At a quarter to 6, Cole walked into the lobby of the Pickwick Hotel. He had gone home and shaved again, showered again, and changed his shirt three times. He had made reservations at a small Italian restaurant in the Noe Valley and put in a special order for tiramisu. Cole’s stomach was churning, and he had broken out in a cold sweat. He felt like a kid on his first date. Then he saw her.
Sarah stood next to an oversized chair that faced the elevators. She wore a brilliant fire engine red dress. The top of the dress was highlighted by a band around her neck and was formfitting to the waist, leaving her shoulders bare. From her waist, the skirt spread out in a flowing fullness that seemed to sway, even though she was standing still. Around her shoulders, she had draped a black lace shawl that hung gracefully over her arms. She held a small black clutch detailed in rhinestones. This glorious vision was standing atop a pair of red stiletto heels with toes as sharp as a fresh pencil. Cole could hardly breathe.
Sarah saw Cole at the same moment he saw her. Her smile seemed to outshine the lights in the room. Her raven hair was pulled back and accentuated her long, graceful neck. Earlier in the day, she had not worn make up or at least not enough for Cole to notice. Now she wore red lipstick to match her dress and a glistening blush upon her cheeks. With her dark hair and porcelain skin, she was like a glamorous illustration and not a living breathing person. Her eyes sparkled like the bluest sapphires and projected the same smile that was on her lips. She was altogether beautiful.
“You look amazing,” Cole said as he reached the place she stood.
“Thank you,” Sarah said softly, looking down at her bag.
From beneath her soft makeup, Cole could see the natural rose of her blushing cheeks. “You FBI people seemed to be prepared for any occasion!” he exclaimed in mock surprise.
“I’m just a girl let loose in San Francisco with an American Express card. You like?” Sarah twirled around, the skirt floating away from her body, giving the sensation of slow motion. She stopped to face Cole and beamed, seeing she had made the desired impression.
“You are lovely. Shall we?” Cole offered her his arm. She took it, and Cole thought he felt a squeeze.
At the door of Mia Sophia Restaurante, Cole and Sarah were met by the owner, Anthony Fabiani, who took them to a booth neatly tucked into the corner, far from the noise of the kitchen door. The Mia Sophia was a journey into what restaurants must have been like a hundred years ago. The table was a classic red-and-white check. A red candle burned from a short Chianti bottle, the wax of many years flowed down to all but cover its woven straw base. Napkin rings made of tomato paste cans made for a sharp contrast to the dazzling white of the starched napkins.
“Per la signora giovane bella.” Fabiani handed Sarah a large burgundy leather menu folder. “May I suggest the Clam Linguine this evening? Followed by the Giant Sea Scallop Scampi?”
“Doesn’t sound kosher to me,” Cole said softly to Sarah.
“Thank you,” Sarah said with a grin.
“I think Saltimbocca alla Romana for tonight and the Spinach Ravioli.”
“Bella, bella, scelta eccellente! And for the wine?”
“Nothing tonight, grazie.” Cole smiled.
“And he speaks Italian?” Sarah said slyly.
“Restaurant Italian only.”
“This is lovely, Cole. A place only a native would know.”
“Transplanted native.”
“So, why did you leave Chicago? Wasn’t it home?”
“To me, California is really home. I have always wanted to work in San Francisco, and when I found out about Erin, it just felt right. So, I moved. Funny thing is, Erin and Ben decided to move to the Bay Area at the same time, a job offer for Ben, actually.”
“When I get back to D.C., I’ll be taking a new position. Quite a promotion, actually.” Sarah took a deep breath. “It’s a five-year commitment. No transfers, no promotions.” She watched Cole’s face for a reaction.
Cole smiled, but his eyes showed the disappointment he was feeling. It was foolish, he knew, but he thought, maybe, just maybe, he had found someone. Stupid, he thought to himself, you’ve known her 10 hours and three of those you were apart. Still, he felt a void, a void that had, if only for a few hours, been filled by this beautiful, bright, witty woman. Had she seen him falling? She had let him down so easily, yet so early in the evening. It wouldn’t work; she had known it all along. Now he knew it. She saw the disappointment.
“Congratulations. Is it the direction you want? I mean, is it a step in the right direction or—”
“I thought it was.” Sarah blushed. “Cole.” There was a long pause, and Sarah picked at a thread on the hem of her napkin. “I need to say something. It may sound strange. I hope you’ll understand my heart and not my words. In the past few hours, I have felt, I don’t know, a connection. It sounds funny, but I haven’t met anyone in a long time who I felt anything for. I am so very lonely, Cole.” Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as she spoke. “What I’m trying to say is, I wish things were different. Oh!” Her eyes burned with the frustration of not being able to say what she felt. “I have never spent $500 on a dress in my life—and shoes! The shoes, $200! I, I—” Sarah looked up at Cole with a lovely smile and a tear running down her cheek. She refocused on the napkin again. “What I mean to say is—” She paused.
“It’s the most beautiful 700 bucks I’ve ever seen,” Cole said softly. “Look, I’ve been alone a long time. Part by choice, part because I wasn’t ready to, I don’t know, be open enough, approachable enough. But this morning, when you came to my house, I saw something in you that I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. It was almost palpable, a sense of—I don’t want to sound like some New Age aura reader or anything silly like that—but I felt like a missing part of me had just been found. We really don’t know each other. I mean, it’s been, what, 10 hours since we met? But I feel like I’ve known you forever.
“I realize the obstacles in our way: 3,000 miles for starters, crazy schedules, and what would you tell your family? ‘Papa, I met this goy newspaperman in San Francisco.’” Cole looked down.
“We’ll always have Paris.” Sarah did a really bad Humphrey Bogart impersonation. “Life’s not very fair, is it? The hard part is, I think we’re old enough to know we’re shot down before we even get started. I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it.”
Cole reached across the table and took Sarah’s hand. “What if—”
“Here we are.” The waiter set a plate in front of Sarah as Cole jerked his hand back. “And for you, sir.”
As the first waiter swept away, a second waiter in a white shirt and apron appeared and set steaming dishes of veal and ravioli on the table. A young woman placed a plate of antipasto and salad on the table, and finally a third waiter placed a soup tureen near the edge of the table.
“Goda il vostro pasto! Enjoy your meal.” Anthony Fabiani had returned to the table with a bow and a smile as he tried to find space for a basket of warm bread.
“This is enough for an army!” Sarah giggled.
“Private Sage, ready for duty.”
Cole and Sarah laughed and talked as they attacked the dinner. The smiles were frequent. They kept the conversation light. The breadbasket was refilled twice, and the food disappeared.
Sarah pressed her napkin to her lips and sighed. “I give up.”
“Not yet! The highlight of the evening is about to arrive.” Cole smiled.
“You’re going to sing Puccini?”
“The tiramisu! Special ordered.”
As if on cue, the waiters appeared, cleared the table, and swept the crumbs onto a small silver tray with a soft brush. Fabiani appeared with the luscious creamed desert and two chilled plates. From out of nowhere, he produced two long-tined forks chilled to near freezing.
“Now for Mr. Sage, something special. A little surprise for you and the lovely lady.” Fabiani motioned with his arm and the wait staff all appeared again. The oldest waiter held a beetle-back mandolin and gently began to strum. And, just like in the movies, softly sang “Bella Notte.”
“That’s kind of like you and me, huh? Lady and the Tramp.”
“Beauty and the Beast, more like.” Sarah winked and reached across and took Cole’s hand.
As the valet brought the car around, Cole stood and just breathed in the magic of the city, the warm summer air, and the amazing woman holding onto his arm.
“Is there somewhere we could go for a walk?”
“You got your gun?” Cole teased.
“Maybe,” Sarah said, showing no evidence either way.
A few minutes later, Cole pulled into what must have been the only parking space for 10 miles in any direction. The Giants were playing at home, and the sound of the game murmured in the distance. The rejuvenation of the Embarcadero had brought new life to the bay front area of the city. Just south of Pier 39 was a new well-lit walkway. The sound of the bay on one side and the Giants playing in their beautiful ballpark on the other gave the area a charm like nowhere else in the world. Cole and Sarah walked arm in arm past couples they didn’t notice and who never noticed them. Cole glanced at his watch; it was nearly 8:30. He smiled, knowing the night was young.
“Cole,” Sarah’s voice took on a serious tone. “What’s going to happen with Reed?”
“I had forgotten all about him,” Cole said, realizing it was true. Since they left San Quentin, he hadn’t given the rest of the world a thought. “I don’t know.”
“Can’t you leave for a while?” Sarah paused. “Come to D.C. with me?”
“It’s kind of funny now, but I asked Ben not to go to work today, to stay out of the city. Nothing happened. Maybe nothing will.”
“You don’t believe that. I can see it in your face.”
“No foolin’ the Feds.” Cole smiled.
“No foolin’ someone who cares.”
They continued their walk until they reached the giant bow and arrow statue at the end of the walkway. They sat and talked at the base of the statue. The air had begun to cool, and Cole wrapped his leather jacket around Sarah’s shoulders. They felt resigned to the loss of what they had found. Their words did a slow waltz across the tops of their meaning.
For a long moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. Cole reached up and touched her cheek.
His mind raced, trying to remember the Yiddish phrase he needed. “Kish mir? (Kiss me?)”
“Oy, such a mensch. (Oh, what a nice gentlemen),” Sarah whispered as their lips met.
Cole kissed Sarah with a deep longing. It was more of a goodbye than the first kiss of lovers. Sarah took Cole’s face in her hands and stared into his eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They held the dreams that would leave an ache of what might have been behind as a wispy fading memory.
Sarah wrapped her arms around Cole’s neck and kissed him long and deep. As she pulled back, he saw tears running down her cheeks. She stood and turned her back for a long moment.
“I didn’t know it would be like this. What could dinner hurt, I thought?” Sarah said, wiping her cheeks with her slender fingers. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m booked on the 11:30 flight back to D.C. I should probably get back to the hotel.”
Cole just stared at her. He couldn’t believe the ache he was feeling. He stood and reached out his hand. Sarah rushed to throw her arms around him.
“I feel like such a fool. I don’t know what has come over me.” Sarah put her arm around Cole’s waist and her head against his shoulder as they walked to the car.
At the Pickwick, Cole pulled into the valet parking area and asked the attendant for a minute. Sarah had rested her head on Cole’s shoulder all the way back from the Embarcadero, and they had held hands.
“Please, can we just say goodbye here?” Sarah said, sitting straight and turning to face Cole.
“You don’t make it easy on a guy, do you?”
“I’m not good at goodbyes,” Sarah said apprehensively.
“This has been a dream, Sarah.” Cole repressed the almost unbearable need to tell her he loved her. “We have to find—”
“Like kids at summer camp that promise to write?” Her voice was somehow steeled to what was about to happen. She was leaving part of her soul. She knew her chance had come and, like twice before, she had let it slip away. First, her high school sweetheart she left behind for college, then the handsome attorney who asked her to marry him. She chose the FBI academy. Twice she had turned her back on love. She knew that this man, this night, was the greatest gift she would ever be given, and now she would turn her back on him, too. And like a suitor too often rejected, love would not come to Sarah Spiegelman again.
“Goodbye, mien teier (beloved).” Sarah kissed Cole on the cheek and slid across the seat and out of the car. She was gone.