Growing Up With Beth 15

Growing Up With Beth

© Copyright 2000 by silli_artie@hotmail.com

This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express written permission of the author.

A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.

Part 15
(no sex in this part!)

I woke up to the phone ringing. It was a little after seven -- on a Sunday morning! Who the hell would call at that time? I couldn’t tell from the way it was ringing. I’d have to answer it to find out.

"Hello," I said, flopping back on the bed.

"Hi sweetie. I love you." It was Rachel.

"Oh, I love you, and I miss you -- to what do I owe this pleasure?"

She sighed. "I was worried. How did things go yesterday?"

I moved a bit. "Hold on for a minute -- I need to pee."

"Okay."

I got up and went to the bathroom. Some things can’t be hurried.

"Better -- now I can talk. Yesterday was heaven and hell."

"Which was Sherry?"

"Mostly hell." I told her about the party, about what I found with Mic, and about dealing with Mike, and Sherry’s non-response. I figured she’d been two-timing us during the week.

"Yeah, him for money, and you for sex," Rachel said.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," I told her.

She laughed, then asked, "Was that all?"

I told her about the other party, picking up things from Ben and Emily, confessing to Emily, then taking control and running the reception like a madman. I told her about Janice, and Hanna, and how I acted.

"There’s something else," Rachel said.

"You’re getting good, sweetie. Ben accused me of turning into ‘one of them.’ You’d better watch it, or you will too." I sighed. "It’s Beth and her beau -- he ducked out on her again last night. I didn’t even notice until he was gone. I gave her a ride home. She was hurt -- she’s struggling to find a balance. I’m trying not to meddle, to remain detached -- but it’s hard."

Rachel sighed. "What are you going to do?"

I rolled my shoulders a little. "Get up and exercise, then shower. Return stuff to Ben."

"No, silly -- about Beth and Roger?"

"Don’t know. Be there for her. Maybe bug him again. I don’t think he knows how much he hurts her. I don’t know if she knows how she sounds. Maybe it’s my memories of that tone of voice -- memories that take me back to a time when things were so fucked up."

"Sherry?"

I grunted. "She has her own path to walk. I wish her well on it."

Rachel chuckled a little. "Janet and Harriet?"

I laughed -- I didn’t know whether that was deliberate or not. "Janice and Hanna. Don’t know -- whatever happens, happens. I still love you. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I don’t know. I went out with some kids last night. It’s disgusting, how many people smoke around here -- almost as bad as Paris. I did get results on two psych classes I challenged though -- I aced them both."

"Hey, that’s great! I need to talk to Henri about getting credit for the translation work."

"I could help, you know."

I sighed. "Boy, that sounds good to me -- we’d have to meet face to face periodically though -- I don’t think material of this complexity can be done entirely by e-mail and phone."

She laughed. "Oh I agree! One of my advisors is really interested. She gave me a tip, too -- structure things so they apply to specific areas, rather than just ‘individual study’ credits."

"Ooh, I’ll make a note of that -- I seem to remember some upper limit on the amount of individual study units you could use towards a degree."

"Yup, that’s it, right on the nose."

"You want to sit on my nose?" I asked her.

She laughed, low and almost a moan. "Oh, I do -- you’re so good to me. I don’t like sleeping alone."

I sighed and moved back on topic. "You want to translate my third paper into English?"

"Did you finish it yet?"

"Well, I think I did, but I haven’t heard the last from Papi yet."

"Sure. When he’s happy with the French version, I’d like to do that. How did the others turn out?"

"Pretty good. I’ll send copies to you later this morning. I’ve done roughs of English versions for the first two. Papi says the three French ones have been tentatively accepted for publication. Emily has copies, as well as Papi."

"That’s terrific! I can’t wait to read them." She got softer. "I love you. I miss you."

I sighed. "I miss you too, sweetie, and I love you very much. Maybe I should transfer."

"They’ll take you any time, you know -- my advisor has mentioned that to me. With these publications, it should be even easier. Would you like me to check?"

I sighed. "That wasn’t what we worked out now, was it? I thought we decided to spend this year where we were."

She chuckled. "I know -- but I need you. I guess you should try and find yourself a diversion -- sounds as if you’ve got two candidates. We’ll get together for Christmas, I know."

"But I’ll still miss you."

"I know. I’ll talk to you later in the week, sweetie."

"Bye. Thanks for calling. I love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

I hung up the phone.

I got up and did my morning routine, then went out for a run.

The phone was ringing as I came back in the door. I grabbed, it, panting.

"Hello?"

"Andy? This is Hanna. Did I wake you?"

I laughed, still panting. "No, just got back in from a run. How are you? Thank you so much for your help yesterday. You saved my life."

"Oh, you’re welcome. I wanted to know if you could join us for dinner?"

I sighed. "I can’t make it tonight, I’m sorry." I was supposed to be at Betty’s.

"Oh," she said coldly.

"I’m having dinner with a family that helped me very much earlier in the year." It was a stretch -- I knew it.

"How about tomorrow night, then?" she asked, sounding better.

"Sure! What can I bring, or cook?"

She laughed. "We’ll see. Got something to write with?"

She gave me directions to their place in Costa Mesa.

"What time?" I asked.

"Oh, tomorrow afternoon sometime," she told me.

"Around three too early?"

"No, that would be fine."

"Okay, see you tomorrow then. Thank your mom and sister again for all the help."

She laughed. "It was fun, Andy. See you tomorrow."

We hung up. I was planning to burn the candle at both ends -- we’ll see what happens.

I took a long shower. What the hell had happened yesterday? I imagined Papi sitting in a chair next to me. That made me laugh -- I was drying off -- I don’t think Papi ever saw me naked. How did I feel about that? Hey, he had grandkids, and I called myself one of them.

What a mix of feelings -- attraction, revulsion, compassion, anger, protection, fear, sadness -- and that was just the first part of the day! I’d been pulled in many different directions.

Had I given myself to my emotions, reacted on a reflexive level, rather than acting as a matter of choice?

Mic -- I’d recognized a bad situation, but rather than slamming the lid closed and running away, I’d stuck with it. I’d felt a desire, a need, to help. It had been hard.

Had I "helped" with Mikey? What had my first feelings been? I almost said "reaction" -- but I hadn’t reacted. Thinking back the best I could, I’d felt fear, revulsion, aversion -- get Mic and get out. I sighed -- but I knew that wasn’t the answer; that wouldn’t address the issue. The only way out is through, and I’d gone through. Still, I’d taken a damn big chance, taking on that clown. What if he had some training? Or if his so-called "buddies" had jumped in? It could have turned into a real mess. Was it Sun Tzu? Win without fighting?

With Mic, I’d stepped in to help. I’d opened a can of worms -- or had I just stumbled over it? I’d taken action to address the problem. With Mikey, I’d stepped into conflict.

What had I learned from Mic? To be careful, that’s one. That I had a need to help. That I was still vulnerable -- I remembered how I’d felt when she told me she was living with an aunt.

What had I learned from Mikey? I could step into conflict. I could confront someone, physically. That was a big change from what, a year ago? I remembered how I’d broken down when Mr. Benjamin approached me after I’d been thrown to the floor by the principal.

But I’d learned more from Mikey. I still suspected that if I looked into his mind (did I really want to do that as a profession?) he would believe he was fighting for Sherry. How many times do we have two people meeting, two people with completely different motivations? No wonder the world is so screwed up.

And oh what I’d learned about Sherry... Narcissistic? She’d used me from the start. Okay, it had been mutual at times. But still -- I didn’t see how I could deliberately stage something like what she’d done with Mikey and me. I agreed with Rachel -- she’d probably been seeing both of us last week. Gee, that was an interesting sensation -- how did I feel about being the second one in? A weird sensation, that.

Yet, what was "normal?" If Mic hadn’t been screwed up, if Mikey hadn’t been there, what would I have done at the party? Sitting there on the couch, looking at the three of them, I’d been ready to go to bed with any or all of them.

Was that fair to anyone? In an amoral sense, it had been expected by all of us. Fucking, fighting -- typical behavior at that age, right?

Was it fair to Rachel? We’d had that discussion, between ourselves, with Papi, and with Madame Dumay -- neither of us expected to stay celibate.

Oh God -- what is love? Is it a blind hanging on, motivated out of fear of loss? For me, is it a desire to return to the womb, return to that simpler life, as Karen had done going back to her father, or is it a path of growth, the path with heart?

The second part of the day, I’d been focused. I’d sensed a problem, dug into it, and stepped in to help, taking on someone else’s problem as my own. I’d done well -- we’d pulled off one hell of an evening. Still, a range of feelings -- much of the afternoon and evening, I’d been totally in the moment, then a roller coaster ride with Janice, and Beth. Wow. With Janice, that had been a reaction -- not much of the observer consciousness involved there! She’d stepped on to the patio, and wham!

With Beth -- that tone of voice in her hurt me. I didn’t want to see her hurt. Did she know how she sounds? Does he know how he hurts her? She felt so open, so exposed. I felt her trying so much. How do I help?

I sighed -- my feet were getting cold. Introspection is for monks. I’ve got things to see, and people to do. Let’s get going.

I moved to the floor doing yoga -- didn’t want my hamstrings to tighten up, not after all we went through.

As I worked, I thought of Klein: "The repressed parts of the self, if unresolved, remain repressed into adulthood. Those parts govern the choice of marital partner and the nature of marital relationships, and by extension the nature of relationships with children."

Why that, why now? Where was I headed? To what?

I grunted and looked at a zit forming on my right shoulder. I grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it on, then sweat pants. How about I head to breakfast?

I had breakfast -- two cackleberries and toast. I started on the translations again.

But...

Something was still bugging me. Let’s take the tables and chairs back. I put on shorts, got my sandals, and the car keys.

I backed into Ben and Emily’s driveway, then went to the door and rang the doorbell. Should I have called first? It was almost eleven.

"Andy! How did things go last night?" Ben answered the door.

I shook his hand and gave him a hug.

"It was a trip," I told him.

We went through the house and into the garage -- he hit the garage door opener, and I unloaded stuff from the car.

"It was wild. We pulled it off, with help. Where’s Emily?" I asked. Her car wasn’t in the garage.

He shrugged his shoulders. "She got a call around ten and took off -- she said she’d be back early afternoon."

I sighed a little. I should talk to her. I really wanted to talk to Papi. I could set up a regular time -- I laughed at that -- 50 minute hours, long distance.

The last of things unloaded and put away, I closed the back of the car.

Ben put a hand on my shoulder. "Join me for a glass of juice?"

I nodded. "Sure."

We went back to the kitchen, and he poured two glasses of orange juice, handing one to me. We sat down and had a silent toast.

"Ben, I’m glad you’ve recovered so well."

He nodded. "Want to talk about it?"

I laughed -- "Who’s turning into one of them?"

He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "You’re upset about something."

I had another sip of juice. It was cold and good.

"Ben, how do you offer to help someone, someone that hasn’t asked?"

He raised his glass. "Offer them some juice?"

I laughed so hard I thought I was going to fall out of the chair. Ben started laughing with me.

When we stopped laughing, I told him about the party at Sherry’s place, including fighting with Mike. Somehow, I left out details involving hypnosis.

Ben nodded and finished his juice. "Andy, it sounds like you had an exciting but normal day for an eighteen-year-old."

I told him about dinner, being the madman in the chef’s hat, losing it when I saw Janice, but pulling off a good event.

"Thanks to your help, Ben," I told him. I stood up. We hugged, and he walked me out to the car.

"When are you driving up?"

"Thursday. Figure I’ll leave about four or five in the morning. That will put me up there mid-afternoon."

"Going up the coast, or inland?"

"Oh, the coast. Everyone I’ve talked to says the coast route is only a little longer, and much nicer. There’s even an In-N-Out Burger in Atascadero."

"Give us a call when you get up there."

"I will, Ben."

We hugged again, and I headed off. I shook my head -- I didn’t trust Emily completely any more. I hadn’t since ... since Karen. I thought about that more -- was that a defensive reaction? What was I protecting? What was I hiding? Pulling back is usually a defensive move.

There was a message on the machine when I got home -- Betty wanted me over at her place at five, and I didn’t need to bring anything.

I couldn’t sit still. I ended up going for another long run, jumping in the pool, then doing more yoga before I showered again.

I guess Ben was right, in part at least -- that’s what I’d heard other kids talking about, fighting, usually with a girl involved. Heh -- that’s probably what Mikey thought -- wrong again, Mikey. Sherry is all yours.

Hmmm -- we all do that, consciously or unconsciously -- attribute our own thought processes to the actions of others -- Mikey may have thought I wanted Sherry.

I laughed -- that’s interpretation as well -- maybe he’s just an asshole who likes to fight?

But my tension remained -- I was still unsettled. Somebody was trying to tell me something....

I showed up at the Chen’s a little before five. I’d stopped for flowers. Pulling into their driveway still gave me pause, memories of Thanksgiving still.

I rang the doorbell. Doctor Hsu answered. "Andy! You’ve grown!"

I went in to hugs, and serious appraisal from the two doctors. They hadn’t seen Rachel when she returned, but had heard the stories.

"Where’s Betty?" I asked.

Vivian looked over her shoulder. We were still near the door.

"She’s in the kitchen," she said quietly, "This means quite a bit to her."

I raised an eyebrow. "I think I understand."

Doctor Chen nodded. "My sister is a wonderful cook, and has been helping her."

That hit hard -- another aunt? What was it about aunts this weekend? I sighed and forced a smile -- calm and relaxed; calm and relaxed.

We sat in the living room. Gary didn’t recognize me at first -- but hey, he’d grown as well.

Betty appeared from the dining room. She smiled, but I could see the tension in her.

"Hi, Andy -- thanks for coming over," she said.

I stood up and gave her a hug. "My pleasure," I told her. She was tight and a little sweaty -- understandable.

She looked to her parents. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes."

I gave her an inquisitive look, but didn’t say anything. She smiled, turned, and went back to the kitchen.

I’d brought my set of prints, and showed them to Gary and his parents. Doctor Hsu was impressed with the pictures of Papi, and broke into laughter at the one of him washing dishes.

To an inquisitive look from her husband, she said, "Doctor Carmichael mentioned you were working with him. That must have been quite an experience."

"Yes, it has been, and I have so many of you to thank for making it possible. I ..."

We were interrupted by the sound of a crystal bell. I turned as Gary took off running for the dining room. Doctor Chen laughed and helped his wife stand. I followed them in.

The mystery aunt wasn’t visible, the table set for five. Betty showed me where to sit.

She served a very nice meal.

"Betty, this is wonderful," I told her as I fumbled food to my mouth with chopsticks. She glowed and smiled.

We talked about school, her plans for this year, and mine at Stanford. I told them I expected Rachel and I to get together around Christmas.

I sighed -- I didn’t know how I’d make it until then, yet I knew I would, one day at a time.

"A lot has happened," Doctor Hsu said.

I smiled -- what a wonderful invitation.

"How do I follow the path with heart?" I asked nobody in particular.

"How do we choose who to help?" I asked, looking at Doctor Hsu. She nodded, smiling.

Gary made a noise, and a face.

"Gary, are you going to be a doctor?" I asked him.

He made another face.

"Is your sister going to be a doctor?"

He nodded, and even Betty chuckled a bit.

"Okay Gary," I said, "Make believe you’re a doctor, in your office. Someone comes in and says they’re sick, and asks you to help. What do you do? Do you help them?"

"Can they pay?" he asked with a straight face.

I laughed softly, looking to his parents -- out of the mouths of babes, indeed.

"Yes, they can pay," I said softly, looking to Betty.

"I help them. That’s what a doctor does," he told us.

I nodded. "Okay, now let’s make believe you’re a doctor, and you’re out walking at lunch. Someone has fallen, is hurt, and is calling for help. Do you help them?"

Gary nodded. "Sure."

"Okay, now imagine you’re a doctor, and you’re at the library talking to someone. Because you’re a doctor, you realize they’re sick. Do you offer to help them?"

Gary paused a moment. "Yes,"

"But what if they don’t know they’re sick?" I asked.

"You tell them," Gary said.

"What if they don’t realize they need help? What if they don’t want to know?"

Gary sat quietly in thought.

I looked to Doctor Hsu and said softly, "What if it’s someone you love?"

She raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly.

"That is a very difficult question," she said. "Have you spoken to your analyst?"

I shook my head slowly. "I haven’t known the question until recently."

"It is a question we must answer each for ourselves," she told me. She looked to her husband, who smiled and nodded as well. They held hands.

"You wait for them to ask," Gary piped up.

I smiled and nodded, as did his parents.

His mom said, "But is there more than one way for you to ask?"

Garry furrowed his brow.

I looked to Doctor Hsu with a smile. "Do they know they are asking? When does observation stop and interpretation begin?"

Betty stood up and picked up a dish.

"May I help?" I asked her. She smiled and nodded.

I helped her clear the table -- her parents took Gary into the living room.

"Sorry if things got deep," I told her in the kitchen. "You put together a fabulous meal. Thank you so much."

She smiled and sighed. I gave her a hug.

After clearing the table, we sat in the living room for a while, talking. I caught some furtive parental glances at clocks and took the hint.

"I need to be going -- I’ve got an early day tomorrow." And I did -- traffic to Janice’s place would be a mess that time of day -- and I wouldn’t be able to use the carpool lane.

Betty walked me to the door. We hugged again on the porch. She felt more relaxed.

"Thank you for your hard work," I told her. "Thank you for your friendship." I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

She sighed and held me. "Please keep in touch?" she asked.

I held her. "You’ll make it through this year, and you’ll do well. I’ll keep in touch."

When I got home, there was a message on the machine -- Doctor Hsu wanted me to call.

I took a breath, and after visiting the bathroom, returned her call.

We talked for almost an hour. For someone not wanting to intrude on an analytical relationship, we covered a lot of ground. She was like Papi in a number of respects -- leading me, questioning me, challenging me, but also sharing her own views, her own soul. I was asking interesting questions, and not shying away from them.

When I went to bed, I wrapped my arms around a pillow. It must have helped.

I got up early and did my yoga routine, loosening up and centering. I had a light snack, put a change of clothes in the car, and headed off.

Monday morning commute traffic on the San Diego Freeway -- what a mess! I bailed on to surface streets around 223rd Street, not wanting to chance the Harbor Freeway.

I parked in front of the house just as the garage door was going up. Janice’s mom backed her car out of the garage and stopped. I walked over as she rolled down the window.

"Good morning," I told her. "Is Janice about ready?"

She frowned. "Was she expecting you?"

"I think so."

She shook her head. "She left early this morning to go to Santa Monica with some friends -- she’ll be back later this afternoon. Should I give her any message?"

I smiled, taking a breath. "No, thanks. Have a good day."

She smiled and waved as she rolled up the window. I walked back to my car.

I sat down and let things simmer for a bit. Okay, I’ve been stood up. That much is observation. Any attribution of motive or intent to her is most definitely wild-ass speculative interpretation.

"Okay, dummy -- what now?" Eight thirty, and the roads were still a mess. I could inch along Pacific Coast Highway all the way home -- it might be faster than the freeways.

Damn -- I should talk to Papi, I thought as I drove. Why the hell not? What was the time difference? Seven or eight hours? He’d be in his office. This was the time I’d been calling him anyway, while Carol took a nap after our afternoon lovemaking and before I went whole-hog into dinner preparation.

I pulled into a little strip mall and parked. I plugged my phone into the charger. I knew his number by heart, and even remembered the international prefix from sending him faxes recently. I took a breath and pushed a lot of numbers.

He was in, had the time, and was happy to hear from me. He’d faxed me more comments earlier in the day -- he was very pleased with all three papers, and the peer review copies were receiving praise. I talked to him about having Rachel translate the third -- he chuckled and thought that was a good gambit for us both. I jumped into my current troubles -- what to do about Beth and Roger? Not feeling secure about jumping in, but resonating with her pain, and feeling my own.

Papi is very good. He gave me questions, not answers. As we wound down, I talked to him about setting up a regular schedule, once I knew mine. He was quite agreeable with that, while suggesting I look for someone local. He would make inquiries, and thought we were at a place where it would be easy for me to transition to another analyst.

An hour and twenty minutes, long distance to France, on a Monday morning? Wonder how much that call cost me? Didn’t matter -- it was worth it.

I would be there for Beth. While I would show my concern, and offer assistance, I would not give advice unless asked. Yes, it hurt to see her suffer and struggle. But after all, what’s the First Noble Truth? In California speak, "Shit happens." As I interpreted it, accept the Rose, petals and thorns both.

And, the pain I felt was a reflection of the deep feelings I had for her -- my love, my desire to protect her and shield her from pain. There were conflicting feelings in me as well, anger towards Roger for hurting her, and towards Beth, even though I realized she hadn’t rejected me, she’d moved on with her life, something we both knew needed to happen.

Oh well, time for me to move on, physically as well as emotionally. I could pick up the freeway at Avalon. I picked up the phone again -- it was warm from all the talking. Emily’s office was in speed dial.

"Doctor Carmichael?"

"Andrew? Good morning! How are you this morning?"

"Better. I understand Papi faxed me some material earlier? Would it be a problem for me to swing by and pick it up?"

"No problem at all. Quite a few pages came in for you. Would you have time to talk?"

I sighed. "Yes, Doctor."

She actually chuckled. "When would you be here?"

"About half an hour."

"Very well. I’ll see you then."

"Thank you, Doctor."

When I arrived, she handed me the stuff from Papi. The third French paper was off to the publisher; he was quite pleased with it. He had comments on the first two English translations, including comments from Professor Zehnder. He also had two papers he felt I should read -- and translate for Zehnder. Would I be interested?

I gave Emily a quick summary of what he’d sent. She congratulated me on having three papers accepted to such a prestigious journal, and on Papi’s support. She gave me comments on the two translations, agreeing with Zehnder’s comments.

Then she turned pure Emily, sitting back with that slight smile, hands folded in front of her, silent, waiting.

I chuckled -- I couldn’t help it.

"Emily, Doctor Carmichael, thank you again. We live in many worlds, yet one world. In Physics, Heisenberg taught us that the presence of an observer, the act of making an observation, alters the state of the system being observed. And with us, where does observation end and interpretation begin? Interpretation is made through comparison to a reference, often a reference partially hidden. So this act of interpretation can reveal aspects of the reference to us, as well as allow us to speculate about what we have observed."

She actually smiled, and nodded -- a very strong reaction from her.

I told her of talking with Papi for over an hour, of what we’d worked through. I told her of my feelings toward Beth, and Roger, my conclusions, and my plans toward them -- be there, be supportive, but do nothing else unless and until specifically asked.

And I folded my hands, took a breath, and sat there.

After a while, she said, "Very good, Andrew. You should speak with Beth. Are you going to continue analysis?"

I told her of my request to Papi, to set up a regular time to talk -- he wouldn’t charge me, but the phone company most certainly would. I was going to talk to John in Palo Alto, and probably to others as well, as I wasn’t sure how good a fit John was anymore.

She smiled and nodded again, then stood.

We shook hands.

"Andrew, please keep in touch."

"I will, Doctor, with you and Ben both."

Five after twelve -- I picked up my phone again, and gave Beth’s office a ring.

"Doctor’s office," she said.

"Hi -- this is Andy. Had lunch yet?"

I heard her exhaling over the phone.

After a moment, she said, "No, and I’m due."

"I’ll buy you a burger, or your choice."

"When will you be here?"

"About ten minutes. Okay?"

"That’s great."

If it was so great, why was I so rattled, so turbulent driving over to get her? Forget about the archetypes, the phantasies -- that’s interpretation. What do I feel? Focus on being there for her; that’s what I decided.

She was outside the building stretching when I drove up.

"Thanks for rescuing me -- I needed a break," she said as she buckled up.

Part of me reacted to her remark. "Glad to help," I said, telling myself, "Calm and relaxed."

"How was your run this morning? Turn left and let’s go for burritos, if that’s okay."

"Sure," I said, moving over and hitting the turn signal. "She stood me up. Got there and she was gone -- off with girlfriends for the day."

Beth sighed. "Sorry to hear that."

Observation noted what she said. Interpretation noted the way she said it, the emotion.

"Didn’t you have something with Betty last night?" she asked.

Observing a change of topic, interpreting a desire to avoid one issue and curiosity on another?

"Yeah -- she cooked a very nice meal for us, really put a lot into it. And I’m seeing Hanna tonight."

She sighed, and I saw her shoulders drop a little. That usually indicated she was relaxing.

We pulled into the burrito place, ordered and sat down with our drinks. We took off our sunglasses and made eye contact.

We sat there silently -- who would out-Emily the other, sitting silently?

Beth reached out a hand. I took it, gently.

"I talked to Emily yesterday, for a couple of hours," she told me.

I nodded. "I spent an hour talking to Papi this morning, and just came from Emily’s."

She sighed loudly. "It’s very hard, Andy."

I nodded. I couldn’t hide things from her. "I know. I feel it as well."

I could tell that pained her.

"And I understand that those feelings in me come from the love I have for you. You know I’m here, ready and willing to help, whenever you ask," I said softly.

She nodded, smiling.

Our lunch arrived. I told her about the fax from Papi, things being accepted for publication, getting requests to do more translations. We talked about my drive and move-in schedule. I had my class schedule, and would buy books on Friday or Saturday, with classes getting underway Monday morning. I promised to give her phone numbers, snail and e-mail addresses, and schedule information when it stabilized.

She suggested I check cell phones up in that area -- I might be able to get a better deal.

When I told her my call with Papi, 83 minutes, had been on the cell phone, she gasped, then chuckled a bit. She told me I should see Carl -- he would help with banking, as I’d want to set up an account up north. With a smile, she told me my investments had done quite well.

I raised an eyebrow. At the start of the summer, Bernard and M. Dumont had asked if I wished to invest part of my earnings. I’d agreed, and we’d talked about investing in general. They talked of representing private clients, selecting opportunities. I think they were being humorous when they said they could get me in for around US $50,000. Two days later, after some faxes back and forth and phone calls with Beth and Carl, I’d asked M. Dumont if he could give me details for a wire transfer. He looked surprised, but not as surprised as he did a while later after we’d talked about my financial position.

I knew Beth and Carl had been quite skeptical, but had let me do it. I knew the investments had been doing okay, but hadn’t paid much attention other than that. Everything I’d been paid by Daniel Lubat had been invested -- he’d insisted on paying me well.

"Okay, I’ll give Carl a ring as well."

"Have you talked to Rachel? How is she doing?"

"She woke me yesterday morning."

"And?"

"She was concerned about Sherry and me. We talked about both parties, about Sherry, Mic, Mikey, and about you."

"Janice and Hanna?" she asked with a smile.

I laughed a little. "Yes -- and this morning was probably the best thing that could have happened to me."

"Oh?"

I shook my head. "I’m more than a pair of balls, although you’d be hard pressed to tell by watching me lately. I can change that balance. I will change that balance. I don’t need to be chasing -- I need to think of Rachel."

She nodded. "She’s so far away -- are you going to turn into a monk?"

I laughed again. "No, at least not deliberately, but I’m not going to chase hard, either."

"Getting stood up by Janice hurt."

"Oh yeah -- I was rejected, upset, angry -- after all I’d done for them? But what was I going to do? Hold her down, stick a finger down her throat, and demand she give back the shrimp I cooked? Very silly."

Beth chuckled. "Kinky, too."

I reached over to hold her hand again. We held hands, and I looked into her eyes.

"Beth, I hope this isn’t conceited or arrogant, and please tell me if it is, but all the wonderful people who have come into my life in the last year and a half have done so without me chasing after them. And the ones I have chased? There’s a lesson to be learned."

"Which camp was Karen in?"

I shook my head. "I didn’t chase her. I didn’t chase Rachel, either, but I’ve been more proactive with Rachel. I learned a lot from Karen -- I wish her well; I wish her peace."

"And?" Beth asked, looking into my eyes.

"Beth, I will always love you. I will do anything for you, all you need do is ask."

She smiled and nodded. "Take me back to the office?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said softly.

I parked in the lot. She got out before I could get the door for her.

"Drop by Wednesday night?" I asked.

She sighed and nodded. "When will I see you after that?"

I shook my head. "Don’t know. I could come down for Thanksgiving. Rachel and I will be getting together for Christmas, I’m not sure where yet -- we could meet here. She’s never been away from her family for the holidays."

She sighed and held out her arms. We hugged. Oh, how wonderful it was to be in her arms again, even if only for a moment.

"I love you, Beth," I told her once more.

She moved back a bit. "I love you, Andy."

She started to turn and walk away, but I held her hand.

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"Please don’t say that and walk away -- it’s happened to me too many times."

We clutched each other. I could feel and hear ragged breathing from her. I held her head to my shoulder, rocking gently.

"Beth, I’ll keep in touch. Please do the same, and call me if there is anything I can do, okay? Call me if there’s nothing I can do." I whispered, as it was the only thing I could do.

We stepped apart, holding hands. She nodded. I could see tears trickling down under her sunglasses.

"Thank you, Mistress," I said, and kissed her hands.

She turned and walked to her office. I looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath, then got back into the car.

Carl wasn’t in, so I made an appointment for nine the next morning. I dug in my wallet and pulled out M. Dumont’s card. He’d be out of the office, but what the hell -- I called and left him a message to email me an update on my account, as I was seeing my advisor tomorrow, and most likely setting up a new bank account in Palo Alto near Stanford.

One thirty -- what now? I called Hanna’s place. Could I come over early? Sure. Bring anything? No, unless I wanted to fix dessert. That would be fine -- see you in an hour.

I laughed as I walked through the fruit and vegetable market, and picked some raisins and apples -- I owed this one to Grand-mère.

Hanna and family lived in a fairly good-looking tract house in the flats of Costa Mesa.

She came out of the house as I pulled up, shouting and pointing, "Park in the driveway, on the right side."

I pulled into the driveway. She was dressed pretty much the way I was -- shorts, cotton shirt, sandals -- of course she filled out her shorts and shirt a lot better than I did mine.

I got my bag of apples out of the back and stepped towards her.

It was one of those awkward moments. I wanted a hug -- I needed a hug, and I was used to hugs. Yet I could see uncertainty in her. I stopped a few feet away, giving her space.

"Thanks so much for the invitation," I told her.

She relaxed a bit. "Thanks for coming over. What did you bring?"

"Apples to make dessert. I should get it started and in the oven."

"Okay, come on in."

It was a fairly spacious two-story house, with a small back yard.

"Gail won’t be home until around four, and my mom should be home around six thirty."

I didn’t know how to break the nervousness. Well, focus on what needs doing.

"Plenty of time for dessert then. Can I help with dinner?"

She smiled. Her shoulders were still up and forward a bit, and she was holding her hands together in front of her body. Nervous? Anticipation?

"No, we’re going to barbecue a tri-tip. I’ll do veggies and potatoes, and Gail will take care of the salad."

"Sounds wonderful. Kitchen first, tour later?"

She smiled and relaxed a bit. "Right this way."

She led me to a well laid out and well-used kitchen.

"This is a nice kitchen," I told her.

She smiled. "The one Saturday was better,"

I shook my head, "And we gave it more use than it’s had in years. This kitchen is used and loved. People live here."

She leaned up against a counter, smiling. "We all love to cook."

"So do I -- I’m going to miss that at school."

"Me too. Did you really spend the summer cooking in France?"

I asked her for the things I’d need, and started in, telling her the expurgated version of the chateau, about going there with a girlfriend in the spring, being invited back for the summer, learning from Grand-mère.

I was going to miss it. I loved the feeling of holding the apples and cutting them, not only the sound the knife made as it sliced through and hit the cutting board underneath, but the feeling, and the smell.

"There is something so special about making things with your hands, and sharing that with others." I looked up to her with a smile.

She gave me an interesting look.

"What?" I asked.

She giggled a little. "You’re so calm. Saturday night, you were ...."

I laughed. "I was a madman! And I loved it! That woman was so unprepared it’s unbelievable! And the best part was you, your mom, and your sister coming to my aid."

She laughed with me. "It was a lot of fun -- and a lot of work. You put on quite a show."

"Thank you. Thank you for helping. I’m going to miss it." I put a piece of apple in my mouth and tossed one to her.

"Did you go running with her this morning?"

I looked up from the pan I was preparing. "Nope -- she stood me up."

I watched Hanna carefully. The range of expressions sweeping over her was interesting.

"Best thing that could have happened to me," I told her with a smile.

I started working the dough for a criss-cross top, glancing over to her.

Conversation died down for a while, until I asked how long they’d lived in California.

They’d moved here from Toronto four years ago, still visiting during the summer and the occasional holiday. It was just her, her sister, and her mom. She said that with a sigh.

I nodded as I cut my dough into strips. Why don’t I meet many normal kids? Or, was this the norm anymore, broken or dysfunctional families?

"I’ve lived in Southern California all my life, except for the trips to Europe," I told her.

"Family?" she asked.

I sighed a little. "You met Aunt Beth. She’s all I’ve got. Oh, Papi and Grand-mère in France -- but they’re not blood relatives. Help me do this? It’s easier with four hands."

She came over and helped me do my criss-cross on top of the apples.

"How hot do you want the oven?" she asked.

"375 -- I need some foil to make a collar," I answered.

She got out the aluminum foil and I made a collar to go around the rectangular baking dish -- that would keep the oven cleaner.

"All set -- in you go!" I told the dish.

She opened the oven for me.

"Ah! This is an oven! You have been well used, my friend!" I told the oven as I slid in the dish. I tore off another piece of foil and slipped it under the dish to catch any drips.

"Pepsi?" Hanna asked.

"Sounds good. Where should we sit?" I set a kitchen timer as she motioned with her head and walked to the patio doors.

We sat outside.

"Ah, nice to sit down again. One thing about the summer, some days I didn’t get to sit down very much." I opened my can and raised it to Hanna. "To Stanford."

"When are you going up?" I asked.

That brought another sigh. "Thursday, but I don’t know how we’re going to get everything. I won’t have a car, so mom is taking a few days off, and we’re all going up."

"I’ve got plenty of room. I could take some things up for you," I offered.

"Really? You could?" She was excited.

I laughed. "I’ve got the station wagon, and will be taking up two suitcases, maybe three, two boxes, and a few prints. My bike will go on the bike rack. I’ll have all sorts of room."

"Oh, that would be great. I’ve got so much stuff, so many clothes."

I grunted. "I outgrew most of what I have. I’ll buy new stuff as I need it up there."

She had a gleam in her eye, wheels churning furiously. "How much could you carry?"

"Quite a bit, I think. The back seat flops down, I could tie suitcases to the rack on top. Got a bike? A bike seems pretty much mandatory up there."

"Yeah, I want to take my bike. What dorm are you in?"

I told her and she shrieked. She was in the same dorm. She wanted to know about my class schedule. We went out to the car, and I got my folder from the front seat. Bernard had given it to me, from the firm -- fancy leather with a gilded logo in one corner. We flopped the back seat down. She was eyeing things carefully.

We went back into the house to compare schedules. We didn’t have any classes in common, but did share some free times. She thought I had a weird assortment of classes. I told her I’d taken classes at a junior college for two years, plus picking up units over the summer.

"For cooking?" she asked with a laugh.

"I was also working with a university tutor," I told her.

"Oh, literature?"

"No, psychology."

She almost crossed her eyes.

I laughed. "I’m pre-med and psychology, with a math minor -- this month at least."

She gave me the quick tour of the house. Something struck me, but it took a bit to figure it out. I chuckled when the revelation surfaced -- only women lived here.

She had a pile of stuff in a spare room that she was sorting through to take with her. It was a large pile!

"Uh, I’ve seen those dorm rooms -- all of this isn’t going to fit," I mentioned.

We talked about that for a bit. I admitted that males tended to get by with fewer clothes. She laughed at that.

I heard a "ding!" from the kitchen -- we went to check dessert. It needed a few more minutes, but was looking very nice.

"Another Pepsi?" she asked when I took the dessert out of the oven.

"Glass of water?"

She poured me one, and one for herself, and we sat down in the family room next to the kitchen.

"You know," she said, "that drive is awful long to make by yourself."

I smiled. "Company would be nice."

"Would you? Really?"

"Yes. Would you please ride up with me? Only if your mom agrees, of course."

"Oh, she will -- I was going to go up with ... someone else, but that fell through a week or so ago. I’m glad, actually. Mom hasn’t said anything, but I know she’s really busy at work."

I nodded. "If she’ll trust a spoon-wielding madman with her beautiful daughter, I’ll be honored to take you up with me. Only catch -- I was planning on leaving about five in the morning on Thursday."

She nodded, lips pursed in concentration. "That’s what we figured -- pack Wednesday night, get to bed early, and leave early Thursday."

We went back to the spare room, where she started talking to the piles of mostly clothes. How big were my suitcases? How many boxes? Let’s go look at the car again.

I laughed. We took advantage of things to go get some ice cream to go with the cobbler.

When we pulled back into the driveway, I said, "See, I don’t drive like a madman."

She laughed and smiled.

She asked me more questions about the dorms. I’d visited the one we’d be in, and all the rooms seemed to be about the same. When had I done that? Oh, in the spring, I visited for a few days. That got me an interesting look.

I decided to sit on the floor while Hanna talked to clothes, deciding what to take and what to leave.

Some time later, I heard a noise from elsewhere in the house. Hanna looked at me, then looked to the door.

"Gail must be home." She headed out of the room, and I followed.

We met Gail in the kitchen as she and dropped her book bag on a chair.

"Wow! This looks great! Did you do this, Andy?" Gail asked, looking at dessert.

I smiled. Gail walked over to me and gave me a very enthusiastic hug.

"It’s good to see you again!" she said enthusiastically -- her body was enthusiastic as well.

"You’re early," Hanna said, with an edge in her voice.

Gail smiled, looking me over. It had been a while since I’d felt as if I was being undressed. Gail was practically licking her chops.

"Oh, I blew off the library. I’m going to go shower. See you later!" She gave me another hug and headed upstairs.

Hanna glanced crossly at the stairs, then turned to the refrigerator. She got out some potatoes and noisily dumped them in the sink.

"Can I help?" I asked.

She turned, sighed, then smiled. "No, I’ll do it. I ..." She went quiet, turning on the water and picking up a spud.

I asked her what she liked to do outside school, and what she anticipated doing at Stanford. She liked music and dancing, playing tennis, running and biking. What about me?

She had very nice legs -- I’d noticed that. I told her I needed to find a yoga class. I’d run and bike as long as the weather allowed.

We talked as she cleaned and sliced up the spuds and put them in a pot of water to cook. She’d done a lot during her high school years. That made me more cognizant of what a sheltered, weird life I’d had.

Gail came downstairs, wearing a thin robe tied around her waist. It was quite obvious to me, and to her sister, that she had nothing on underneath.

She waltzed to the refrigerator, opened the door, and bent over to get things out of the veggie drawer.

"We do have a guest here," Hanna said coldly.

I was having a hard time not laughing. Still, the dynamics were interesting.

Gail stood up, holding lettuce and some tomato simulations. She looked at Hanna, and said, "I’m more covered up than you are."

Yep, she was technically right -- her robe went to below her knees, and the sleeves to her elbows. It wasn’t quite transparent, but it wasn’t opaque, either.

Then she turned to me. "What do you think?" She gave me a lecherous grin.

I chuckled. "Gail, I think you should change before your mother gets home."

She reached back with one hand and ran fingers through her mostly dry hair, emphasizing her lack of a bra in the process. "She’s never been upset with me wearing this before."

"Gail, I don’t think she’d be upset," I said in what I hoped was a parental tone, "I think she would be disappointed."

Gail gave me a sharp and strange look, glanced to her sister, put the salad stuff on the counter, and stomped off. We heard her stomping up the stairs, and heard a door slam.

Hanna laughed softly, and looked at me questioningly.

"Your mom has a challenge," I said.

Hanna nodded. "We know. I’m sorry if ..."

"Don’t be," I interrupted. "She’s very pretty, and jealous of her beautiful older sister."

Hanna smiled and blushed a little. Her shoulders relaxed, and her hips shifted a little. She turned to the refrigerator and took out the meat, which was marinating in a dish. She used a fork to flip it over.

"I hope mom isn’t late tonight," she said.

I chuckled. "Something tells me she may be home early."

Hanna gave me a wistful look. "I hope you’re right."

A few minutes later, Gail returned. She was wearing a pair of very tight shorts, and a very tight scoop-necked top. She had put on a bra.

"Have you decided how much of that crap you’re taking?" she accosted her sister.

Hanna looked at me, and smiled. "I thought you were interested in some of that crap. If you aren’t, what I don’t take I’ll box up for Good Will and drop it on the way."

"Oh, no -- I just wanted to know if you’d like help sorting and packing, that’s all."

"How’s the salad going?" Hanna asked.

Gail put together a good looking salad, chattering all the time about school, how lame it was, how the boys were all dorks -- she turned and looked to me after she said that, and modified it to most of the boys. She didn’t know how she was going to make it through this year, and next year before she could get away to college.

"A friend of mine from high school is a junior this year, and she’s been accepted to Stanford next year," I told her.

She looked over to me inquisitively. "Oh? How?"

I shrugged my shoulders and gave her an answer she didn’t want to hear. "Superb academics and hard work. She’s taking classes at the local junior college, and tutoring others."

Gail frowned and turned back to the salad. Hanna gave me a smirk.

The gas grill didn’t need to be fired up until their mom got home, so we went back to the spare room. I uncovered a beanbag chair, plopped in it, and watched the two girls do clothes.

Let’s see -- I had underwear, socks, shorts, two or three pair of pants, long and short sleeve shirts, two or three pair of shoes, two business outfits, chef’s stuff -- what else did I need?

The phone rang and Gail was out the door in a flash. She came back in with a big smile, looked at Hanna, and in an overly cheery voice said, "It’s Bobby on the phone, for you."

Hanna grumbled and left the room.

I’d started to laugh, but was interrupted by Gail jumping on me. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, grinding her pelvis into mine as she stuck her tongue down my throat.

I got one hand to the back of her neck, and one on the base of her spine. I squeezed her neck gently, and pressed on her sacrum. She moaned and relaxed into me. I moved quickly one way and pushed her the other, getting to my feet and stepping back.

She looked up at me from the chair, smiling. God, she was hot, and obviously ready to go. "I want you," she growled, opening her legs and arms, reaching for me.

"I know you do, sweetie," I told her. "But not here, not now. Please behave." I left the room -- I didn’t think I’d be safe in there.

I heard Hanna on the phone in another part of the house. I went to the kitchen. She nodded to me from the hall. She made a gesture of exasperation.

The potatoes were boiling. I poked one -- not done yet. I stirred ‘em a bit.

Hanna came in a few minutes later. The way she walked and carried herself told me of turbulence inside.

I took a chance. I walked to her and held her gently. She put her head on my shoulder.

"It’s okay, Hanna. It’s okay," I told her. I hoped I was getting good at this, as I rocked gently back and forth.

She moved a bit after a while, relaxing.

"Boyfriend?" I asked.

She sighed and I felt more weight from her head on my shoulder. "Not for months. I thought he understood that."

"Sometimes we don’t want to understand, or part of us doesn’t," I whispered.

She moved a little closer. I held her gently.

I looked up and saw Gail in the doorway. She sighed, then smiled at me. I smiled back, closed my eyes, and held her sister. When I opened my eyes again, Gail was gone.

"Better now?" I asked.

She stepped back a bit, and smiled. Our arms slipped apart.

"Yes, thank you."

"Should we set the table?" I asked.

She smiled. "That’s Gail’s job." She turned and hollered, "Set the table, please!"

Gail came down the stairs, acting as if nothing had happened. She’d changed tops, and the one she was now wearing was looser, but still showed her figure. She smiled to both of us and started setting the table.

Hanna looked to me and said, "Be back in a bit." She headed off, and I saw her go into the downstairs bathroom.

I walked over to Gail. I ran a hand up her back and up her neck. She took a breath and straightened up, turning to me. I put an arm around her and held her close, feeling her pressing into me.

"Thank you for changing your top," I told her. "You are beautiful, and very desirable. But this is not the time, or the place, okay?"

Her head was back a bit, and I was holding her up. She sighed and straightened up a bit.

"Okay," she said softly. "Hug?"

I held her, and she snuggled into my arms. "We all need hugs," I told her.

She started nestling in, so I gave her a squeeze and stepped away, swatting her bottom.

"The table!" I said.

She looked at me and grinned, then walked to the kitchen with quite the sway in her hips.

We went back upstairs to sort clothes. I sat in the beanbag again. Gail and Hanna were much friendlier to each other now.

"That’s too tight for you," Gail said as Hanna picked up one short-sleeved top.

"No it isn’t," Hanna said.

"Yes it is -- you’re too big for it." Gail looked at me and threw her shoulders back and her chest forward, to let me know exactly what she meant.

"Let’s see," Hanna said, smiling at me. She peeled off her top, revealing a very nice figure. Ah, but I’m a sucker for a full pair of breasts.

She pulled on the top. "Is it too tight?" she asked me.

I shook my head. "Depends on the professor, I think."

Both girls laughed. Hanna took off the top and tossed it to her sister. She gave me quite the look before putting the other one back on.

She held up a pair of shorts.

"We’re going into fall and winter," I mentioned.

Hanna nodded.

We progressed through quite a bit. I thought I heard a rumbling noise, but the girls didn’t pause. I looked at my watch -- five twenty. I guessed mom was home.

"I wondered where you all were," Celeste said, sticking her head in the door. She was wearing a business suit. Both girls gave her hugs. I stood up.

We shook hands. "Good to see you, Andy. Have they been tormenting you?"

I smiled and shook my head. "I told Hanna how small the dorm rooms were."

Celeste nodded and looked to Hanna. "We can always send more things up."

"I know, mom. You’re right."

Gail said, "But we’re having fun, and Andy has been a big help."

I gave her an inquisitive look.

"I saw dessert, and it looks fabulous," Celeste said, "How’s the rest of dinner coming?"

"Why don’t we start the grill?" I suggested.

Celeste headed upstairs. "I’ll be down in a few minutes," she called out to us.

I walked outside with Hanna. She lit the grill.

"Ten minutes, and it’s ready," she said.

I looked over to a bush by the kitchen window. "Put some rosemary on the coals?"

She nodded. "Good idea! Pick some?"

I like fresh herbs. I got some rosemary, took it inside, washed it, then set it in a dish to soak.

Celeste came down, looking more casual and relaxed.

"Thank you again for coming to my aid Saturday," I told her.

She smiled. "It was a lot of fun. I’m surprised you’re not waving a spoon and rushing around..."

"Like a madman?" I suggested. "I only do that on special occasions, for crowds."

"He’s been very calm and helpful," Hanna added.

Wait for it, I thought. I sat down and motioned to Celeste. She sat down on the couch. I glanced to Hanna. Yup, she was going to do it.

"In fact," Hanna added, a little nervously, "I thought I could ride up with Andy on Thursday -- that’s when he was planning on going up. He has plenty of room in the station wagon. That way you wouldn’t need to take time off from work."

She played with her hands as she sat down.

Celeste looked to me.

"I have plenty of room, and wouldn’t mind the company," I told her.

She nodded. "Let me think about it. How long have you been driving?"

I told her about driving for Ben, both here and in Europe. No, I hadn’t gotten any traffic tickets, and the only time I’d been pulled over was in Europe in the spring. I was planning on going up the coast, leaving early and taking my time. I’d been to the Stanford campus before, but not driving.

She smiled. "It would make my life easier, that’s for sure." She stood up.

Gail looked glum. She was probably looking forward to missing school.

Celeste walked into the kitchen. She paused at the kitchen table and said, "Who’s is this?" holding up my folder.

"Oh, it’s mine," I said, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

"How did you get this?" she asked, looking quite curious and surprised.

I took it and opened it up. I still had some photos in it, ones I meant to get framed. I pulled out an 8 x 10 of the formal dinner I’d done on the yacht.

Pointing, I said, "This is the head of the firm. This picture was taken on his yacht, moored off the coast of Greece. I was the cook onboard for a week or so. These are the Dumonts -- he’s a partner in the firm. They own the chateau where I worked. Bernard, here, is also a partner in the firm -- that’s his wife, Jeanne. They were at the chateau for the summer as well. Daniel Lubat is also a partner in the firm. I spent the last two weeks cooking for him and his wife Carol at their villa in the south of France. Standing next to me is my girlfriend Rachel -- she’s at Cornell."

Celeste was still giving me funny looks. I put the picture back, and took out business cards, handing them to her. She looked at them. All had home addresses and phone numbers written on the back.

"Do you know what these people do?" she asked.

I smiled. "They’ve told me, but I don’t understand it completely. I do understand they are very, very good."

She nodded. "Some of the best arbitrageurs in the world."

She handed me back the cards. I put them back in the folder.

"Would you like this folder? I have a few more. You could take it to meetings and freak people out."

She laughed. She told me she was a financial analyst for Price-Waterhouse, and if I could spare one, she would like one very, very much.

"I have one still in the box," I offered.

"That would be very nice. Andy, you travel in interesting circles."

"Got me here," I said with a smile -- she didn’t know the half of it!

She chuckled and shook her head, sighing. Then she looked at us. "Would any of you like a glass of wine?"

Both Hanna and Gail answered enthusiastically. Celeste looked to me.

"I’ll have one glass with dinner, and that’s all. I have to drive, and won’t be able to leave until nine if I do."

She smiled. "I like that answer."

She opened a bottle of California Merlot, from Kunde. I tasted it -- it was good.

"Another pisser, besides not being able to cook, is not having wine with every meal," I told them. "I got very used to that, living in France."

Celeste told me they’d started the girls early in Toronto, getting them used to it. She gave Gail a very interesting look, and Gail bowed her head a bit.

We got the rest of dinner together. The rosemary added a nice flavor to the meat. I had my one glass of wine, and steadfastly refused more.

"How about some of that fabulous dessert?" Celeste asked after we’d cleared the table and rested for a bit.

It looked delicious. I sighed and smiled, and brought the dish to the table while Hanna got plates and Gail got the ice cream.

"With this dessert comes a story," I told them. "One evening this summer, I learned a most valuable lesson. The Dumonts had a small dinner party -- six -- and I was feeling very self-confidant. Hell, I was cocky. Rachel was in Paris with, ah, some friends, so Grand-mère was helping me. I was carrying on, so full of myself! The main meal was very good, if I do say so. I put together the dessert, a cobbler such as this, and put it in the oven. When I put it in the oven, Grand-mère started mixing a batch of crepe batter. I asked her why, and she just smiled and told me it would keep, and you never knew when you might need it."

I spooned out cobbler on to plates, adding ice cream.

"Well, when I took my creation out of the oven and let it cool some, I spooned some onto a plate, so damn proud of myself, and how good it looked. She stopped me and told me to taste it. I did. I was horrified! Somehow, I hadn’t paid attention, and instead of putting many cups of sugar on the apples, I’d put on salt! It was ruined! As I stood there in shock, she put the pan back in the oven, lit two burners on the stove, and pulled out two crepe pans. She’d watched me do it -- she knew, and let me go right up to the brink."

"Ah, she saved me -- we made crepes and put little ice cream balls in them, and nobody knew the difference -- except us."

This time it was much better -- use sugar, not salt, silly person.

We sat around, and I told more stories. They thought Saturday night had been wild -- I told them of our dinner for twenty-four. We used the big hearth in the chateau to keep things warm, had big buckets of ice to chill wine, salads, cheeses, and dessert, and all of it was done in a tiny kitchen -- that was wild! And I’d been quiet and unobtrusive, only taking a bow at the end of the evening, along with those who helped me.

We talked logistics. Celeste agreed having Hanna ride up with me was a good idea, and would be a great relief to her. I told her we’d call as soon as we got to the dorm, and would call at lunch too, if she wanted. I’d come over Wednesday afternoon to load up the car. We’d leave before dawn Thursday.

I thought for a moment. Could we do a special dinner Wednesday night, I asked? Celeste smiled and agreed. I told her I wanted to invite my aunt and her beau. That wouldn’t be a problem. And, I wanted to be the madman in the kitchen again! She laughed, and thought that would be wonderful.

"I need to get going," I told them as I stood up.

"How about tomorrow?" Hanna asked.

"Want to do dinner? I’m busy in the morning, but need to drop off the folder."

Gail grumbled -- she had a field trip, and wouldn’t be home until dinner time.

We parted with hugs. Celeste thanked me again. I gave her one of Ben’s cards, putting his home phone number on it, saying she could talk to him about my driving. She said she would. I told Hanna I’d call in the morning -- possibly we could have lunch.

I felt pretty good when I got home. I felt better after an hour of unwinding yoga poses. I’d had fun, and was helping. I got one of the leather folders, still in the box, and tossed it into the car so I wouldn’t forget. I made it to bed by eleven, collapsing.

End of Part 15
Rev 2/04/2002

Great!	Okay
Kinda weird	Not sure yet.	Not for me.