Finding Isadora(17)

She was nodding. “He’s a good guy, a hard worker?”

“And nice. He loves animals and he’s bright but he had, uh, a disadvantaged childhood and adolescence.” It would violate Martin’s privacy to tell her the details. “He learns differently than most people. He’s more intuitive than intellectual.”

“More like you than me. Been there, done that.” She grinned. “Worked out okay for us, didn’t it? Sure, tell him to give me a call. We could get together for a coffee, see if we hit it off.”

“Hit it off, over coffee? You sure you want to go that route after what happened with Jeremy?” I teased.

She dug a pointy elbow into my ribs. “Gimme a break.” Then, suspiciously, “So is Martin gay?”

I laughed. “No, but would it make a difference?”

“Of course not. He’s a kid, right? It’s not like I’m going to be interested in him.”

“He’s twenty-one, but mature. He’s survived more shit than most of us will ever experience. I respect him.”

“Tell me you’re not match-making.”

Laughing, I relented. “No, I’m definitely not. You’re right, there’s a six year age difference and the two of you probably have nothing in common.” It was time to change the subject again. “Tell me about the play. I gather it’s worth going, just to look at Romeo?”

We chatted companionably as we walked the six mile loop. Janice exchanged occasional greetings with students and other teachers, and I did the same with vet clinic clients. As the morning wore on, the seawall got even more crowded, particularly as we hit the last stretch past the Rowing Club. Many of the oncoming people had just started their jaunt around the seawall, including nervous roller-bladers and cyclists who’d rented their equipment at the end of Denman Street.

By the time we were back on Denman ourselves, the BC Hydro noon whistle was blowing its Oh Ca-na-da four notes. Walking up the street, we passed restaurants that smelled enticingly of brunch food. “I’m starving,” Janice said.

“Let’s find a place where we can eat outside, so Pogo can sleep under our table.”

We chose Rain City Grill, which had a patio just off Denman where there was less sidewalk traffic. Exertion deserved a reward, so we both ordered brioche French toast.

Janice stretched contentedly in the sun like a cat. “I could stay here all afternoon but I have papers to mark. What are you up to?”

“Laundry and housework, making cookies for me and Mr. Schultz, catching up on e-mail, a trip to the gym, then Richard and I are getting together for dinner.”

“The gym? How can you do it, after that walk?”

“I’ll do some yoga and light weights, skip the aerobics.”

“You’re too virtuous. I envy you the dinner out, though.” She squinted her eyes against the sun. “Hey, Izzie, you think Richard’s hot, right?”

I tried not to wince as I remembered my before-bed musings last night. “Of course I do,” I said, loyalty to Richard outweighing my policy of not lying to my friend.

After Pogo and I dropped Jan at her place, my thoughts returned to last night. But not, this time, to my physical reaction to Gabriel. This time I thought about his speech, and the guilt feelings he’d engendered in me. However bad he might be as a father, he was a truly good citizen. He, like my parents, helped to make the world a better place.

Likely he wasn’t blowing off an entire Sunday in self-indulgent activities.

“Yoga,” I told Pogo as we went into our building. “I need serenity.” Before my tension headache came back.

* * *

Richard’s and my dinner plan was to meet at Ciao Bella, an unpretentious Italian restaurant with a friendly atmosphere and reasonable prices. We tended to eat out, at inexpensive ethnic places, rather than at one of our apartments. With him liking meat and me a vegetarian, cooking at home was a hassle. Of course once we were married, we’d figure out the necessary compromises.

He was coming from the office, so when we met on the street outside the restaurant, it was no surprise to see him in tailored pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Even on Sunday, he wouldn’t wear jeans to work. Partners had a habit of showing up.

Grace referred to Richard’s style disparagingly as being straight out of Brooks Brothers. I had to admit that, while attractive, it was awfully conservative. I liked him best in jeans, with a T-shirt hanging out rather than neatly tucked in.

Hot? As we hugged and exchanged a quick kiss, I thought again about the meaning of that word. Richard was a good-looking man. If he had longer hair and it was tousled, and he was wearing jeans and nothing else… He had a good torso, lean but not skinny, with a scattering of dark curls. Yeah, if you put Richard, looking like that, on the cover of a romance novel, women would definitely think he was hot.

“What’s on your mind, Iz? You have a glazed look.”

I rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “You, half-naked.”

He gave a surprised laugh. “Sounds like a good plan for later.”

“A good start, anyhow. I have every intention of getting you completely naked.”

“I sure hope so.”

We looped our arms around each other and headed inside, where the hostess greeted us and gave us our usual window table.

“You’re done for the day?” I asked Richard.