What! Ginger was shocked at the sound of her own outburst. I mean, really? You asked him out?
Roxanne nodded. Yeah. It was stupid of me. He just seemed really nice and I thought I'd try.
Josie frowned. He really turned you down?
That doesn't make any sense at all, Bea said, leaning back in bewilderment. I saw the way he looked at you during the ceremonyhe was the dog and you were the bone.
Roxie offered a weak smile. Yeah, well, that's what I thought, too. But we were both wrong, obviously.
Ginger frowned; then, as if on autopilot, she tapped her fingertips against her brow creases. God, how she wished she could stop doing that! How could she fully embrace her mature beauty if one of her hands was always busy patting and slapping at her wrinkles?
Was it because of your Web site? Ginger asked.
Surprisingly, no, Roxie said with a laugh. He thought that was kind of amusing.
Then what? Bea asked. Is he in a relationship?
You could say that.
Josie laughed. Stop being so cryptic, Rox! Why did Eli turn you down?
Well, at least he was honest about it, she said. He told me he planned to be in California for only about a year. He said he was here to deal with some unfinished business with his father and he wouldn't have time to date.
Bea snorted. Sounds like a load of bullshit to me.
A sudden burst of barking and growling made everyone jump. Roxanne pulled a now-snarling Lilith off Genghis, who slinked away, wild-eyed from the sting of betrayal.
I guess she'd had enough of being nice, Roxanne said with a sigh. Can't say I blame her.
The women continued their walk. Ginger broke the news to Josie that the Herald had fired her from her editor post the week before. Josie asked Ginger if she was okay, and Ginger assured her that yes, she was. In a soft whisper, Josie admitted she'd been fired, as well. The certified letter had been waiting for her when she picked up her mail from the post office.
They fired you while you were on your honeymoon? Bea was incredulous. How low can you get?
You know you're next, Roxie said to Bea. Sports and comics may be the last to go, but they'll go. We might as well admit itnewspapers are dead.
The women walked a few moments in silence, and Ginger thought it felt like their own private memorial service for the San Francisco Herald. She was a grand old lady, Ginger said. That job ended up being the longest and most fulfilling relationship of my life.
She's been awfully good to me, too, Bea said.
I really loved my job, Josie added.
Fuck 'em, Roxanne said.
Ginger then steered the conversation to the honeymoon, and Josie enthusiastically regaled them with tales from her trip. It had been Josie's dream to travel to the North Pole ever since she wrote the obituary for Gloria Needleman's adventurer husband, Ira. When she mentioned this dream to Rick, he made elaborate plans to take her there for their honeymoon.
Josie told them that once they were aboard the nuclear-powered icebreaker out of Norway, the captain and crew were shocked to hear it was the couple's honeymoon. Why? the captain asked, perplexed. I hear Florida is really quite nice. Josie described the thrill of setting foot on the precise geographic North Pole and talked about their private flight to view ringed seals, polar bears, and arctic fox. She explained the odd glow of Arctic twilight and their four days of luxury in an ice hotel in northern Sweden. You haven't slept until you've slugged four shots of vodka, then crawled under a stack of reindeer hide, Josie said, laughing.
I think I'll pass, Ginger said.
The vodka part sounds okay, Bea said.
Josie's attention eventually turned to Ginger. So what's this about Lucky Montevez?
Oh, it's nothing, Ginger said, bending down to retrieve HeatherLynn, who immediately curled up in the crook of her arm. He's branching out into pet photography and said he'd take a portrait of me and HeatherLynn.
Josie's eyes got big. Seriously? Pet portraits? Are you sure about that?
Yes. Anyone else interested? Ginger looked around the group. He said he would appreciate me hooking him up with other clients.
Interesting, Josie said, swinging Genghis's leash at her side while her dog ran free, her brain obviously hard at work. So how well have you two gotten to know each other?
Ginger pursed her lips, trying not to let the panic show on her face. That was an interesting way to frame her dilemma, wasn't it? She didn't know Lucio Montevez at all, but, oh, did she know him.
We're casual acquaintances, Ginger said.
Bea snorted again. Except for the part where he ripped off your dress and kissed you senseless.
Puh-leeze! Ginger tried to shout over Roxie's and Bea's laughter. She immediately turned her efforts to reassuring a startled-looking Josie.
There's a perfectly logical explanation, Ginger said, tossing back her hair. I should never have ordered my bridesmaid dress in a size four. It was too tight. I blacked out. LuckyI mean Luciocarried me to my room and unzipped my dress so that I could breathe. It was nothing.
Josie tried very hard to look unaffected. Oh, she said. Okay.
I'm pretty sure I read a paperback with that exact plot back in high school, Roxie said. My mom didn't want me reading trashy romances so I kept them hidden in a gym bag with my old soccer cleats.
Was it Breathless Passion in His Arms? Josie asked, excited. I read that one, too! It was my favorite!
No, no, no, Bea said, hardly able to stop herself from snorting in advance of her punch line. The title was The Night She Got Lucky!
Everyone laughed. Everyone but Ginger, who was thinking that the girls had no flippin' idea just how lucky she'd been. And they'd never know the truth. They couldn't handle the truth.
When Josie stopped giggling she shook her head in wonder. My God, she said with a sigh. I go on one measly little six-week honeymoon to the North Pole and all hell breaks loose.
To celebrate the end of Josh's all-liquid diet, Ginger told him she'd make him anything he wanted for dinneranything soft. He said he wanted chicken enchiladas with rice and beans.
It would be her pleasure, she said.
The boys retreated to the family room to watch the 49ers exhibition game while Ginger cooked. Their game-watching included bouts of arguing, but at least it was at the usual decibel level and there were no sounds of fists striking flesh. Ginger had to admit it had been nice to see Jason treat his brother with deference these past ten days. She didn't delude herself, however. The kindness wouldn't last, especially since Joshua had been determined to suck every drop of benefit from his brother's guilty conscience. For a week now, Jason had not only been whipping up his brother's made-to-order smoothies, he'd also been doing Josh's laundry and making his bed. But now that Josh had gotten the word that his teeth were fine and he could go back to real food, Ginger knew things would return to normal.
She opened the pantry and cursed under her breath. She usually kept a couple cans of organic refried beans on hand, but she couldn't seem to find them. Josh strolled into the kitchen as Ginger began to pull out cans of soup and tuna and jars of peanut butter.
What you looking for, Mumu? Need help reaching something?
Ginger smiled at her son, the future president of the United States, whose speech was markedly less slurred. Refried beans. I thought for sure I bought some.
Oh, Jason said, entering the kitchen behind his brother. I think I ate 'em last night.
Ginger frowned, not recalling that she'd seen him make a snack. Both cans? When was that?
Jason shrugged. I don't knowone or two in the morning, I guess, whenever it was I woke up starving. I heated them in the microwave and scooped them up with Cheetos and saltines.
Ginger shuddered at the thought. At least he'd cleaned up after himself.
I'll go get some, Joshua said. Be right back.
He was back in about ten minutes, two cans of refried beans in his hands. Here you go, Mumu. How long till we eat?
Th
anks, honey, she said, immediately rinsing off the lids and sticking them under the magnet of the electric can opener. By the time you guys set the table and get your drinks, it'll be time to eat.
The doorbell rang. Both her sons looked out to the foyer quizzically. HeatherLynn let loose with a series of high-pitched yaps usually reserved for the most special occasions, such as the arrival of the FedEx man.
See who that is, please, Jason.
Ginger dumped the beans into a pot and set them on low. With a wooden spoon she stirred in some shredded cheese, diced jalapenos, and salsa to add a little zing.
Hey, Mom? Jason called from the foyer.
Who in the world is that? Josh mumbled from behind Ginger's shoulder.
Who is it, honey? she called to Jason.
Buenos tardes, Senora Garrison, said the sultry voice.
She dropped the wooden spoon to the floor. Refried beans splattered everywhere.
Unexpected. Fun. Entertaining. Charming. Ginger leaned back in her dining room chair and tried to think of how she'd describe this impromptu dinner with Lucio Montevez as the guest of honor. She'd need to come up with something, because, without a doubt, she'd be telling Josie, Roxie, and Bea about it on Monday morning's walk.
She hadn't seen her boys this animated in years. Joshua had been pumping Lucio for details about his travels and the heads of state and foreign officials he'd met over the years. Jason grilled Lucio for information on lenses, filters, and tripodsthings Ginger didn't even know he had an interest in.
HeatherLynn had curled up in Lucio's lap soon after they'd sat down at the table and she hadn't budged since. Lucio occasionally stroked her ears, her head, her back. The little dog looked like she'd died and gone to heaven.
Every once in a while, Lucio would pull away from conversation with the boys and give Ginger a smile or nod. She didn't know him well enough to be sure, but he seemed to be conveying to her that he liked her kids and was enjoying himself.
One thing Lucio didn't leave open to interpretation was his opinion of her cooking. This is exquisite, he said, helping himself to a third chicken enchilada. Do you cook this extravagantly every night?
Ginger chuckled. She'd never seen canned beans and enchiladas made with grocery-store rotisserie chicken as extravagant. What do you usually eat, Lucio? she asked.
Ah, well, that is not a simple answer. He thought about it as he served the boys an extra enchilada each. I eat what is on the menu wherever I am. When I'm in San Francisco, that means anything and everything I wantChinese, Greek, Spanish even.
What about when you're on assignment? Jason asked.
Yes, well, then it can be a handful of nuts and a drink from my canteen if that's all that's available. Depending on my location, eating can be the biggest adventure of all.
You mean you've eaten some weird shii Jason's eyes flashed toward Ginger as he stopped himself in mid-profanity. You've eaten some weird stuff, right?
Oh, yes.
Jason propped his elbows on the table and leaned in, fascinated. Like what? What was the strangest thing you've ever eaten? Pig brains? Goat feet?
How about refried beans and saltines? Josh asked, laughing.
I ate that last night, Jason explained to Lucio, looking embarrassed.
Hmm. Lucio smiled at Ginger again and stroked HeatherLynn's fur. The bichon looked perfectly content. Well, I remember that once on the island of Okinawa I ate a live octopus.
Live? Josh's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
As I recall, it was more of a wrestling match than a dinner. Lucio laughed at the boys' horrified looks. The creature bit my tongue on the way down. I'd probably do the same if someone tried to eat me alive.
Whoa, Jason said, gulping.
Joshua's face lit up. What else?
There were those bamboo worms in Laos, Lucio said, as if he were going down a checklist in his mind. Quite crunchy, I recall. A hog-ear salad in Vietnam. Moose-bone soup in the Alaskan interior. Oh, and the reindeer herders of northwestern Russia make a mean ptarmigan stew.
Jason looked slightly green. I don't even know what a ptarmigan is, and I'm afraid to ask.
It's in the grouse family, Joshua told him impatiently. Anything else? he asked Lucio.
Well, let me see He silently checked in with Ginger to see if it was all right to continue. She smiled at him, though she felt slightly green around the gills. Lucio seemed reenergized with the go-ahead. Boiled fish eyeballs off the coast of Mexico. Ants in Zimbabwe. Fried sheep testicles in Iowa.
Whoa, Joshua said.
Okay, I think we get the picture, Jason said, swallowing hard.
Ginger sighed. That certainly explains why you thought my enchiladas were extravagant, she said.
Everyone laughed.
The boys wanted to know more about Lucio's work at Geographica magazinewhere he'd studied photography, how he'd been hired, the kinds of stories he photographed, and his favorite adventures.
Lucio talked a long while before he told the boys he had a thousand stories, and that he'd share more later. But he said there was one thing he wanted them to understand. The job of a nature photographer used to be to capture the wonder and beauty our world has to offer, but lately the job is to capture it one last time before it is gone forever. It is the only story worth telling these days, but still, few people want to listen.
I do, Joshua said, his face solemn.
Then we will have much to talk about, Lucio said, smiling at him.
So why is it you came back to the States? Jason asked.
With that last question, Ginger noticed Lucio's demeanor grow even more serious. His shoulders, usually level and held high, dipped under the weight of the topic.
I ran into some legal and political problems in China, and had to come back to the States to try to sort it all out.
What happened? Ginger asked. Lucio shut his eyes, which made her momentarily regret her inquiry. I'm sorry for asking thatit isn't any of our business. You don't have to answer.
Lucio's eyes opened and he locked his gaze on hers. His dark irises swirled with emotion. Oh, but I have nothing to hide. I have done nothing wrong. He turned to the boys. Someone took my raw video footage and delivered it to the Chinese government, then managed to submit several false expense claims on my magazine account. They even forged my signature. Lucio shrugged and looked at Ginger again. I was accused of spying and stealing. I got kicked out of the country and lost my Geographica contract.
Ginger's spine straightened. The boys looked excited.
So you're a spy? Joshua asked, practically drooling at the prospect of having a secret agent at their dining room table.
Lucio laughed. I just take pictures. And I'm not a thief, either, though no one seems to believe me. So now I must pay back the money and start again.
Do you know who did it? Joshua asked.
I have a few ideas, and someday soon my name will be cleared.
With that offhand comment, the events of the last few weeks began to make sense to Ginger. This was why Lucio had suddenly decided to switch to pet portraitshe needed the money. The concept may have originated as a pickup line at Rick and Josie's wedding, but now Lucio was desperate. That's why he had showed up at her house a couple weeks ago. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him making a few bucks.
Uggghhh. Ginger's tasty enchiladas had suddenly turned to rock in her belly. Men! Who was she fooling? Lucio Montevez was not one of the point-one percent of decent men left in the world. He was just like all the others.
Ginger began to stack plates and silverware to clear the table.
I will do this, Lucio said. Please, bonita. You have done too much already. She watched as Lucio took HeatherLynn in his arms and rose from his chair. He walked through to the living room and headed right toward the dog's bed by the fireplace. He placed her on her pillow, as if he'd done it a million times before.
How did he know to do that?
We'll help, Jason said, and the bo
ys jumped up and followed Lucio into the kitchen, stacks of dishes in their hands.
Ginger sat alone at the table, trying to get her mind to sort out all the inconsistencies. Okay, she could believe Lucio wasn't a spy or a thief. She'd give him that much. And she believed he was who he said he was, because Rick Rousseau was his friend, and Rick was the most stand-up guy she'd ever encountered.
And the boys sure seemed to like him.
And HeatherLynn obviously loved him.
But what, exactly, was happening between the two of themLucio and Ginger? That was where it got muddled.
She'd allowed herself to believe there really was something to the feelings she had for him. She'd let herself think his kiss and caress delivered such a thrill because he was special. She really thought all the heat and passion she felt were somehow linked to destiny. She'd considered the possibility that he'd been waiting for her, just as Mrs. Needleman had predicted.
But what if all that sexy sweetness was an act, a sales pitch? A sales pitch from a desperate guy prone to stretching the truth?
The sound of her boys' laughter jarred her from her thoughts. Ginger rose from the table and peeked around the pocket doors that were open to the kitchen. Lucio was elbow-deep in a sink full of suds, scrubbing out the casserole pan. The boys were loading the dishwasher, continuing their barrage of questions, including one from Jason about whether he could work as Lucio's assistant.
I would be honored, if it is all right with your parents, he said.
So if you got framed for spying and stealing, why did you get the nickname ‘Lucky'? Joshua asked.
Lucio's laughter rose up into the air along with the steam from the sink of hot water. He finished rinsing the pan and shook his head, still chuckling. It is a very long story that will have to wait for another time, I'm afraid. He dried his hands on a towel. I wanted to talk with your mother. Can you finish up in here?
Sure, Jason said.
No problem, Joshua said.
Ginger rushed back to her chair and casually crossed her legs, trying to appear lost in thought. When Lucio entered the dining room, he was rolling down his sleeves and buttoning his cuffs. She got a peek of the dark olive skin of his forearms, the sprinkling of dark hair, the thick twist of muscle and bone.
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