The Cottage

“Don't be embarrassed. It's genetic,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I've never wanted children either. They make a lot of noise, they're dirty, and they smell. Or something like that.” She laughed at what he said. She was enjoying him, and she could see why her mother had fallen in love with him, and decided to have his child. He was very charming, and amusing, a gentleman of the old school. Although nothing about him seemed very old, it was hard to believe that he and her mother had been the same age. Her mother had been ill for years. This man seemed years younger than he was. “Will you be here for a while?” he asked with interest. He liked her, and in spite of himself, he felt some kind of bond with her, he just wasn't sure what. It was too new. He needed time to sort it out.

“I think so.” She was still unsure of what she wanted to do. But she felt liberated now that she had done this. It had weighed on her ever since she found out. But now that she had met him, she felt free to go on with her life, whether or not she stayed in touch with him.

“Can I reach you at the Bel Air? It might be nice to get together again. Maybe you'd like to come to dinner one night.”

“That would be lovely,” she said, standing up, and bringing the meeting to a close. She had been true to her word. She had been there for half an hour. She wasn't trying to linger. She had done what she came to do. She had met him. And now she was going back to her own life. And she turned to him then with a serious look. “I want to assure you, in case you're concerned, that I have no intention of talking to the press. This is just between us.”

“Thank you,” he said, and was touched. She truly was a nice woman. She wanted nothing from him. She just wanted to see who he was. And she liked what she saw. So did he. “It's probably a crazy thing to say, but you were probably a very nice little girl. Your mother must have been a decent woman,” particularly for not making trouble for him and shouldering all the responsibilities herself. He wondered if he had cared about her at all. It was hard to say. But he liked her daughter, their daughter, very much. “I'm sorry she died,” he said and meant it. It was an odd feeling knowing that while he pursued his own life, unbeknownst to him, he had a daughter somewhere in the world.

“Thank you. I'm sorry she died too. I loved her very much.” As she left, he kissed her on the cheek, and she turned to him and smiled. It was the same smile he saw in the mirror every day, and that his friends knew so well. It was uncanny looking at her. He could see the resemblance himself, and her mother must have seen it too. It must have been odd for her. He wondered if her husband ever knew. He hoped not, for his sake.

Coop was quiet for the rest of the day. He had a lot to think about. And when Alex came in at seven, he was still pensive and she asked if he was okay. He asked about her meeting with her father, she said it had been fine, but she didn't say much more than that.

“Was he rough on you?” Coop asked with obvious concern, and she shrugged.

“He is who he is. He isn't the father I'd have chosen if they'd asked me, but he's what I've got,” she said philosophically and poured herself a glass of wine.

It had been a long day, for both of them. Coop didn't say anything to her about Taryn until they were eating dinner. Paloma had left some chicken for them, and Alex added some pasta to it, and made a salad. It was enough. And then Coop looked up with a strange expression.

“I have a daughter,” he said cryptically. And Alex looked up at him.

“It's too soon for her to know that, Coop. She's lying to you. She's just trying to soften you up.” Alex was instantly annoyed at what she thought was yet another of Charlene's tricks.

“It's not her.” He seemed almost in a daze. He'd been thinking about Taryn all afternoon. Meeting her had had a powerful effect on him.

“Someone else is having your baby too?” She looked shocked.

“Apparently someone did. Thirty-nine years ago.” He told her about Taryn then, and Alex could see how moved he was.

“What an amazing story,” she said, somewhat in awe. “How could her mother keep that secret for all those years? What's she like?” She was intrigued.

“Nice. I like her. She looks a lot like me, I think. Better looking of course,” he said gallantly. “I really liked her. She's very…” he searched for the word, “dignified… honorable… something like that. She reminds me of you that way. She's very straightforward and decent. She didn't want anything from me, and she said she wasn't going to talk to the press. She just wanted to meet me. Once, she said.”

“Why don't you invite her back?” Alex suggested. She could see that he wanted to.

“I think I will.”