There was a long pause. I wouldn’t dare ask, but if she wanted to tell me, I wouldn’t object.
“Well Jake, regardless of the amount of wine I’ve had, I’m not going to tell you now. I don’t want to run out of things to share. Think of it, if we have a date where only you’re sharing, we might be starved for conversation.” We both laughed.
We talked as we drove home, never at a loss for words. At one point, my thoughts drifted toward what it would feel like to hold her in my arms.
I called Sharon on the weekend and asked her out for dinner on Tuesday.
“Sharon, before dinner, I have to drop by a reception sponsored by one of the local bar associations. I need to attend and pass out business cards. It’s how I meet new attorneys; letting them know about my mediation service. It helps bring in new business. Would you mind going with me? It will take around forty-five minutes; then we’ll go to a nice quiet restaurant for dinner.”
“That sounds fine with me; I’d like to see you in action. In fact, I might be able to make some contacts with the attorneys. I’ll bring along my own business cards.”
“Sharon, I love speaking with you.”
“Jake, isn’t it funny about English?”
“What do you mean?”
Sharon laughed. “In English, we don’t have enough words to explain how we feel about something. In English, we say ‘I love this’ and ‘I love that.’ How can we love everything? How can we love a car in the same way we love a child? We need more words to describe how we feel.
“Some languages are beautiful with many words to explain how much we love or like something.
“Jake, how can you love everything so much? As for me, I want a man to love me more than he loves his car.”
Her words seemed to take me by the shoulders with a strong shake as I vaguely remembered something Dr. Fox once asked me.
Chapter 39
March 1998
On Monday morning, Sharon called on my private business line. “Good morning Jake, did you have a nice weekend?”
“Sharon, my weekend was terrific. I loved the time we spent on the phone talking; getting to know each other again. Oh, there I go using ‘love’ again. But, it does explain the ‘highlight’ of my weekend. Is that better?”
She laughed. “I am heading toward my office. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you. Tomorrow after work, I’ll walk over to the Doubletree Hotel for the reception. I should get there around five-thirty. I’m going to meet two attorneys about a new case. Can you meet me there around six-thirty?”
“Sure. Ahhh.”
“What was that?”
“I just took a sip of my latte. Every morning before I leave my condo, I make a latte to enjoy on my drive to work; it helps me start my day. After my divorce, I decided to pamper myself; so I bought a special coffee maker like the one you’d see in a coffee bar. It makes incredible delicious lattes.”
“You’re whetting my appetite; I’d like to drink one with you.”
I then proceeded to ask her about her day. She told me about two potential clients she’ll be seeing in the afternoon. The entire time we talked all I could think about was seeing her on Tuesday.
Tuesday night arrived and I walked over to the Doubletree Hotel for my meeting before the bar event. The case involved a dispute between a homeowner and his general contractor over construction of a large house in Malibu. After talking with the attorneys about my background and fees, they agreed to employ me. We set a mediation date for early July.
Once I finished these discussions, I walked over to the bar association reception being held in the hotel’s outdoor courtyard. I wanted to work the room, but my first objective was to find Sharon; I didn’t want her to get bored.
Many of the Santa Monica judges were there along with members of the Santa Monica Bar Association.
With business cards in my coat pocket, I was ready to mingle; I walked toward the back of the courtyard and spotted Sharon among a group of attorneys. With her back toward me, I saw the outline of her figure dressed in a dark blue business suit. She turned in my direction holding a glass of wine and winked. I walked over and leaned into her ear.
“I was worried you might be bored.”
She completed her turn away from the attorneys and smiled at me, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I’m networking. Who knows, maybe I’ll make a business contact.”
Sharon turned back toward the attorneys and introduced me to them.
“Mr. Mediator, I was telling these attorneys about a difficult client I have; she’s a nightmare to work with. She has my staff running in circles trying to accommodate the changes she keeps making to the design of her new home. Not only do I have to make perfect design choices; at the same time, I have to restore order and keep everyone calm. I told her to either stop all the craziness or I’d drop her as a client. There’s a saying: ‘It takes one crazy person to throw a rock down a well, but it takes ten smart people to figure out how to get it out.’”
We all laughed.
I spent my time at the event going from one group to another. Sharon did her own mingling, making her own contacts. While I moved around the room, I managed to keep an eye on her.
Once I was done making my rounds, I walked over to Sharon.
“Hi beautiful, may I get a ride with you?”
“Of course, Mr. Good-Looking Mediator, but you should know you’ll be driven by a starving woman.”
“I guess it’s better than being driven by a crazy woman; lead on and I’ll follow you.”
I followed her out the hotel entrance to the parking valet where she presented the claim check for her vehicle. As the valet brought up a gray Mercedes, Sharon approached the car and tipped the valet. I got into the passenger seat as she opened the moon roof and drove the short distance to the restaurant; the night lights were reflecting off her beautiful face. As soon as we arrived, we were seated in a quiet corner to enjoy a comfortable evening of fine food and excellent conversation. While we talked, we looked deeply into each other’s eyes like two old souls meeting throughout eternity.
From the beauty of her face, I started to look for imperfections. When I discovered she had one it made her look even sexier; a good place for my kisses. From the imperfect, I discovered another one of God’s gifts; she had dimples. I found myself waiting for her to smile so I could see them again.
I wanted to spend more time with her.
“Sharon, come to my home Saturday night; we’ll have dinner together. To set the mood, the lighting will be low and I’ll play my favorite jazz music for you. I’ve got great hits like ‘Love is Much Better the Second Time Around’ and ‘Love the One You’re With.’”
“Can you cook?” she asked with a full dimpled smile.
“Not really, you get a choice between scrambled eggs; or a better choice, I will order in some great Chinese food.”
Her dimples receded and her face looked wiser. “My father advised me to be aware of men who invite me over for dinner. He said I might end up as the dessert. Jake, I need to take small steps; to reach a comfort level before we get too far into this relationship. I can’t be hurt again; I need your promise to keep it nice and slow. Please, remember who you’re dealing with.”
“I understand,” I nodded. “I just want you to be my guest for a relaxing evening.”
“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to relax at your place. I have a better idea. I’ll feel more secure if you come to my condo on Saturday for dinner. If I need him, my father can get to my condo much faster than your home in West LA. And, I’m an excellent cook with a great collection of 60’s music.”
“That sounds like a very smart idea,” I said realizing her idea was better than mine. “I get a home-cooked meal, music I enjoy, and I get to see you in a relaxed setting. Lately, I’ve h
ad good luck with home-cooked meals. At the last one, I had the pleasure of being reintroduced to an old friend. So, it’s a date.”
“Now, let me think, what should I make for dinner? How many entrees should I prepare? Oh my God, I sound like my mother. She always makes more than one entree just in case the company doesn’t like one of them. Better yet, tell me what you like to eat?”
“Other than chocolate ice cream, my favorite dish is chicken and rice.”
“That’s easy enough. I’ll make chicken kabob. I’m an expert in Middle-Eastern cuisine and I have a wonderful recipe where I marinate the chicken for hours and hours, so it’s tender and flavorful.”
She stopped as tears came to her eyes, “It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to cook for a man again. Thank you for agreeing to come over to let me spoil you.”
“Thank you, Sharon, for caring. I can’t wait to be spoiled. To top things off, I’ll bring white wine to compliment the chicken along with chocolate ice cream for dessert.”
I loved making our plans for Saturday night, when suddenly my brain shifted gears and I blurted out, “Sharon, you should know I’m a planner.” Then, I caught myself and thought better of it. “On second thought, forget it. I’m afraid to bring this up; I might scare you away.”
“What is it, Jake?”
“Maybe I should wait. I’m always making plans. Not just for a few days from now, but for weeks or months ahead. When I was studying for the bar exam, I spent my lunch hours planning a post-exam trip to Canada. Planning that trip helped me get through my bar preparation; it gave me something to look forward to when the test was over.”
Sharon had a very puzzled look on her face. “You can’t do that to me. Now, you’ve got two subjects going. Something you won’t tell me and a trip you planned to Canada. I want to hear about Canada, but what about the other thing? Jake, if you start something you have to finish what you were going to say.” With a mischievous smile, she went on to say, “I think the rule is you have to finish or you don’t get any ice cream.” “Jake,” she demanded, “tell me.”
I paused knowing I was going to regret this. “Okay, but please understand I’m telling you this with the greatest respect for you, and in keeping with that important adage ‘don’t put off until tomorrow what can be done today,’ the National Mediators’ Association is having its annual conference in Palm Desert; the conference is from Friday through Sunday the first weekend in May. I was thinking how wonderful it would be,” and my voice started to trail off and quicken as I finished the sentence, “if you and I could go together, I’d get two rooms.” I slowly lowered my head knowing I had been a bad dog.
Sharon looked stunned, but she didn’t run away. Yet, I didn’t know what she was thinking. I knew I was moving too fast, but couldn’t help myself. All of these feelings and desires were swirling around inside of me looking for the quickest way out. Was my “small brain” doing my thinking again?
After a long pause, my regular brain finally spoke up. “Sharon, on second thought, let me come over for dinner on Saturday, that is, if you’re still inviting me, and if you want, we’ll talk more about it then.”
Sharon made no comment. After too long of a pause, we went back to talking about more current topics. Eventually though, we worked our way back to the Canada trip I planned and how I ended up on a beach in Hawaii. The words “Palm Desert” were not spoken again.
At the end of the evening, Sharon drove me to my car. Before I left, I kissed her on her cheek and she smiled.
We developed a nice routine. Each weekday during my drive home, I called Sharon and we chatted for my thirty-minute commute. I drove from my office in Santa Monica to my home in West Los Angeles; she drove from her office in Santa Monica to the Valley.
During our commuting conversations, we spent a lot of time talking about business. Sharon told me about her design projects and the problems she had with her clients. After explaining the issues, she always asked for my advice. I found this enjoyable especially how Sharon brought her projects and clients to life; I easily saw Sharon’s forte was her keen sense of spotting problems along with her ability to communicate practical solutions to her clients. She was able to see the big picture and provided excellent service to her clients.
In one of our drive home conversations, Sharon told me about a new client.
“She wants me to design an island in her kitchen,” she explained. “When I asked her to describe the purpose of the island, she said she didn’t know. I told her that I needed this information in order to create the design. Finally, when I pressed her, she it would just be a decoration. I couldn’t believe her answer because it made no sense to install an island unless it had a function such as for food preparation or to clean dishes. This client is like the Persian story of the ostrich.”
I was amused by her comment; I always thought of my parents as ostriches. “I’m confused, Sharon. Why is your new client like the Persian story of the ostrich?”
She explained, “To understand the story you need to know the word in Farsi for an ostrich is translated as camel chicken. If you think about it, an ostrich looks like a camel and a chicken. When I think about what this client is putting me through, I think about the story of the camel chicken.”
“Honey, now I’m really confused. I feel like the straight man for your joke. So here goes, why does this client remind you of a camel chicken? To me, she sounds like a different animal, a jackass. But again, I’ll set you up for the punch-line, why a camel chicken?”
“This client can’t say what she wants. As the story goes, a Persian man saw an ostrich and didn’t know what it was so he asked the ostrich, ‘What are you? Can you lay an egg like a chicken?’ The ostrich said, ‘No. I’m a camel.’ ‘Okay,’ the man said, ‘then can you carry a load like a camel?’ The ostrich said, ‘No. I’m a chicken.’ The man was frustrated and said, ‘Then, what are you?’
“My client is like that ostrich. When I asked her if she wanted the island to have a sink, drawers, and cutting boards to help prepare a meal, she told me that she didn’t like the look of those items in the center of her kitchen. She said, ‘It would be better to make the island an aid to cleaning up after the meal.’ Then, when I proposed to have a garbage disposal and a dishwasher in the island, she said, ‘No, it will look terrible in the center of my kitchen. It would probably be better if it had a nicer look like for food preparation.’”
Her hearty laughter filled the room. “Jake, don’t you see? She’s just like the camel chicken.”
Chapter 40
March 1998
On Friday, during our drive home, Sharon said, “Tomorrow night before dinner, I’ll light a special candle at seven as part of our Jewish ritual to end the Sabbath. Please come right at seven so you can join me. Parking is difficult on my street so call me if you can’t find a space; I’ll let you park behind my car in the underground lot. If you find a space, come to the front gate on the left side of the building and I’ll buzz you in.”
Sharon gave me her home address.
I saw what she meant about the parking; one condo development followed the next on both sides of the street. At first there didn’t seem to be any open space, then I found one two buildings down.
As I walked up to the front gate, my heart was pounding away. I buzzed the intercom and heard Sharon’s voice, “Hi, Jake.”
“I’m here.”
“Just walk up the pathway to the end. I’m in the last unit, number nine.”
Armed with a bottle of wine and chocolate ice cream, I found her unit and knocked. She opened the door and greeted me with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. She asked me to dress casually, so I wore tan khaki pants and a light blue long-sleeved shirt. She had on white pants and a beautiful robin’s egg blue blouse. She looked at my shirt with approval as I walked in, “Our tops match.”
Her unit was beautifully decorated, as I expected
it would be.
“Sharon, your home is so beautiful. You must have a good decorator.”
She smiled. “Thank you. Please join me at the dining room table. I’m going to light the Havdalah candle to observe the end of the Sabbath and welcome in the new week.”
After lighting the candle, she closed her eyes and stood fixed in front of the light. After a long pause, she said a blessing in Hebrew. The words were familiar to me, but with my limited Jewish education, I didn’t know the meaning of what she said.
She slowly opened her eyes for one final look at the candle before she broke her gaze and directed me toward the living room. “I’m going to move you to the couch and then I’ll serve the wine with appetizers. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear the music we grew up with. Have a seat; I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Sharon pushed a button on her receiver and I immediately recognized the first song, “Bad to Me.” It was one of my favorites from junior high school.
“I love this music. It takes me back to when I first saw you. With my first thoughts of Sharon in my mind, I continued, “I’m trying to decide what good deeds I did that God brought me to this day. I have to confess, I didn’t want to talk about Egal tonight, but I’m wondering why he threw away a life with such a wonderful person as you.”
Sharon entered the living room with a tray of appetizers. “Jake, it took me four years of therapy to understand why Egal left me. As my therapist put it, there is a saying ‘every jar has its top,’ and Egal found his top elsewhere. But, there was something else I discovered through those therapy sessions. When I had a hard time getting in touch with my inner self, I found some comfort in an old Hebrew story about a villager.”
She put the tray on the coffee table and sat next to me.
“Please tell me, I like a good story.”
She smiled. “There was a villager who lived in a remote region of the country. He raised goats and lived like his ancestors had for hundreds of years much like the Amish do in this country. He had a wife who was dedicated to him and she did everything for him. When there was hard work to do, she was there with him, laboring at his side to maintain their farm. When he needed to get up before sunrise to tend to his animals and his crops, she was there with him. Out of respect, she always walked several feet behind him. She did whatever work was needed on the farm without complaining.
The Light in My Heart Page 17