Fine things (6 page)

Chapter 5

The bathing suits arrived on Wednesday afternoon, and Liz called him the next day to thank him for his generosity to her daughter.

“You really shouldn't have. She's still talking about the banana split, and what a good time she had.” Elizabeth O'Reilly had a young voice and he could see her shining blond hair in his mind's eye as he talked to her on the phone.

“I thought she was very brave actually. When she realized she was lost, she was terrified, but she kept her composure the entire time. That's quite something for a five-year-old.”

Elizabeth smiled. “She's a pretty good kid.”

He was dying to say “So's her mom,” but he didn't. “Did the bathing suits fit?”

“Every one of them. She paraded around in them all last night, and she's wearing one under her dress now …she's at the park with some friends. I had a lot to do today …someone lent us a house in Stinson Beach, so Jane has her whole wardrobe set now.” Liz laughed. “Thank you so much She didn't know what else to say, and he was groping for words too. Suddenly it all seemed new to him, as though they spoke a different language here. It was like starting all over again.

“Could I…could I see you again?” He felt like a complete fool as he said the words into the phone …like a heavy breather on an anonymous call, but he was amazed when she said yes.

“I'd like that very much.”

“You would?” He sounded stunned and she laughed.

“Yes, I would. Would you like to come to Stinson Beach for an afternoon?” She sounded so easy and natural that he was grateful to her. She didn't make it sound as though he had his tongue hanging out and was annoying her. It sounded as though she wasn't surprised at all, and would enjoy seeing him.

“I'd love it. How long will you be there?”

“Two weeks.”

He made a rapid calculation in his head. There was no reason why he couldn't take Saturday off for once. There was no rule that said he had to be there. He just had nothing else to do. “How about this Saturday?” It was only two days away and his palms grew damp thinking of it.

She paused, trying to remember who she'd invited when. Stinson Beach always gave her a chance to see all her friends, and invite everyone out for a day. But Saturday was still free. “That sounds fine …great, in fact …” She smiled, thinking of him. He was a nice-looking man, and he had been nice to Jane, and he didn't appear to be gay, and he didn't wear a wedding band…. “By the way, you're not married, are you?” It never hurt to ask. It would have been a bit of a shock to find out afterwards. But it had happened before. Not this time though.

“Good God no! What a thought!”

Aha. One of those. “Allergic to marriage, are you?”

“No. I just work very hard.”

“What does that have to do with it?” She was open and direct and suddenly curious about him. She had her own reasons for not getting married again. Once burned, twice smart, but at least she'd tried it once. But then again maybe he had too. “Are you divorced?”

He smiled to himself at his end, wondering why she asked. “No, I'm not divorced. And yes, I like girls. And I have lived with two women in my life, and I'm very comfortable the way things are. I haven't had a lot of time to give to anyone. I've spent the last ten years concentrating on my career.”

“That can be empty sometimes.” She sounded as though she knew and he wondered what she did. “I'm lucky I've got Jane.”

“Yes, you are.” He fell silent as he thought of the little girl, and decided to save the rest of his questions for Stinson Beach when he could see her face and her eyes and her hands. He had never been crazy about getting to know someone over the telephone. “I'll see you both on Saturday then. Anything I can bring? A picnic? Wine? Anything from the store?”

“Sure. A mink coat would be nice.”

He laughed and they hung up and for a whole hour afterwards he felt good. She had that kind of voice, easy and warm, and she didn't seem to have an ax to grind. She wasn't one of those women who hated men, or at least she didn't seem to be, and she didn't seem out to prove anything. He was really looking forward to their afternoon in Stinson Beach, and on Friday night before he went home, he went to their gourmet shop and bought two shopping bags of goodies to take to her. A chocolate teddy bear for Jane, and a box of chocolate truffles for Liz, two kinds of Brie, a
baguette
bread they flew in from France, a tiny tin of caviar, and another of pate, two bottles of wine, one red and one white, and another tin of marrons glaces.

He put the bags in his car and drove home, and the next morning at ten o'clock he showered and shaved and put on blue jeans and an old blue shirt, slipped his feet into a beaten-up pair of sneakers, and grabbed a warm jacket from the closet in the hall. He had brought comfortable old clothes with him from New York for when the construction was going on, and now they were useful for the beach, and just as he picked up the two shopping bags, the phone rang. He wasn't going to answer it and then wondered if it was Elizabeth, changing their plans, or asking him to pick something up on the way, so he picked it up, still juggling his jacket and the bags.

“Yeah?”

“That's no way to answer the phone, Bernard.”

“Hi, Mom. I'm just on my way out.”

“To the store?” The interrogation began.

“No … to the beach. I'm visiting some friends today.”

“Anyone I know?” Which, roughly translated, meant: Would I approve of them?

“I don't think so, Mom. Is everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Then I'll call you tonight, or tomorrow from the store. I've got to run.”

“Must be someone important if you can't talk to your mother for five minutes. Is it a girl?” No. A woman. And then of course there was Jane.

“No, just some friends.”

“You're not hanging out with those boys out there, are you, Bernard?”

Oh for chrissake. He was dying to say he was, just to irritate her. “No, I'm not. Look, I'll talk to you soon.”

“All right, all right…don't forget to wear a hat in the sun.”

“Give my love to Dad.”

He hung up and hurried out of his apartment before she could call back to warn him to be careful of sharks. And her favorite was warning him about hot items she saw in the
Daily News.
She was always warning him not to use some product that had gone bad and killed two people in Des Moines …botulism …Legionnaire's disease …heart attack …hemorrhoids …toxic shock. The possibilities were unlimited. It was nice having someone to worry about your health, but not with the passion of his mother.

He put the two shopping bags in the back of his car and got in, and ten minutes later he was on the Golden Gate Bridge, heading north. He had never been to Stinson Beach before, and he loved the intricate, winding road which rode the crest of the hills, looking down on the cliffs that jutted out over the sea. It was a miniature Big Sur, and he enjoyed the ride. He drove through the tiny town, and went to the address she had given him. She was in a private community called Seadrift, and he had to give the guard at the tollgate his name. But other than the security, it didn't look like a fancy place. The houses were on a very human scale, and the people who wandered by were bare-foot and in shorts. It looked like the kind of place where families went, like Long Island or Cape Cod, and it looked wholesome and nice, as he pulled into the driveway of the house number she had given him. There was a tricycle outside, and a washed-out rocking horse who looked as though he had been out in the elements for years, and Bernard clanked an old school bell at the front gate, and then opened it. And then suddenly there was Jane, wearing one of the bikinis he had sent, and the little terry cloth robe he had picked out to go with it.

“Hi, Bernie.” She beamed up at him, as they both remembered the banana split and their conversation about Christmas and God. “I love my new bathing suit.”

“It looks great on you.” He walked over to her, and she smiled up at him. “We could use you as a model at the store. Where's your mom? Don't tell me she's lost again.” He put on a disapproving frown and Jane laughed a deep belly laugh that touched his heart. “Does she do that a lot?”

Jane shook her head. “Only in stores …sometimes …”

“What do I do in stores?” Elizabeth stuck her head out the door and smiled at Bernard. “Hello there. How was the drive?”

“Beautiful.” He looked as though he had really enjoyed the trip as they exchanged a warm, expressive glance.

“Not everyone says that when they arrive. It's an awfully winding road.”

“I always throw up,” Jane supplied with a grin. “But I like it once we're here.”

“Do you sit in the front seat with the windows down?” He looked concerned.

“Yup.”

“Do you eat saltines before you go? …Nah …I'll bet you eat banana splits all the time.” And then he remembered the chocolate teddy bear, and pulled it out of the bag for her before handing the rest to Liz. “For both of you, a few goodies from the store.”

Elizabeth looked surprised and touched and Jane let out a squeal of delight as she held the chocolate teddy bear. It was even bigger than her doll, and she almost drooled looking at it. “Can I eat it now, Mommy? …Please? …” She turned pleading eyes to Liz, who gave a small groan of defeat. “Please, Mommy? …Please? …Just an ear?”

“All right, all right. I give up. But don't eat too much. Lunch will be ready pretty soon.”

“Okay.” She scampered off, holding the bear, like a puppy with a bone, and Bernard smiled at Liz.

“She's the greatest little kid.” Someone like Jane reminded him that there were empty spots in his life, and children were one of them.

“She's crazy about you.” Liz smiled.

“Banana splits and chocolate bears always help. For all she knows I'm the Boston Strangler with a great source for chocolate teddy bears.” As he said it, he followed Elizabeth into the kitchen, where she unpacked the bags he had brought, and she gasped when she saw the caviar and the pate and all the expensive goodies.

“Bernie, you shouldn't have done all that! My God …look at that…” She looked at the box of chocolate truffles in her hand, and then with a guilty look, she did exactly what Jane would have done. She offered them to him and then popped one in her mouth, closing her eyes with the ecstasy of it. “Hmm …oh …sooo good …” She made it sound like a sexual experience, and it gave him a chance to admire her again. She was delicate and graceful and really beautiful in a clean-cut American way. She was wearing her long blond hair in one long braid today, and her eyes were as blue as the faded denim shirt she wore and the white shorts showed off her shapely legs. And he noticed that she wore carefully applied red polish on her toenails, which showed a little vanity at least. But she wore nothing on her eyes, and no lipstick at all, and the nails on her hands were cut short. She was a pretty girl, more than that in fact, but she wasn't frivolous, and he liked that about her. She didn't take your breath away, but she warmed your heart… in fact, she warmed more than that as she bent over to put the two bottles of wine away, and then turned to him with a smile much like Jane's. “You've spoiled us terribly, Bernard … I don't know what to say.”

“Listen …it's nice to make new friends … I don't have very many out here.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“Five months.”

“From New York?”

He nodded. “I've lived in New York all my life, except three years in Chicago a long time ago.”

She looked intrigued as she got two beers out of the fridge and offered him one. “That's where I'm from. Why did you go out there?”

“My trial by fire. I went out there to run the store His voice trailed off, thinking of it. “And now I'm here.” It still felt like a punishment to him, although slightly less so as he looked at her, and then followed her into the comfortable living room. The house was small, and the floor was covered with straw mats. The furniture was covered in faded denim and there was driftwood and shells everywhere. The house could have been anywhere, East Hampton, Fire Island, Malibu … it had a nondescript quality, but outside the picture window was the view, a spectacular beach, a vast expanse of sea, and off to one side San Francisco, clustered on the hills sparkling in the sun. It was a beautiful view …and more than that, she was a beautiful girl. She waved him to a comfortable chair, and sat down on the couch herself, pretzeling her legs under her.

“Do you like it out here? In San Francisco, I mean.”

“Sometimes.” He was honest with her. “I haven't seen much of it, I must admit. I've been busy with the store. I like the climate. When I left New York, it was snowing, and when I got here five hours later, it was spring. There's something to be said for that.”

“But?” She smiled invitingly at him. She had a nice way about her, a way that made one want to talk to her endlessly, and share one's private thoughts. He had a sudden insight that she must be a nice woman to have as a friend, and he wasn't sure if that was all he wanted from her or not. There was something about her which appealed to him a lot, something subtly sexy he couldn't define, like the curve of her breast in the old blue shirt she wore, and the way she bent her head …and the way little wisps of her hair curled softly around her face. He wanted to touch her, to hold her hand … to kiss the full lips as she smiled … it was difficult even concentrating on what she said. “It must be lonely for you here without friends. I hated it here for the first year.”

“But you stayed anyway?” He looked intrigued. He wanted to hear about her, wanted to know everything she had to say.

“Yes. For a while I didn't have any choice. I didn't have any folks to go home to by then. My parents died in a car accident during my sophomore year at Northwestern.” Her eyes clouded thinking about it, and he winced on her behalf. “I think that made me a lot more vulnerable, and I fell madly in love with the star of the play I was in, in junior year.”

Her eyes were sad as she thought back. It was funny, she didn't usually tell people about that, but it was easy to talk to him. And they were watching Jane through the picture window as she played in the sand outside, her doll sitting next to her as she waved at them from time to time. And something about Bernie made her want to be honest with him right from the beginning. She figured she had nothing to lose. If he didn't like what he heard, he wouldn't call again, but at least everything would be straight between them if he did. There was something to be said for that. She was tired of the games people played, and the pretense between people from the moment they met. It wasn't her style. And she looked at him with wide, honest blue eyes. “I was at Northwestern …studying drama of course.” She smiled at him, thinking back. “And we'd been in summer stock together the summer right after my parents died. I felt like a zombie I was so numb, and I didn't have anyone in the world anymore. I fell head over heels in love with him. He was a gorgeous man and a nice guy, I thought, and I got pregnant just before we graduated. He said he wanted to get married out here. Someone had offered him a part in a movie in Hollywood. So he came out here first, and I followed him. I had nowhere else to go anymore, and I couldn't accept having an abortion. So I followed Chandler out here, even though things were a little less rosy by then. He wasn't too thrilled about the pregnancy, to say the least. But I was still desperately in love with him, and I thought things would work out.” She glanced out the window at Jane, as though to reassure herself that they had.