“She didn’t know where you were.”
“Bullshit. Liza told me everybody knew we were down here. For the last twenty-five years I’ve been an hour away.”
“I don’t mean to argue about this, but I really don’t believe Grand was aware of that.”
“What did she think happened, I was eaten by bears? She could have hired a detective if she’d cared enough.”
“Well. I see your point, and I’m sorry about all this. We didn’t make the contact to cause you pain.”
“Why did you, then?”
“We were hoping to connect. We thought enough time had passed to heal old wounds.”
“Those ‘old wounds’ are news to me. I just heard about this shit yesterday.”
“I can appreciate that, and you’re entitled to feel what you feel. It’s just that Grand’s not going to live forever. She’s eighty-seven now, and she’s not in the best of health. You still have a chance to enjoy the relationship.”
“Correction. She has a chance to enjoy the relationship. I’m not sure I would.”
“Will you think about it?”
“Sure.”
“Do you mind if I tell her we’ve spoken?”
“I don’t see how I can prevent it.”
There was a fractional silence. “Are you really this unforgiving?”
“Absolutely. Why not? Just like Grand,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the attribute.”
“I see,” she said coolly.
“Look, this is not your fault, and I don’t mean to take it out on you. You’re just going to have to give me some time here. I’ve made my peace with the fact that I’m alone. I like my life as it is, and I’m not at all sure I want to change.”
“We’re not asking you to change.”
“Then you better get used to me the way I am,” I said.
She had the good grace to laugh, which in an odd way helped. Our good-byes were slightly warmer. I said all the right things, and by the time I hung up my churlishness was already fading to some extent. Content so often follows form. It’s not just that we’re nice to the people we like …we like the people we’re nice to. It works both ways. I guess that’s what good manners are about, or so my aunt always claimed. In the meantime, I knew I wouldn’t be driving up to Lompoc any time soon. To hell with that.
I went across the hall to the restroom, and when I got back the phone was ringing. I made a lunge and snatched up the receiver from the far side of the desk, easing my way around until I reached my swivel chair. When I identified myself, I could hear breathing on the line and for one split second I thought it was Wendell. “Take your time,” I said. I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers, thinking, Please, please, please.
“This is Brian Jaffe.”
“Ah. I thought it might be your father. Have you heard from him?”
“Nuhn-uhn. That’s why I called. Have you?”
“Not since last night.”
“Michael says the car Dad came to his place in is still parked at the curb.”
“He was having car trouble, which is why I gave him a lift. When did you last see him?”
“Day before yesterday. He came by in the afternoon and we talked. He said he’d be back last night, but he never showed.”
“He may have tried,” I said. “Someone took some shots at us and he disappeared. This morning we found out the Lord was gone.”
“The boat?”
“Right. That’s the one your father was on when he vanished.”
“Dad stole a boat?”
“Well, it looks that way, but nobody really knows at this point. Maybe that’s the only way he could think of to get out. He must have felt he was in real jeopardy.”
“Hey, yeah, getting shot at,” Brian said facetiously.
I fleshed out the story for him, hoping to ingratiate myself. I nearly mentioned Renata, but I bit the words off in time. If Michael hadn’t known about her, chances were that Brian didn’t, either. As usual, given my perverse nature, I was feeling protective of the “villain” of the piece. Maybe Wendell would have a change of heart and return the boat. Maybe he’d talk Brian into “coming in,” and the two would turn themselves over to the cops. Maybe the Easter bunny would bring me one of those spun-sugar eggs with a hole you could peek in, revealing a world much better than this.
Brian breathed in my ear some more. I waited him out. “Michael says Dad has a girlfriend. Is that true?” he said.