Chapter 3: Progress of a Kind

“I don’t have to ask how the grouper was,” I said with a grin. She had devoured it.

“It was wonderful,” Gabrielle said. “I’m so glad you chose this place. I didn’t know it existed.”

“I found it by accident a few weeks ago and saved it for a special occasion. I have to confess, I phoned yesterday for a reservation, gambling that you might agree to join me.”

“Pretty confident, weren’t you?” she said with a sly look.

“No ... not really. If you weren’t interested, I’d still have my meal here.”

She was acting a bit coy, but I could understand that. We had hardly met and it wasn’t like we had much information about each other.

“I think it would be a good idea if I told you something about me,” I began.

She smiled. “Go ahead.”

“I’m originally from Midland, Michigan, home of Dow’s head office. My father worked for Dow ... in fact, it was the only company he ever worked for. He was a graduate of Michigan State in chemical engineering. I have two sisters; Shannon, who is two years older than me, and Olivia, who is six years older than me. Both of them live in the Los Angeles area, while my grandparents live near there as well.

“I have only one set of grandparents, those on my father’s side. My mother was orphaned at age five when her mother died in childbirth with what would have been her sixth child. Her father abandoned the family and as a result, my mother, three sisters, and one brother were taken into foster care by the state of West Virginia. They were scattered to various foster homes, and despite my mother trying to locate them, she was never successful.

“Both my parents are dead. They were killed when I was about to start my final year of college. They were on their dream vacation in Italy and driving in the mountains north of Milan when they were sideswiped by a truck and knocked over an embankment. The driver was arrested and charged with being drunk and with culpable manslaughter.”

The look of horror on Gabrielle’s face was a reminder to me not to move too quickly with my narrative.

“That’s awful,” she said when she regained her wits. “But what brought you here to the Bay Area?”

“My dad was given a promotion when I was about to enter my junior year of high school. He was named assistant manager at the Dow agricultural plant in Davis. We had a nice house and a good life there. When my folks were killed, we inherited quite a lot of money among the three of us, plus the house. Some of it was their savings and investments, and some of it was insurance. It left both my sisters and me quite well off. That’s how I can consider buying a home.”

“What happened to the guy who was responsible for your parents’ death?” she wondered.

“He received a prison term of two years, but will probably be out before that. They only just had the trial a year ago. The courts in Italy take forever to deal with these kinds of cases. Our lawyer sued the company that the driver worked for, but so far we haven’t had a judgment on that. It’s still pending, but I’m not holding my breath that we’ll ever see much from it.”

“You said you had been working in Midland with Dow while you were in college. Is that the only company you’ve worked for?” she asked, clearly paying rapt attention to me.

“No, I had a very interesting job at a motorcycle dealership in Sacramento in the service department. I worked there part time shortly after we moved to Davis until I transferred from Sacramento State to Geary. Dad taught me a lot about motorcycles and other vehicles when he restored a vintage bike and sidecar. Right now the bike is on display in that dealer’s showroom. I inherited it from Dad and it’s still in my name.”

“What do your sisters do?” she asked.

“Olivia, or Liv as she’s known to us, is almost thirty and unmarried. I hear from her sister that she’s got a serious boyfriend, but I haven’t met him. I don’t even know his name. She is a certified accountant. She has her own business and is doing very well I understand. Shan ... or Shannon ... is single, but in a relationship with a guy in L.A. I haven’t heard if they plan to get married, but she’ll tell me if and when it’s going to happen. She’s working at a film studio that specializes in educational products.”

“And your grandparents are in Los Angeles?”

“Yes, still alive, retired, and in good health in their seventies. Originally, when my parents were killed, they said they would never leave Midland, but after a year alone and a nasty winter, they changed their mind and headed for the sunny south, finding a nice place in Costa Mesa. They live in a gated community and they’ve met some new friends and are happy again. My dad was an only child, so they had no one left in their family beside me and my sisters. I talk to them on the phone regularly and try and see them when I’m in the area ... about once a month.”

She sat back, blinking as I finished my story.

“So, tell me about the Lamont family and Klamath Falls,” I said after a period of silence.

“Nothing quite so dramatic,” she said slowly. “My father is county commissioner for Klamath County. My mother is head librarian for the city. Between them, they are comfortably well off. The cost of living there is a lot less than down here.”

“I’m sure it is. That’s true of Midland, too,” I noted.

“Anyway, I have a brother, Oran, who is married with two children, both boys,” she smiled. He got married when he finished high school and chose not to go to college. He works in the local dairy in the butter and cheese department. He’s happy and doing what he enjoys. I don’t see him very often, but we do talk, both with our parents and each other.”

“You said you’d had poor luck with boyfriends,” I remembered. “Is it too personal to tell me why?”

“I’ll tell you ... but not tonight. I’m really enjoying myself and I don’t want to spoil the mood. Do you mind?” she asked, her brow wrinkled in concern.

“No ... of course not. Don’t feel obligated to tell me at all. If I get too nosy, just tell me to knock it off,” I smiled.

“Don’t worry, I will,” she chuckled, and the tension of the moment was gone.

I was back on the road the following week, this time to Los Angeles and San Diego, before moving on the Phoenix and Tucson. Some of it was flying and some was driving rental cars. Either way, it was a long week and I wasn’t able to get back to Hayward until late Friday night.

I slept in Saturday morning, trying to catch up on my sleep from my motel nights in lumpy beds and noisy surroundings. I was awakened by the phone ringing and it must have gone to the answering machine before I was really aware of what the noise was. I glanced at the clock on my night table and saw it was almost nine-thirty, much later than my usual hour to rise.

I checked the answering machine after my shower and smiled as I heard Gabrielle’s voice. If she was calling me, I took that to mean she was interested. I put a couple of frozen waffles in the microwave before toasting them, made the coffee, and drank my morning fruit juice. I felt a lot more awake and lively when I picked up the phone to call Gabrielle.

“Hi, I got your message. I slept in this morning,” I explained.

“What time did you get in last night?” she wondered.

“Oh, the plane didn’t arrive until ten-thirty, so by the time I got my luggage, bailed out my Jeep, and got home and into bed it was nearly midnight.”

“Oh ... so you were pretty tired then,” she said sympathetically.

“Yeah. I don’t sleep as well as I should on the road. Different rooms in different towns and different beds kind of messes with my normal routine.”

“I’m sure it would. Maybe you need a companion to help you sleep,” she teased.

I could almost hear the laughter in her voice.

“I’ve thought about that, but Dow was very reluctant to pay the bills for the lady I had in mind,” I said with a hidden grin. Her shot deserved a reply.

“Oh, and just who did you have in mind?” she teased.

“Really, Gabrielle, a gentleman would never reveal something like that.”

It was a bit of fun, or at least it was so far.

“And you consider yourself a gentleman?” she persisted.

“Haven’t I demonstrated that so far?”

There was a pause before she answered. “I suppose ... so far.”

I could still hear the humor in her voice, so I knew I hadn’t pushed my luck too far. Now it was a matter of why she called.

“You left a message for me this morning. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you’d like a home cooked meal tonight. I’m sure you get more than enough restaurant food.”

Her voice was very calm and very inviting and it took me no time at all to respond.

“I’d like that very much. What time?”