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"I don't know many women who can cook like you can," he said. "All the women I know depend on maids and cooks and are helpless even when it comes to boiling water for tea."

It was the first time he had spoken about the other women he has known and I couldn't help recalling the beautiful red-haired lady he had been with at the museum recital. I asked Michael who she was.

"Oh, her." He shook his head. "She's the wife of a producer friend of mine. He's always asking me to do him a favor and take her places. She's the kind of a woman who needs more than one man, if you know what I mean," he said, winking.

But I didn't know what he meant. How could you need more than one man if that man was the man you loved with all your heart and soul? And if a man loved a woman, how could he want someone else to escort her places?

"Why wouldn't her husband be jealous of someone else showing her around?" I asked.

"Jealous? He was grateful," he said, laughing slyly. "Show business people can be like that," he said. "They think their relationships are just another performance. But don't worry, I'm not like that," he added quickly.

"You never found anyone you wanted to be with forever and ever?" I asked.

"Not before you. I never met anyone who was as innocent and pure. Your name fits you; you're as fresh as a new day." He leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.

I felt myself glow. I was never as happy as I was at that moment. It was the best Thanksgiving dinner had ever had. Afterward, Michael made a fire in the fireplace and brought out one of his soft quilts. I lay with my head in his lap and we listened to beautiful music while the fire crackled and warmed us. Every kiss that night seemed sweeter than the one before. Michael stroked my hair and told me he wished all time would stop and we would be stuck right where we were forever and ever.

My heart was as full as my stomach. How could any woman love any man more than I loved Michael? I wondered.

We stripped off our clothes and made love in the glow of that fire, our kisses and embrace so passionate, I thought we were burning like the logs, consuming each other and yet fulfilling each other. We fell asleep in each other's arms, exhausted but never more content.

In the morning Michael told me he had an appointment with a producer downtown.

"And after my meeting, I'm going to bring home a small Christmas tree. It's traditional to begin decorating one during Thanksgiving, isn't it?" he said. "I've never bothered before, but now that I have you . . ."

"Oh Michael, I'd love that. It's been so long since I had a Christmas tree myself, or even cared about the holidays. When you don't have any family or a family you love and loves you, the holidays are just like any other day. Except you watch other people's happiness with an envious heart."

"No more pain and envy for you, my little diva," he said and kissed me softly on the lips before leaving for his meeting. While he was gone, I listened to music, watched some television and did a little reading. We had been given some assignments to complete over the holiday.

Late in the afternoon, Michael returned with a small, but beautifully shaped little tree, each branch full and very green. He had bought boxes and boxes of decorations. Both he and the tree were sprinkled with milk-white snowflakes.

"Guess what!" he cried as soon as he entered, one hand holding the tree while he clutched the boxes of decorations against his chest. "It's snowing. What a wonderful surprise and just in time to put us into the holiday spirit. Do you like the tree?"

"Oh, it's so darling," I cried.

"I spent a lot of time picking it out. I wanted something special for us. The salesman nearly went mad waiting on me. Nothing he had seemed good enough. Then I peered around a corner and saw this one just waiting for me to choose it. It practically cried out to me," he said, laughing.

He fit the tree in the stand and stood back. We decided it would look good just to the right of the fireplace.

"Looks perfect," he said and gazed at his watch. I had noticed that from the moment he had arrived, he had periodically checked the time.

"Is someone coming?" I asked.

"What? Oh no, no."

"You keep looking at your watch."

&

nbsp; "Yes." He shook his head. "I've got to leave in a little while for a meeting. This producer I met with today went ahead and scheduled something without checking it out with me, but it's so important, I have to attend. There's a very, very good chance star in a Broadway opening next season."

"Oh Michael, how wonderful."

"Yes, but these things take months and months of planning and endless meetings with investors and writers and production people. Everyone has an opinion. I hate preproduction, but it's a necessary evil. I'm sorry to have to leave you just when we've gotten started."

"Oh, that's all right, Michael. While you're away, I'll decorate the tree and make our dinner."

He looked troubled and shifted his eyes away quickly.