Tailwinds Past Florence

by Doug Walsh

  Kara stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork and smiled at Edward as she lifted it to her mouth, her nose crinkling, eyes sparkling. It was the smile he fell in love with all those years ago. “Kara had this way about her that attracted me. To be honest, I knew it the first time we met—”

  “We both did,” Kara mumbled, covering her full mouth with a hand. Edward felt a foot brush slowly against his ankle and extended his leg to invite more of Kara’s flirting, relieved she had seemed to forget his South America comment.

  “It sounds like love at first sight. That’s so sweet,” Brenda said. “So tell us about your first date. I bet you took her someplace romantic, didn’t you Edward?”

  “I’d like to think so,” Edward said, then gestured to Kara with his chin. “You tell it.”

  “Oh gosh, okay. It was really sweet, actually. He called me up the night before our date and said to be ready by six.”

  “A little early for dinner, Edward, don’tcha think?” Brenda said.

  “Oh, no, not for dinner,” Kara corrected her. “He picked me up at six in the morning.”

  “What? Edward!” Brenda startled.

  Tom harrumphed from the far end of the table as Edward grinned and leaned back in his chair.

  “He knew I was a Midwest girl. I’m from northern Wisconsin—”

  “Really, I would have never guessed. What happened to your accent?” Brenda asked.

  Kara shrugged sheepishly, before continuing. “He knew I hadn’t gotten off campus much since moving to Seattle. So he planned this whole day on Orcas Island for me; it’s this beautiful island off the coast of Washington.” Kara took a sip of wine before regaling the O’Donnells with a play-by-play of their first date.

  Edward didn’t need to hear Kara’s recollection. He’d forever remember the sight of the wind whipping her sun dress around her tanned legs as she hugged herself warm on the ferry deck. And how the late morning sun reflected from her sunglasses as she stood, her mouth agape, atop the lookout tower on Mount Constitution, two thousand feet above a sea dotted with forested islands. After lunch they strolled galleries of Northwest art. He watched, mesmerized by her grace, as she admired the delicate works. And it was there, in front of a woodblock print of the island’s namesake whales, where his heart raced as he raised his trembling hand to reach for hers. He treasured the softness that gripped him in return, the tender silkiness of her lips as she kissed his cheek, thanking him for a lovely day.

  In his mind they were still walking the narrow beach, hand in hand, the salt of the sea and sweetness of her perfume colliding on every breath.

  “We didn’t get back to campus until two in the morning,” Kara said, her voice floating across the sea of the dining room table to Edward, plucking him from his island memory. “By the end of the date, I felt I had known him forever.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” Brenda said, a glimmer of moisture in her eyes.

  “Well done, Edward,” Tom said in a familiar, patronizing tone.

  Edward accepted the compliments with a smile, still replaying the memory of that first kiss in the gallery. Then he said, “It’s no Picasso, but I kind of preferred the whales.”

  Kara gave him a confused look that quickly broke into warm realization. She tilted her head to the side, her face wide with surprise. “You remembered?”

  “I actually went back to buy the print a few months later—I was going to surprise you with it when you moved in—but it had sold.”

  “I had no idea,” Kara said, melting. “That’s so sweet.”

  Edward gazed at her, shouting his love for her with his eyes.

  “What was that about Picasso?” Tom asked, deflating the moment.

  “Oh,” Edward started, dazed. “Umm. Kara’s a big Picasso fan.”

  “I can’t wait to visit Spain,” Kara said. “There’s a Picasso Museum in Barcelona.”

  “And Madrid. To see Guernica, right?” Edward asked.

  Kara’s jaw dropped. “When did you learn about Guernica?”

  Edward flashed his eyebrows and winked. “I’m full of surprises.”

  “Well, I don’t know much about art, but I imagine you’ll visit Florence too,” Brenda said, swirling the wine in her glass as she spoke.

  “Maybe. I’m not that into the Renaissance,” Kara replied somewhat absently, still staring at Edward, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe he’d shown an interest in her passion.

  “Well, the only Florence I know is the one in Kansas. Unless you include that lady from The Brady Bunch,” Tom said. “Brenda, how about serving dessert?”

  Brenda’s eyes closed softly and she inverted her glass, sending a mighty pour of Chardonnay straight down her throat. When she stood, Kara rose too. “I’ll help.”

  The ladies were barely out of sight before Tom leaned back and crossed his leg. With an elbow on the chair’s arm, he pointed, jabbing in Edward’s direction as he spoke. “I’m curious—and I know it’s rude, but I’m gonna ask anyway—but you’re what, thirty? What possesses a fellow your age to take three years off from his career to travel?”

  Edward swallowed his mouth dry as Tom’s tone caught him off guard. It was the practiced blend of a father’s condescension and disapproval. He’d heard it before, but never from a stranger. He felt the hairs on his neck vibrate as a chill swept over him.

  “No, I don’t mind,” he lied, “And I’m twenty-nine, so you’re close. To be perfectly honest, I found myself between jobs a bit unexpectedly and, knowing that this was something that Kara wanted to do for a long while, we decided it was either now or never.”

  “Sure, sure, but aren’t you worried about having to jump back in after being out so long? Doesn’t it feel a little reckless for someone your age?”

  “Well, there’s that but …” Edward paused to take a sip from his glass, to calm his nerves. He fidgeted as two months of anxiety raced through his mind and sweat beaded on his chest.

  Edward wished he could tell Tom that his company was holding his job for him and that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t. Tom was right. Edward was scared to death about not being able to find a job when they got home, that his peers were going to climb right past him, and that he’d miss his window and be stuck in associate hell for the rest of his life while everyone around him made partner.

  From beyond the door, Kara’s laughter penetrated the room, reminding Edward of what he stood to lose most. Would she still love him if his career plateaued?

  To hell with thinking about all of that now. It was bad enough he spent half the time on the bike trying to fend off these same worries. And what the hell’s with this guy anyway? He thinks because he feeds me he can ask anything he wants about my private affairs? No. Not today. Edward sat taller in his seat.

  “I have confidence in myself and what I’ve accomplished. I trust it’ll work out,” Edward said matter-of-factly, trying to end the conversation. He took another quick sip of his wine, slurping the remaining drops. Through the empty glass, he could see Tom eying him from the end of the table.

  “What’ll work out?” Brenda asked, coming through the door, an apple pie in her hands. Kara followed with a tray of coffee mugs.

  Edward and Tom exchanged a glance, but neither spoke.

  “Suit yourself,” Brenda said with a shrug and began serving the pie.

  Edward ate his dessert without speaking, feeling his armor cracking under the strain of Tom’s glare, while Kara and Brenda rattled on like old friends till the coffee went cold.

  Tom stood abruptly. “Edward, why don’t we take a drink outside while the gals clean up from dinner? I can use some fresh air.”

  Edward took a deep breath and nodded, knowing he had no choice but to go.

  Kara backed through the swinging door to the kitchen, humming, her arms loaded with cinnamon-streaked plates. Empty mugs dangled from her left hand while wine glasses clinked against one another, wedged between the fingers of her other. “Where would you like them?”
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br />   Brenda did a double-take upon seeing her. “Oh heavens, you didn’t have to carry them all at once.” She swung the faucet to fill the other side of the sink, then rushed to unload Kara’s arms onto the butcher block island.

  Kara followed her to the sink as the lights outside by the dock blinked on. Tom must want to show Edward his plane, she thought. After more than a month of traveling alone with Edward, side-by-side, twenty-four hours a day, Kara was happy to have some female companionship. Even if it meant doing dishes.

  “I wash, you dry?” Brenda proposed, extending a dishtowel.

  “After you did all the cooking? It’s the least I can do.” Kara plucked the towel from Brenda’s yellow-gloved hand and twirled it as she waited to dry the first glass. “I think you’ve spoiled us for our future home stays.”

  Brenda stared at the dishwater as her smile wavered. “You’re welcome back anytime. I try to spend most of my summers out here. It makes it easier.”

  Kara sensed resignation in Brenda’s voice and aimed to keep the conversation light. “It’s great that Tom can work remotely. I bet it’s hard for him to focus with the lake outside. Does he fish?”

  “He flies out on weekends when he can. He works so much during the week I hardly ever see him anyway.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kara said, her voice a whisper as delicate as the soap bubbles. They had only just met, but Kara felt an instant kinship with this woman.

  Brenda’s brow furrowed as she straightened her posture. “Our house back in Minneapolis is bigger, and there’s a lake there too, but I’m happier here.”

  Kara couldn’t imagine needing one house this big, let alone a second even larger. She’d never understand what the point of being rich was if you never had the time to enjoy it. Still, she knew Brenda’s predicament well. “Edward was always working too. Long nights. Weekends. It’s hard sometimes,” she said, resting her hand on Brenda’s arm.

  “It is, but I keep telling myself it’ll be worth it once he retires.” Brenda dunked a plate in the hot water and handed it to Kara. “You kids are smart not to wait till it’s too late to take your bike trip. Tom says we’ll do plenty of traveling in retirement, but,” she said, her voice cracking as she continued, “between you and me, I wonder if we’ll even make it to then.”

  Kara stretched an arm around Brenda in an awkward hug and rubbed her shoulder. How many nights had Kara spent alone, biting her lip just like Brenda did now, fighting back tears, wondering when she’d cease coming second to Edward’s career? She felt Brenda slump under her arm and fished for something to say, but the only words she found were an echo of Brenda’s.

  Smart not to wait till it’s too late …

  Maybe Edward wouldn’t have agreed to do the bicycle tour if he hadn’t been fired, but he was. It wasn’t too late. Kara felt her face flush as tears of happiness welled in her eyes. Not for me.

  Brenda cleared her throat and forced a laugh. “Look at me being silly.” She shook out her arms, as if flicking the unwanted emotions from her fingertips. “I really shouldn’t drink so much,” she said, blushing.

  “Are you okay?” Kara asked, feeling her own tears on the verge of spilling.

  “I’m fine,” Brenda said, “But, oh my. What’s wrong?”

  Kara laughed and wiped her eye. “A little too happy from the wine, I guess.”

  “I’d be happy too if I had a husband showing me the world.”

  Edward followed Tom toward the dock, swirling a glass of Lagavulin only four years younger than himself. He had no idea why Tom wanted to go outside to talk, or why he had made a point of saying the whiskey was only for special occasions—right before pouring two generous portions—but he wasn’t about to object. He could do without the cigar smoke though, which now trailed behind Tom like the exhaust of a locomotive.

  Tom’s broad silhouette came to a stop near the floatplane, its frost-covered wings sparkling in the moonlight. “Got this baby back in 1981, right before Cessna stopped making them. Damn shame.”

  Edward nodded, feigning agreement. The plane, white with red stripes, looked the same as any other floatplane Edward had ever seen. He’d never ridden in one, but they were a common sight in Seattle. The tourists loved them.

  “Yeah, used to be half the homes on this lake had a Cessna 180 docked outside. Hold this a second, will you?” Tom handed Edward the cigar then opened the plane’s door. He climbed from the metal step above the pontoon onto the seat, resting his glass on the cockpit dash.

  Edward held the cigar at arm’s length, trying to keep clear of the smoke, else the stench would permeate his entire wardrobe when he packed in the morning. He looked to see what Tom was doing in the plane, but averted his eyes as Tom’s expansive behind, protruding from the open door, wiggled and shook as he rummaged for something behind the pilot’s seat.

  “Ah, here it is,” Tom said, straightening atop the seat. “Edward, do you know why we flew out here to host you and Kara tonight?”

  “Actually, no. I figured it was a coincidence. Maybe you were coming out to clean up after winter.” Edward realized how silly that sounded as soon as he said it. Even by moonlight, he could see that most of the yards still had patches of snow sharing space with buried picnic tables and tarp-covered vehicles.

  Tom spun his feet to the step, grabbed hold of the wing support, and swung himself down onto the dock with a grace that belied his hulking size. “Brenda will probably do a bit of tidying up tomorrow, but do I really look like the kind of guy who would fly across the state so my wife can make dinner for some hippies on a bike tour?”

  Edward laughed to deflect his nervousness. Tom was intimidating, and certainly a bit gruff, but there was a secret only now surfacing. And Edward felt a trap forming around him.

  “We flew out here because of this,” he said, trading Edward a dog-eared magazine for the cigar.

  Edward’s body tensed as he recognized it immediately. Not only was there a copy of the Northwest Business Review in every bathroom stall at his old office, but there was no mistaking the issue. It was the journal’s bi-annual “Thirty Under Thirty” issue. He smiled as he shook his head slowly in amazement.

  “I thought you’d recognize it. I would too if I were number five on the list. Very impressive, Edward.”

  “I don’t understand. How’d you know that was me?” Edward asked, his brow crinkled.

  “Brenda showed me your profile photo on that cycling website the other day—Kara’s email damn near had her singing for joy—and there you were smiling back at me from the computer screen. And it wasn’t the first time I heard your name this month.”

  “I don’t follow,” Edward admitted. He took a sip of the Scotch, hoping the peaty warmth would calm his nerves.

  “Sounds like you put on quite a show in Ron Madsen’s office,” Tom said as he tipped his glass with a wry smile.

  Tom’s words landed like an uppercut to the gut. Edward choked on his whiskey, scorching his nasal passages with the firewater as his throat lurched in humiliation. What are the odds?

  “I’ve known Ron for years,” Tom said. “Met him at a conference a while back. We keep it strictly business. We’re not golf buddies and our wives don’t play bridge together, but we usually get together once or twice a year to talk shop. I put my contacts in touch with him when they’re looking for some seed money and he encourages your wealthy Seattle clients to invest with my firm in Minneapolis. High-net-worth individuals only,” he added, sneering as he took another puff from his cigar.

  Edward felt frozen in place and stared at the magazine, a blank look on his face. “I used to wonder how we’d end up shepherding startups from the Midwest.”

  “Now you know. But the problem I’m having is that the new money, the geeks behind the apps with the eight and nine figure valuations, they’re clueless when it comes to investing. And, worse still, they’re chicken-shit. They’re so damn scared of losing their money, they won’t accept any risk, least of all from a bunch of guys that remind th
em of their fathers. They don’t trust us. We don’t speak their language. Ron’s always been able to send me the C-suite guys, but they’re getting old. They want income, not growth. And my revenues are drying up. I need young blood. Guys your age.”

  “I know the kind you’re talking about. I’ve handled the VC for a few of them. They’re good guys, just a bit cautious,” he said, thinking about his own reservations with the stock market. To men like Tom, every bubble that burst was nothing but an opportunity to buy low. But to those growing up in a post-Enron world, every day seemed to bring with it a new crisis. “Why tell me this? I mean, you said it yourself, I don’t work for Ron anymore.”

  “No, you don’t. I know that. You’re just out there riding your bike, not a care in the world.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Let me ask you something, Ed—I can call you Ed, right?”

  Edward nodded without hesitation, too anxious to hear where Tom was steering the conversation to insist on being called by his given name.

  “Does your back ever hurt hunched over those handlebars all day?”

  “Sometimes. You get used to it,” he said, unsure what Tom was getting at.

  Tom stiffened. “Well I got a pain in my back too. And I think you’re the perfect one to straighten it.”

  Edward took an instinctive step back. Everything about Tom overwhelmed him—his brusque manner, his size, his age—but he was intrigued. He wants my contacts. But at what cost? His gaze wandered from the floatplane to the other houses around the lake. Million dollar vacation homes, the kind of luxury he always dreamed of providing for Kara, and each probably belonging to a guy just like Tom.

  Edward took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I’m listening.”

  Inside the kitchen, Kara reached for a mug to dry and caught Brenda staring at her bracelet. She angled her arm for Brenda to get a better look.