Chapter Three

      WHEN MAGGIE WALKED into the café, Matthew was standing at the juice bar, talking to three healthy, young college girls. What was it that he’d said? Some things never change.

      He turned as if he’d felt her eyes on him and quickly excused himself. Coming toward her, a smile lit his handsome face. “Hey.”

      Their food had already come out, and he pulled her by the hand to a table. And held her chair for her.

      She looked up at him as she sat, half expecting him to pull it out from underneath her, so he could laugh as she hit the floor.

      But he just smiled at her, and sat down. Behind a huge salad and a plate of steamed vegetables. The hamburger kid was eating vegetables.

      “Before we get down to talking about twenty-five-million-dollar favors,” Maggie said, “I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to this past decade.”

      And where was the beer? Even at seventeen, Matthew Stone never sat down to eat dinner without a cigarette and a bottle of beer.

      “It would take a full ten years to tell you the whole story,” he said with a smile, digging into his salad.

      Maggie looked around the open, airy café. The ceiling was high; the colors were muted grays and maroons. A sign on the wall proclaimed that there was absolutely No Smoking.

      “Do you still smoke?” she asked.

      “Nope. I quit three years ago,” he told her. “I also stopped drinking and started eating vegan. See, I, um... Well, I got sick, and I needed to take some kind of action—feel like I was doing something to help myself get better. I don’t know if it really helped, but it certainly helped my head, you know?”

      “How long were you sick?”

      He shook his head. “A long time. Do you mind if we don’t talk about that? It’s not... I have these superstitions about... Well, I’d rather not—”

      “I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course, you don’t have to... I had an address for you in California.”

      “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I was, uh, all over the southwest for a while. Right after dear old dad gave me the boot. He kicked me out—did you know about that?”

      She shook her head. “No.”

      “Yeah, there was trouble at one of the colleges and he wouldn’t even hear my side of it. I mean, sure, it was the fourth college I was...” he cleared his throat “...politely asked to leave, but... That time it really wasn’t my fault. Still, I got the ‘never darken my door again’ speech.”

      “That’s terrible,” she said.

      “It was good, actually. I finally learned to take care of myself. I kind of floated for a while. I actually did some acting—and got paid for it. My most legit job was at this dinner theater in Phoenix. I did two shows with them—Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Guys and Dolls.”

      “That’s great—getting paid for acting?” Maggie smiled at him, and he smiled back.

      “I guess. It was... It really wasn’t that great. They didn’t pay very much. I had to wash dishes, and...” he shrugged “...their leading lady had nothing on you.”

      Yeah, right. “Thanks.”

      When he looked at her, something sparked. Maggie felt it deep in the pit of her stomach, and she had to look away. She’d trained herself for so long to feel nothing more than friendship for Matt that this kind of physical attraction seemed odd and unnatural.

      His eyes gleamed with humor. “Oh, here’s a story you’ll really like. When I was in L.A., I managed to get this agent. What a sleazeball. He told me he could get me some work in the movies. Nothing big, you know—bit parts. But still, it was the movies.... Anyway, he sent me on an audition, right?”

      Maggie nodded, watching Matt’s face as he talked, the corners of his mouth quivering with restrained laughter. It was hard to believe that it had been ten years since she’d seen him. It just seemed so natural, sitting here together.

      “So I go into this place,” he said, “and I realize that it’s not a cattle call. You know, there’re not four hundred other guys that look sort of like me lining up to audition for the part of the store owner who says ‘A dollar fifty,’ to Keifer Sutherland when he comes into the convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes. The director actually comes out and shakes my hand—if you can believe that—and he takes me into the studio. I was so jazzed. They had cameras set up on a soundstage, along with this living room set. It looked like a stock American-home set—something out of a sitcom, you know?”

      He paused, taking a sip of water. “Well, imagine my surprise when the director told me to go ahead and take off my clothes.”

      “What?”

      “Yeah.” Matt grinned. “It didn’t take me long to figure it out. I asked to see the script and it was called—I’ll never forget this—Sleazy Does It. It was a porno flick, Mags. It wasn’t an audition—they were just going to shoot the film that same day. Is that too scary or what?”

      Maggie had to laugh. Poor Matt. Thinking he was going to get a part in a major motion picture... “Did you do it?”

      He choked on his water and glared at her, mock outrage on his face. “Thanks a lot. No, I did not do it.”

      She was still laughing. “Your past ten years have been much more exciting than mine.”

      “You graduated from Yale, went to law school and managed to get an M.B.A. at the same time. You had a fire, moved back in with your folks. You dated someone named Tom for four years, and now you’re seeing a guy named Brock Donovan. You’ve had the lead in Oklahoma!, Carousel, Paint Your Wagon, Showboat, The Boyfriend, Superman, Anything Goes, Guys and Dolls, Li’l Abner and one more.... What was it?”

      “Annie, Get Your Gun.” Maggie couldn’t believe it. “How do you know all that?”

      He closed his eyes, placing his fingertips on his forehead. “Matthieu senses all,” he said with a heavy Eastern European accent. “I also know that Angie’s married now,” he added in his regular voice.

      There was something in his face, in his tone, that Maggie couldn’t read.

      “Yeah,”