Elizabeth Carter spoke softly, a slight smile taking the sting out of her words. "You haven't changed, David. Still talking too much, not listening."
"I spent ten years listening, Liz. Five of them after we married. It was always the same: The business comes first. Always the business. I used to hope that you would change."
"Maybe I have," Liz said. "Maybe . . ."
Another, younger couple, a short, brown headed, attractive woman and a tall, black haired, handsome man, stood across the room and looked around, trying to ignore what was obviously a very private scene. Their path to the door was blocked by their client and her long lost husband, so they had little choice but to be witness to this painful confrontation.
"Maybe we were just wrong for each other from the start," David Carter suggested tiredly. "But we were both too tied up with that damn company to see it. Maybe if we'd spent more time with other people, time apart before we married," he said, running a shaking hand though his brown and gray hair. "Oh, God, Liz, why did you have to find me? Just when I was finally learning to forget?"
"I'm selling the company, David." Her statement caused him to sit down heavily in the nearest chair, his eyes filled with doubt. "It's still in both our names."
"Selling the company? But- it's always been the most important thing in your life. You spent more time working at the office than you did working on our marriage. I got tired of playing second fiddle to a ledger book."
"I know. And I'm sorry, David. I just - I don't even have an explanation." She paused, and now it was her turn to eye him warily. "I was hoping that- maybe- we could try again?"
David began to laugh. "Oh, dear God. If you'd found me five years ago- but now- it's too late."
"Too late?" Liz asked, her attractive face losing color at his words. "It can't be too late, David."
"Liz, the only reason I came back to Los Angeles was because there's a doctor here that MIGHT be able to keep me alive for another six months."
She knelt before him. "Keep you alive?" she repeated, taking his hands to keep him from hiding behind them. "You're ill?"
"An aneurysm," he explained. "There's a blood vessel in my head that's ready to burst."
"Can't they operate?"
"The chances aren't-," he began, but Liz took a deep breath.
"I don't give a DAMN about the chances. We'll FIND another doctor. And we'll keep searching until we find someone who CAN help."
The other couple managed to slip silently from the room as Liz and David Carter fell into each other's arms.
ONE WEEK LATER
"All right, Laura, out with it."
Laura Holt looked up into the brilliant blue eyes of the man she'd known for almost four years as Remington Steele. "Out with what?"
"Whatever it is that's been troubling you for the last week. And don't bother trying to deny it. You've been making excuses all week not to see me after office hours. First it as your sister, then your mother- always something. Next thing I know, you'll be telling me that you can't have dinner with me because you have to wash your hair. I'm starting to think that you're seeing someone else," he said expectantly.
Laura shook her head. "No, it's nothing like that. But- maybe I should be. And so should you," she finished quickly.
Remington's eyes widened in shock. "What?"
"Just for awhile. Just to make sure that there's more than the agency between us. More than just Remington Steele Investigations keeping us together."
"More than just-," his expression cleared. "This is about the Carter case, isn't it?"
"No, no, it's-," she began, trying to deny his accusation. "But she couldn't meet that intense blue gaze. "Maybe it is. They worked together, side by side, for five years in a business that Mrs. Carter started before they met. They got married, and-,"
"And five years later, David Carter was gone," Remington finished. "I KNOW the story, Laura. Yes, there are some similarities in the two situations, but I'd hoped that after all this time you would have realized that I'm here because I want to be- because of you, not because of the bloody agency!"
"You can't know that for sure," Laura insisted.
"So your solution is that we should see other people. Sorry, Laura. I'm not sure I can play another of your little games."
She took a deep breath. "I know. That's why I think we need to - spend time- away from each other."
Remington froze. "Away from each other? Do you want to explain that?"
"We could each- go our separate ways- just for a few months," she suggested slowly, looking down at her hands. "I'd stay here- keep working, and you could go back to- back to wherever you want to go."
Taking a deep breath, Remington put his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing her and shaking some sense into her. "I've spent the last four years trying to reassure you, to prove to you that I WON'T leave- and now you WANT me to go?"
"Just for say- three months. We can meet at- At the observatory in Griffith Park at noon. If you haven't decided that you prefer your life away from Los Angeles and the Agency instead."
He stared out the window for a long time, then turned to look at her. "Let me get this straight. You're proposing that we go our separate ways for the next three months, and at noon, three months from now, we'll meet at Griffith Park. And if either of us doesn't show up, we'll know that it's over?"
"Something like that," Laura said in a small voice, watching him with wary eyes.
He looked back out of the window again. "When do you want to start?" he asked.
"Now, I suppose." When he turned to look at her, she said, "There's nothing going on. The Maxwell case is finished except for the final report to Mr. Maxwell."
"And where will you tell him that I am?"
"Out of town. On another case," she told him.
His eyes bored into her. "You're certain that you want to do this, Laura? Three months can be an awfully long time. And don't forget that Murphy's not here to help you any longer."
"Mildred will be here. She needs the experience."
"All right, then," he said, watching her reaction. Even one indication that she hadn't expected him to agree, and he would have changed his mind. But she simply sat there. He picked up his coat. "I'll see you in three months at Griffith Park." He put a hand on the door knob and turned it, then stopped, closing it again, before turning to pull Laura to her feet and into his arms for a long kiss. "And I WILL be there, Laura," he promised, his lips finding hers and sealing the vow. "Be careful, eh?"
"You, too," she whispered, touching his cheek.
Mildred looked up when his door opened and she frowned as she saw him putting on his coat. "You going somewhere, Boss?"
"Ask Miss Holt, Mildred. I'll talk to you later," he said, tossing her a quick kiss as he pushed open the glass doors that bore the name he'd come to think of as his.
Mildred watched the glass doors close, then hurried into Mr. Steele's office to find out why Mr. Steele looked as if he'd just lost his best friend.
To Be Continued . . .