“This is my natural color,” Ruth protested. “Well, it’s pretty close to it. I’ve always just tried to cover up any gray.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding. Why do you ask?” She didn’t think Tim would send her somewhere only to be insulted, but Rene was getting her back up now… if only her feet didn’t feel so good. Whatever Mai Ling was doing was brilliant!
“I guess it’s not all that bad, really. It’s a wee bit mousy, maybe.”
“That’s exactly what Tim called it… mousy… how funny.”
“It’s no laughing matter. Some serious highlights are in order here… unless you want to just go all out and be a total Lucille Ball redhead.” Rene grinned so that his entire face lit up. “That might be fun!”
“No! I don’t want to look like I’ve gone through some huge transformation and be unrecognizable.”
“It’s Miss Timmy’s money, honey.” Rene’s smile faded. “But it’s your hair. We want you to look your best for that fat cat from down Hillsborough way. You want to feel good too when your new beau comes to call…”
“I barely know the man, really. He seems awfully nice…”
“He’s got a nice fat bank account, honey, you mark my words. You can’t go wrong there! Do you know Hillsborough?”
“Well, I graduated from Stanford,” Ruth explained. “That’s down on the peninsula. “
“I know where Stanford is.”
“It seems like that was all a lifetime ago,” she quickly added. Now Ruth felt as if she were the one who was being insulting by putting on airs, and she didn’t mean to at all.
“Hmm… Stanford… So Miss Timmy’s Aunt Ruth is no dummy, either. You just leave everything to me, and you’ll be the belle of the ball when I’m finished working my magic on you.” His long fingers massaged her scalp under the warm water and felt almost as soothing as Mai Ling’s hands on Ruth’s feet. She moaned with pleasure and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations.
Ruth paged through a magazine during the times she waited between steps of the process. Mai Ling brought her a cup of soothing tea that made her realize how much sleep she’d missed. Ruth could hear Rene laughing with another client in a nearby room from time to time. Now she hoped there’d be time for an hour’s nap when she got home.
When Rene was finished, Ruth looked at herself in the mirror and gave her head a shake. She had to admit that her hairdo and the subtle color were a vast improvement. As eccentric as Rene was, he knew what he was doing. He had trimmed just enough to give her hair some extra body and frame her face. She would definitely come to see him again.
Mai Ling handed Ruth her purse and jacket as well as a shopping bag with Rene’s logo in large bold letters. She glanced inside to see that her loathsome straw hat was safely hidden from view. She reached for the clasp on her purse to open it, but Rene stopped her. “No—no—no! Miss Timmy has this all taken care of; I told you that. I would never hear the end of it if I took a dime of your money, Miss Ruth.” Rene lowered his voice to a whisper and added, “Besides, he introduced me to my current husband. I owe him big time!”
Funny, that was just what Tim had said, too.
When Ruth got home she was too excited to take a nap. She calmed her nerves with a relaxing soak in the bathtub, careful to keep her new hairdo above water. Then she put on the subtlest bit of make-up and her sleeveless turquoise dress with a Mexican silver necklace, turquoise earrings and a silvery jacket.
Now she still had an hour before Sam was due. The apartment looked respectable, not that they would spend any time there. She wondered if she should invite him in when he arrived or ask him in for a nightcap later. She could offer to show him what little she’d done with the place since Tim moved out. She could use a chilled martini on the patio right about now, but a nice cold glass of chardonnay was just what she needed to take the edge off in the meantime.
Ruth brought her wine to the living room, sat down at her computer and checked her e-mail. It was full of nothing. She switched over to her main page and punched in AIDS. Hundreds of sites full of information were at her disposal now, but where to begin? She was overwhelmed at first, but scrolled down through the first few pages. Ruth randomly clicked on something that brought up a photograph of a young boy named Ryan White. Hadn’t Tim mentioned that name? He was only a teenager when he died, and he reminded her of Tim at that age when he came to live with her in high school. Ruth started to read about Ryan White, a teenager from Kokomo, Indiana. She thought it might be easier to understand something as vast as AIDS by putting a human face to it… any face besides her nephew’s.
Chapter 12
Tim refused to call Nick. He wanted nothing more in the world than to hear Nick’s voice, but this was a matter of principle. It was Nick’s turn to call and that was that.
Nick must be too busy, though, so Tim tried to keep busy, too. He dragged his sorry ass to the gym every morning. He worked on fixing up his place, made countless trips to Cliff’s for little things like light bulbs, dimmer switches… anything for an excuse to run an errand. He watched porn and tried not to think about Nick. He stared at the phone, and it smirked back at him in stony plastic silence.
Tim wasn’t sure of anything now. His paranoia played out all sorts of possibilities in his head. Maybe Nick’s so-called cousin was really an old boyfriend returning to his life for a rendezvous and a fresh start. Maybe Nate was Nick’s ex-lover… just out of prison. Nick had called him by name, though. Lenny? Leroy? Larry? But then why would Nick have said that his cousin was a cop? Every possibility played across Tim’s warped imagination, even the most improbable ones. He was a mess!
Ruth had heard of Jardinière, but this was her first time there. The hostess led them to a table on the upper level where they could look down at the bar. Sam suggested martinis; that was a good start. Ruth had been craving one for the past hour and the first sip soothed and relaxed her. She’d made up her mind to enjoy this evening with Sam, whether it was their one and only date or the first of many.
Ruth wouldn’t admit to being nervous. Sam’s frequent smiles gave her a thrill and the touch of his hand made her feel secure. He treated her like a real catch. She knew she was far from a girl, but Sam made her feel ageless and desirable, like he was the lucky one to have found such a gem. He made her feel young, even though she was well over forty. Hah! She would love to have Sam think that! She was well over fifty now, too.
“If you’ve never been here before, let me order one of my favorite appetizers for us, unless you see something special you like.”
“Whatever you say, Sam.” Ruth’s fingernail fondled the edge of the menu, but she hadn’t begun to focus on it.
“Here we are.” Sam looked up as their waiter reappeared. “Let’s have the Maine scallops to start. We’re not in a big rush, but we should keep in mind that we have tickets to the symphony.”
Ruth would have been content to let Sam order everything, since he knew the menu, but she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t make a simple decision. She chose Alaskan halibut for dinner. Sam wavered for a while and decided on rack of lamb. He also ordered a bottle of Austrian Riesling. “The owners of this winery in the Kremstal Region are old friends of mine. I think you’ll like it,” he said while their waiter poured Ruth’s glass.
“I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”
“Have you been to our local wine country in northern California, Ruth?”
”When I was in college at Stanford I remember driving up to the Russian River and…” Ruth stopped long enough for Sam to ask if anything was wrong.
“No, everything is lovely, Sam. I just remembered something about the Russian River that I saw in the papers. I keep meaning to ask Tim… and then I had that dream last night about the river, you see… oh, where was I? Yes, I remember a wine-tasting room somewhere in Napa Valley. Or was it Sonoma? My college days seem like another lifetime.”
“Well, it’s a wonderful way to wile away a sunny
afternoon,” Sam said. “Maybe you’ll join me some time. I have friends with vineyards in this country, too. We wouldn’t need to go all the way to Austria for a grand tour. Cheers!”
Ruth raised her glass and took a sip. “Delicious.” The wine was what she meant, but she also thought an invitation to the wine country sounded like a nice idea.
“I have some good friends near Innsbruck, too. That’s another place I’d love to take you sometime.” Sam smiled again and Ruth wondered whether he was moving awfully fast or if this was just his way of being charming? He was attentive all evening, asking just the right questions… about her years at Stanford, her nephew Tim and just enough about her marriage to firmly establish that she was over it.
Ruth wanted to know more about Sam’s business, but he downplayed talk about himself. “What I do, Ruth, is import a lot of dusty old antiques and sell them to a lot of dusty old people who have more money than they could ever spend in this lifetime.”
“I’m sure it’s fascinating, Sam. I know it’s none of my business, but now that you know about my divorce I should confess that I’ve heard you’re a widower… I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. I’m surprised you knew.”
“My neighbor, Teresa mentioned it… the teacher upstairs?” Ruth added, by way of explanation. “Your daughter and son-in-law used to live below Teresa on Collingwood Street—between her apartment and Tim’s.”
“Oh, yes, Teresa… she’s a bit larger than life, isn’t she? I met her at the Christmas party at Arts last year. Well, back to your question… Jane’s mother was nothing like her, that’s for sure.”
Ruth was confused. “Jane’s mother was nothing like Teresa?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Sam laughed and realized what he’d said. “I liked Teresa. It’s just that she’s a bit of a character. What I meant to say was that Jane is nothing like her mother.”
“I still don’t understand. Jane’s a delightful girl and those little grandchildren of yours are angels.”
“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.”
“I’m sorry if I brought up a painful subject.”
“Listen, Ruth… you really do delight me. You are so guileless. If first impressions are any indication, I think I could grow very fond of you, so I may as well tell you the whole story and get it out of the way.”
Ruth felt her face begin to flush, but the waiter arrived with their appetizers. When he left again, Ruth picked up a fork and encouraged Sam to go on with his story. “Please, do…”
“As I said, it was a long time ago. I was in Austria packing up the relics of a decaying castle in the Alps. There was little worth preserving but the library. A client in Miami wanted the room dismantled and shipped to the Florida Keys where he built a new home. It had marble floors and beamed ceilings, hand-carved gargoyles curled around doorways and windows. The project took weeks.”
“I knew your job was more interesting than you let on,” Ruth said. “Go on…”
“Well, Jane’s mother… my late wife… thought she would surprise me with a visit. She flew to Vienna and hired a private plane to bring her to a tiny landing strip near the village where I was staying. My wife, the pilot and one other passenger died when the plane crashed. They should have known better than to fly in that weather.”
“How terrible! I’m so sorry.” She touched his hand.
Sam took Ruth’s hand in his and continued. “I was shocked and saddened at first, of course. Later on I learned that she was coming to surprise me with divorce papers. The other passenger was her lawyer. She had a lover waiting at their hotel in Vienna.”
“Oh, Sam…”
“I learned a lot from that experience, Ruth. I never knew she was unhappy. I suppose I was distant, caught up in my work, but she seemed content. She was always busy with her charity work and planning parties. She could make an entire day out of having her hair and nails done.”
Ruth touched her fingernails to her new hairdo with a pang of guilt, but Sam didn’t notice. “I made my mind up then and there that I would never make the same mistake. Do you like to travel, Ruth?”
“Yes, I do… very much.”
“That’s good to know, Ruth. Shall I order another bottle of wine?”
“Not for me,” she said. “I don’t want to fall asleep at the symphony.”
“Now, enough about me,” Sam insisted. “I want to know more about you, Ruth. I understand you had some harried adventures here in San Francisco this past summer?”
“I didn’t want to go into it at brunch on Sunday. Jane and Ben are raising their family in the same house where so much happened,” Ruth said. “It’s like Tim says, though, if anyone can counter the negative past in that place it will be Sarah, the magic child. That’s what Tim calls your granddaughter. And her baby brother is as innocent as a lamb.”
Sam glanced at his watch and said, “I hate to interrupt, but I have to make a quick call. It will only take a couple of minutes, I promise. I told a client in Chicago I’d call him by 9:30 Central Time. I don’t want to disrupt the atmosphere in here with a lousy business call. Will you excuse me if I step outside?”
“Of course, Sam…”
“How about sorbet for dessert? I’ll tell the waiter on my way.”
“That sounds nice.” Ruth wasn’t sleepy anymore. She thought if this were a Chinese restaurant she might snap open a fortune cookie that would predict travel to exotic distant places.
Ruth waved to the waiter and asked him to bring back the wine list. “I think a bottle of champagne might be nice.” She opened the heavy bound book and glanced down at the list of prices. Their nearly empty bottle of Austrian Riesling was $250.
Sam returned at the same time the waiter arrived with coffee and dessert. As Sam added cream to his coffee he said, “I’m sorry for the interruption, Ruth. Where were we?”
“No trouble at all, Sam,” she said. “It all started with Jorge’s disappearance. No, come to think of it, we didn’t even know about that until Jason was murdered. I’d have to go back to the first day when I arrived in San Francisco to visit Tim…”
As it turned out, Sam did order a bottle of champagne. They missed the Mozart, but caught most of the Mahler.
Chapter 13
Tim was over Arts by Friday. Tonight would be his seventh shift in a row—eighth, counting the double he worked last Sunday—all so that he could take the next three days off to spend with Nick, who wouldn’t even be here. Damn Nick! Damn Nick’s damned cousin! Damn falling in love with someone who lived out of town!
Now Tim had to get through one more night at work and then fill up three days in which he had planned for love and lust and romance but now had nothing of the kind in store. It was only Friday morning, and Tim was disgusted with his bad luck and disgusted with himself. He put on the coffee and picked up the Miracle Duster he’d ordered one stoned night from an infomercial on TV. In the back of his mind its very name sounded like something more fun than it was. Then he saw them on sale at Walgreens for less than he’d paid by mail order. Oh well… it worked, anyway.
Tim swept it across the television screen to charge up the static electricity while Sal the traffic guy talked about a non-injury accident between a camper and a produce truck just west of Potrero Hill. Sal looked as if his shirt collar was too tight, and Tim wondered whether the lack of oxygen made him forget to put his microphone on.
Tim dusted shelves and picture frames, window sills and end tables. The Miracle Duster picked up microscopic bits of dust and dirt and hair and… what did they always say? Dust was primarily made up of human skin cells. That was it. The only human skin Tim wanted was Nick’s—his broad chest, his muscular arms, his long lean legs, his firm round ass and the “family jewels,” as Nick had referred to them.
Tim watered all the indoor plants and changed the sheets on his bed again, not that it mattered. Steve the weatherman came on while Tim spritzed the sliding glass doors with window cleaner. “Highs in the seventies
with a thick fog layer on the coast, but the weekend should be warmer…” Tim thought Steve the weatherman was kind of sexy in that friendly, jolly, straight guy sort of way. It was too early in the morning to think about sex, though. Who was he kidding? It was never too early!
Tim wondered which people on television were gay in real life. He wondered how long it would take before everyone could just be who they were without risking their jobs—or their ratings. Would the cute ones turn out to be the gay ones? It seemed like women celebrities were far ahead of men in terms of coming out of the closet. There were already Ellen and Rosie, Rachel Maddow and Suze Orman, but what about Lily Tomlin? Was she in or out these days, or was she stuck in an era where it would remain assumed but unspoken?
Tim thought of guys like Anderson Cooper compared to Rock Hudson, both of them hot in different ways. Or Rupert Everett compared to Liberace or Elton John in his early days compared to Elton John now. What did it matter? The cutest ones were probably straight through and through, and even if Tim’s favorite fantasy heartthrobs, Jake Gyllenhall and Matthew McConaughey were lined up right here, right now, and fighting over him, Tim would rather have Nick.
Tim held the empty cardboard spool from the roll of paper towels in the palm of his hand and stared at it for a moment before he tossed it into the trash. He’d done enough housecleaning for now. No one was going to see it, anyway. He was tempted to call his Aunt Ruth, but she was probably recovering from her date with Sam. He didn’t want to wake her, and he didn’t want to bring her down with his bad mood. Tim figured she would be on cloud nine if everything went well last night.
Tim rolled a joint and grabbed the keys to the Thunderbird off his dresser. He took a couple of deep hits and hardly remembered leaving his driveway, but now he was headed west, driving the same route he took on the day he first met Nick—Castro onto Divisadero, Fell Street to JFK Drive through Golden Gate Park to the beach.
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