Chapter Twenty-Two

AT BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning, they decided on the driving trip and began planning.

“Let’s rent a convertible so we’ll have a clear view of all the sights,” Laura said.

Bennie smiled at how excited Laura was about the trip. They asked at the hotel desk for the name of a bookstore and found the perfect one down Powell and around the corner from the St. Francis Hotel, off Union Square. They spent hours sitting on the carpeted floor of the store, browsing through an entire shelf of books and maps about the coastal route from California to Oregon and Washington. On the walk back to the hotel, they took turns carrying the heavy bag of books and pulling each other along the steep grade of Nob Hill. They spent the afternoon and early evening mapping out their route and deciding what sights to see and where they would spend the two nights on the road.

Bennie called her father to tell him she’d be driving to Portland and that she was bringing Laura. She called Alice after dinner.

“She followed you all the way out here?” Alice said. “That sounds serious. What about the assistant?”

“I can’t talk about it now, but it was all a misunderstanding.” Bennie was reluctant to respond more specifically with Laura sitting across the room.

Laura looked up from the travel book she was reading and smiled.

“I called because we’re driving to Portland to visit my father. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Thank you so much for the visit, and thanks to Bev too. There’s too much to try and say on the phone. I love you. I’ll call you from Portland.”

“I love you too. Tell Laura I’m expecting her to take good care of you.”

Bennie and Laura left early the next morning, before the sun had burned away the clouds that shrouded the Golden Gate Bridge. As they crossed the bridge and wound upward to Sausalito, Bennie turned in her seat to look out the back window.

“Oh, can you look back? The clouds create an illusion that the bridge stops in the middle of the Bay. How eerie. It looks like we couldn’t go back even if we wanted to.” She impulsively kissed Laura on the cheek. “I’m glad we’re leaving and that it’s just the two of us.”

Laura took her hand and kissed her palm. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself? Tell me about your visit.”

Bennie described Golden Gate Park, their ride on the cable car, and dinner at Bev’s house. She told of meeting Dame Renata Glenn and peeking in on the ballet rehearsal.

“Oddly enough, I know her,” Laura said. “Small world. She’s a good friend of Eva Le Galliene, the director of the American Repertory in New York.”

“She mentioned that and offered to introduce me, although she didn’t say the name.”

“Was Renata making a pass at you? She’s rather notorious.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious.” Alice had asked her the same question about Laura.

Laura looked at her with her eyebrows raised.

“She was perfectly nice and was trying to be helpful. We have a lot in common. She has a daughter too.”

“Umm-hmm.” Laura sounded skeptical.

They drove through the Napa Valley, with seemingly endless vineyards on both sides of the blacktop road. They stopped at a turnout to lower the top on the convertible before turning due west toward the coast highway. As they reached the shore and headed north, they began to see marvelous seascapes of spectacular beauty. The road twisted and turned, hugging the sides of cliffs that dropped to the ocean.

“I’m glad we’re driving south to north,” Laura shouted to be heard over the wind. “It feels safer to be on the inboard side of the road.”

The car was substantial and responsive, and before long Laura seemed to capture the rhythm of the road’s curves. Bennie gasped at the beauty as each turn revealed a new view. The challenging road made for slow going, but the driving difficulty was offset by the lack of traffic. By the time the sun had risen high enough to peek over the bluffs to the east, they had driven about forty miles.

“Look at the map and see how far it is to Tomales Bay,” Laura said. “I want to stop when we get there to try some of the local oysters. The book says they’re a special treat, not to be missed.”

Bennie made a face. “I’ve never eaten one. Never thought I’d like it. And anyway, raw oysters for breakfast?”

“Pretend you’re back home, and it’ll be lunch.” Laura grinned at her.

The road climbed craggy bluffs, descending to skirt small fishing villages, and rose again. The constant sound of pounding surf against rocks that formed a barrier beneath the roadway accompanied them. Laura pointed ahead.

“Look. That’s Tomales Bay down there. You can see the roofs of the town on the other side. That’s where we’ll find our oysters.”

The highway became Main Street for the old railroad town. To their left, shacks and storefronts lined the Bay, and to their right, wooden false front stores, a clapboard church, and Queen Anne Victorian houses marched up the hillside.

“I have a feeling this is our place,” Laura said as she pulled off the highway and into a small parking lot covered in broken shells that crunched under the car’s tires. “You don’t know it yet, but I have an uncanny talent for being able to pick out the best places to eat by how they look on the outside.”

A sign on the roof of the small, whitewashed building proudly pronounced, ‘Nick’s Cove’ and underneath ‘The Best Fresh Tomales Bay Oysters.’ Inside, Laura and Bennie sat at the Formica counter on red Naugahyde stools. Laura beamed at Bennie.

“See? Perfect,” Laura said.

A door behind the counter swung open and a small man with craggy features came rushing through. His forearms, extending from the sleeves of a pristine white tee shirt, were covered with tattoos. He wore a white sailor hat and a starched white apron that started at his waist and ended at his shoe tops.

“Ladies, welcome to Nick’s. That’s me.” He shook hands with them and looked from one to the other. “What can I get for you? Oysters are the specialty.”

“Are they fresh?” Laura asked.

“You bet. Dug ‘em myself this morning.”

“I’ll have a half dozen raw on the half-shell, and she’ll try mine before she decides.”

“Comin’ up.”

Nick went back into the kitchen and after a few minutes returned with the plate of oysters resting in their shells on a bed of cracked ice. He placed the plate on the counter in front of Laura, adjusted it until he was satisfied that the plate was situated just right to show off the oysters, and added a saucer of freshly cut lemon wedges and a bottle of hot sauce. He stood back with his hands clasped and waited.

Laura demonstrated for Bennie. “A dot of hot sauce, a squirt of lemon, then swallow. No chewing.” She tossed down the oyster.

“Lovely,” she said to Nick. She turned to Bennie. “Now you.”

Bennie hesitated, and then took a shell and seasoned it as Laura had. She paused an instant and tipped up the shell and swallowed.

Nick and Laura watched Bennie’s face.

“What do you think?” Laura asked.

“Not so bad. It smells like the sea but doesn’t taste as fishy as I thought. The feeling of it going down is interesting, but I think I’ll have some scrambled eggs.”

“As you wish.” Laura turned her palms up. “You heard the lady, Nick, and another half dozen for me.”

“My purpose on this trip is to take your mind off whatever awaits back home. Maybe we can introduce each other to new experiences,” Laura said.

“Oysters and other things too?” Under the counter, Bennie pressed her knee against Laura’s and made her smile.

As they left the diner, Bennie pointed out a sandy path leading from the parking lot down to the ocean. “Do we have time to walk a little? My legs could use a stretch.”

“I think so.”

On the beach, Laura shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up the bluff to the roadway above. “We seem to have the beach to ourselves.”

They slipped off their shoes and walked arm-in-arm along the sand, just out of reach of the surf.

“The guidebook says that is called Hog Island.” Bennie pointed toward brown rock a few hundred feet off the beach. “Though why it’s called that, I have no idea. If you look closely, you’re supposed to be able to see seals and brown pelicans, but no hogs as far as I can tell.”

Laura turned her face toward the breeze blowing in from the sea and closed her eyes with a slight smile on her face.

Bennie touched her lightly on the arm, reluctant to interrupt her reverie. “You look so beautiful and relaxed right now. This trip is good for you too.”

Laura nodded.

Bennie threaded her fingers through Laura’s hair and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Laura encircled Bennie’s wrists with her hands and held her arms behind her back. “What are you doing, Bennie? You asked me to keep our relationship under control, and I will, but you have to cooperate.”

“I know.” Bennie dug her toes in the sand. “All the trouble seems so far away, with just the two of us together in this beautiful spot.”

Laura let go of Bennie’s arms and sat on the sand. “Sit down here with me.” They sat side-by-side for a while and watched brown pelicans diving for their breakfast. “I want to help you choose your path, not make it harder. Get whatever advice you need from whomever. I’ll wait.”

“You will?”

“Yes, I will.”

“What if I don’t have any clue what the outcome will be?” Bennie asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, as pleasant as this beach is, I think we should get on the road and try and make Mendocino tonight. It’s at least another three hours of driving, four if we stop to see the lighthouse at Point Arena.” Laura stood up and turned back toward the diner. She began to run, shouting over her shoulder, “Last one to the car is a Tomales oyster.”

They drove north along the Sonoma coastline, with placid rangeland and dairy farms to their right and surf boiling against angular cliffs to their left. The road passed through small villages where fishermen were already returning with their day’s catch.

At Point Arena, they turned onto a narrow, windswept peninsula and followed the road lined with misshapen pine trees to the lighthouse. They climbed the one hundred and fifteen feet of stairs to the top. A volunteer guide dressed in nineteenth century sailor garb told them the story of the original lighthouse, built in 1870 and destroyed in the famous 1906 earthquake.

Beyond Point Arena, the landscape changed again. The coast highway perched on cliffs of dark, volcanic rock that dropped precipitously away on the left. Laura had to concentrate on keeping the car as far to the right as possible, without scraping the occasional outcroppings.

“You can take a nap if you like. I’m fine driving. This road must look even scarier from the passenger seat.”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry you have to do all the driving, but you’re so much better at it than I am.”

As the sun just touched the horizon, Bennie and Laura caught their first view of the red-roofed white and pastel-green houses of Mendocino. They descended toward the town. South of town, sitting on a promontory of lush green grass, was an eye-catching group of white Victorian buildings with a sign that said Little River Inn. Laura pulled the car into a parking spot in front of the inn and sat for a minute, her forearms and forehead resting on the steering wheel.

“We’ll spend the night here. I pushed us too far. I’m worn out. Let’s get our room and some supper.”

The inn was charming. Their room was on the ground floor facing the ocean with a panoramic view from the two white rocking chairs on the porch. Laura ordered Manhattans from room service and Bennie called her father to report their progress.

“We’ll cross the Oregon line tomorrow. Probably make it to Coos Bay for tomorrow night,” she told him.

“Call me from there. I want to keep track of you on the road. The weather is beautiful. I hope the rain holds off while you’re here,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you, Bennie.”

“I feel the same. I’m looking forward to some time to talk. I can use your sage advice.”

“Is it as I suspected, trouble with Will?”

“That and other things. I’m trying to make sure everything works out the best for Livie.”

After she hung up, Bennie went to the porch and sat in one of the rockers, next to Laura. They sipped their drinks, watching the tail-end of the sunset over the ocean—a pink, blue, and grey light show on the horizon. Laura’s hand rested on the arm of Bennie’s chair, and she rocked them both in unison with the sound of waves breaking below. Driving fatigue overtook Laura, and she dropped off to sleep. Bennie decided to risk trying to get her into her pajamas and in bed so Laura would be rested for the drive the next day. Laura half-woke to help a little, and with a bit of a struggle, Bennie got them both under the covers.

It was still dark when Bennie woke at half past four. She took the telephone into the bathroom and called Livie. She was full of news about the end of the school year, and how she was looking forward to the summer and having more time to spend with Dasher.

“How is your riding instructor, Miss Traynor?” Bennie asked.

“Oh, we don’t have her any more. We have Mr. Blake.”

“What happened to Miss Traynor?” Bennie was surprised that Will had made the change

“The other day after our lesson, she told me that I’m doing so good.”

“So well, baby,” Bennie said.

“So well, and she wants me to be sure and keep learning how to jump, but she thought Daddy and I would be more satisfied with Mr. Blake, so now we have him.” Livie chattered on, seeming to have taken the change in stride.

When Bennie hung up and returned to the bedroom, Laura was sitting up, her back propped against the headboard.

“How did you get me into my pajamas? I must have been dead weight.”

“You don’t remember? You helped.”

“How is Livie?”

“Full of news about the end of school and how she plans to spend her summer. I had to coax her to say she misses me.”

Laura held the covers up and motioned for Bennie to climb back in bed.

“Your hands and feet are freezing. Put your feet under me to warm up. How can it be so cold in California, even in summer?” Laura wrapped her arms around Bennie and held her close.

“That’s an imponderable.”

“Here’s another imponderable. How can you be so beautiful after crawling out of bed at…” Laura glanced at the bedside clock, “at not even five o’clock in the morning? It’s unfair.”

“It’s inherited. My father is very handsome. When I was a child and he came to visit me in Connecticut, my playmates used to ask me if he was a movie star. I told him that once, and he laughed and said ‘No, I’m just a boring engineer.’ He got a faraway look on his face and told me that my mother had been very beautiful, and that I would grow up to look like her. He said it is a gift, but not so important as being a good person on the inside. I can still feel him tapping me on the chest, over my heart, when he said that.”

“A sweet story. I’m looking forward to meeting your father.” Laura gave Bennie a quick hug and padded into the bathroom. “See if room service is awake and order us some coffee and orange juice while I shower and brush my teeth.”

They prepared to get back on the road, and while Laura settled their account, Bennie went with the bellman to load their suitcases in the car. He was a tall, thin young man, maybe in his early twenties, dressed in blue jeans and a red windbreaker instead of the more formal uniform of a city hotel.

“I’m Todd.”

He somehow managed to hold on to the bags and extend his hand at the same time. He chatted nonstop as they crossed the parking lot, asking Bennie questions about where they were from, where they were headed, and why they were leaving so early, without stopping to enjoy some of the sights in Mendocino. He stowed their luggage in the trunk, and, while Bennie dug in her purse for a tip, walked around the big convertible. He gave an admiring whistle.

“You and your…sister?... have a sweet ride here. I’ll bet this baby straightens out the curves fine. I plan to have one like her someday.”

“The car’s rented, and she’s not my sister,” Bennie handed him a tip.

“Oh, my mistake, Bennie. Well, you two have a safe trip.”

He patted the hood of the car and ran back across the parking lot.