What?
The guided tour. You know what I mean, you bitch.
Me?
You. But I love it. Don't stop.'
Anything else you want to see?
I don't know. So many feelings were being awakened at once that she couldn't decide what she wanted to see next.
Are you hungry?
Sort of.
Want to stop for something to eat at Vanessi's?
Like this? Kate looked down in horror at the blue jeans, red shirt, and fading espadrilles.
On a Sunday, who notices? And it's late.
I don't know, Licia. She looked nervous again, and Felicia waved a hand as she sped up Kearny toward where it met Broadway. And then suddenly they were catapulted into the uproarious vulgarity of Broadway. Teen Age Co-ed Wrestlers Topless Here, and the usual promises delivered by barkers Virgins, all virgins side by side with Finocchio's and its female impersonators. In the midst of the madness, the traffic and the trucks coming off the Bay Bridge, Enrico's sat with artsy courage, offering one of the city's first al fresco sidewalk cafes. Somehow, with the roses on the pink marble-topped tables, the friendly noise, the colorful passers-by, it all felt very Via Veneto, and not quite so Broadway. And to maintain the illusion, across the street, sat Vanessi's, catering to the beautiful and the nearly beautiful, the important and the soon-to-be and the never-was-but-thought-they-were. Governors and ghouls, matriarchs and madams, portly men in blue suits, women in black with great chunks of gold bracelets, and then at the next table jeans and wildly frizzy hair. It was a place to get lost in, a place to be found in. It was, simply, Vanessi's. Kate and Tom had loved it. At first they had found it too noisy for their romantic evenings alone, but after a while it had grown on them. And Tom was always left in peace there. A few autographs, a couple of handshakes, a wave, but no hassles. No kisses and grabs. Vanessi's.
You up to it? Felicia had come to a screeching halt in the parking lot next door. She hated to give Kate a choice, but it seemed only fair. There was a long pause as Kate looked around, and then absently, her hand went to the heart-shaped watch pinned to her shirt. For valor, for courage.
Okay. She stepped out of the car, stretched her legs, and almost cringed from the noise and the bustle. But even she knew that what she now considered bustle was still half-dead for San Francisco.
Felicia got her stub for the car, and arm in arm they strolled toward the restaurant. Scared?
Terrified.
So are most people about ninety percent of the time. Don't forget that
They don't have anything to hide. It was out then. That was it That was always it. Damn.
Felicia stopped walking and faced her, still holding her arm. You don't have anything to hide either, Kate. You have a lot of pain in your past But that's it It's the past And it's someone else's past. It's his past, not yours. You have a child, a book, a nice clean life in the country. That's all. Kate closed her eyes with a smile and took a deep breath.
I wish that's what I felt, Licia.
Then make it what you feel.
Yes, sir.
Oh shut up. The moment of seriousness had already passed and Kate giggled as she sprinted along on her long coltlike legs.
Ill race you! They ran the last few steps, laughing and choking, and the headwaiter opened the door for them, and even at ten o'clock they were instantly swallowed up in the noise and bustle and avalanche of smells that was Vanessi's. Waiters shouting at the grill, people laughing in the bar, political battles being waged, romances being begun, all of it. It was fabulous. Kate just stood there and smiled. To her the noises sounded like an orchestra playing Welcome Home.
Table for two, Miss Norman? Felicia nodded with a smile, and the headwaiter looked blankly at Kate. He was new there. He didn't know her. He didn't know Tom. He only knew Felicia. And Kate wasn't anyone anyway. Just a girl in jeans and a red shirt.
They were seated in the back, and the pinkish lighting made everyone look rosy and young. The waiter handed them menus. Kate handed hers back. Cannelloni, house salad, zabaglione for dessert. The za-baglione was a warm runny feast of rum and egg whites.
Felicia ordered steak, salad, and a martini, as Kate looked at her watch. Already have a date?
No. I was wondering if I should call Tillie.
She's probably asleep.
Kate nodded, as a wave of guilt tried to creep into the evening, but she wouldn't let it in. She was having too good a time. And dinner was just as good as it had always been. Afterward they walked for a few minutes through the narrow colorful streets of North Beach. Hippie boutiques, artists' hangouts, coffee houses, and the smell of marijuana heavy in the air. Nothing had changed there either. After a few blocks they wandered back to Felicia's car. It was just midnight, and Kate was beginning to yawn.
just call me Cinderella.
You can sleep late tomorrow
What time do you leave for work?
Don't ask. You know how I feel about mornings.
Kate yawned all the way home, suddenly overwhelmed by the feelings her return to San Francisco had brought back. She could hardly keep her eyes open as Felicia pressed a button in the car as they reached the top of Telegraph Hill, and a garage door half a block away swung open.
Good Lord, Licia, how fancy.
Just safe.
Kate was looking at the building with amusement It was even more elegant than the one Felicia had lived in when Kate had left town. It was the typical older bachelors' building. Expensive, well-run, quiet, one- or two-bedroom apartments with extraordinary views of the port and the Bay. Not a place for children, and really not much warmth or charm. Just expensive.
You disapprove? Felicia looked amused as they slid into the garage.
Of course not! What made you say that?
The look on your face. Remember me, I'm the city mouse. You're the country mouse.
All right, all right, I'm too tired to fight you. Kate grinned again through a yawn, and then they were in the elevator and rapidly upstairs. Felicia unlocked her apartment door right from the elevator, and they were immediately let into a hall with delicate French wallpaper in a rich dusty rose and thick creamy beige rugs. There were watercolors on the walls, two large palm trees and an antique English mirror. It was all done in exquisite taste. And perfectly Felicia.
Should I take off my espadrilles? Kate was only half teasing.
Only if you plan to shove them up your ass. I'm not prissy for chrissake, Kate. You can roll on the floor if you want to.
I'd love to. The foyer alone would have made a beautiful bedroom.
But Felicia was already turning on the lights in the living room, which was done in off-white silks and creamy damasks, with dark oriental inlaid tables. There was a breathtaking view and the room's decor was wonderfully stark. The dining room beyond it was much the same with a black and white marble floor, numerous crystal sconces, and a small chandelier. Kate was sure Felicia's life-style hadn't actually been as grandiose six years before. Elegant, but not as spectacular. And there was a terrace that wrapped itself around the apartment and was covered with lush flowers and plants. Kate knew it for the work of a gardener, not her friend.
You like it?
Are you kidding? I'm overwhelmed. When did life get like this?
With the last big promotion. She smiled and then sighed softly. I have to do something with the money. And you won't let me buy Tygue a car for a while. So this is it,
It sure is.
Thanks, love. I'll show you your room. She was pleased that Kate liked it, though actually she was getting a little bored with it herself. It had been two and a half years now. She was almost ready for something else. Something even more elaborate, another step up.
The guest room was in keeping with the rest of the apartment a blue and white room in another delicate French print. There was a tiny fireplace with a white marble mantel, more plants, a door onto the terrace, a little French desk, and a Victorian love seat.
I
just want you to know that I may never leave. And then she laughed as she had a horrifying thought.
What's so funny?
The thought of Tygue here. Can you imagine our old peanut-butter pal plonked down on that love seat?
I'd love to imagine just that Felicia looked almost annoyed and then shrugged. Well, maybe ' And then they were both laughing again like kids. Talking about Tygue made Kate miss him a little though. This was the first night since he'd been born that she had been away from him. What if he needed her? If he had a nightmare? If he couldn't find Willie? If'
Kate!
-Huh?.
I can see what you're thinking. Stop it. You'll talk to him tomorrow.
I'll go home tomorrow. But in the meantime ' She tossed herself onto the bed with a happy smile. This is sheer heaven.
Welcome home. Felicia strolled out of the room and across the hall to her own room as Kate called after her, Can I see it?
It was white and stark and very cold, much like the living room. Kate was disappointed.
You expected mirrors on die ceiling perhaps?
At least
Want a drink, by the way?
But Kate only smiled and shook her head. She knew exactly what she wanted, and after they had said good night and she had heard Felicia's door close, she got it She stood barefoot on the terrace, in her nightgown, watching the fog hang low over the Bay, looking at the ships below, the Bay Bridge and the cars whizzing across it She stood there for half an hour, until she was trembling so hard from the cold that she had to go inside. But when she went inside, she was still smiling.
Chapter 12
When Kate got up, she found a plate of croissants and a leftover pot of coffee from Felicia, with a note. Meet me at die office at noon. Shopping with discount before or after if you want Love, F. Shopping with discount It was not her most pressing wish. She wanted to see the city again. Only the city. Places, memories, moments. Squealing with delight as she raced over the top of Divisadero with Tom, with the bay breeze whipping their hair into their faces as they swooped down again toward the tiny lip of beach, or headed out on the freeway across the Bay Bridge. Walks down narrow brick-paved streets in die upper part of town, browsing along Union Street, wandering down around the piers, or nibbling shrimp among the tourists at Fisherman's Wharf.
She stretched lazily as she stood barefoot in the kitchen, her brown hair showing soft red highlights in the sun as it hung long and loose down her back. Felicia even had a view from the kitchen. Kate stared at it happily as she nibbled at a peach, waiting for the coffee to warm. The phone rang just as she finished the peach. Probably Licia for her.
Lo.
Well, hello. You're back. For a moment her heart stopped. Who was he?
Uh ' yes. She stood very still, waiting to hear his voice again.
And enjoying a lazy morning, I see. Is it a shock to be back?
It was now. No, it's very pleasant. Jesus, who was this guy? He seemed to know her, but she had no idea who he was. His voice was deep and interesting. It rang no familiar bells though. Still, something inside her was shaking. It was like being seen without being able to see.
I tried you for dinner last night, but you weren't home yet. How was your friend?
And then Kate let out a long sigh. So that was it But he couldn't know Felicia very well, if he had mistaken Kate's voice for hers. I'm sorry, I think there's been an awful mistake.
There has? Now he sounded confused, and Kate laughed.
I'm the friend. I mean, I'm not Felicia. I'm sorry. I don't know why on earth I thought you knew who I was, but you seemed to.
I just assumed. He sounded amused too, and his laughter was as pleasing as his voice. I'm sorry. You're the friend from the country?
The country mouse. At your service. Well, not exactly, but it was fun talking to him, now that she knew that she wasn't on the spot. This had to be one of Licia's current men, if he knew about the trips to the country. I'm really very sorry. I didn't mean to mislead you. Can I give Felicia a message? I'll be seeing her at lunch.
Just tell her, if you would, that I've confirmed this evening. I'll pick her up at eight. The ballet's at eight-thirty, and we have a table at Trader Vic's for dinner afterward. That ought to meet with Miss Norman's approval.
Hell, yes. Kate laughed again, and then was embarrassed. Maybe he was more formal than that
I'll tell her you approved.
Til tell her you called.
Thanks very much. They hung up, and then Kate realized with horror that she had never gotten his name. How awful. But it had been so strange to talk to a man again. That made two in one week. But she assumed that Felicia would know who he was. If not, she was being taken to the ballet by a total stranger. The idea amused Kate, and she laughed to herself as she poured a cup of coffee. Men. She still liked her celibate life, but it was fun playing with them again. Fun hiding in a telephone, or just talking business with Stu. For some reason, she felt like playing again. Not doing, just playing. She was still grinning to herself when she went to get dressed.
She pulled the new dresses out of her suitcase with a look of mischief and excitement. The black was out, it was too dressy. The red skirt would be about right. She had also brought a pair of gray flannel slacks from the year one, with a white shirt and a big soft gray Shetland sweater. But she didn't want to wear something like that. She wanted to wear the suit The creamy silk suit with the peach blouse, and the delicate little shoes with the gold chain at the heel. She almost wanted to jump up and down with excitement And half an hour later, she was delighted with herself as she stood in front of the mirror. Bathed, made up, perfumed, and draped in the divine suit she had bought in Carmel. Her hair was loosely swept up in a Gibson Girl knot that looked wonderfully ladylike, and she had brought little pearl earrings, just in case. As she looked in the mirror, she felt like a model again. But a much older one She was almost thirty, and she was ready for the high-fashion look. She had never owned anything quite like the cream suit. She grinned at herself again and twirled on one heel. Who was this person? Was she a celebrated writer stopping in San Francisco for a day to have lunch? Was she a quiet young matron, up from the country for a visit? Was she the mother of a small boy, a teddy bear, and a basset hound named Bert? The heartbroken wife of ' no, that she was not, Not now. But she was all the others, and none of them. Was the woman she saw in the delicate peach silk blouse really Tygue's mother? Did he even exist? Where? What country? She was in San Francisco now. This was real. How could anything else be?
She picked up the flat little beige suede bag she had brought up to go with the suit, and tucked it under her arm. It had a coral clasp and had been her mother's, long ago. In another life. Now it was just a bag. And it was a beautiful day in a beautiful town, and she had things she wanted to do. She walked down Telegraph Hill from Felicia's apartment and found a cab in Washington Square. From there she reached a car-rental place and then she was on her own. Up Broadway into Pacific Heights, past all the great houses, and into the Presidio. Then back. Divisadero and over the hill, with a broad grin and an irresistible squeal. And then back into the Presidio until she reached the cliffs that looked out to sea, with the Golden Gate Bridge stretching out, seeming to be only inches away, in all its rust-colored splendor, and with the majesty of the cliffs on either side. It was a view that had always taken her breath away and still did. And it was a place she suddenly knew she had to bring Tygue. He had to know the town where they had lived. He had a right to this. To the excitement, the beauty, the cable cars, the bridge, the people, all of it. Just thinking about him confirmed in her mind the decision she had really made when she'd left him the day before. She was going back that night. She had answered her own questions. She could do it. She had faced it. No photographers were lurking in corners. No one knew or cared who she was. This was a new era, filled with new people, in all the most beloved old places. She wanted to share it with Tygue. She would tell him all about it that night.
/> Feeling at peace, she slid into the rented car and headed downtown. Even that was fun now. She could remember a time when, just before she left for good, it filled her with dread. Terror. She would get claustrophobia everywhere she went. Pregnant, frightened, alone, with her whole life having fallen apart, just the simple act of going downtown had been a night. mare. Now it was funny. All those busy little people in gem-colored dresses running in and out of buildings, dodging cars, hopping cable cars, as the dowager queen, the St. Francis Hotel, looked benevolently out upon Union Square. For a moment Kate stopped and smiled. Nothing had changed here. It had barely changed since she was a child, and certainly not in six years. The green of the square was as pretty, the pomp of the big stores just as apparent, the pigeons were as plentiful, the drunks equally so: all was well with the world. She rounded the bend into Geary, and slowed the car in front of the store. For a moment she thought maybe that had changed, but no the doorman rushed out to help her.
Leave the car, miss?
Thank you.
Be long?
I'm seeing Miss Norman
That's fine. He smiled pleasantly as she handed him the keys and a dollar. It was simpler and cheaper than a garage. He'd do something with it. God knows what. The store probably had an arrangement with the garage across the street, or the police department, but one always got one's car back.
With a feeling of trepidation, Kate pushed open the heavy glass door, and walked inside the pale cocoa marble halls. Hallowed halls. Sacred halls. Bags to the right, jewelry to the left, men's department to the extreme right only bigger now, and cosmetics and perfume in the alcove at the far left. The same, all the same. Gloves had vanished now. Stockings seemed to have moved, but nothing essential had been displaced. And God, it was pretty. Incredibly so. A riot of wares that no woman could resist. Red suede shoulder bags, black lizard clutches, marvelous great chunks of gold and silver, purple threaded with gold to weave around one's waist in the evening, thick rich capes in wonderful pastel colors, Lanvin scarves, and the smell of perfume heavy in the air ' silk flowers ' suedes ' satins ' an endlessly abundant palette of colors. It made you feel you could never be beautiful without all of it. She smiled to herself as she watched the women devouring whatever they could touch. She wanted to do it herself, but she wasn't even sure she knew how to play the game anymore and she didn't want to keep Felicia waiting and besides, she felt extravagant enough in the suit she was wearing.
Season of Passion Page 12
