Daddy

“You don't look like an ad man to me. You look like one of the guys on our show.” She laughed, and he could see that she did that often. She was an easygoing girl, with none of the mannerisms or affectations of someone as important and successful as she was.

“I'm afraid I don't think so.”

“What brought you out here, by the way?” There were people she knew milling everywhere, waving at her, blowing kisses, making signs, but she seemed perfectly content to continue talking to Ollie.

“The agency did. Someone got sick, and they brought me in to fill in for him. It was kind of short notice, but it's worked out really well.” And then suddenly, he felt very guilty. “Miss Sampson, should I be keeping you? I imagine there are a lot more important people you should be talking to than the network's ad man.”

“I've already paid my dues. I came early, drank a glass of champagne, and kissed the head of the network. What more do they want? A little tap dance? I gave at the office. I'm on my time now. And I like talking to you. It's a lot easier than talking to a lot of nervous stars whose shows are slipping in the ratings.” But hers wasn't, that was for sure. She had been nominated for the Emmy that year, even though she hadn't won it. Which made him feel even more a fool for not knowing who she was when he first saw her. “What have you been doing in Los Angeles, Oliver, since you got here?”

“Work … work some more … more work … settle in … to tell you the truth, I haven't seen anything except my house and my office.”

“That doesn't sound like much fun. Have you been to dinner anywhere?”

“Not yet, except once with my kids. We went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which they loved. I felt four hundred years old, and as though I was losing my hearing.”

She laughed, she liked it, but it made her feel that way too, only because it was difficult to talk there. But the decor was fabulous, and she was particularly fond of looking at Elvis Presley's old car seeming to plunge through the roof. It brought out the kid in her every time she saw it. “Have you been to Spago yet?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“We'll have to go sometime.” It sounded like the L.A. version of “let's have lunch sometime,” and he didn't take her seriously when she said it. And then, looking interested, “How old are your kids?”

“I have a daughter who's sixteen, a son who's ten, and another son who stayed back East who's eighteen.”

“That sounds nice,” she smiled at him, with a faint look of regret. She really liked him. “How old's your wife?” She looked straight into his eyes, and he laughed at the directness of what she'd asked him.

“Forty-two, actually, and we're divorced.” Or as good as. The papers would be final in eight weeks, and in his heart, where it mattered, the bond had been severed at last. And Charlotte Sampson grinned broadly at him when he answered.

“My, that is good news! I was beginning to worry!” He was flattered by her words, and the attention she was lavishing on him. He really felt he didn't deserve it. Maybe she was just shy, and didn't like big parties. “Are your kids here now?”

“No, they just went East a few days ago, to spend Christmas with their mother in Boston.”

“I thought you said you lived in New York.” She looked suddenly puzzled, “And why aren't they with you for Christmas?”

“Because they live with me all year round. And we did live in New York. But she lives in Boston. She left a year ago to go back to school, and …” He looked at her, Hollywood or not, he was going to tell her the truth, even though he wasn't even sure she cared, but she acted as though she did, and she seemed like a nice person. “She left us … me and the kids … so they live with me now.”

She looked at him, soberly suddenly, brushing the long red hair off her shoulders. “That sounds like a long, painful story.”

“It was. For a while. It's a short story now. She's happy. We're fine. You adjust to things if you have to.”

“The kids too?”

He nodded. “They're doing fine. By now, I think they can weather anything. They're a good group.”

“And you sound like a good father.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” He took a brief bow and they both laughed and one of the network heads came up to greet them both. He kissed Charlotte on both cheeks, and shook Oliver's hand, and told him he'd been keeping an eye out for him for the past hour.

“I want to introduce you to some of our friends, but I see you've already met my favorite lady.”

“I attempted to trample her as I came through the door, and she was kind enough not to have me thrown out, or sue. She's probably too lame now to move, so we've been standing here chatting, while I bore her with tales of my children.”

“I've enjoyed talking to you, Oliver.” She looked almost hurt as the other man laughed, and then she turned to her network boss and almost pouted. “I suppose you're going to take him away now.”