Chapter Seventeen

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, BENNIE sat by the window in the waiting area of Gate One at LaGuardia Airport and watched her bag being loaded on Pan Am Flight 636 to San Francisco. Practically every seat in the waiting area was taken with businessmen reading their newspapers, women in smart traveling suits and hats, and one or two young couples whom Bennie decided were on their honeymoons.

She tried reading a few pages from Summer and Smoke again, but it hadn’t improved with time, and her mind kept wandering to the image of Carolyn coming around the corner of the room divider barefoot and wearing the burgundy robe. There was no mistaking the situation. Laura and Carolyn had slept together. Do I have any right to make a claim on Laura? I just don’t see how she can experience that kind of intimacy with me and with that girl too. Bennie thought about convention again, and how Laura had said it was her favorite word.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loudspeaker calling her flight. She exited the doorway onto the tarmac and joined the line of other travelers climbing the steps into the plane. Stewardesses in military-style uniforms helped them to their seats and took their coats. With loud backfires that made Bennie jump, the four engines started the sustained drone of propellers. Once they were airborne, she pulled the curtain over her window and fell into an exhausted sleep. Nine and a half hours later, she hailed a cab in front of San Francisco Municipal Airport for the trip downtown to her hotel. As the cab turned off Market Street onto Powell, Bennie gasped.

“It’s straight up!” she exclaimed.

The taxi driver looked at her in the rearview mirror. “First time in San Francisco?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “That’s Nob Hill. Not quite the steepest in the city, but close. There are seven hills, like Rome.” He continued the impromptu guided tour, pointing out Union Square, the St. Francis Hotel, and at the top of the hill, before the taxi turned left onto California, the ornate gate that marked the entrance to Chinatown. “Beyond there is North Beach, and beyond that the Bay.” The taxi pulled into the brick forecourt of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The driver doffed his hat and said, “There you are, lady. A cab ride and a guided tour all in one.”

Bennie paid the fare, with a big tip, and followed a bellman carrying her bag through the revolving front door with a stylized MH on the ornate crest above the entry. Two huge crystal chandeliers dominated the lobby area that was crowded with smartly-dressed men and women, sitting in small groups or walking to and from the elevators.

Bennie stepped up to the reception desk where a clerk with a nametag that read ‘Mr. Hodgins, Assistant Manager,’ stood smiling.

“You’re busy. I expected the hotel to be quieter somehow.”

“Yes, Madam. We are quite sought after at this time of year. We have a lovely quiet room for you on the fourteenth floor with a beautiful view. I’m sure you’ll find it more than satisfactory.”

As soon as she was settled in her room and unpacked, Bennie telephoned Livie. She was relieved when Haskins answered the phone and put her daughter on right away. She wasn’t in any mood to deal with Olivia. Her daughter was full of news about her latest riding lesson and a new friend she had made at school who had a pony too.

“Daddy says we might be able to ride together, if Janice says it’s okay,” Livie said.

“That’s very exciting, darling.” Bennie suddenly was on the verge of crying. She was so separated from her child, not just by three thousand miles, but more by the circumstances of the last few months and the prospect of what was to come. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “I’ll go now, Livie. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Bennie felt so desperate for all the waiting to be over that she almost didn’t care how it came out. The thought occurred to her that maybe Livie would be better off with her father and Olivia. She sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. She felt weak and afraid and selfish. She rose and went to stand at the window, looking out over the sweeping view from the Ferry Building to Golden Gate Park.

“Get a grip on yourself,” she said to her reflection in the window glass.

Bennie was tired, not physically but mentally. She could use a distraction. She found a leather portfolio on the desk, filled with colorful pamphlets and maps describing the sights of the city. She pulled out one about Chinatown, which was located a few short blocks from the hotel. On the front was a picture of the gate to the area, a miniature version of the entrance to the Forbidden City, with a green ceramic tile roof and parapets decorated with sea dragons and stylized dolphins. She decided that a walk through Chinatown would be just the thing to settle her mind and her nerves before calling Alice.

Daylight was fading, and fog was beginning to gather at the level of the street lights, which were shaped like decorative lanterns, that lined Grant Street. The sidewalks were jammed with locals carrying net grocery bags. Rainbow-colored neon signs in English and Chinese competed for the shoppers’ attention, advertising chop suey, foreign movies, and noodle houses.

Bennie strolled along window shopping, almost overwhelmed by the strange smells and unfamiliar cacophony of sound. Each block had its own market with a loyal throng of customers crowded into narrow aisles between refrigerated cases of exotic seafood and stacked cardboard boxes of mysterious fruits and vegetables. She ventured inside one of the markets and passed by a jumbled mass of strange creatures she thought must be dried sea cucumbers. Customers were lined up in front of a lighted display case that held fish and meats. Bennie jumped in surprise as she passed a glass tank filled with toads, their dead eyes wide open and staring.

Back on the street, she cringed at the sight of denuded smoked ducks hanging by their necks in the front window of a poultry store. She marveled at baskets of unfamiliar and strong-smelling dried roots, nuts, and leaves outside a herbalist’s.

She turned into the door of the herbalist’s shop. A tiny brass bell tinkled, announcing her presence. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she could see that every wall was lined to the ceiling with small drawers, labeled with Chinese characters. An ancient-looking wooden ladder with wheels on the bottom was attached to a track in the ceiling, providing access to the hundreds of drawers.

The herbalist, dressed in a traditional black silk tunic, stood behind the counter. Bennie was surprised to see that he wore dark-lensed glasses in the gloomy shop. He bowed slightly and spoke, looking just past her.

“That’s a lovely scent you’re wearing, Madam. May I help you?” he asked in heavily-accented English.

“I was wondering if you have anything to improve one’s courage.”

Upon hearing her voice, the herbalist turned his head slightly to address her directly.

“Ah, are you seeking moral courage or physical courage?”

Bennie realized the herbalist was blind. “I think it’s both—the moral courage to know what’s right, and the physical courage to carry through with it.”

“A wise answer.” The man nodded as he pulled a small empty paper bag from under the counter. He stood facing the wall of drawers behind him. “As you no doubt can observe, it takes me a moment to locate the proper drawer in my mind’s eye. Yes, that’s what we’re looking for.” He rolled the ladder a few feet to the left and climbed to near the top. He filled the bag, half from one drawer and half from a drawer beside it. After climbing nimbly back down the ladder, he took a thick red grease pencil, drew several Chinese characters on the bag, and held it across the counter toward Bennie.

“What does it say?” she asked.

“It says courage is knowing what not to fear.”

Outside, the fog had thickened and formed halos around the neon signs and softened their garish colors. It made Bennie feel wrapped in cotton and isolated from the noise of the street and the crowds of people.

She opened the paper bag and sniffed the contents. It smelled of a mixture of cloves, mint, and damp soil. She made a slight face. Bennie decided that for the moment she would settle for a different kind of courage, go back to her room and order a Manhattan, and then think about calling Alice.

Alice picked up on the first ring. “I’m so anxious to see you. If you want to rest tonight, we can start in the morning with a visit to Golden Gate Park, then lunch at the Buena Vista Café, very much an insider’s place down by the Bay”.

“Wait, Alice. Take a breath.” Hearing Alice’s voice reminded Bennie how much she had missed her friend. Just talking to her on the phone was a boost.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I know that part of the purpose of this trip is rest and relaxation for you. Reel me back in when I get higher than a kite about your being here. Anyway, back to tomorrow’s itinerary. I’ve hired a car and driver for the whole day, so we can mosey around the park and its museums as long as we like. I think you’ll especially enjoy the de Young Museum’s furniture exhibit.”

“It sounds wonderfully restful and relaxing. Can we talk first thing in the morning? I’m halfway into a Manhattan and starting to feel the time change.”