Swirls of fog shrouded the entry into Carmel like a permeable shield, but as I turned east onto Carmel Valley Road, I left its confining and concealing mist behind.
Gabriel hadn’t stretched, purred, or opened an eyelid since we left Menlo Park, a good indication of the kind of companionship I could expect from my unfettered friend. He dozed in curled contentment, displaying a complete faith in my ability to protect him and a deft talent for preserving his strength—as well as his affection.
Soon he’d wake up, anxious for adventure, just about when I’d be anxious for a nap. Might as well be prepared. When I spotted a grocery store to my right, I made a quick detour into the parking lot. Time to buy Gabriel’s favorite chow.
At checkout, I asked the clerk if he knew of a place where I could buy a shelter for my cat, knowing full well that Gabriel preferred his homeless state and would likely not appreciate the confinement of a house. The young man recommended a hardware store down the road that sold igloo-type shelters. When I asked for directions, he said, “You’ve probably passed it a hundred times. Actually, it’s hard to miss.”
“I’m not from around here,” I said.
He presented me with a narrowed, Sherlock Holmes gaze. “Could’ve sworn I saw you here just last week.”
The teenage girl bagging at our station said, “Except your hair was black.”
“Nope,” I said. “It wasn’t me.”
Embarrassed by their unconvinced stares, I wished them a nice day and headed for the exit.
At the hardware store, I bought an igloo, and, though it was small, I had to do some creative rearranging of the Jeep’s contents to find space for it. When I finally repositioned myself behind the steering wheel, I wasn’t surprised that Gabriel had slept through the entire ordeal.
Back on course, my attention shifted to the surrounding hills covered with oak trees, chaparral, and intense light. The sun had broken through the clouds just in time for my arrival.
Seven miles east of the hardware store, I pulled into the Carmel Valley Inn. The woman behind the registration desk looked about my age but was at least two inches shorter and had a mass of curly brown hair. Her initial smile of polite interest widened, and her hazel eyes took on the sparkle of recognition. “Well, hi again,” she said.
When I didn’t respond, she squinted at me as though contemplating an interactive Sudoku puzzle that she couldn’t solve. “Like, we have met before, right?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
My comment elicited a wink from the cheerful receptionist. “Oooh, I can already tell you’re my kind of girl.”
I set my purse on the counter and held out my hand. “You must be Heather. We spoke on the phone Saturday. I have reservations for three weeks.”
She shook my hand, her expression cycling between confusion and relief. “Marjorie from Menlo Park? Oops. Girl, you’ve got a twin in these parts.”
“You have one, too,” I said, noticing her resemblance to a child-model-turned-actress quite popular a while back.
Heather’s laughter was so musical and full of joy that I wondered what I’d need to do to hear it again. “Brooke Shields, right? Except I’m, like, a foot shorter and not nearly as famous.” She printed out a registration form and set it on the counter. “After you’ve settled in, come on back and I’ll give you the scoop on things to do around here and places to eat.”
I hesitated, thinking about Gabriel. Better fess up now rather than have it come out later that I sneaked a cat into my room. “Ummm.”
While signing in, I told Heather about my stray.
“I’ll keep him outside,” I said. “He’s so quiet you’ll hardly know he’s there.”
“Ah hell,” she said, probably afraid I’d burst into tears if she exiled my cat to some Carmel Valley pet sitter. “I’ll alert maintenance, so they’ll be prepared.”
I was surprised at my relief at the news. Was I that hard up for a friend?
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Heather said. “We serve wine and cheese in the dining room from six to nine.”
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Gabriel showed the beginning signs of life but was still groggy, so I left him in the Jeep while I unloaded my bags and stacked them outside the room. When I stepped through the doorway, I sighed with relief. A comforter, patterned with clusters of pink cabbage roses and edged with lace, covered the queen bed. Matching shams leaned against a white wicker headboard, with shaded swivel lamps extending from the wall on each side.
Beyond the sliding glass door, I spotted a sitting area facing a pool, a perfect location for Gabriel’s new home. I folded a picnic blanket from my Jeep’s cargo into quarters, positioned it inside the igloo, and filled Gabriel’s bowls with food and water. As expected, the cat was eager to leave the confines of the Jeep and eager for adventure. Also, as expected, he ignored the igloo. The food and water, however, received his full attention.
In spite of the cool weather, I was tempted to go for a swim but decided instead to unpack my bags and take a nap, the first of what I hoped to be many during a quiet, restful, three-week retreat.
🗲🗲🗲
I filled a plate with crackers and cheese from the sideboard and sat facing the windows. Being the only current guest to enjoy the picturesque scene suited me just fine. I didn’t have to worry about appearances; I didn’t have to worry about safety; I didn’t have to worry about anything at all. An elderly man with the serene look of a western yogi entered the room by way of a motorized wheelchair. A swing-away lap tray attached to the chair held a wineglass and two bottles of wine. “Hel-lo,” he said, presenting me with a wide, lopsided, smile. “W-ine?”
The sight of his kind face and perfectly trimmed white hair and beard triggered an influx of warmth inside of me, as if the wine were already flowing through my veins.
I wasn’t much of a drinker. In fact, I was apparently one of the few people left on the planet still holding out on the fun. But I wasn’t a teetotaler either, and wasn’t about to become one anytime soon. Anyway, there was no refusing this kind-faced man. “How nice. Thank you.”
“Wh-ich?” he asked, indicating the two bottles.
“Surprise me,” I said.
The Sauvignon Blanc the man selected tasted like nectar and blended perfectly with the crackers and cheese. While I sipped and munched and stared at the sherbet colors of the setting sun, I decided that everything about this place pleased me. When the man in the wheelchair returned to offer a refill, I was surprised that I’d finished the entire glass. I passed on a second. “It’s quiet tonight.”
“Yes,” he said, considering me with eyes that shimmered like etched copper.
“Any suggestions for a good place to pick up dinner?” I asked, reluctant to leave the comfort of this room and the old man’s company. “It’s a bit late for exploring.”
He pointed out a ring binder propped open on the podium next to the dining room entry. “You can call for res-erva-tions.”
The thought of spending an evening alone in an unfamiliar restaurant felt suddenly unappealing. Especially after what I’d just experienced here with a man trying his best to make me feel comfortable. “You know, I think I’m in the mood for take-out. Maybe it’s the wine.”
“Pizza?” he said. “They de-liver.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I got up to leave, hesitated, and held out my hand. “My name’s Marjorie.”
He took hold of my hand, squeezed, and presented me with a smile that matched photos I’d seen of the saintly Pope John. “Cornelio.”
“Nice to meet you, Cornelio,” I said.
“Con-tinen-tal breakfast . . . at seven-thirty,” he said.
Something in his voice suggested a fatherly concern, a reluctance to let me go, which left me suddenly close to tears. “Sounds good,” I said. Then I copied the number for pizza delivery out of the binder, wished Cornelio a good night, and headed for my room, using the landscape lighting along the road’s perimeter to guide the way.
Once there, I searched for Gabriel.
He was gone.
I sank onto my bed, struck by the force of my disappointment. He’s a stray, I reminded myself, not about to give up his freedom to be coddled, protected, and confined to an igloo. Let him be.
A picture of Joshua crowded out thoughts of my adventurous cat. I felt a familiar tug of guilt at my refusal to see him again and knew it would soon find nourishment in my soul.