said Charles, looking over BJ's shoulder as they walked.
"Yeah!" laughed BJ, "Followed by a hold-up on the Disneyland Railroad to pay off our losses!"
"Escaping by submarine," nodded Charles, pointing at the '20,000 Leagues under the Sea' ride.
Peg sighed. "Do you think there's any chance those husbands of ours will ever grow up?" she said to Ellie.
Ellie laughed and shook her head. "Not a chance. To think I actually believed Charles when he said this holiday was for the children!"
"Gotta admit though, it is fun, isn't it?" Peg steered her son away from the Mickey Mouse balloon which another child was holding, and added: "Exhausting – but fun!"
"And all the better for you and BJ coming too," said Ellie.
"Well, we've been intending to come since it opened," said Peg, "But I don't know if we'd have gotten around to it yet if you hadn't called."
Just then, Lauren decided that she didn't want to walk any further, and sat down in the middle of the path, prompting Laura to do the same.
"Aw, come on girls. You know, if you hadn't both screamed so hard when we tried to put you in those pushchairs back at the entrance, daddy would have hired them," Ellie told them, "Then you wouldn't have to walk, would you?"
"I guess they're used to being together," said Peg.
"Yeah, well, I can't carry 'em both." Ellie raised her voice to call to Charles, who was up ahead with BJ, Erin and Beth. "Hey! Need some help here!"
Charles ambled back, smiling, and picked up Lauren, while Ellie collected Laura. "I don't think they'll have any difficulty sleeping tonight," he said, adjusting the baby's sunhat as she clung to the camera strap on his shoulder.
"Me either!" said Ellie, "And I'll bet I dream of flying elephants too!"
"Speaking of flying," said Peg, quietly, as Charles caught up to BJ again, "Is it true that Charles hired a plane back from Washington when you were ill?"
"Who told you that? You been talking to Margaret?" said Ellie.
"Uh-huh. We were both sighing down the phone about how romantic it was," said Peg.
"I don't know about that, I think he just couldn't stand to hang around Washington airport for three hours," said Ellie - though she knew her silly grin betrayed her own feelings on the subject.
"I guess things really worked out for you two, huh?"
"Yeah," said Ellie, kissing Laura, and watching Charles take Beth's hand as she chattered excitedly up at him, "They really did."
"Who are you phoning so early?" said Ellie, as she emerged from the bathroom in a towel wrap, drying her hair on a handtowel. "Don't tell me you're giving BJ and Peg a wake-up call. They're only in the next room!"
"I'm calling Boston," said Charles, briefly placing his hand over the receiver, "Have to allow for the time difference, remember?"
"Okay, but who..."
Whoever he was phoning must have lifted the receiver just then, as Charles, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, stood up and turned his attention to his call.
"Paul? Hi, Charles Winchester... Fine, fine. How's Anne? Good. Paul, I'm calling long-distance - yes... California... I know, but the children are loving it. Listen, I'm going to be sending you some postcards of - now don't laugh - Sleeping Beauty's castle at Disneyland... I knew you'd laugh. Well, hey, if you don't want the commission... Aha! Well, now I have your attention - I'd like you to build a miniature of it in my garden."
Ellie remembered now. 'Paul' was the name of an architect friend of Charles'. She put the handtowel aside and began to comb her hair, still listening.
"I thought perhaps behind the summer-house? Yes... For my daughters to play in. Maybe with a little bedroom for their dolls on the first floor, and some kiddy-size chairs and tables in the room downstairs? What? Well, pink of course! Uh-huh... Do you think you could have it finished in time for Christmas? Great! Okay... See you when I get back. Bye." He was grinning as he put the phone down. "Do you think they'll like that?" he said.
Ellie put her comb back on the dresser and walked around the bed to put her arms around his neck. "They'll love it," she said, kissing him, "And that's to show you what I think of your idea!"
"Mmmm. You really shouldn't kiss me like that when you're dressed in a towel," said Charles, kissing back.
Smiling, Ellie let the towel fall to the floor. "That any better?" she said, kissing him again.
"I thought we were going to get an early start," he murmured, pulling her closer and placing little butterfly kisses over her face and neck.
"We are," she giggled, pulling him back onto the bed, "Aren't we?"
To be continued…