A Summer in Sonoma (29 page)

“Okay, you're having a mental breakdown or something. Right? He's great, you're crazy about him, he sounds extremely decent, so you better get rid of him…. Are you on drugs?”

“Okay, here's my dilemma—help me out here… This is a guy I want in my life, but I'm not sure I want him in my future. Does that make any sense?”

Julie rested the apple and knife on the counter and looked hard into her best friend's eyes. At long last, she said, “No.”

“He doesn't have much of a job. He works in a bike shop. He looks like a Hells Angels reject most of the time. He can clean up pretty good, but that beard, ponytail and naked lady aren't going anywhere. He likes that biker look. But I want a normal life! I want a normal future—not a flashy one, but a solid one. I want a family, and it's real hard for me to picture Walt standing outside the nursery window at the hospital, gazing dreamily at the newborns. I can't see him at one of our get-togethers. I bet the guys wouldn't like him so much—he's very sweet, but he looks like a thug.” She sighed. “When I think about what the family Christmas picture would look like, I kind of shudder.”

Julie just stared at her, her mouth slightly open. “Cassie Rasmussen, I've never heard you talk like this before in your life. You don't think he
looks
right? He's
perfect in every way, but he doesn't
look
like your typical guy?”

“That's part of it. He's just not the kind of guy I thought I'd end up with…”

“Is that a little like a guy not getting to know a woman with a fat butt?” Julie asked.

“He thinks I look great. He's probably just lying, but…”

“Did that Dr. George Whatshisname look like what you'd end up with? That skinny, snotty, little nerdy guy with the great big glasses and bald head?”

“Sorta,” she said. “He fit a picture of where I thought I was headed. He did belong to a country club….”

“He was an
ass!
” Julie said. “Talk about someone the guys couldn't relate to! He was a braggart and he was rude and treated you like it was your lucky goddamn day he asked you out. I
hated
him.”

“Yeah, he didn't turn out so good,” Cassie admitted. “At least I didn't sleep with him. Also, if I'm going to let myself get into a relationship, I want it to be with someone who can share the financial load with me, so if there's a family, there's a future. Besides,” she said, sitting back, “I'm not sure that's what I'm feeling. I like him, I really like him, but I don't feel madly in love.”

“You can't imagine a week without him in it, but you're not in love? You're very confused.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I don't?”

“You don't. I think you've been infatuated a million times and haven't had a good, solid, dependable man to
love even once. I think you wouldn't know one if he bit you in the ass. And I have a feeling one just did.”

“Well, didn't you know you were madly in love with Billy?”

“When I was fifteen? Oh, hell, I was madly in love with love, but a few years later I realized I was just in lust and true love came after that. I can depend on him to always be there for me, to be a partner, a friend, a team player. He makes me laugh, holds me when I cry, is as committed to the kids and our life together as I am. He's a good person—and I don't just love him, I like him and respect him.”

I like Walt very much, Cassie thought. I respect him. I could love him if I'd let myself. “Well, I don't know what to do,” Cassie said.

“Cassie, you've been bringing around guys for ten years and sooner or later they treat you bad or disappear. You think that's more acceptable than one who treats you like a queen but has a ponytail? Jesus. I think you're all hung up on his image, and you ought to just get over it. What would you be doing right now if he shaved, got a haircut and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck?”

Cassie's eyes got a little round. Walt would sure look sexy with a haircut, wearing a white coat… “I can't really be that shallow, can I?”

“Sounds like it,” Julie said.

“Oh, man, this is very embarrassing…”

There was a shout from the backyard. Both women looked at the window to see the ladder moving away from the window, then there was a loud crash as it hit
the ground. “Oh, God!” Julie said, dropping the apple and knife. “Not again!”

Julie beat Cassie to the door and ran to Billy, who lay on the ground. She knelt beside him while Cassie shouted, “
Don't…!
” But Julie lifted his head immediately, and by that time Cassie was kneeling on his opposite side.

“I thought I told you, never lift a person's head like that,” Billy said. “Hi, Cass.”

“Did you fall off the ladder again?”

“Not exactly. I kind of threw it to the ground and laid down, just to see if you had listened to me. I could've had a spinal cord injury, you know.”

Julie dropped his head. “Asshole.”

He grabbed her and pulled her down on him, then rolled with her until she was underneath. Then he tickled her. And then kissed her.

“I'm going home,” Cassie said. “I don't know what's worse—you two fighting or being all gushy kiss-kiss. Why can't you just be normal people sometimes?”

“What's got her so cranky?” he asked.

“She's trying not to fall in love,” Julie said.

 

As Cassie got ready for Walt to pick her up for dinner, she realized she'd never even asked where they were going. Walt had a lot of favorite dives, from truck stops to diners, but every now and then he'd walk her into an elegant restaurant, like the one they'd visited at the vineyards on their first ride. They'd entered that one in their dusty jeans and windblown hair, so asking Walt what
she should wear probably wouldn't be of much help. Walt was beyond unpredictable.

And then she realized no guy had ever wanted her to meet his parents. Not once. And even though she wasn't sure she wanted this to last, she was suddenly very eager that they think she was well put together. They're just regular, nice folks, Walt had said. His dad was a grocer, his mom a teacher. She chose a pale green pantsuit and wore her hair straight down her back, the way Walt loved it. She forgot about the fact that this potential relationship didn't seem to have the kind of appearance or security she was after; as she put on her makeup, she hoped Walt thought she looked pretty tonight.

When Walt arrived for her at six, he looked just fantastic in tailored pants and a blue silk shirt that brought out the deep color of his eyes; she couldn't find a thing wrong with his looks. He must only own boots, but these were low heeled, black leather, expensive looking. His thick hair was pulled back in the usual ponytail and his sideburns and moustache were neatly trimmed. “I think you've had a little emergency fluff and buff for your mother,” she said, running her finger across his moustache. “You look very handsome,” she said. “How do your parents feel about the ponytail?”

“I think they've gotten used to it. My mother wants this arm amputated, though,” he said, sticking out the naked lady. “Her first words were, ‘Very classy, Walt.'”

He said they were going to a small French restaurant on the river, and once again, Walt was greeted as though a frequent guest. There were fewer than a dozen tables
in the place, plenty of wait staff and a dimly lit ambience that bespoke exclusivity. There was good art on the walls, crisp linens on the tables, fine china, candles. When they walked in, a handsome couple of about sixty stood from a corner table and Walt urged Cassie forward.

To say they were not what Cassie expected was an understatement. Walt introduced them as Dick and Judy. Dick was just shy of six feet, bald and striking with expressive brows and handsome smile. Judy was ravishing. A knockout. Tall and perfectly proportioned, not too thin, svelte and healthy with a dazzling smile. She stood at least five-ten in short heels, had honey-blonde hair in a rich, smooth pageboy cut that reached her shoulders, perfectly manicured nails, exquisite makeup and there was no mistaking a chocolate-brown Chanel suit with a peach-colored silk blouse under the jacket. Not to mention a diamond ring that should prevent her from lifting her hand to shake Cassie's. And that's where Walt had gotten those wonderful blue eyes, from his mother. The moment they took their seats, Judy said, “Walt tells us you're an emergency room nurse. I can't wait to hear all about it.”

“Ah, Mom, you might not want to hear about Cassie's work at dinner. She has stories about guts falling out, bones sticking through the skin, brains on the floor, that kind of thing.”

Judy's eyes glittered. She said, “Fascinating! How long have you been doing this?”

Cassie went into kind of a trance. Dick and Judy kept her talking about herself and she found it impos
sible to get an explanation for why they were so sophisticated, so richly dressed, without asking crude questions. They were brought menus without prices. Walt asked her if she would mind if he selected the wine and Judy complimented her lavishly. Could Walt's mother be sixty? Because she didn't look it. But if she had a college degree and her oldest son was thirty-four, she was probably that or close. Yet she looked so young and fresh. Stately and mature. Flawless.

Finally, as they were finishing their entrees, Cassie said, “So, Mrs. Arneson, do you ever ride on the back of Walt's bike?”

She laughed. “Not on your life. I can be coerced onto Dick's from time to time, but I don't like those long rides. Really, Cassie, I fought this motorcycle business almost to my last breath, but all four boys have the bug. Walt's the worst, of course. And Dick doesn't have time to putter around or take long cross-country rides. I have my own bike,” she said. “Pink. I don't ride it often.”

As Judy talked, out of the edge of her ear Cassie heard Dick ask Walt, “You go into the store today, son?”

“Just for a few hours. Everything's in order.”

“You hear anything back on that offer?”

“Not yet. We will in plenty of time.”

Cassie refocused on Judy. “If you don't mind me saying so, it's hard to imagine you raising four sons.”

She answered with a pleased expression. “Are you saying I seem to have gotten through it intact?”

“Four boys is a big load,” Cassie said.

“It was my fault,” Judy said. “I wanted a girl. I just
kept at it, but Kevin tipped me over the edge—I gave up. They were a handful, and I worked full-time till Kevin was twelve. I finally had to quit working full-time and just subbed. I had three teenage boys at home trying to burn the house down and one in college. Someone had to stand guard.”

During dinner, Cassie had the fleeting thought that she almost wished they weren't so terrific. She kept looking for reasons not to get any further attached to Walt, and kept coming up empty. Even before Julie accused her of being superficial and worried only about his looks, he had started to become more beautiful every day, inside and out. And it was like he said—it gave her some peace of mind to find he had very nice, normal-looking parents.

When dessert and coffee were finished, Dick said, “Well, I bet you young people have plans for the evening while these old folks are going home to watch TV.”

“I think we're just going back to Cassie's house,” Walt said. Then he looked at Cassie and said, “But if there's somewhere you'd like to go…?”

“I think this dinner is my limit,” she said. “It was wonderful, Walt. Mrs. Arneson, your son is better at finding great places to eat than anyone I've ever met. It's his hobby, I think.”

“Sweetheart,” she laughed. “Look at him. It takes a lot of fuel to keep him going.”

Everyone stood and said their good-nights; the Arnesons kissed her cheeks and carried on about how wonderful it was to finally meet her. She was very quiet
as they walked to the truck, which Walt had parked himself despite the fact there was valet service for this tiny, elegant restaurant. When they were under way, he asked, “Did you like my mom and dad?”

She sighed. “Walt, they're wonderful. Although not what I expected.”

“No?” he asked, glancing at her, smiling.

“They're very sophisticated. Chic.
Rich.
”

He laughed. “Well, my dad will be the first to admit he's been real lucky. He had that small grocery, a couple of rental houses and a couple of kids—and he was stretched to the limit. But he really went a long way with his investments, then he got in the franchise business. He's done real well for himself. He's a shrewd businessman. When I was a little kid, it was mac and cheese for dinner three nights a week, both parents working, everyone in hand-me-downs except me—I was always too big.”

“No one paid the bill tonight,” she said. “I never saw a check come to the table.”

“It's my mom's favorite restaurant. They have my credit-card imprint. Believe me, the bill's paid. I'll have a receipt by tomorrow morning.”

“Your dad's got a lot of money and he lets you buy dinner at a fancy restaurant like that?”

He glanced at her. Frowned. “Cassie, do you think I'm broke?”

“You're a motorcycle mechanic,” she said. “I mean, I'm sure you do all right, but—”

“I keep telling you, motorcycles are good business.
People spend plenty of money on their bikes. I do just fine.”

She thought about that a minute. He was thirty-two and worked long hours, probably a lot of overtime. All he really did was work, take his parents to a fancy meal every week or so and ride his bike. He got stuff from the store, probably parts for his bikes, as well, which he was more than capable of taking care of himself, cost free. For a low-maintenance man like Walt, it probably left a lot to spare.