Daddy

“Hey, guys, relax,” Oliver intervened at last, “give Charlie a chance to eat her dinner at least.” They hadn't let her come up for air since they'd figured out who she was, and suddenly into the silence Mel asked her a single question.

“How'd you meet our dad?” She was curious, no longer critical, and Charlie smiled tenderly at the question.

“Just good luck, I guess. A few weeks ago, at a network Christmas party.”

And then Oliver decided to tell them the truth, or part of it anyway. He figured they were ready for it. “Charlie was nice enough to invite me for Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve.” He didn't tell them he'd spent the night with her, however, or made love to her in their pool on Christmas Day, or fallen head over heels in love with her the moment they met, but Mel could see it, and even Sam suspected this was serious. They looked at each other kind of weird, more even than Mom and Jean-Pierre. But it was okay with him, he thought, Charlotte Sampson was terrific.

And as soon as they finished dessert, he invited her once again to go to the garage with him to view his worm farm. And much to Mel's horror, she went, and returned to announce it was much better than hers had been. And Sam said proudly he'd won the science prize for it, as his sister told him again that he was revolting.

At nine o'clock, Sam went to bed, and Mel stayed downstairs to talk to her about scripts and agents and acting. Charlotte confessed she had always wanted to do a Broadway play, and finally, with regret, she looked at her watch, and admitted she had a 4:00 A.M. studio call the next day to shoot a tough scene she still had to review when she went home. “There's a lot of hard work to it, Mel, if you're serious about acting as a career. But I have to admit, I love it.”

“Could I come and see you on the set sometime?” Mel dared to ask, astonished at her own courage, but Charlie made them all so comfortable that it was almost like asking an old friend, and she quickly nodded.

“Sure. If your dad doesn't mind. He watched me do a commercial a couple of weeks ago, and it was fun.” She smiled shyly up at him, and he touched the hand Mel couldn't see from where she stood. And she was too busy being impressed to notice the electricity between them.

“Wow, Dad, how was it?”

“Interesting. Exhausting.” He looked into Charlie's eyes sympathetically. “How many takes did they do in all?”

“Thirty-two, I think. Maybe more. I forget.”

“The other actor kept blowing his lines, and they had to shoot again and again,” he explained to Mel.

“But it was fun watching anyway. It's incredible how many people are involved.”

“You should see what goes on when they do the show, speaking of which …” She walked slowly toward the door, and waved good night to Mel, who flew upstairs to call her friends and tell them who she'd met. And Oliver walked her out to her car, with a look of ever-growing admiration.

“You are really incredible, do you know that? Worm farms, patience with teenage girls, is there anything else about you I should know?”

“Yes.” She looked happily up at him. It had been a wonderful evening, and all her fears had been dispelled. She hoped they liked her. “I love you very much, Oliver Watson.”

“I love you too, Charlie,” he whispered as he kissed her. And from his bedroom window, Sam stared in amazement as he watched them, and then turned to Aggie, who was turning down his bed.

“Wow, Aggie! Dad just kissed Charlotte Sampson!” That was really something else, but Agnes only clucked at him.

“Mind your own business, young man, and go brush your teeth!”

“Do you think she really likes him?”

“I suspect she does. Your father is a fine man, who wouldn't?”

“But she's a movie star, Aggie … or TV, or … you know …”

“What difference does that make?” And as he went to brush his teeth, still shaking his head over it, Aggie thought they were both very lucky people. And after what she'd seen tonight, so were the children.

Chapter 23

That weekend, Charlotte drove up their driveway in her car, got out, and solemnly rang the doorbell. And when Sam answered, thrilled to see her again, she handed him an odd-shaped cage, covered by a pale blue blanket. There were odd squeaking noises from within, and a pungent smell he didn't mind, and as he pulled off the blanket, he gave a squeal of delight himself. It was a long-haired guinea pig. And she had been right, it did look like a cross between a small dog and a rabbit.

“Wow! Wow! … Look at that, Dad!” He called to his father just coming down the stairs, freshly shaved and showered, “Can I keep it?” He looked from him to Charlotte. And Charlotte looked pleadingly at the senior Watson.

“I guess you can.” He smiled lovingly at her. All she did was make them happy.

“Can I keep him in my room?”

“If you can stand the smell, you can.” The two adults laughed and Sam took the cage from her hand, and hurried up the stairs with it before any of them could change their mind on him.