a rapprochement. Drew will tell you this evening. I’ll be quite busy getting Drew settled and arranging for his care.” She came closer. “You’re more than upset?”
“No, just tired.”
“I hope that’s all. I have a favor to ask.”
A knock on the French doors interrupted Fiona. A lady leaned out. “Oh, Fiona, didn’t mean to interrupt, but we have wonderful news: Jim Junior has been accepted early to Whitman College, up in Washington…Walla Walla. Big Jim and I have to go over the financial arrangements with you. Anyway, we won’t leave until we’ve talked.” Big Jim waved to Fiona.
Fiona waved back. “Cousins from Sunnyvale. The trusts pay for their offspring’s education.” Her expression turned wistful. “Times like this, I think of Tatiana; she knew I had money and didn’t care, unlike most everyone else in my life.” Then she looked into the living room. “If I could walk away from that mob, I’d be a happy woman.” Attempting a smile, she asked, “Do you remember how we met?”
“You took French lessons?” My mother had tutored Cal students in French and Russian.
“I didn’t need French lessons,” Fiona sputtered. She had been raised with a nanny from Brittany and spoke fluent French with a Breton accent.
“I was trying for some levity. We met at a hamburger joint around here.”
“It was a Sunday,” Fiona said. “Exhausted and miserable after one of these horrid family gatherings, I walked over to Nick’s for a cup of coffee. I sat at the counter next to you and Tatiana. You both looked so European and had come from the Russian church a few blocks away. You ordered hamburgers and milkshakes in terrible English and went back to the imaginary house you and Tatiana were building in southern France: the garden, the design, colors—all of it.”
“Back then, cheeseburgers and shakes made coming here almost bearable.”
“While I was eavesdropping, I realized that the house was imaginary and said in French that the kitchen should have a view of the sea. You asked if I had more ideas, and the three of us sat there working on the house for the longest time. Time flew like it always did around Tatiana. We walked back here for tea, and I drove you home to Berkeley. Tatiana and I talked every day after that. She never asked for anything.” Fiona dried her eyes. “It was my idea that she tutor French and Russian. I got her organized—not easy with her.” She was about to cry.
“Fiona, that favor you asked?”
She took a deep breath. “Townie Morgan wants me to look at a deal. Actually, it’s Chip’s. Chip, his son, is floating around here somewhere. Anyway, Townie’s company has been around for ages, but I don’t know anything about his business, or how he manages it. He banks at Universal; I’d like you to check around and see what you can find out.”
“Of course, happy to do so.”
Fiona winced when she heard the French doors open. Big Jim, his wife, and Jim Junior approached. “We’ll keep in touch,” Fiona said.
I took her arm. “I’d like to talk to you, away from these interruptions.”
“Of course, of course, when I’m less frazzled, when I get back from Tahoe.”
Big Jim guided Fiona into the living room with Jim Junior and wife following.
Fiona was right about my mother; she had never asked for Fiona’s influence or money. Nor had I. However, when I graduated from college during Vietnam, my draft board wanted to see me; and Fiona told me to apply to a National Guard artillery unit in Oakland. Back then the Guard was a safe haven and impossible to get into, but the artillery unit took me. After the Guard, Fiona suggested that I send my resume to Universal Bank. The bank usually hired MBAs but made an exception in my case. When I became a bank officer, Fiona decided that my renting an apartment was a waste of money and loaned me the money to purchase a two-flat building in the Marina. Unlike her family, I never asked; then again, I never had to.
It was getting dark; the drizzle had turned to an earnest rain. I saw the lights of a freighter heading out of the Golden Gate. On the ship’s bridge, two officers were looking through binoculars at their course; another two were at the charts that would guide them home. An officer turned south and pointed his binoculars in my direction. I waved and was surprised when he waved back.
No one noticed as I slipped out past Fiona and Big Jim’s family, avoided the crowd around Drew, and found my raincoat and umbrella. I walked up to California Street and whistled down a cab.
CHAPTER 8
DECEMBER 1986
SAN FRANCISCO
The restaurant Drew suggested had developed a reliable clientele who appreciated its sturdy northern Italian cuisine. The décor was simple: wide-planked oak floors, stark white walls with framed black-and-white photos of Florence and rural Tuscany. The tablecloths were heavy cotton and whiter than the walls. I had eaten there and remembered the variety of tempting veal dishes. A Friday night, the restaurant was crowded. Drew stood up and waved from a secluded table in the back.
There was a lot of Fiona in Drew’s features: the light-brown hair, the high forehead, the fine nose, the set of the mouth, and the large greenish eyes. Their countenances differed: Drew was sunny; Fiona was moody and a bit chilly. While Fiona was an attractive woman, Drew was so striking that men and women stared at him when we were young. Drew had changed from his suit and was wearing a blue blazer, gray slacks, a striped shirt, and a Charvet floral tie. His coloring was sallow, and his collar was loose. He stood up and hugged me.
We sat down, and Drew asked the waiter for drinks: a glass of white wine for me, mineral water for him. Drew leaned forward. “Thank you for coming. You’re more relaxed without your banker’s suit of armor.” I had changed into a tweed jacket, shirt, and tie. “You look drawn. All the traveling? Or today’s service?”
“Both. The service was difficult.”
“The memories of Tatiana’s funeral, of course,” Drew said. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t come. But you did. I appreciate that, I do.”
“That summer has been on my mind since our phone conversation. I’m sorry about the way I treated you. Everything was so confusing back then: you, the sex, my mother’s mental state, her death. I couldn’t handle it and crashed into something of a nervous breakdown. I am ashamed that I’ve taken so long to apologize. And there’s one more thing I must say: Fred was in love with you, and you with him; you were kind to each other.”
Drew put his napkin to his eyes. “Took me by surprise. You’re usually more staid.”
“I meant it.”
“I know, and thank you,” Drew said. The waiter returned with our drinks. We both ordered braised breast of veal. The waiter left, and Drew said. “Fiona told you that I have AIDS.”
“Yes, what are you going to do?”
“I’ve finished my opened orders, and the business is on hold for the time being. I can’t stay in my place, not after Fred; so I’ve moved back to Fiona’s. Early next week, Fiona and I are going to the summer house at Tahoe. We’ll try to reconcile, even at this late date.”
“How long are you going to stay
