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And she still got up with him at the crack of dawn every weekday, and drove him to the train, and then came back to take the kids to school, until they were old enough to drive themselves, which had come far too quickly for her.
She was barely more than a gofer, as she admitted openly, but she was thrilled with just being there, and wanted to be a producer one day. It seemed only minutes before that she had been changing diapers and carpooling, taking Meg to ballet, and Wim to hockey games. He was due in Berkeley the week before the Labor Day weekend. She and Peter liked to entertain, and Paris used them frequently.
She'd done such a great job with the house that he had often teased her and told her she should become a decorator, and most people who saw the house agreed.
But although artistic, her interests had always been similar to his.
William, their son, had just turned eighteen, and was graduating in June. Paris made sure that the table had been set properly. They enjoyed their social life and over the years they had collected an eclectic assortment of interesting friends.
She set the flowers that she had arranged herself on the table.