Chapter 13

18:20 PDT Friday, August 16^th, 1991
231 Ellsworth
231 South Ellsworth Ave, San Mateo, CA

"Jack, you're quite elegant tonight. I wonder what the occasion is?" Deb had a sparkle in her eye that belied the disingenuousness of her tone.

"Merely a meal with a friend, Ma'am. A warm and dear friend, to be certain." Jack was not above flirtatiousness himself, she saw. With a smile he offered her an arm, and they walked arm-in-arm down the path to his car.

The drive to the restaurant was quick, and filled with inconsequential subjects. If Jack were nervous, he didn't show it, Deb saw. Fortunately, there were few topical subjects the two of them weren't familiar with, and before Deb had time to worry, they were at their table.

Jack had been waxing philosophic about the lack of wine in his life, as they'd shared the Beaujolais and the soft Brie appetizer, when Deb fixed him with what she thought of as her 'business' look. Mid sentence, Jack stopped speaking, eyebrow raised, causing her to smile a little.

"Jack Kostowe, will we be honest with each other?"

Jack dabbed at his lip lightly with the napkin. "Of course, Deb."

"All my cards are on the table, Jack. You know about my past, and what a mess I've made of my relationships. I ... have hopes, but..."

"Deb. Please, relax." Jack picked up smoothly, not allowing the silence to grow. "I believe I understand. When we finish what will be an enjoyable meal, one in which you will seduce me with your artlessness and charm, why, I will be completely entranced, and you may take me home and have your way with me."

Deb couldn't help it. She actually giggled, then her gratitude spilled out. "Jack, every word you've said is the simple truth," and she felt her cheeks warm as she smiled. He really is making this easy for me.

Deb could not say what her lamb tasted like, and Jack's medallions des boeufs were mostly still on the plate when the entrée was removed and the dessert menu presented. The time had flown by, she realized, without her noticing, and she was as comfortable with Jack on a date as she'd ever been anywhere else.

When she looked across the desert menu and met his eyes, by mutual unspoken agreement they closed the menus and smiled. Jack paid the bill with his American Express card, and as they reached the car, she impulsively stopped him from opening her door, kissing him lightly on the lips. His pleased smile lit up the night, and she slipped in the car.

"Jack," she said when he got in the driver's side, "My place please. No one else is home."

20:45 Friday, August 16^th, 1991
28910 Matadero Creek Lane
Los Altos Hills, CA 94022

The conversation on the way home was exploratory, Deb thought. Kostowe was curious about Deb's family, and she about his. She was completely surprised at how deeply it affected her to talk about her parent's deaths again, after all the years that had passed.

"My father hung himself, Jack, the bills and creditors closing in, and he'd lost his hardware shop. My mother found him in the back of the shop. Mom tried for eight years or so, and when I left for college, she just ... gave up, I suppose. Her sister, my aunt, would try to get her out of the house, but it never worked. I went home for Christmas my first year in school, and by Easter, she was gone. Pills. No brothers or sisters."

"How old were you?" Jack's voice was soft.

"Hmm? Oh, when Daddy died? Nine, I think, old enough to know what had happened and why. The only thing that made any sense to me is what he told me the night before; that I had to study hard and be successful, be strong. What he didn't say was that he needed me to do all the things he couldn't be or do." Deb frowned at herself. "Please, no more about my past."

"Very well. I was born in 1905, in Katowice, Poland, and my family took me to the US in 1911. My father stayed behind, to come after the fall harvest, but he never arrived. My uncle wrote back for years, to neighbors and city leaders, but we never heard what had happened to him. When I was eleven, my uncle married my mother. She died in childbirth, only four months later, and my brother died a day after. My uncle began drinking that day. When I was thirteen, I went to live with my aunt, since my uncle went to fight War One, and he never came back either, he died in the Marne. I had my Aunt sign as my mother, and I was in the Navy at age sixteen. Over the years, I've lost track of my cousins, they'd moved a few times around the Baltimore area."