“Can I give you a hand?” She turned and saw the same man. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her, but had been watching her struggle for a while, not sure whether to offer to help her or not. “You’re at a bit of a disadvantage with the cast.” He smiled at her. She hesitated and then nodded, and he stepped up to where she was, gave her a strong arm to lean on, and half pulled her up the hill as she laughed and felt awkward.
“It wasn’t this hard on the way down,” she said to cover her own embarrassment. “It’s coming off in a couple of weeks. It’s easier to navigate on even ground.”
“I would think so. Not a skiing accident, I assume, at this time of year.” He was tall and slim and athletic-looking, and appeared to be somewhere in his mid-fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair. He had laugh lines around his eyes, which were a deep blue.
“No, a very stupid household accident. I fell off a ladder.” But it had turned out to be providential after all, given everything she had done since then.
“Are you down from San Francisco?” he asked her. They were halfway up the hill by then, and it hadn’t been easy so far, but he was strong and pulling her along with a firm hand under one arm. She felt a little silly, but she was grateful for the assistance. She might have been stranded on the beach otherwise.
“No, New York,” she answered, slightly out of breath from the effort.
“Did you fly in to San Francisco or L.A.?” he asked, making friendly chitchat to cover the awkwardness of dragging her uphill, while she thanked him for the help.
“Neither one. I drove down from Wyoming yesterday. I started from New York.”
“That’s adventurous,” he said, looking impressed.
“I visited friends along the way.”
“That’s quite a drive. Are you driving back?”
She shook her head. “I have a son in San Francisco, I’m flying back from there. Are you here from London?”
“No.” He smiled at her again. He’d been trying to admire her discreetly. She was a very attractive woman. “I live here. In a small cottage. I’m a writer. Big Sur is a good place to write.” It made her think of Milagra in Mendocino, which was similarly foggy and windy with a rugged coastline. Writers seemed to be drawn to moody places of the sort.
“What do you write?” Maddie asked.
“History. Biographies, mostly. Very British,” he said with a wry smile. “Nothing so amusing as a novel.”
“I have a daughter who’s a writer. Gothic novels.” He nodded, and they both gave a major effort as they got to the top of the hill and back on the path where she had started. “Thank you!” she said again, out of breath. “They probably would have had to airlift me off the beach if you hadn’t come along.” She laughed, and he smiled.
“Could I interest you in a glass of wine sometime before you leave?” He didn’t usually pick up women, but there was something he liked about her. She had an easy, friendly style and a sense of humor.
“That would be very nice,” she said. She didn’t want to brush him off after he’d been so helpful, and he looked pleasant and interesting.
“Or a cappuccino if you prefer,” he offered.
“Wine would be fine.”
“Tomorrow then?” He suggested a little place in town as he walked her to her car and she unlocked it. She didn’t normally talk to strangers in circumstances like that, on a lonely road, but she wasn’t afraid of him. He seemed respectable and kind. “Five o’clock?”
“That’s perfect.” She smiled at him again. “See you then. And thank you for the damsel-in-distress rescue.”
“Anytime.” He watched her get into the car and she drove away, and then realized they hadn’t introduced themselves. She didn’t know his name, but it didn’t matter, since she was seeing him the next day.
She stuck to flat walking trails after that, and called Penny the next day. Nothing exciting was happening in the office, and Deanna had stopped calling, which was a relief. It was the first time Maddie had ever been relatively unavailable to her children for any length of time. She was always accessible to them. But Deanna had been too harsh with her, to the point of being toxic and certainly not compassionate, and Maddie and Ben had been texting. So she wasn’t totally MIA, though she hadn’t heard from Milagra in weeks, which wasn’t unusual. Maddie was planning to send her an email before she left Big Sur, to see if she wanted a visit after Maddie saw Ben. There was no predicting what Milagra would say. It all depended on where she was with her current book.
Maddie arrived at the wine bar at the appointed hour, right on schedule, and her rescuer was already waiting for her at the entrance.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, “I forgot to introduce myself yesterday, William Smith. I was so dazzled by you, I forgot my own name.”
“So did I. Madison Allen.” They shook hands and sat down at a table near a lit fire on an outdoor terrace. “I was hardly dazzling huffing up the hill, while you almost had to carry me.”
“You do a very creditable damsel in distress. I was quite impressed,” as she had been with him. He seemed easygoing and likable. “So what made you drive across the country from New York?” He was curious and she decided to be honest with him. She had no reason not to be, and she’d probably never see him again after she left Big Sur. She’d only been there twice in eighteen years.
“Ghosts,” she answered simply.
“Ghosts? A research project? A book? Are there ghosts in Wyoming?” He was amused and she smiled.
“I was visiting them. Three friends across the country whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.”
He got the drift and was intrigued by it. “Men, I assume.” She nodded. He was beginning to find her a very interesting woman, and certainly a brave, independent one to drive cross-country alone. “Were they good ghosts or bad ghosts?”
She looked amused by the question. “Originally, good ghosts, or at least I thought so. I hadn’t seen them in twenty years or more. One of them had turned to the dark side, and I think is quite a bad ghost now. The second one is kind of a silly ghost. Naughty, but harmless. The third one was a very good ghost, but I didn’t see him. He died two months before I got there.” She was serious when she said it, and he nodded, touched by what she said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been a bit of a nasty shock, if you didn’t know before.”
“I didn’t. But I had a very nice visit with his son and daughter-in-law.”
“What made you want to look them up after so long?” Ever the historian and researcher. She could tell he was a writer by the questions he asked. The question was very personal but she answered anyway.
“I’m not sure,” she said, honest with him again. “I found a box full of their old letters, and I thought it was time to lay old ghosts to rest, as they say, and answer some questions I had myself.”
“And did you get the answers?”
“Yes, I did, actually.”
“Do you feel better?”
“I do. Sad about my friend in Wyoming, but things happen as they are meant to.” She had said the same thing to Ben, and she believed it.
William nodded when she said it. “I believe that too, although sometimes that’s hard to swallow, if things don’t go the way we want.”
“It wasn’t a possible situation for either of us. But his life turned out well, so I’m happy for him. He did what he always wanted to do. He built a beautiful horse ranch, which was his dream.”
“You have two children?” he asked, changing the subject. “The daughter who’s a writer and the son in San Francisco?”
“Three. Another daughter in New York. And you?”
“A ten-year-old son in England, in boarding school. I got a late start. He visits me for three weeks in the summer, and a week at Christmas every year. It’s not much, but he’s young and in school. And I see him when I make
occasional trips to England, though no more than once or twice a year. He’s a sweet boy. We usually travel when he comes. It’s a bit boring for him here, and the weather is very English. He gets enough of that at home.” Maddie smiled as he said it. “What do your other children do?”
“My son is an entrepreneur, he’s up to his ears in his second start-up. And my daughter in New York is a fashion designer.”
“Very varied,” he commented, impressed. “Do you see much of them? They must be busy.”
“They are. I don’t see them enough, but I’m used to it.”
“And you, Madison? What do you do when you’re not being rescued from beaches and visiting ghosts?”
She smiled at the description. “I’m a photographer.” He frowned for a moment, thinking, and then smiled at her.
“Lord, yes, sorry. I didn’t make the connection. I’ve seen your work. Who hasn’t?” She smiled modestly in response.
“I travel a lot for my work. It keeps me busy.”
“And you drive cross-country. Very impressive. Did you enjoy it?”
“Immensely. It was very relaxing, I like driving and road trips. I never have time to do that. It was a nice change.”
They talked about some of his work then, and their travels. He had lived in Hong Kong and Mumbai, which was called Bombay when he was growing up. His father had done business there. He talked about how odd it had been going back to England after that. He felt like a stranger at home, and was sent to boarding school immediately, which he hated, but not going would have been unthinkable. And he was amazed that his son, Theo, liked his school. William said he had gone to university in England at Oxford, and lived in London while he was married. He said the marriage hadn’t lasted long. It had been an unfortunate mismatch, and he’d only been married once. He admitted that he found all the ancient traditions in England stifling, and he felt freer to do what he wanted in the States, although he missed his son. And he confessed that a small inheritance from a generous relative had allowed him to leave England and come to the States to write. He had moved to California. First L.A., where he’d done some movie scripts, and now Big Sur. He said it was a good place to write his books, but fairly boring living there. You could only admire the view for so long. He went to San Francisco and L.A. for occasional cultural events, but he spent most of his time writing and not much else.
“Me too,” Maddie admitted about her work habits. “I’m something of a workaholic. That and I’m on planes all the time, to some pretty uncivilized places, but I love it. I couldn’t do that when my children were young. It would have been irresponsible.”
“You strike me as a very independent, adventurous woman, and probably fearless in the bargain.”
“Not fearless,” she confessed, although she had been in some very dicey situations that would have terrified most people. “But independent and adventurous, yes. My older daughter has been complaining about it and thinks I should slow down.”
“I don’t believe in that. I think you’ll stay young forever if you keep doing what you love. There’s plenty of time to slow down later, much later, when you have no other choice. But until your arms drop off and your legs fall off, there’s no valid reason to slow down.” She beamed as he said it. He was a year older than she was, at fifty-nine, and was an only child like her.
“That’s what I think. My fall off the ladder was the excuse she’s been waiting for to try and get me to sell the house I love.”
“Nonsense, that’s a terrible idea. I think you should go right on, at full speed, trying to get up the hill on a narrow rocky path with a cast on. It’s quite the right attitude about life,” he said, and she laughed at him. He was nice to talk to and very knowledgeable on a number of subjects that interested her.
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
“Excellent. I’ll send it to her in writing, if you like. Think of all the famous people who went on at full tilt into their eighties and nineties. You have decades ahead of you before you think of slowing down. Keep the house!”
“That’s my theory,” Maddie said happily.
“Stick with it. By the way, would you want to have dinner with me tonight? There’s a very nice little restaurant quite nearby, if you have no other plans.” She liked the idea, and she followed him in her car to a small French restaurant. They had a delicious meal and a lively conversation, and then he drove behind her back to the hotel to make sure she got there safely. He suggested a walk the next morning, and she accepted. It was more fun being with him than taking nature hikes on her own.
He picked her up the next day at eleven, and they walked for two hours, and then had lunch at her hotel. They talked nonstop, laughed a lot, and covered everything from literature to history and art.
She was going to San Francisco the following day, and she agreed to have lunch with William before she left. He took her to a funny hippie place that had been popular in the sixties, and there were a lot of aging surfers there in tie-dyed shirts.
William said he was sorry she was leaving and hoped to see her again sometime, which seemed unlikely.
“I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, Maddie. I get a bit rusty here with nothing but my work.”
“Do you ever come to New York?” she asked hopefully. He had made her stay in Big Sur infinitely more pleasant, and less mournful, after learning of Andy’s death.
“There’s an American publishing house that reprints my work, but my agent and main publisher are in London,” he said in answer to her question about New York. “But I hope our paths will cross somewhere.” She had told him that she was going to Shanghai soon. And now she had a shoot booked in Madrid too, and possibly one in London.
She was all packed when she met him for lunch, her bags were in the car and she planned to leave immediately after. She was having dinner with Ben that night. Laura was going to a benefit with a friend and had agreed to let Ben spend time with his mother, although she wasn’t happy about his not going to the black-tie event with her. The press never paid attention to her when Ben wasn’t there, although she didn’t tell him that.
Maddie had also sent an email to Milagra, telling her that she was going to spend three or four days visiting Ben and his family, and asking if Milagra had time for her mother to visit after that. But she hadn’t heard back from her yet. Maddie knew that if she was writing, she didn’t check her emails, and in that case Maddie would go back to New York without seeing her, but at least she had tried to connect with her.
“Where are you staying in San Francisco?” William asked her as he walked her to her car after lunch.
“The Fairmont. It’s big and kind of fun. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, William,” she said, smiling up at him. He looked as though he wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare, which seemed just as well to her since she’d probably never see him again. It had been a pleasant interlude and he was good company, interesting and intelligent and low-key, with a good sense of humor and the ability to laugh at himself. He was very English, despite how much he liked living in the States.
“I’ve enjoyed it too,” he said. “One doesn’t meet a woman like you very often. In fact, never. I feel like a bit of a recluse here.” She could see why. Spending too much time there would have depressed her, between the weather and the isolation.
“Well, if you come to New York, call me,” she said brightly. She was in good spirits after spending four days with him, and he was easy to talk to. She had given him her numbers in New York, and her cellphone number and email address. He had what he needed if he wanted to reach her, although she didn’t expect it. There was no future in it geographically. It was obvious to both of them. And they were too old to fool themselves about that.
“Take care of yourself, Maddie.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she got in her car. She waved as she drove away, and she could see him in the rearview mirror watch
ing her, then he got in his own car.
She was excited about seeing Ben when she got to San Francisco. They were going to have dinner alone, just the two of them, and she could hardly wait.
There was a message from him when she checked in to the hotel. “Pick you up at eight.”
Minutes after she got to her room at The Fairmont, the doorbell rang and a bellman staggered in with an enormous vase with three dozen long-stemmed pale pink roses. She gave him a tip after he set it down, and she opened the card and smiled.
“To my favorite damsel in distress. Stay off the steep trails until you get the cast off. Call if you need help. And never slow down!—William”
No one had sent her flowers like that in years, and she was delighted as she went to run a bath and dress for dinner with her son. William Smith had style, and even if she never saw him again, the four days she had spent with him had been fun. The roses were gorgeous. It was nice having a man take her to dinner and send her flowers. Jacques was right! It made her feel young, whether she ever saw William again or not.
Chapter 10
Maddie was waiting on the front steps of The Fairmont when Ben drove up in the Range Rover Laura usually used to drive the children. She had taken his Mercedes to the benefit with her friend. She had been chilly with him when she left for the evening. She didn’t like being preempted by his mother, and it had never happened before. But Maddie had never jumped ship for two weeks before either, driving cross-country alone, and avoiding communication with her children. Ben had gotten the point that he needed to pay more attention to her, after his older sister had handled the situation so badly that their mother had literally run away from all of them. He needed to take matters in hand and he had. He wanted Maddie to know now that they cared about her, she wasn’t just the forgotten mom, even if she felt that way. And he wanted to see if any of Deanna’s outrageous claims about her had any truth to them. If so, he wanted to discover it for himself.
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