WINDFALL

Paetro's third (following Babydreams, 1989, and Manshare, 1986) is a larkish tidbit that goes nicely with pi§a coladas and beach umbrellas—a trendy fantasy for the sorts of girls who invariably give their hearts to altar-shy guys. Harriet Braintree is a New York City literary agent with a cute apartment in the Village, lots of fun friends, and Dean—a handsome Wall Street investment broker who's been the light of her life for two years. Clearly, she's got marriage on her mind, but he's a tangle of modern male confusions, including the requisite Oedipal complex, dyslexia, career inadequacies (since handling his rich dad's portfolio is the only reason he's kept on at his brokerage house), and some big doubts about Harrie. Things only get worse between them when Harrie's dear old neighbor, Mr. Tuckman, dies, leaving her a pink elephant Long Island mansion called Blackfern and a couple million to restore it with. The pressure of handling her dough drives Dean over the edge, sending him into svelte Laura Taft's bed, though Harrie retaliates by shacking up with her architect, Roger Mayhew. Alas, Roger turns out to be just as incapable of commitment as Dean, but in the time it takes Harrie to find it out, Dean turns over a new leaf. And before you can say ``I do,'' Dean's banging on Harrie's door with 200 roses and a connubial gleam in his eyes. It's all utterly predictable, but neatly poised between flippancy and sentiment: a smooth, wish-fulfilling ride for thirtysomething-ish females.