[charlene]

Lesson #1: Always go with what you love.

When I got back to the studio from the vault in Glendale, I handed the tape to David Reitzas, my engineer. He went off to play it for us, and the moment Nat King Cole's voice came over the speakers, filling the room, both of us were completely floored. The quality was beyond anything I had imagined possible. It was just Nat doing vocals -- no orchestra, no piano, no nothing -- just his crystal-clear, perfectly mellifluous voice. I remember thinking, Well, if nothing else, we'll be making some beautiful music.

But I still didn't believe the project was going to do much for Natalie's career -- or for mine.

Natalie turned out to be a dream to work with, and an amazing vocalist in her own right. She had been through plenty of crises at that point in her life, including various addictions and the near-drowning of her son, but she was clean and sober and eager to get to work. She'd had a successful career, but it had stalled out -- something I could definitely relate to at that point -- and she was hoping this was going to turn things around for her. She was also a little worried, wondering whether people would think she was capitalizing on her father's name, but I kept telling her that there was no need for concern. She had lived and breathed that music -- it was in her blood -- and she needed to keep moving forward. She had every right to pay tribute to the father she loved -- and the singer who was loved by us all.

I'd like to tell you that there was a moment when I absolutely knew we had a great album on our hands, but that wouldn't be true. I knew it was good, even better than good, but I didn't see it getting any airplay, and I didn't imagine big sales.

I was about as wrong as I'd ever been.

Unforgettable: With Love was a success on every level. The duet became an unexpected Top 10 hit, and the album sold more than eight million copies. It got Record of the Year, Album of the Year, and Natalie took Best Traditional Pop Performance.

And I went home with the Grammy for Producer of the Year.

I remember thinking, Nobody knows I've been gone, but it sure feels good to be back.

As I walked off the stage with my Grammys, I remember thinking back to my old friend Ronnie Hawkins, with whom I'd played in Toronto when I was still in my teens. "When it stops happening for you, and you lose your touch, and you're not hitting it dead-on anymore, don't bang your head against a brick wall," he'dadvised me. "Retreat and attack from another direction."

That's what I'd done, albeit inadvertently. I'd retreated and attacked from another direction. And damn if it hadn't worked! From that day forward, Ronnie's words became my mantra.

This was a heady period for me, and it was about to get even better -- so good, in fact, that it felt almost illegal -- but things at home were increasingly difficult. Linda and I were five years into our relationship, and the issues that had plagued us from the beginning -- how to manage a blended family -- were getting only worse. We were probably in self-denial about the extent of our problems, but at that stage we were still trying to make it work.

At one point, after being locked up in the studio for months, we decided that a change of scenery might help, and we took her two sons, Brandon and Brody, up to Victoria, British Columbia, where I kept my boat. Three days into it, I got a call from Richard Baskin, Barbra Streisand's old beau. "I've got a friend in L.A. who just finished making a movie," Richard said. "He's exhausted, and looking to take a break. He and his wife would love to chill for a couple of days. You'll like them. They're outdoor types. Can you help them out?"

"Sure," I said. I didn't even bother to ask who they were. I wasn't thrilled, though. Linda and I had just had another in a succession of arguments, and I needed a break from my break with Linda, so I turned to her and said, "Why don't you and your boys take the boat for a couple of days, with Richard's friends. I'm sure they're nice people. I'll go chill with my mom."

When Richard called back to tell me that our guests would be Kevin Costner and his then-wife, Cindy, I had a quick change of heart. I wasn't about to leave Linda on my boat with Costner.

On the appointed day, I went to pick up our guests up on the dock, in the dinghy. I hadn't shaved in a few days, and I looked scruffy as hell, and I'm not sure I made a very good first impression. I loaded their bags into the dinghy and then helped them aboard, and we left the dock and made our way into the deep, ominous fog. Cindy later told me that the moment she lost sight of land she was convinced it was all over. "I was sure you were a mass murderer," she said, "and that that was going to be our last day on the planet."