Changes by Danielle Steel

get hurt. And with that, Peter decided that all was well, and they walked back into the house, as he turned to Mel.
    “Are you soaking wet?” She was, but she didn't mind. It was a relief from the seriousness of the earlier part of the day.
    “I'll dry off.”
    “Sometimes I'm sorry as hell that I put in that pool. Half the neighborhood spends their weekends here.”
    “It must be great for the kids.”
    He nodded. “It is. But I don't very often get a quiet swim, except when they're in school. I come home for lunch once in a while, when I have time.”
    “And when's that?” She was teasing him now. It suddenly felt as though everyone was in a lighthearted mood as he laughed.
    “About once a year.”
    “That's what I thought.” And then she remembered Matt and the toothless smile. “I think I'm in love with your little boy.”
    “He's a good kid.” Peter looked pleased, and then thought of his older boy. “So is Mark. He's so responsible, it's frightening sometimes.”
    “I have one like that, too. Jessica, the oldest twin.”
    “Which one's that?” Peter looked intrigued. “The one that looks like you?”
    “How did you remember that?” Mel was surprised.
    “I remember everything, Mel. It's important in my field. A little forgotten detail, a hint, a clue. It helps when you're constantly balancing life against death. I can't afford to forget anything.” It was his first open admission to his extraordinary skill, and Mel watched him with interest again as she followed him into the house, into a large sunny room filled with large white wicker chairs, wicker couches, a stereo, an enormous TV, and ten-foot palms that swept the ceiling with their fronds. It looked like a nice room to hang out in on a sunny day. And here suddenly, Melanie saw half a dozen pictures of Anne scattered around in silver frames, playing tennis, with Peter in a photograph in front of the Louvre, with a tiny baby, and one with all the children in front of the Christmas tree. It was as though all at once everything stopped, and Melanie found herself mesmerized by her face, her blond hair, her big blue eyes. She was an attractive woman, with a long, lanky athletic frame. And in some ways she and Peter looked alike. In the photographs, she seemed like the perfect mate for him. And Melanie realized suddenly that Peter was standing at her side, looking down at one of the photographs, too.
    “It's hard to believe she's gone.” His voice was soft.
    “It must be.” Melanie wasn't sure what to say. “But in some ways, she lives on. In your heart, in your mind, through the children she left.” They both knew that wasn't the same thing, but it was all that was left of her. That and this house, which was so much to her taste. Melanie looked around the room again. It was an interesting contrast to the formal living room and study that she had seen when she came in. “What do you use this room for, Peter?” Melanie was curious. It was so much a woman's room.
    “The kids use it to hang around in, even though it's mostly white, there isn't too much damage they can do in here.” Melanie noticed a wicker desk then, looking out at the pool. “She used to use this a lot. I spend most of my time at home in my den, or upstairs.” And then he gestured toward the hall. “Come on, I'll show you around. We'll see if we can find Pam.”
    Upstairs everything was formal and French again. The hall floors were done in a pale beige travertine, with matching console tables at either end, and a beautiful French brass chandelier. And here there was another smaller but equally formal sitting room done in soft blues. There were velvets and silks, and a marble fireplace, and wall sconces and a crystal chandelier, pale blue silk drapes with pale yellow and blue trim, tied back with narrow brass arms that allowed one a view of the pool. Beyond it was a little office done in dusty pinks, but Peter frowned as they passed that room and Melanie instantly sensed