The spring air was so fresh and light; it was finally warming up and the flowers were popping out everywhere. In other parts of the country it had probably grown green and lush weeks ago, but in the Bay Area spring was a little more sluggish because of the cool ocean breezes and the clouds. It was a lazy sun but when it shone, like now, it was brilliant.
“I love this car,” she said, caressing the dashboard. “Maybe it’s time I had a new car. A fancy toy.”
He pulled into a strip mall not far from the hospital, right in front of a restaurant with a sidewalk dining area surrounded by a wrought-iron fence and pots of geraniums. “Good. My favorite table is empty.”
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked.
“Pretty often. I live alone and hardly ever cook. I go out or pick something up most of the time.”
“You’re single? I guess I didn’t know that.”
“Divorced for a few years. Doctors are horrible people to be married to, I’m told.”
There was a pause as they got out of the car and walked to the café. “My favorite table is here,” he said, grasping her elbow and steering her toward a table at the corner of the patio. They could be out of the way of the servers and other diners and have a good view of the sidewalk for people watching. “Since you’re not hungry, can I order for us?”
“Of course,” she said. Then she began to wonder about the propriety of splitting or picking up the check because right away she felt a little odd. Even though she didn’t report to Patrick Monahan, he was a well-known neurosurgeon with a strong reputation at the hospital.
She liked him. He was pleasant and professional on the job; he was serious and focused. He treated people with respect, from the intern to the visiting specialist. She had never anticipated spending this kind of one-on-one time with him.
“Are you a beer girl or would you rather something else?”
“Wine,” she said. “Chardonnay.”
He ordered a beer and a chardonnay.
“Aren’t you going back to work?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not seeing patients today. I’m not even on call except that I’m always on call. I wanted to pick up some charts from my office. And you’re not really seeing patients, are you? Just looking for something to do in which you feel competent. A death in the family can throw us off and we always go back to the place we feel like we know what we’re doing.”
“You know this how?” she asked.
“Been there,” he said. And before he could say any more, the waitress returned with their drinks and waited for him to order. He asked for a small plate of loaded nachos, four soft tacos and a Mexican pizza.
She assumed he must be starving and didn’t expect her to help him much.
“Do you want to tell me about your father?”
She didn’t hesitate. “He was wonderful. He was a counselor, a psychologist. He helped so many people. And he was a devoted family man. I have a brother and a sister and he was completely there for us all the time. Something was going on with him lately. He was restless and searching, as if he hadn’t done what he wanted with his life. That’s what the white-water rafting was about—adding some adventure to his life.”
“How did your mom take that?”
“She was mad at him for not being satisfied with all they had managed to achieve. She called him an ungrateful man-child. They were going to marriage counseling, and rather than being worried about him, my mother was pissed.”
“But you were worried?” he asked.
“I was a little bit pissed, too,” she admitted. “He wasn’t himself lately.”
“People get off-kilter sometimes,” Patrick said. “Although I’m sure you were greatly affected by his mood, I’m also pretty sure it had nothing to do with you.”
“That’s what he said,” she muttered.
“His death was an accident, I assume?”
“Sort of,” she said. “He got in trouble in the kayak, flipped over and, in the struggle, had a fatal heart attack. They tried to revive him, but...” She sipped her wine. “It should not have happened. He was in great shape. He worked out. He had regular checkups. He never had problems with his health. I watched him for symptoms of—His health never concerned me. He was only sixty-two. It made no sense!”
“He hadn’t been rafting before? Or steep climbing or running or similar strenuous exercise?”
She shook her head. “He went to the gym,” she said. “He had a bike he rarely rode. He played golf and some tennis, but it was recreational stuff, not endurance stuff.”