“I just want to get all my thoughts together before I pitch ideas with price tags,” I said. He finished making notes. Lea brought us over two glasses of wine and an amuse-bouche, and we fell into an easy game of catch-up. We were very similar. We both thought with our eyes.

As he got up to leave, Dexter said, “I’ll be in touch. It’s been great reconnecting. I’ll never know why you didn’t go with me to prom.”

I shook my head. “Dexter, you’re gay,” I said. “By the way, how is Mark?” Mark Upchurch was Dexter’s partner of umpteen years and one of the best landscape architects in town.

“So? We could’ve had a good time together, and neither one of us would’ve gotten laid,” Dexter said. “And Mark is doing great.” He smiled and passed Griffin on the way out.

“Just how many scams have you got running?” Griffin slid into the booth with his coffee mug as I was savoring the Sausalito wine. Food, wine, and memory blended together in nostalgic fashion. I smiled at him. If I died tomorrow, the sight of Griffin clutching his favorite coffee mug might be one of my last images. Standing in a doorway after we had been together might be another. I would definitely go into eternity happy.

“Don’t think I haven’t figured out why you sent me to market today,” he said, removing the wine glass from my grasp.

“Do you disapprove?” I asked, recapturing my wine glass.

“No. You seem quite pleased with yourself. By the way, you seem more relaxed. Getting sleep finally? I’m glad those three a.m. phone calls have stopped. What they do to you … I’m glad you told Jake about them.”

“I actually told Jake’s junior associate and Larissa’s junior associate that if Elliott wanted to contact me and harass me, he better do so during business hours or I would sue his ass for harassment.” Elliott had become notorious for calling me drunk and shouting belligerently. Being manipulative. Blaming me for everything. At first the phone calls affected me. I would let my emotions bubble like a simmering stew until I would either yell at somebody or dissolve into tears.

“Good for you. I’ll send over another glass of Sausalito’s finest.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Two

Before I entertained my second glass of wine, I strolled into the kitchen. Aaron, the sous chef, was busy chopping ingredients for tonight’s offerings. “Hey Aaron, would you have a minute to make me one of those grilled chicken and arugula sandwiches on sourdough with some of your cranberry and pear salsa?”

“Sure. Would you like fries or fruit?” Aaron called.

“I’ll just grab an apple.” I picked up a paring knife and a Granny Smith apple. Sometimes I liked the art of slicing an apple myself.