Flirting with Fifty

“I don’t own a TV, and if I wanted to watch something on my laptop—”

“You have your bed. I got it.” But Oliver was smiling. “You don’t change.”

Jack lifted a brow. “Do I need to?”

“No, Dad. I like you the way you are. Predictable.”

“I’m not predictable.”

“Oh, you are, but in a good way.” Oliver laughed. “It’s comforting.”

“How am I predictable?”

“You don’t need a lot of creature comforts. You don’t need people—”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. You love me, but you’re quite happy on your own.”

Jack shrugged, unable to argue Oliver’s point.

“You have a sentimental attachment to a very old car. You have a lot of money, money you never spend.”

“Money doesn’t give me happiness.”

Oliver gave his dark head a shake, expression amused. “I could have predicted every answer. You don’t change, and I’m not complaining. I’m lucky to have been raised by someone who believes value comes from accomplishments, not from acquisitions.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem if you had hundreds of toys. I don’t care what other people do. I just don’t need a lot of things.” Jack clapped his son’s shoulder. “How about we hop in Gertie and go for a drive?”

After a very brief tour of Jack’s apartment, they headed back downstairs and got into Gertie and drove south on Highway 5 to the harbor town of Dana Point. Traffic was picking up as those inland flocked to the beach for the day. Jack parked in a lot down by the water and they left the car to watch the surfers. It was a surprisingly crowded point for how shallow it was, but because it was shallow, it looked like a good spot for beginners.

“Do you ever come south to surf?” Jack asked, glancing at Oliver.

Oliver shook his head. “There’s good surf by me. No desire to fight traffic just to get in the water, not when there are great breaks in Los Angeles.” He looked at his dad. “When is the last time you paddled out?”

“Too long,” Jack answered. “Maybe Costa Rica with you?”

“Dad, that was years ago.”

“I’ve been busy.” He paused. His gaze narrowed on the lineup of surfers. “But maybe now that I’m here in Orange County I should think about picking up a board and heading out. I’ll be pretty rusty, though.”

“It’s like riding a bike. Muscle memory. You don’t forget. At least, that’s what you used to tell me when I was a grommet.” Oliver shifted his weight, arms folding over his broad chest. “I’ll bring a board down to you before I leave for Auckland.”

“Only if you’ll bring one for yourself and we can paddle out together.”

“That way I can make sure no one messes with you. You know how locals could be.”

Jack laughed. “I can still handle myself, thanks, son.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying. But I was the one who taught you to surf, and taught you self-defense. Your old man can still handle himself. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be traveling as much as I do.”

They turned away from the water and started back for the parking lot when Oliver pointed out the farmers market. “Want to check it out?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jack answered.

They walked for a moment in silence before Oliver asked about the semester. “Teaching going well? No surprises?”

“No surprises,” Jack said, then hesitated when he pictured Paige with her long blond ponytail, colorful hoop earrings, and serious black cat-eye glasses. It almost seemed like Paige went out of her way to hide how pretty she was. “It’s going well. I’m enjoying it. Living here feels like I’m on holiday. The climate and vegetation remind me of Greece.”

“You love Greece.”

“I do.”

Oliver smiled at his dad. “So, you’re good.”

“I am,” he agreed, even as Paige came to mind once more. He’d been drawn to her thirty years ago. He was just as intrigued by her now. Maybe it was time to figure out why she was pretending she didn’t know him. Unless she truly didn’t remember, but his gut told him that wasn’t the case.

They entered the open-air market with the white tents and vendor tables piled high with colorful produce, jars of honey, and steaming tamales. Jack bought some fresh salmon and vegetables for dinner, and then examined the fruit, choosing a basket of fresh berries. Just as he finished paying for the berries, a woman in a short flared skirt, pink baseball cap, and heart-shaped sunglasses approached the register with a mango and an avocado. It was Paige. He was just about to greet her when her phone rang, and she juggled the fruit while retrieving her phone. “Michelle,” she said, answering the phone, “hi, give me just one second, okay?”

Thinking Paige looked very young and pretty this morning, very much like the girl in Paris, Jack watched her put the fruit into the mesh bag she carried and continue on, still talking on the phone. Jack gave Paige one last look before joining Oliver, who stood at a distance to stay out of shoppers’ way. He almost pointed Paige out to Oliver, but didn’t. Oliver, being a filmmaker and storyteller, would ask questions, wanting to know more, but at this point, Jack had little he could say. Paige was a mystery, and for now, his mystery.

“Are you flying back up to Vancouver tomorrow?” he asked Oliver as they left the market to find a spot by the water for lunch.

Oliver nodded. “I am. And then I should be back in another week or two. Let’s get together, as once I’m in New Zealand, I won’t be home for a while.”

“A month, you said.”

“Could be longer.”

“Then we’ll definitely get together after you return from Vancouver.”

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