“I don’t think my heart can grow much fonder, Aunt Ruth. And I know my libido hasn’t been so charged up since I was a teenager.”
“Is that all that’s the matter?” She rubbed his shoulder. “Then there’s nothing wrong at all between you two, is there?”
“He told me some long-lost cousin of his named Nate was coming to visit from New Orleans. When I suggested bringing Nate down with him, Nick wouldn’t even consider it.” Tim pounded his right fist into the palm of his left hand. “I thought Nick was out to his family, but this guy sounds pretty straight. He’s a narcotics cop. Nick didn’t even sound like he wanted to see his cousin very much.”
“I’m sure Nick would rather be with you, dear.”
“All the way back yesterday I was thinking about what a great time we had and how I didn’t want to leave the river. And then I got to the Golden Gate Bridge and took one look at the city, and I was just fine, knowing I could come back to my regular old life in the Castro, meeting lots of hot guys all the time, being single and free. Nick was fun and everything, but that was then and this was now. I’d see him again soon… on the weekend. Everything in moderation, you know? My life was all perfect, and everything was in balance yesterday. And then this morning Nick says he’s not coming down and I go nuts. I started missing him so bad. I’m such a jerk, sometimes. And a fool.”
“You’re just examining your emotions. Some people block them off entirely. This is healthy.”
“It doesn’t feel healthy to me. And when he told me there’s some guy named Kent that he’s got working for him in the nursery business…”
“And?”
“I was just kinda surprised that there’s some guy Nick works with every day, and he never mentioned him until today on the phone.”
“Timothy Snow, you cannot be jealous of every man Nick knows or has on staff.
“I know. You’re right.” Tim shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just acting like a fool again.”
“Look at all the men you meet every week at Arts,” Ruth said. “Nick’s out there all alone in the redwoods, and you’re working right in the heart of the Castro. I notice how you guys check each other out constantly. It’s like you all have eyes in the backs of your heads if a good-looking man walks into the restaurant. If Nick thought the way you do, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. You have to learn to trust each other.”
“I know you’re right, Aunt Ruth. Thanks for trying to talk some sense into me.”
“Speaking of Arts…” Ruth was hesitant to broach the subject, but this was as good a time as any. “Phil, the new piano player…”
“What about him?”
Ruth sensed tension in Tim’s stride. She imagined that the temperature dropped a few degrees when a cloud blocked the sun for a moment and a shadow passed over Tim’s face.
“Well, he sure lends an air of class to the place, doesn’t he?” Ruth asked. “Vivian’s style was more like a honky-tonk saloon piano player, but Phil seems subtle and sophisticated. And he’s so handsome, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.”
“Tim, I know it’s none of my business, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, Scott suggested that you had some sort of history with Phil.”
“Scott said that, did he?” Tim huffed.
“He only mentioned it in passing. It was no big deal.”
“History is right. Ancient history.”
“What happened between you two?”
“Aunt Ruth, you know I love you dearly, but it’s none of Scott’s business, and it’s not something I want to discuss right now with you or anyone else.” Tim had stopped dead in his tracks in front of the smoke shop on 18th Street.
Chapter 7
Tim thought back to when he first met Phil. It had been about the time when his hot affair with Jason had cooled to a low simmer. On Tim’s birthday, Jason offered him an all-expense-paid weekend at the Russian River. Tim had figured that Jason did so out of guilt, since they hadn’t had sex with each other in a couple of weeks.
Jason had rented a cabin not far outside of the town of Guerneville. They both got the weekend off from Arts together, something that hardly ever happened. Jason told Tim he was lucky he booked it so far in advance because that weekend was the Lazy Bear thing, and every hotel room and resort was filled to capacity. The bars were packed too, but then bears take up a lot of room.
Tim had never been into bears. To each his own—that was Tim’s opinion on the subject, not that anyone asked for it. He figured he’d enjoy the sun and order anything on the menu at the best restaurants in Sonoma County, as long as Jason was paying.
They had gone dancing that Saturday night, and Tim had hoped Jason might be in the mood for sharing one of the beds in their two-bedroom cabin later on. Tim would have been happy to do it anywhere with Jason–the cabin, the car, the riverbank or right there on the dance floor.
Then he saw Phil. It must have been nearly midnight. Tim couldn’t tell if the tan, muscular, okay, perhaps the most stunning man Tim had seen on the dance floor, or anywhere else in a long time, had come alone. Phil had peeled off his t-shirt and stuck it through the belt loop of his jeans. Tim watched the muscles of his back as Phil raised his arms and then turned around. He looked right into Tim’s eyes and smiled.
Tim had hoped no one noticed his jaw drop. He’d hoped he didn’t look as stupefied as he felt. Tim stared at Phil’s wide dark nipples on a hairy chest, black hair in perfect swirls, none of this shaved and waxed stubble some guys sported lately. This was a man!
Ruth said, “I’m sorry, Tim. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”
“Sore! Sore? It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Artie and Arturo don’t even know about it—if they did, they’d never have hired him at the restaurant. Bad enough he filled in while Viv was on her honeymoon, but now we have to work in the same place full time. I’m no prude, but I don’t know why he even works at the damned restaurant when he has such a lucrative side job. Maybe it’s just to torture me…”
“That’s fine, dear.” Ruth interrupted his tirade. “I won’t mention it again.” They arrived at Arts, and Ruth decided to stop in to say hello, even though the place wasn’t open yet. “Just remember I’m here for you if you ever want to talk about anything, honey.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, Aunt Ruth,” Tim said. “I really do. Maybe someday I’ll tell you all about it. Maybe, but don’t hold your breath.”
Chapter 8
Ruthie, how are you?” Artie emerged from the kitchen after Tim used his keys to open the front door. “Are you ready to come to work yet? It’s going to be a busy brunch. Reservations are coming in fast.”
Ruth glanced down at the reservation book on the bar. “Won’t Scott be here?”
“He’s a damned good bartender, but folks have heard you’re back in town, and they’re asking when you’ll be on duty. We need to sit down and work you into the schedule. Are you coming in for brunch today?” The phone rang again and Artie went to answer it before she had a chance to respond.
Ruth’s index finger scanned down the page of reservations until one name stuck out: Connor. It was a party of five at one. It would be too much of a coincidence if this weren’t Sam. The other four must be his daughter Jane plus her husband Ben and the two little ones.
“What do you think, Ruth?” Artie asked again.
“Hmmmm?”
Artie persisted. “We were talking about your coming back to work, Ruth.”
“Sorry Artie. I seem to be a little hazy today. I’m still not adjusted to California time. Work… yes… well, I’ll have to let you know, Artie. I’m on my way to the supermarket to pick up a few things, and then I’ll go home and change.” Change into something more presentable for Sam, she thought. “I’ll come back and have a bite around one or so, if you can fit me in for brunch.”
“We can always fit you in, Ruth,” Artie said. “Don’t you
worry a bit.”
“I could even eat at the bar, if nothing else is open. I hate to take up a table when you’re busy,” she said.
“And the schedule?”
“We can talk about that later. I have to find something to wear to brunch. I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”
She rushed out the door with a wave and onto Castro Street where young couples walked by pushing strollers, pulling dogs or both at the same time. Most of the couples were both male, though a mixed pair reminded Ruth of when the term “mixed marriage” referred to a couple where one was Catholic and the other was Lutheran or maybe they came from different racial backgrounds, but in San Francisco in this early part of the twenty-first century the term meant something else. Ruth smiled and looked at her watch. 9:37. She had more than three hours to kill before she’d see Sam again. It wouldn’t take half that time to get ready, even if she fussed. And she intended to.
“Hi, Miss Taylor!” It was Scott the bartender on his way to work. “I mean, Ruth. Sorry. Are you okay? You looked like you were lost or something.”
Ruth looked at his smiling face. He’s even better looking in the daylight, she thought to herself. His feathered hair is almost the same shade of golden red as little Sarah’s, and it glistens in the sun. How do these gay boys do it? “I’m fine, Scott. I guess I was daydreaming a little. Maybe I’m still on Minnesota time. I’m not sure what it is…”
“Well, I’m running late for work. I should be helping Artie get the bar ready. Will we see you later?”
“Why, yes.” Ruth grinned. “In fact, I’m planning to come in for brunch this afternoon. I’ll see you then, okay?”
Ruth walked uphill on Castro Street and crossed at 19th toward the produce market. Most of the neighborhood shops were getting ready to open for business at this hour just as Arts was. She hated to give up her parking spot on Collingwood, but she needed to put gas in the car before she went to the supermarket. The needle had been stuck on “E” by the time the city lights came into view on the last leg of her trip. Her ex-husband Dan complained that Ruth could run a car on nothing but fumes and that she always left the tank empty for him. She wondered how much he paid for gas these days to run around with some mini-skirted young trollop in his new sports car.
Why am I even thinking about Dan? Maybe it’s because I’ve just met a new man and a much nicer one, no doubt. Dan has some new young bimbo to complain about now, and I have a fresh new life in San Francisco. Poor Dan. I’m the lucky one.
Ruth was sure she remembered driving past a gas station somewhere on Market Street. She found it and killed some time looking at breath mints, candy bars and maps inside the little office. When she’d finally parked in the lot below Delano’s Supermarket on 18th Street, she looked at her watch again. It was just past ten. She should have gone to the Safeway on Church and Market if she wanted to waste time. It was the size of a football field. No matter.
She pushed her cart through the deli section and stopped to pick out some delicious-looking cheeses. They were an extravagance, but she didn’t care. Next there were a dozen shapes and sizes of sourdough bread to choose from.
She turned her cart down the second aisle and saw her upstairs neighbor thumping a melon. “Teresa,” Ruth said, glad to see a familiar face.
“Hiya, Ruthie! How’s it goin’?”
“Fine.” Ruth eyed Teresa’s nearly full grocery cart. “It looks like you’re stocking up. That’s what I need to do, even though half of my kitchen is still in boxes.”
Teresa sighed. “I can’t carry all this home. I’d better put these bottles of wine back and make another trip down here later. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I’ve got my car downstairs. I’ll give you a lift.”
“My lucky day!” Teresa smiled and reached for a heavy bag of potatoes.
Ruth picked up a bag of potatoes, too. Then she started to reach for a bag of onions too, but she didn’t need onions today. Further down the aisle were berries, ripe avocadoes and mangoes, papayas and artichokes. Even when she could get these things back home, they would cost a fortune. In California, nothing was ever out of season.
Ruth left her cart and wandered into the wine section. It wouldn’t hurt to have a couple of bottles of cold Chardonnay in the refrigerator, just in case. She might want to invite someone in for a glass of wine. Her mind turned to Sam again. She imagined inviting him in for the first time—not right away, of course—but after she’d unpacked and found a place for everything, pictures hung and candle wicks waiting to be caressed into life by the touch of a wooden match. She wondered if Sam liked beer on a hot day. Ruth liked a beer now and then, but Sam seemed more like a Scotch drinker. Only time would tell.
The two women were right outside the apartment building in Ruth’s Prius. “I might as well drop you at the door, Teresa. By the time I find another parking spot we might be further away than we were at the store.”
“No, don’t think that way. Go around the block one more time, Ruthie. I feel lucky today. Something will open up. You’ll see.”
Ruth turned left at 20th and Collingwood and left again onto Castro Street. Then she got around to asking the question that had been on her mind since she ran into Teresa in the produce aisle. “You don’t happen to know Jane’s father, do you?”
“Sam?”
Ruth nodded.
“Sure, I met him at the Christmas party at Arts. They throw a big bash every year for all their employees and tenants, family and friends and their most loyal customers. Arturo puts out quite a spread and Artie tends bar. You won’t go away hungry, but Artie isn’t the fastest bartender in the world, you know—”
“But you’ve met Sam.”
“Yes. He’s quite the silver fox, isn’t he?”
“I thought so, too.”
“Oh, look! There’s a place opening up right in front of our door. I told you so. This is a lucky day.”
“You don’t happen to know any more about him, do you? I mean, I didn’t see a wedding ring.” Ruth pulled into the spot and set the brake.
“Ruthie, you sly gal. You just got here. How did you happen to run across Sam already?”
“On Hancock Street, just this morning. He was on his way to meet his new grandson for the first time. You know, Ben and Jane named the new baby Samuel Timothy after his grandfather and my nephew Tim, of course.” Ruth popped the trunk open.
“No, I hadn’t heard. Well, isn’t that nice. I’m sure Tim is pleased, too.”
They both took two trips from the trunk of the car to set their groceries down in the front hallway with the gate propped open, but Ruth persisted, “And, what about Sam?”
“Widowed. I believe he lost his wife some time ago. I know he lives down in Hillsborough, and he travels a lot. I think he deals in antiques or imports or something. Thanks again for the lift. You’re a lifesaver, Ruth. Do you want to come up for a Bloody Mary?”
“Next time. I’ve got all this food to put away. Then I have to find something to wear to a very special brunch at Arts. Samuel Connor is going to see me again a whole lot sooner than he thought.”
Ruth had barely started to unpack all her clothes. She found her trusty standby, a basic black cocktail dress, but she didn’t feel like black, not today. She picked up another one in red that could have been cut from the same pattern. It wasn’t harlot red, but a little darker. Ruth liked to think of it as the color of black cherries just before they’re ripe, but she had no idea if that was right. She’d never watched a cherry tree ripen. It didn’t matter. She held the dress up in front of her and looked in the mirror. Yes, with the right shoes and a touch of lipstick she would sparkle in this one.
Ruth was sipping a mimosa at the bar when she caught a glimpse of Sarah’s hair outside the window. She must be running ahead of the rest of the family. Ruth opened the door to Arts restaurant and knelt down to the little girl’s level. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Aunt Ruth, you look so pretty. You’re all dressed up.”
“Thank you.” She gave the child a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“She sure is.” Sam Connor’s wingtip shoes appeared in front of Ruth, and she looked up at him. “Pretty, I mean.” Then Jane appeared with the baby, and Ben was right behind her toting a diaper bag patterned with pictures of storks and flowers.
Sam helped Ruth to her feet and she blushed, trying to act surprised to see him. “Thank you, Sam. How nice to run into you again today.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ruth. Won’t you join us? Ben called to reserve a large round table in Tim’s section.”
“I’d love to.” Ruth could hardly believe how brazen she felt. It must be a full moon, she told herself, or Teresa was right. It’s a very lucky day.
Chapter 9
Tim couldn’t help but notice how attentive his Aunt Ruth was toward Sarah’s grandfather. He caught bits and pieces of their conversation over brunch. Sam told Ruth about his import business and asked about her move. She filled him in on the madman who committed the murders in San Francisco last summer without going into too many details. This young family at the table now lived in the apartment where Jason was stabbed and where she and Tim had the last run-in, so to speak, with his killer.
Ruth noticed Sam’s hands, how masculine they were. He was right handed, and he didn’t wear any jewelry except a gold watch. His nails were professionally manicured, she thought, but these hands were also capable of strong work. She touched his hand from time to time in conversation.
Tim poured coffee for the grown-ups after their meal. “How do you like having a little brother, Sarah?”
“He’s boring. He just eats and sleeps and cries sometimes. He’s no fun to play with. He doesn’t talk or anything.”
Ruth laughed. “Someday soon he’ll learn to talk and then you’ll wish your little brother didn’t talk so much.”
As they got up to leave Sam said, “Ruth, it’s so lucky that we ran into each other twice this morning.”
“Yes, Sam, isn’t it lucky? My new neighbor Teresa said this morning that it feels like a lucky day.”
Russian River Rat Page 5