Cartography for Beginners (13 page)

"Dunie," Leo said and rubbed between his eyebrows.

Micah said, "You've never been to England. Now's your chance. You can clear your head, relax, and think about other things than Adam..."

Leo said, "I don't have a passport."

"We can get them in six weeks," Micah said cheerfully, "unless we get it expedited, which we can do pretty easily if we know the date we're planning to leave, which we do." He draped himself over Leo's back. "Please, Leo? Let's go to London and have an adventure!"

"I don't know, guys," Leo said with a sigh.

"What happened to 'I'm moving on'?" Frances said.

"I am moving on!" Leo insisted.

"Not if you stay in your rut!"

Dune said quietly, "Dad, please come too. You know Stuart would love to see you."

Leo wasn't sure at all. He picked up an X-acto knife and sliced open the nearest box. "We have two dozen boxes to get through, guys."

"Avoidance," said Ocean to Frances, and Frances nodded. She got a look in her eye -- a dangerous look, from Leo's experience.

She leaned back her head against the bookcase. "It was kind of amazing yesterday, wasn't it? All those people from so long ago, and falling back into things like no time had passed at all. I was surprised David remembered us at all, but no, he did. "

Leo pulled over another box to open it. "Yes, he did."

Frances went on, "We had a good talk, David and I. He told me he'll be shooting a movie in London over the summer." She opened her eyes wide. "Oh, Leo! If you go to London too you could see David again!"

"Frances," Leo said warningly, while the boys looked puzzled.

"And he was so fond of you," said Frances as she opened a box. "So very fond. If you hung out with David, you wouldn't have to find a holiday romance, don't you think?"

"Dad?" Dune said.

"Your mother is trying to fix me up with a movie star," Leo said. "How about you two get the rest of the boxes down from the attic while we figure out what to do with all of this stuff?"

"C'mon," said Dune, slapping Micah's arm, and the two of them raced back up the attic ladder.

"I don't have to fix you up," Frances said. "You've already done the hard part." She started taking things out of the box Leo had opened: rattling board games and mismatched mittens, a soccer trophy and Matchbox cars. "It looks like this is another box of Dune's."

"Please leave it alone," Leo said. "It's bad enough the boys are determined I find someone new. I'm surprised Jamie hasn't built a website for me yet. Get Leo Laid dot com."

Frances giggled, hard enough that she had to press her hands to her mouth. "Not that I have anything against Stuart," she said when she'd regained her breath, "but I'd rather see you with someone successful and handsome and here in the States than someone who's half a world away."

"David's not the one for me either," Leo said.

"How do you know that? I mean, if you've already--" She made a kissy face, hands running up and down her arms. Ocean cracked up and Leo managed a smile.

"I just know."

"If you say so." She looked down into the box again. "Do you think Dune will want any of this? I don't think he will."

"Ask him anyway. He may have some sentimental value attached that we know nothing about."

"I'll get some garbage bags," said Ocean and went into the kitchen.

Leo lounged on the floor, watching Frances as she took knickknacks out of the box. "Did you know the boys are talking about adopting?"

"No!" Frances said, holding the sides of the box. "Are they, really?"

"They are, really. They're not planning to do it right away, but sometime in the next five years or so, Micah says."

"They want to make us grandparents," Frances said, shaking her head in wonder. "I'm too young to be a grandmother!"

Leo smirked. "That's what your mother said when you told her about Dune, as I recall."

"That was her fault for having me so young."

Leo chuckled and took out a cardboard picture frame from the box. It was Dune at eight, when he was still going by D.J. and had “Tate-Bellamy” in yellow letters on the back of his soccer uniform. The part that hurt was that Adam was in the team picture. He'd volunteered to coach that year, and stood beside the team's banner, his hand on Dune's shoulder, young and happy and ready to join the kids in running up and down the field for an hour.

Leo put the frame aside. "What did you and Adam talk about yesterday?"

"Not much," said Frances. "Mostly how Dune is doing. He didn't stay long. I don't think Raphael is comfortable around your friends."

"Can't imagine why." Leo lay on his back and put his hand over his eyes. "What do you think of him? Of Raphael? Have you talked to him at all?"

"I think he's too young to know what he wants. I can't imagine what they talk about."

"I think the draw isn't talk."

She swatted him. "I thought you weren't going to be bitter anymore."

"It's a work in progress."

"Well, I think Raphael is young and a little dim, and I don't think he's the kind to stick around. But Adam seems happy enough." She removed his hand from his eyes and intertwined their fingers. "And you, dear Leo? Light of my life?"

"I am going to miss you horribly," Leo said, smiling at her. "Moving across the bay was bad enough. Across the country -- that's going to be terrible."

"You'll manage. You've got all these lovely boys to keep you company."

The boys trundled back down the stairs with more boxes, and Ocean returned with some garbage bags. "Dune, darling, we need to figure out what to keep and what to throw away of yours," Frances said, and Dune sat on the floor behind them.

"I'd forgotten about all of this stuff." He picked up the soccer team picture and frowned as he looked at it. "I don't want to keep this."

"I do," said Micah and snatched it away. "You were such a cute kid, Dunie."

Dune continued frowning, and started digging through the box. "Whatever can't be donated, throw it away. I haven't missed any of this."

"Is anybody else hungry?" Micah said. "Could we order pizza?"

"I'd love some pizza," Ocean said and Frances nodded in agreement, and the four of them spent the next ten minutes or so arguing about where to order it and what toppings to get, while Leo lay on his back and listened, knowing they'd end up getting pepperoni on sourdough from the same pizzeria like always.

When it sounded like they were close to deciding -- with Dune requesting vegetable along with pepperoni -- Leo went to the foyer to get his keys. Micah joined him, shrugging on his jacket. "I volunteered to pick up the pizza with you."

"I appreciate the company." He opened the door to let Micah out, and they went to his car.

They drove for a bit. Micah said, "What about you, dearest Leo?"

"What about me?" Leo said, not as casually as he would have liked.

Micah laid his fingers on Leo's neck. "Somebody's been smoochin' you and I think that somebody is named Stuart Huntsman."

Leo pulled up his collar. "Don't tell Dune."

"I bet he's noticed already and hasn't put two and two together yet. I think it's excellent, though I'd think it would be even better if Stuart was still here."

"So would I."

Micah looked out at the road. "Now you have to come to London with us. You can see Stuart again! It'll be an epic romance!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Leo said but Micah was already lost in his starry-eyed vision.

"Long-distance relationships always sound so awful but at least he can afford to come see you a lot."

"It's not a relationship," said Leo. "It's not anything yet."

"It will be." Micah looked at Leo again. "He comes to see you all the time, you talk every day -- he's crazy about you."

"Stuart comes to see all of us, mostly you and Jamie. And we talk every day because--" He cut himself off. He didn't know why they talked every day except that they had fallen into the habit once Stuart became a more frequent visitor and they had yet to fall out. It might happen now.

"Because he's the first person you want to talk to in the morning and the last person you want to talk to at night," said Micah.

"Friendship," said Leo. "I don't think he has a lot of friends. There's people who work for him and people he knows socially, but not many he can just... talk to."

Micah frowned. "You're not going to shut him out, are you?"

"No," Leo said. "I still want to be his friend."

"We're supposed to stay with him at his place."

"You have no need for me," said Leo. "You and Dune will sight-see, Jamie will work on the show and Ben will look after Jamie."

"I want you to come with us," Micah said. "Dune wants you to. I know Stuart would love it."

"If I go, and that's a big if, things will be the same as always," Leo said. "I don't want it any other way." He pulled up in front of the pizzeria. "Here we are."

Micah started to open the door, and then said, "Stuart asks about you a lot when he emails me. He's casual about it but I know how to read between the lines. Come to London with us. It'll make Stuart happy."

Leo took the keys out of the ignition. "I do like making people happy," he said softly, and the thought of making Stuart happy made him feel happy, too.

***

For the first time since his friendship with Leo had begun, Stuart wondered if he should make the usual phone call before bed. He had arrived home safely, and while he was tired from travel and the world outside was dark, his body was still on California time and he wasn't ready to sleep.

Talking to Leo had great potential for awkwardness. So did not talking to Leo. The best way to treat it, Stuart thought, was to act as if everything was normal between them. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory of Leo's mouth and the sweet, delicious kisses that he already missed.

If he didn't call Leo, Leo would know that all was not well. If he did call Leo, he wasn't sure he could hide how much he missed the man.

"Sentimental nonsense," Stuart muttered and hit the speed dial button for Leo. Of course, after all of that anticipation and buildup, Leo didn't answer and the call went to voice mail. Stuart scowled at the phone and said, "As requested, Mother, I'm calling to let you know I'm home safely. I'm going to bed, since I need to get back on UK time rather soon. I'll try you again tomorrow." He paused, and then said, "I miss you too, you know, when we're not together. But that's friendship, isn't it? Wanting your favorite people nearby." He sighed, looked at the dimly-lit houses on the other side of the river, and said, "I am tired and absurd. Good night, Leo." He hung up, said, "Absurd," and went to bed.

When Stuart woke, he swam in the Thames, as he tried to do every morning when he was in London, and caught up with all that had gone on without him. Less-urgent emails to answer than those from his assistant, phone calls to return, mail to read. He sorted his clothes for his housekeeper, approved her menu choices for the next week, and ate breakfast in his back garden while he read his mail. There were invitations to suppers and parties, requests for charitable donations, thank you notes, and one letter postmarked from Paris. The name above the return address was Jean-Claude Clement.

At the sight of the name Stuart's heart pounded loud enough for him to hear and his hands trembled. His son's name -- his son, whom he hadn't seen for twenty-five years -- but the boy would have no reason for contacting him.

Not a boy. A young man, now. Stuart tried to imagine what that tow-headed child would look like at thirty but his mind supplied only the young Frenchmen who'd been in his gallery before he left for San Francisco.

He tore open the envelope. The paper was rich with a good tooth, the ink stark and black, and the handwriting unadorned and masculine. It was not like the letters he sometimes received from hopeful artists seeking his representation, where the handwriting looked practiced to the point of losing all personality. This was the writing of a man with no intention to impress.

"Dear Mr. Huntsman,

My name is Jean-Claude Clement and I am informed that you are my father. I am getting married in August. I do not know if you would attend my wedding, but I would like to ask before I send an official invitation.

"If you do not wish to attend, do not answer this letter. I would prefer not to hear your excuse.

Jean-Claude Clement."

It was a cold letter, and Stuart read it over a few times, frowning. It sounded more like Jean-Claude had written it under the influence of someone else rather than because he genuinely wanted to reconnect with his father.

Stuart folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, put it into the stack of opened mail and stared out at the river. He supposed the wise thing to do was respect Joelle's wishes and not answer Jean-Claude's letter. His children had managed without him all this time -- what good would contacting them now do?

But, a wedding. His son, married. And there might be grandchildren in a few years.

He collected his dishes and brought them into the kitchen, and then picked up his phone. He hesitated a moment, then said, "Absurd," again and dialed Leo. "It's Stuart. Did I wake you?" he said to Leo's mumbled hello.

"Yes. But it's all right. It's almost seven. I got your message last night. What's going on?"

"I need your advice. I got a letter while I was in California and I don't know what to do about it."

"Is this to do with your assistant asking if she could give someone your address?"

"Possibly. It's from my son. He wrote to tell me he's getting married and wants to know if he should invite me."

"Oh! Oh, that's good, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Stuart said honestly. He could hear Leo stirring, the sound of his bed squeaking and his blankets fluffing. "I think he's doing it because he feels obligated."

"Is he obligated?" Leo asked in a reasonable tone.

"No, of course not. They owe me nothing. I haven't seen them or spoken to them for twenty-five years."

"Why not?" Leo said.

"Their mother forbade it when I left her. I was hurt and angry enough to agree."