One Day at a Time by Danielle Steel Page A

she was so intense about it. She's that way about everything she does, but it didn't look like a lot of fun. I always hated writing. For about five minutes, I wanted to be an artist. But I don't have a lot of talent. I do watercolors once in a while, but nothing terrific. Just beach scenes and still lifes of flowers and vases. I studied art history in college. I probably would have liked teaching, or research of some kind. And then my father talked me into law. He said it was a good starting point for anything I'd want to do later, like go into his business and be an agent. I didn't want to do that either, and I hated law school. The teachers were mean to everyone, the students were nasty and competitive and neurotic. Everyone was trying to put everyone else down. I was terrified for two whole years and cried all the time. I was scared to death I'd flunk out, and then my father died and I quit.”
    “And then what?”
    “I was relieved.” She smiled at him across the table. “I was living with somebody then. My parents didn't approve of him either. He had dropped out of law school too, in Australia. He loved the outdoors, and he ran a diving school, so we moved to the beach, and I was never happier in my life. I came up with the dog-walking idea, just to tide me over for a while, and three years later I'm still doing it. It works for me. I'm living at the beach, and it's what I want to do for now. My whole house is smaller than this kitchen. My mother calls it a 'shack,' and I love it.”
    “And the Australian with the diving school?” Leslie asked her with interest as he finished his salad, and sat back in his chair, looking at her. She looked like a normal, happy woman, except when she talked about law school. “Is he still around too?”
    “No, he isn't,” she said, shaking her head quietly.
    “That's too bad. Your eyes lit up when you talked about him.”
    “He was a great guy. We lived together for two years, and then he had an accident and died.” Leslie looked at her more intently as she said it. She looked sad about it, but not distraught. She seemed as though she had made her peace with it a long time before. But he was startled by what she'd said, and sorry for her. She didn't look sorry for herself.
    “Car accident?”
    “Hang gliding. A gust of wind blew him into a cliff, and he fell. It was a little over two years ago. It was very hard at first. But I guess those things happen. It was rotten luck for us. We were planning to get married, and go back to Australia to live. I think I would have liked it.”
    “You might.” Leslie nodded. “Sydney looks a lot like San Francisco.”
    “He said that too. That's where he was from. We never got there. I guess we weren't meant to.” She sounded philosophical about it, and he admired her for it. There was nothing maudlin about this girl.
    “Has there been anyone since?” He was curious about her.
    She smiled at Leslie Baxter sitting across the table from her in her sister's kitchen. It was so weird, it made her laugh. Leslie Baxter was asking about her love life. Who would have thought?
    “Just a lot of bad blind dates with boring guys. I tried for a while about a year ago, just so my friends and family would shut up. It just wasn't worth the effort, or maybe I wasn't ready. I've kind of given it a rest for the last six months. It's hard starting again with someone new. We got along really well.”
    “You don't look as though you'd be difficult to get along with,” he said matter-of-factly “I was involved with a woman like that once. She was fantastic.” He looked dreamy as he said it.
    “What happened?”
    “I was stupid, and young. My career was just starting, and I wanted to stay in Hollywood and play for a while. She was in England and she wanted to get married and have babies. By the time I figured out that she was right, she had given up on me and married someone else. She waited for about three years, which was more than I deserved at the