Finding Isadora (8 page)

If there were no sparks, you shouldn
’t get serious about a man? No, I didn’t buy that for a moment. You had to be thoughtful about relationships, not impulsive, not ruled by pheromones. Besides, I wasn’t actually convinced that pheromones—sparks, as Janice said—truly existed. I’d never experienced any. Unless you counted that weird thing with Gabriel. An energy field, Jan had said. Yes, that was a good description.

Pogo tired of the bush and darted ahead, catching me off guard and yanking me in his wake, the two of us almost tripping a teenage girl and her boyfriend.

“Sorry!” I pulled back firmly on the leash, halting Pogo’s headlong dash as Janice trotted a few steps to catch up.

“
Hey, you and Richard were going to that glitzy fundraiser last night, right? How was it?”

Gabriel, flashing his sexy smile. Stripping off his clothes.

“I met Richard’s father,” I said grimly.

“
Wow! How did it go?”

She was my oldest friend in the world and we didn
’t keep secrets. “I thought he was hot.”

“
Well, shit.” Janice stopped dead, eliciting a curse from a man who’d been walking behind us and almost crashed into her. “Really?” She yanked me off the path and I in turn tugged Pogo along with us. Jan’s eyes, the color of black coffee, peered up at me, wide and demanding.

“
God, Janice, you should have seen him.” Unwilling to face her sharp-eyed scrutiny, I pulled her back on the path and we began walking again as I described Gabriel.

When I finished, she said,
“Oh yeah, he definitely sounds hot. Isn’t that wild, that Richard’s father would be hot? I mean, he’s got to be your parents’ age. And while I love Jimmy Lee to pieces, I wouldn’t call him hot.”

“
Grace would. And no, Gabriel’s not that old. Around forty-five, I think. Besides, I don’t think hot has to do with age. Like you said, it’s a personal thing, a state of mind. Or body,” I added grimly, thinking that my attraction to Gabriel had absolutely nothing to do with reason or sanity.

“
And your personal state of body says Richard’s dad is hot. That’ll make family dinners a little strange. Though from what you’ve said, Richard hardly ever sees him, eh?”

“
True.”

I finished my coffee and dumped the cup in a garbage bin. Of course Janice was right. Family dinners would be with Diane and Frank, not Richard
’s father. Gabriel might come to the wedding, then I’d probably never see him again. What a relief. Except, I didn’t feel relieved so much as … sad. For Richard, for Gabriel, and maybe for myself.

Wanting to change the subject
, I remembered something I’d been going to ask her. “Jan, have you ever thought of doing private tutoring? For an adult?”

“
You need a brush-up?” she kidded.

“
Sure hope not. You’ve heard me mention our veterinary assistant, Martin Swallow? And how well he’s working out? He’s starting university in September, concentrating on sciences and planning to be a vet. His academic background isn’t strong and he wants to study ahead of time. He got the textbooks for his fall courses, but they’re heavy going. Martin could use a tutor.”

She was nodding.
“He’s a good guy, a hard worker?”

“
And nice. He loves animals and he’s bright but he had, uh, a disadvantaged childhood and adolescence.” It would violate Martin’s privacy to tell her the details. “He learns differently than most people. He’s more intuitive than intellectual.”

“
More like you than me. Been there, done that.” She grinned. “Worked out okay for us, didn’t it? Sure, tell him to give me a call. We could get together for a coffee, see if we hit it off.”

“
Hit it off, over coffee? You sure you want to go that route after what happened with Jeremy?” I teased.

She dug a pointy elbow into my ribs.
“Gimme a break.” Then, suspiciously, “So is Martin gay?”

I laughed.
“No, but would it make a difference?”

“
Of course not. He’s a kid, right? It’s not like I’m going to be
interested
in him.”

“
He’s twenty-one, but mature. He’s survived more shit than most of us will ever experience. I respect him.”

“
Tell me you’re not match-making.”

Laughing, I relented.
“No, I’m definitely not. You’re right, there’s a six year age difference and the two of you probably have nothing in common.” It was time to change the subject again. “Tell me about the play. I gather it’s worth going, just to look at Romeo?”

We chatted companionably as we walked the six
mile loop. Janice exchanged occasional greetings with students and other teachers, and I did the same with vet clinic clients. As the morning wore on, the seawall got even more crowded, particularly as we hit the last stretch past the Rowing Club. Many of the oncoming people had just started their jaunt around the seawall, including nervous roller-bladers and cyclists who’d rented their equipment at the end of Denman Street.

By the time we were back on
Denman ourselves, the BC Hydro noon whistle was blowing its
Oh Ca-na-da
four notes. Walking up the street, we passed restaurants that smelled enticingly of brunch food. “I’m starving,” Janice said.

“
Let’s find a place where we can eat outside, so Pogo can sleep under our table.”

We chose Rain City Grill,
which had a patio just off Denman where there was less sidewalk traffic. Exertion deserved a reward, so we both ordered brioche French toast.

Janice stretched contentedly in the sun like a cat.
“I could stay here all afternoon but I have papers to mark. What are you up to?”

“
Laundry and housework, making cookies for me and Mr. Schultz, catching up on e-mail, a trip to the gym, then Richard and I are getting together for dinner.”

“
The gym? How can you do it, after that walk?”

“
I’ll do some yoga and light weights, skip the aerobics.”

“
You’re too virtuous. I envy you the dinner out, though.” She squinted her eyes against the sun. “Hey, Izzie, you think Richard’s hot, right?”

I tried not to wince as I remembered my before-bed musings last night.
“Of course I do,” I said, loyalty to Richard outweighing my policy of not lying to my friend.

After Pogo and I dropped Jan at her place, my thoughts returned to last night. But not, this time, to my physical reaction to Gabriel. This time I thought about his speech, and the guilt feelings he
’d engendered in me. However bad he might be as a father, he was a truly good citizen. He, like my parents, helped to make the world a better place.

Likely he wasn
’t blowing off an entire Sunday in self-indulgent activities.

“
Yoga,” I told Pogo as we went into our building. “I need serenity.” Before my tension headache came back.

* * *

Richard’s and my dinner plan was to meet at Ciao Bella, an unpretentious Italian restaurant with a friendly atmosphere and reasonable prices. We tended to eat out, at inexpensive ethnic places, rather than at one of our apartments. With him liking meat and me a vegetarian, cooking at home was a hassle. Of course once we were married, we’d figure out the necessary compromises.

He was coming from the office, so when we met on the street outside
the restaurant, it was no surprise to see him in tailored pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Even on Sunday, he wouldn’t wear jeans to work. Partners had a habit of showing up.

Grace referred to Richard
’s style disparagingly as being straight out of Brooks Brothers. I had to admit that, while attractive, it was awfully conservative. I liked him best in jeans, with a T-shirt hanging out rather than neatly tucked in.

Hot? As we hugged and exchanged a quick kiss, I thought again about the meaning of that word. Richard was a good-looking man. If he had longer hair and it was tousled, and he was wearing jeans and nothing else
… He had a good torso, lean but not skinny, with a scattering of dark curls. Yeah, if you put Richard, looking like that, on the cover of a romance novel, women would definitely think he was hot.

“
What’s on your mind, Iz? You have a glazed look.”

I rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear,
“You, half-naked.”

He gave a surprised laugh.
“Sounds like a good plan for later.”

“
A good start, anyhow. I have every intention of getting you completely naked.”

“
I sure hope so.”

We looped our arms around each other and headed inside, where
the hostess greeted us and gave us our usual window table.

“
You’re done for the day?” I asked Richard.

“
I am.”

“
Great. It’s a while since we’ve had a whole evening together. Alone, I mean.”

He shoved up his glasses, as he tended to do when he was on edge.
“I’m sorry.”

“
Hey, it’s okay. I understand you need to put in a lot of hours to impress the partners.” We’d agreed he would concentrate on his career in the beginning. By the time we wanted to have children, he’d be senior enough to work more reasonable hours.

“
Besides,” I added, “I have lots to keep me busy.” I was happy to spend more time at the clinic, hang out with family or friends, or simply enjoy my own company and that of my menagerie. Yes, I missed Richard, but after growing up in houses and apartments full of people—co-op roommates or my parents’ charity cases—I valued time alone.

I
’d intended my words to reassure, but Richard, who didn’t normally fidget except for that glasses-shoving thing, began tapping his knife against the red-and-white checked tablecloth.

Ana,
our usual waitress, came to say
buona sera
and ask if we’d like wine. We decided to split a half liter of house red. After she’d filled our glasses she took our orders—mine for a small margarita pizza with bocconcini cheese, fresh tomatoes, and basil, and Richard’s for rigatoni with a sauce of tomatoes and Italian sausage. When he ate meat, I liked it better when the meat was disguised by a sauce. Gazing across the table at a slab of steak was a sure way of destroying my appetite.

When Ana had gone, Richard began tapping his knife again.

“Something on your mind?” I asked.

“
Uh, yeah, kind of.”

When he didn
’t go on, I prompted, “Want to talk about it?”

“
Well…” He put the knife down and took a gulp of wine.

He was
making me nervous, and I felt particularly glad I’d ordered pizza. To me, it was comfort food. If I had a dime for every veggie pizza I’d eaten with my parents and their friends, I’d never have needed those student loans. Nothing could go seriously wrong when you were eating pizza.

“
It’s just something I’m thinking of,” Richard said, picking up his knife. “But I’d like your opinion. I mean, it’s only fair to discuss it because it would affect you too.”
Tap, tap
went the knife. “Besides, you’re the only person who really knows me, and we have similar backgrounds, and you can tell me if I’m being crazy.”
Tap, tap.

I couldn
’t imagine ever thinking Richard was crazy, but nor did he usually sound uncertain. “Tell me about it,” I urged, reaching across the table to remove the knife from his grip.

He glanced down, obviously unaware of what he
’d been doing. “What would you think of me becoming a sort of big brother?”

“
A big brother?”

“
There’s this boy, he’s twelve, who lives in my neighborhood. You know that subsidized housing development? He and his mother live there. I don’t know much about her, never see her around. Guess she’s working, or maybe… Well, I shouldn’t speculate.”

Ana delivered our meals and said,
“
Buon appetito
.”

I freed a wedge of pizza and nibbled at the pointy end, waiting to hear the rest of the story.

“Anyhow,” Richard said, “I’ve spoken to Eric a few times. He’s often hanging around with his skateboard when I get home from work. Nine, ten o’clock, long after he should be home. He’s a good kid, we kind of connect for some reason. But I’ve smelled marijuana smoke on him, and seen him hovering around one of those gangs of doped-out punks. I’d hate to see him end up with them.”

“
That’s for sure. You figure his mother’s too busy or doesn’t care?”

“
Seems that way. And I don’t think there’s a male influence in his life apart from those druggies. Maybe I could help him.”

I knew Richard was a good man, but I
’d never seen him want to reach out this way. It warmed my heart. I touched his hand. “I’m sure you could, sweetheart.”