Chapter 5: The Summer of 1991- Meeting Patti's friends

It was the Fourth of July, 1991, and I was washing Holly's car when Sandy came out her front door, obviously dressed for a party.

"Do you have someplace to go today, Sammy?" she asked when she reached her car.

"Yes, I'm going to a cookout."

Her smile was one of relief, probably because she wouldn't feel obligated to ask me to tag along with her. "I hope you have a good time."

"Thanks, Sandy. Are you ready for your trip?"

"I've packed everything, but I'll probably have to come back for my passport or something. The van is picking me up at five-thirty. I hope we don't wake you."

"You won't. I have to pick up someone at the airport early on Saturday morning."

She gave me a curious look before blowing me a farewell kiss and driving away.

I finished by vacuuming the car's interior and went inside to get ready for my date with Patti.

As I was dressing, it occurred to me that we didn't know each other very well. While I was satisfied with the progress we had made, going from a working relationship to an occasional lunch, the loan of a book, a goodnight kiss, a soccer game and now an actual date.

Why had she invited me to a party at her friend's house? Did it have anything to do with my recommending her for the consulting job? Was it because she felt sorry that I was alone in a strange city on a holiday? Did she just need someone to escort her to the party? The way she said, 'we could try it' when she invited me to the party made me wonder if she was warming up to me.

Patricia Coffee was not a complicated person. From what I had observed she was a level-headed, straight-forward, serious, open-minded girl who didn't fluster or excite easily. My suggestion that we would have a summer fling was met with amusement. She laughed and said we were too far apart in age. Had I put the idea in her head? Had she thought about it later and reconsidered? Is that the reason she invited me to the party?

What attracted me to Patti? That was simple and complicated at the same time; there was a myriad of reasons. First, there was a physical attraction. I liked the way she looked. She was a woman in a little girl's body, petite up top, yet fully developed from the waist down. Second, she was a giving person. In addition to our common interest in buildings she was willing to try new things, like Cassie's soccer game. Third, there was the challenge of winning her over. Besides her resistance due to our age difference there was the matter of her still being married. Fourth, I was tired of living alone. I was having trouble sleeping ... alone. Was getting her to sleep with me the main reason for winning Patti over? Yes!

That settled, I decided I needed a strategy. On the way to Patti's apartment I formed a plan. It had taken months to gain Shirley's trust. Time was not on my side; I didn't have months. Perhaps I didn't need to gain Patti's trust. Did she hate sleeping alone, too? Did my suggestion of a summer fling appeal to her?

When I rang her doorbell I had a plan in place, take it slow, get to know her better, be patient and play it by ear. But when she opened the door I forgot my name. There was joy in her eyes, like she was happy to see me. We stared at one another for several seconds before launching a jumbled conversation about which one of us was more surprised. I was on time; she was ready to go.

We laughed nervously. She fumbled with her key and I tried to help her with the door.

"We can do this, Sammy," she said and I knew she wasn't talking about our getting the door locked. She was referring to the ridiculousness of our being nervous. We worked comfortably together nearly every day. She was saying that we could go on a first date without trembling with fear that something would go wrong.

"Okay, let's relax and enjoy ourselves," I said.

Patti read the directions to her friend's house and after she was sure we were heading the right direction, north on highway 75, she began filling me in on the people who would probably be in attendance.

"Crystal was my best friend in high school. We went away to different colleges, but we stayed close, especially over the summers, and we were bridesmaids at each other's wedding. Crystal and Clifford have been married three years and they have two children. They recently moved into an older house and this is their first party."

"What does Clifford do for work?"

"Cliff is a few years older than Crystal and me. He's very well established as an investment advisor. It's a family business."

"Who else will be there? Do you know everyone?"

Patti placed her hand on my arm to get my attention. I looked over and saw her teeth protruding to capture her lower lip and her brow furrowed, momentarily reminding me of Shirley. "Crystal's my friend, not Michael's. He wasn't invited. Two of our friends and their husbands will be there. Don't worry; there won't be any talk about my failed marriage. I told Emma and Sara that I'm bringing a co-worker and they're anxious to meet you. Jimmy is Emma's husband and he'll be civil, but you may have to put up with some crap from Harold. He and Michael get along famously and Harold sided with my husband. He blames me for the breakup."

"What do Jimmy and Harold do?"

She laughed. "Would you believe they're both contractors?"

"Do they compete for business?"

"Not at all, Jimmy is a general contractor, doing mainly residential. He started his own company. Harold is a ceiling contractor, working for his father-in-law's company. I believe they're bidding on the ceilings in our building. I don't think Harold knows I'm the consulting architect; otherwise he would have called to ask me to put in a good word for him, not that I have any influence with Neill."

"Wow, this is getting complicated. So far I have to remember Clifford and Crystal are the hosts, he's an investment guru, Emma is married to Jimmy and Sara's husband is Harold. Who else will be there?"

"Crystal didn't say, but I suspect some of Cliff's old cronies will be there. They're all in their thirties and I've only met them once or twice. He may have invited some of his clients, too. Don't worry; I'll be by your side. All you have to do is shake their hands and be cordial. No one expects you to remember their name or get chummy."

The way she said it, seriously, made me glance at her. Patti was turning her head to keep from blushing. Had she meant to assure me that she would be at my side?"

She checked the directions, told me where to turn and guided me to a quiet street, lined by older homes on large lots. Judging by the number of cars parked on both sides of the street there had to be more than one party going on. We had to park a block from the house. The cars we walked past were a mixture of foreign sports cars and large family vans.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed when we came to the house. "Crystal said it needed work, but I had no idea it would be this bad."

What I saw looked like a replica of a southern plantation mansion. There were six columns on the front that, like the house, needed paint, and the porch floor looked unstable. The hedge was overgrown. "I see possibilities," I said at first glance. "It's set back from the street and the neighborhood is well kept."

"Really?" Patti asked, like it was astonishing to her that I took notice.

We saw the sign on the door at the same time, 'please walk around to the back'. I took her hand and led her to the rear of the house where a tent was set up. Crystal was at the tent entrance and I saw immediately how she and Patti could be best friends. They looked not at all alike; Crystal had dark, shoulder length hair, bangs and thin lips, nothing like Patti. It was the way they clasped hands before drawing each other into a hug and the closed-eyes, tear-filled look on Crystal's face that said this pair of girls shared more secrets than I would ever know.

The embrace I received from Crystal was brief. "Sammy, thank you for letting Patti drag you to our home. It's so good to meet you," she said, standing back to show her smile. Patti was watching us, smiling broadly.

Crystal left us to get her husband and this gave me a minute to look around the tent. It was not large, only big enough for a bartender to serve drinks, a few tables and a dance floor. I was relieved to see that I had chosen acceptable dress, short pants, sneakers and a collared sports shirt. The women were dressed similarly to the men, although some wore short skirts and sleeveless blouses.

Clifford approached us alone, kissed Patti, explained that Crystal had gone to check on the kids, and shook my hand, saying how glad he was to have me join the party. I estimated, based on his receding hairline, that Clifford was definitely older than Crystal, probably by seven or eight years. He first insisted that we have something to drink and then he proceeded to introduce us to the other guests.

The yard beyond the tent was spacious, and based on the number of bodies I soon decided this was the only party in the neighborhood. Along with their names, Clifford gave us a brief description of each person, old friend, loyal client or wife of old friend or loyal client. As it turned out, some of the guests were neighbors. At some point we lost Patti, who stopped to talk to Emma, one of her friends.

I paid attention to the names of the people Patti had told me would be there and didn't attempt to memorize the clients' or neighbors' names. As Clifford introduced me, 'Sammy is Patti's friend' I played a little game, attempting to match each person with a car we had seen parked along the street.

When I was introduced to Harold I was tempted to remark, 'you're Sara's husband, the ceiling man' but she was standing right there and I'm glad I didn't.

"What's Patti doing these days, hanging around school yards?" Harold asked as he shook my hand. He looked at the Coke I was holding and sneered, "Can't handle a real drink, eh, kid?"

I was too stunned to respond to his little digs. I made an effort to smile, like I found his insults humorous.

Sara meant well. "You promised to be good today, honey," but it was her nagging tone that earned a warning stare from her husband.

As Clifford guided me away from the couple I was struck by two things. First, if Harold was in construction, why didn't he have a construction man's hands? For a big man, well over six feet tall and overweight, his hands were unusually small and soft. Second, Sara didn't match my blueprint for a friend of Patti. Sara seemed to be struggling to get by. She was not a happy person. Besides being subservient to her husband, her blond hair needed care, as did her face. She couldn't be more than twenty-five; had her ass always been dumpy?

"Are you related to John Oldham, the real estate tycoon, Sammy?" Clifford asked, interrupting my analysis of Harold and Sara.

I didn't think Clifford heard me confirm that I was John Oldham's son. A tall strawberry blond was besieging us. "Sammy, I drew you. You're on my team," she yelled from a distance of ten yards.

I had met her earlier, but since I have a habit of disregarding females taller than me I had forgotten her name. She was breathless when she reached us. I guess Clifford saw my confusion and explained. "Kim is talking about volleyball. She's one of our captains and picked your name out of a hat."

Kimberly Thomas had regained her ability to speak and was ready to take command of me, one of her team members. She dismissed Clifford, put one arm around my shoulder and marched me toward the volleyball net. "There are four teams and we're up first. You have played before, haven't you?"

I couldn't remember playing volleyball before. "Not that I recall."

Kim stopped a determined look in her eyes. "Never mind, you're athletic, what do you do for exercise?"

"I run, play golf, tennis and..."

"Volleyball is just like tennis, except that you can't let the ball touch the ground and each side gets three chances to return it. Oh, you use your hands instead of a racket and the scoring is different, otherwise it's just like tennis, you know ... ball, net and boundary lines."

Our opponent was waiting and we were into the game before I had a chance to say hello to our teammates. Kim lined me up next to her and talked constantly. "Be patient, Sammy, set me up, tap it above the net and I'll slam it home."

We beat our opponents handily by a score of eleven to three, (in the interest of time each game ended at eleven points), well, not because of anything I did; in fact, I allowed the other team to score one of their points when I misjudged a return that I thought was out of bounds. It wasn't.

We sat on the grass with our teammates and other spectators, watching the other two teams play, waiting to take on the winner. I only pretended to pay attention to Kim because my eyes were on Patti. She was on Howard's team.

"Sammy, I would like for you to meet my husband. David, this is Sammy. He plays tennis."

I stood up to shake hands with the tall man and noticed that he had trouble folding his legs when we took our seats on either side of Kim. "David has a gimpy leg," she explained.

In the fifteen minutes we sat watching the game in progress I learned that David was a stockbroker and Kim was an interior decorator, working part time out of the house. I judged their ages at forty and mid-thirties. They had two children, boys ages twelve and ten. That's all I learned. I couldn't take my eyes off of Patti, who was playing next to Harold and was trying to ignore his constant banter. What was the giant saying to her, about her?

Kim asked most of the questions, mainly centered on my tennis experience. I admitted that I had played mixed doubles, competitively. "That was a few years ago when I was in high school," I clarified. "Now I just play for fun. A friend and I take on all comers at school."

Sara, who wasn't playing, must have noticed my interest in the way her husband was talking to Patti. She sat down next to me. "He's being a real jerk today. Don't pay any attention to him, Sammy."

Did she really think I would take my eyes off of her husband? "Why is he being a jerk?"

"It may be because Michael wasn't invited and Patti was."

I attempted a laugh, unsuccessfully. "That's ... preposterous. Patti was invited because she's Crystal's best friend."

"I know that, but my husband doesn't see it that way. He's taken Michael's side from the beginning. I think it has something to do with business. They're always giving each other leads."

Harold's team needed one more point for the win, but Patti muffed a return, giving the point to the other team. Harold became enraged, telling everyone how clumsy she was.

Our host and three other guests got to Harold before me. Clifford was telling him, "It's only a game. I suggest you apologize to Patti and compose yourself."

I had my arm around Patti. "You don't have to put up with his crap. I'll get a replacement," I offered, looking over the crowd for a suitable substitute.

"It's all right," she said and I felt her knee touch my leg. "I may not look it, but I'm a big girl."

"Look at them," Harold was saying to the tolerant, but stubborn gentlemen surrounding him. "She's a married woman and she's involved with a kid who's still wet behind the ears."

Patti held me tight, partly in an attempt to keep me from retaliating against Harold and partly to hide her amusement. Her body was shaking with glee. "He's wrong about that. I'm not married," she whispered.