Love Letters Page #4

Dear Andy, thank you

for the lovely bowl.

I'll put flowers in it

when you come to visit...

...if you come to visit,

and if you bring flowers.

Maybe you'll bring your Asian friend...

...and we can all sit around

and discuss Nixon.

I know you'll like Darwin.

When he laughs, it's like

Pinocchio turning into a donkey.

We're living in New Canaan,

in a carriage house...

...close to the train station,

and I've got a studio all my own.

P.S.

Won't you please write to me

about your big romance?

Mother said your parents

won't even talk about it anymore.

Dear Melissa:

I'm writing to tell you this.

Outside of you, and I mean...

...outside of you...

...this was the most important thing

that ever happened to me...

...and I mean "was"

because it's over.

It's gone, and I'm coming home...

...and that's all I ever want

to say about it ever again.

Can I get you anything before I go?

-It's fine, Ella.

-I put your dinner in the fridge.

-Just heat it up when you're hungry.

-Thanks.

Oh, and the missus called.

She said that she'll eat at the

university and be home later.

Fair enough.

Look what Darwin and I did.

Congratulations on baby.

Come have a drink with us sometime.

We're right near New York...

...and sooner or later,

everyone comes to New York.

I read the review

of your show in Stanford.

It sounds like you're causing

a series of seismic shocks...

...up and down the Merritt Parkway.

I can tell you've been reading

that major New York newspaper.

Enclosed, see what other critics said.

Notice they think I'm good.

I am too.

Or I could be, if I could only focus.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know you're

good. I've always known it.

I hear you made law review...

...whatever that means.

I assume you review laws?

I wish you could review

some of the marriage laws.

Are you in trouble?

I don't understand your last note.

We're fine. All fine. Everything's fine.

Congratulations on baby

number two.

"Number two" is the perfect way

to describe this particular baby.

Greetings from Washington.

Clerking for a Supreme Court justice...

...which isn't quite

as fancy as it sounds.

Dear Andy:

I was very sorry to hear

about the death of your father.

I know he was a great

influence on you.

He was a good, decent man...

...and I always knew

where I stood with him...

...when you'd bring me home to your

family, back in the Land of Oz.

Hey. Hi.

-I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ladd.

-Melissa, how sweet of you to come.

-Still full of surprises, I see.

-I wanted to touch base.

-You look great, by the way.

-New hairdo. Darwin hates it.

Darwin's a lucky son of a....

-We're at a funeral.

-Okay.

I know you loved

your father very much.

Yes, he was a classy guy.

-I also know he didn't like me.

-Oh, hey.

Oh, admit it.

He thought I was bad for you.

He thought most good things

were bad for me.

Yeah. At least he thought

you were worth worrying about.

Wish I had a father like that.

He kept reminding me

of my responsibilities...

...at the expense of everything else.

Is that why you came back

from Saigon alone?

I guess, and why I chose the law...

...and why I probably will

go into politics later on.

Politics?

Good Lord, then I would

be bad for you.

Why don't you come back to the

house. Come on, just family, friends.

I should get back. I want to see

the girls before they go to sleep.

-Let Darwin do that.

-Darwin's away, per usual.

-He's found a little friend.

-Oh, boy.

Can you live with that?

-I can live with a lot of things.

-Yeah, I guess you can.

Not that it's easy.

Everybody wants more.

The gallery wants more paintings.

The girls want more mothering.

Darwin wants more dinner parties

when he's home.

And you?

What do you want?

-I think I'd settle for more booze.

-Oh, Melissa.

I made my bed, didn't I?

I have to learn to sleep in it.

God, I sound like your father.

I'm going to be

a good mother, Andy. I....

My children are gonna

grow up with two parents.

-Even if the parents--

-Oh, don't love each other?

It's all right.

Well, what's marriage anyway?

For most people, after a few years,

it's just an arrangement.

I'm gonna arrange

this one if it kills me.

Greetings from south of the border.

Here for a few weeks,

then home by way of Washington.

Hope you'll take me to lunch.

May I take your coat for you?

-Guess who.

-The Lost Princess of Oz?

What?

What are you staring at?

A pimple on my nose?

No, you look sensational, that's all.

It's my Mexican tan.

You look pretty good yourself.

And successful. Clerking for the

Supreme Court. My, my.

-Next year, you'll be chief justice.

-No, just associate.

He wants us to sit down and shut up.

Thank you.

-So how's everything?

-No chitchat, please.

I want you to consider this

a business lunch.

-Business?

-Yes.

I have business to transact with you.

You see, while I was in Mexico...

...I didn't spend my entire time

climbing pyramids...

...and chugging Kaopectate.

-You didn't?

-No, I didn't.

I spent some time

in a lawyer's office...

...divorcing that clod

I used to be married to.

-Oh, boy.

-And....

So the reason

I stopped by Washington...

...is I thought you might be

looking for a roommate.

A roommate?

Three roommates,

when I get my children.

Four, really, counting the nanny.

I know we'll need a larger place.

Is Georgetown nice?

Do you like those red brick houses?

I'm paying, of course.

That goes without saying.

-Melissa--

-Speak now, forever hold your peace.

-I already have a roommate.

-The more the merrier.

We'll fix him up with the nanny.

What's his name?

Her name is Jane.

Jane?

Jane.

Would monsieur or madame

be interested in a cocktail?

-No, thank you, we wouldn't. Right?

-Wrong.

I'd like a double vodka

on the rocks with a twist, please.

And hurry.

-You see, the thing is--

-Just, just...

...let me get my drink first, Andy,

and then I want to hear all about....

-What's her name again?

-Jane.

Jane.

And then I want to hear

all about Jane.

Melissa Gardner Cobb regrets...

...that she will be unable

to accept the kind invitation of....

Dear Melissa, thank you

for the wedding present.

A hand-painted tray.

Hand-painted by you, I'll bet.

I hope all goes well with you,

as it does with us.

We'll be moving

to New York in the fall.

I've got a job at one of those

high-powered law firms.

Might be a good jumping-off place

for something political.

We both want you to come

to dinner once we've settled in.

And don't say you never

come to New York.

"Sooner or later,

everyone comes to New York"...

...as someone once wrote me

long, long ago.

Merry Christmas from us to you.

Where are you these days?

Happy birthday. Even a married

man never forgets.

Get well soon. Mother wrote

that you had had some difficulties.

I hope it's nothing serious

and by now you're feeling fine.

You have a visitor, dear.

Me?

Oh, no.

I can't remember exactly what one

dozen roses are supposed to say...

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