I Found My Heart in San Francisco: Book 15

 

Osmosis

 

A gradual, often unconscious process of absorption or learning

 

By SX Meagher

 

 

 

 

Part Ten

 

 

 

“Hi, Conor,” Catherine said when she reached him on Wednesday morning.  “Are we still on for Friday?”

 

“My dance card is ready to be filled, Catherine.  I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“I think you’ll like this crowd a little better than the last group.  It’s a few decades younger than the symphony mavens.”

 

“What’s this for again?” he asked, not really caring, but wanting to be prepared.

 

“This is for a new scholarship fund at Stanford law,” she explained.  “Jim usually handles these things, but I think it’s important to continue my separate support.”

 

“I’ll spend a few minutes with Brendan,” Conor said, “and ask for some legal terms I can drop.”

 

“You don’t need to do a thing,” she chided him.  “After sailing through that opera benefit, you can face any crowd.”

 

“Well, that has been the toughest so far,” he agreed with a chuckle.  “But it was also my debut, so to speak.  I think I’ve gotten better with each one, don’t you?”

 

“I do indeed,” she said, smiling at his well-deserved pride.

 

“So, I’ll come down as soon as I can get away from work, okay?”

 

“That’s fine,” she agreed.  “By any chance are you going to be home later today?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be home by 5:00 or so.  Why?”

 

“I’d like to drop off a little something for you.” Before he could ask what the gift was, she added, “See you later.”

 

***

 

Jamie was reclining on a swath of grass, using the slight incline of the hill as a backrest, reading one of her textbooks. Her cell phone rang and she rolled onto her side to retrieve it from her pocket. “Hi, Dad,” she said when she’d checked the caller ID.

 

“Hi, honey. I’m in town. How about dinner tonight?”

 

“Tonight?” She thought for a moment. “Yeah, I can make it. Ryan’s got a double-header in Santa Clara, so she won’t be able to join us.”

 

“But I’ll see her this weekend, right?”

 

Pleased, Jamie said, “You sound like you’re looking forward to seeing her.”

 

“I am.” He was quiet for a second. “Does that surprise you?”

 

“Oh … I guess not. I’ve learned that you’re as full of surprises as she is. The only consistent person in our family is Poppa.”

 

“He sure is. Sometimes annoyingly so.”

 

“Annoying? Poppa?”

 

“I’m teasing … mostly. You know how parents are. No matter how perfect they are, they can still get under your skin.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jamie said drolly.

 

“Sarcasm is best used sparingly, honey. What time is good for you?”

 

“Whatever you want, Dad. You’re the one on Eastern time.”

 

“Let’s eat early then. How about 6:00?”

 

“Great. Should I make reservations?”

 

“No. Someone in my office can do it.”

 

“Okay. Shall I meet you?”

 

“No. I’ve got the Range Rover. I’ll pick you up around 5:45.”

 

“Great. And Dad, I won’t be sarcastic tonight. I was just making a joke.”

 

“Not a problem. I was, too. See you tonight, honey.”

 

***

 

Conor was fresh from the shower when Catherine arrived. She carried so many bags that he had to back away from the door to allow her to squeeze through.  “What in the heck?”  He scratched at the back of his head, looking at her with a puzzled smile.

 

“Okay, I got carried away. I don’t know why, but I like to shop for men’s clothes more than I like to shop for my own.  You don’t mind indulging me a little, do you?” 

 

He was unable to say no to those guileless brown eyes, and found himself shaking his head. “Uhm … let me help you with this stuff.”  He set things on the dining room table and began to unwrap his bounty.  Eventually, two pairs of shoes—one black and one brown, a black, chalk-striped suit and one of a warm brown light-weight wool, three shirts and four ties were laid out neatly against the worn wood.  “My Lord, Catherine!  This is … this is … fantastic!”

 

“Do you like it all?  I know that you’re perfectly capable of picking out your own clothes, but I also know you don’t have much free time and I wanted you to have a few things to choose from for the event on Friday.”

 

“It’s all great,” he said.  “You have fantastic taste, Catherine, and you sure don’t skimp on quality. I just wish you hadn’t gone to so much expense.  God, this must have cost—”

 

“Please,” she said, shaking her head, “you know that doesn’t matter.  I want you to feel comfortable going to these events with me, Conor, and having a selection of clothing to choose from will help.”

 

“I do feel comfortable, Catherine.  I really do. But you’re right.  The same people were at both events we’ve been to, and I’ve just got two suits … plus a tux,” he added, grinning. “This is … well, this is just great.  Thanks.”  He beamed a warm grin at her, which she returned in kind.

 

“You’re easier than your sister,” she said, laughing, but when the words hit her own ear she blushed deeply.  “I am so sorry.  That did not come out like I meant it.”

 

“No problem,” he smiled, adding a wink.  “Anyway, since Jamie’s got her locked up, it’s true.”

 

She patted his arm, still laughing softly.  “I’ll let you go before I say anything even more embarrassing.”

 

Gazing at her, he impulsively asked, “What are you doing the rest of the evening?”

 

“Nothing, to be honest.  I thought I’d go home and read.”

 

His eyes widened. “Read? What kinda fun is that? Let’s at least go get a little dinner together. What do you say?”

 

“I suppose I do have to eat.” She smiled at how easily he could talk her into things. “Where would you like to go?”

 

“I’ve seen how the upper crust lives. Wanna slum a little?”

 

“Conor, just having you enter would class up the slummiest place.”

 

***

 

He dressed up a little, and since Catherine had dressed down, they were just about evenly attired.  He brushed some lint from his navy blue Dockers, then checked to see that his multi-color stripe, button-down shirt was tucked in properly.  He ran a brush across his black loafers, then added a braided black leather belt.  Satisfied with his look, he cast a glance back to his dresser, trying to decide if he should add some cologne.  He rolled his eyes at his own indecision, then shook his head and went back into the living room, where Catherine was gazing raptly at the photographs that lined the bookcases.

 

“Your mother looks so very much like Moira,” she said softly, as she heard his tread.

 

“She does.” He snuck a peek over her shoulder.  “That’s just how I remember her.”  The woman in the photo was sitting in a rocking chair, holding a very tiny baby that Catherine assumed was Ryan.  She was obviously cooing to her or perhaps singing, looking very peaceful and calm.  The composition brought a smile to Catherine’s face, because of the demonically grinning child that had to be Conor, standing on the rungs of the rocker and holding onto the top rail of the chair, trying to give his mother and sister a rocking they would remember.  “She was absolutely unflappable. And we could have flapped nearly any sane woman.  Not her though,” he added, fondly gazing at her image.

 

“Sounds a bit like Ryan,” Catherine smiled at him as she placed the photo back on the shelf.

 

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he considered.  “I’ve never thought of the similarities—probably because they look so different physically.  Ryan’s an O’Flaherty, through and through.”

 

“That’s not a bad thing to be.”

 

***

 

Jamie dressed carefully, assuming that her father would be wearing at least a sports coat. She also acknowledged that her father’s higher profile attracted attention that would fall upon her, too. He was right on time, and she checked her lipstick before opening the door. “Hi!”

 

His eyes sought out her left arm, and he felt up and down her splint, shaking his head. “Terrible,” he said. “Just terrible.”

 

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” She reached out and hugged him with her good arm, holding on for almost a minute.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Letting go, Jamie stood back and gave her father a long look. “I miss you too, Daddy. You look great, by the way.”

 

“So do you. You look more like your mother all the time.”

 

“I do? Since when? I’m like a female Jim Evans—minus the height.” She picked up her purse and coat and closed the door behind her.

 

He guided her by the elbow, leading her to the car in the driveway. “I have a driver tonight. Do you mind?”

 

“No … I guess not. Did you let your license lapse?”

 

“I still have a license. Karl and I were going over a few things when I had to leave, so we continued our meeting on the drive.”

 

“Is Karl going to join us for dinner?”

 

Jim opened the back door of the car and kept his hand on Jamie’s arm to make sure she didn’t slip. “You’re not going to have dinner with us, are you, Karl?”

 

“No, sir. I’m going to my mother’s house for dinner. No matter what you order, I bet I’ll have a better meal.”

 

“Hi,” Jamie said, extending her hand between the seats. “I’m Jamie.”

 

“Hi, Jamie. Karl Thomas.”

 

“Where does your mother live?”

 

“Oakland. Make sure you take your time over dinner. My mother makes a sweet-potato pie that I don’t wanna miss.”

 

“It’s a deal.” She sat back and asked, “Where are we going, Dad?”

 

“A new place Karl told me about. What’s the name, Karl?”

 

“Bistro Jean? Bistro Jeanne? Something like that.”

 

“Oh, that’s the new place that’s so popular,” Jamie said. “I’ve been wanting to go there, but it’s almost impossible to get Ryan to go out to dinner.”

 

Jim’s eyes twinkled. “Are you sure you’re destined to be together? You’d eat out every night.”

 

“Opposites attract. And I’m not sure destiny had anything to do with it; I just think I got lucky.”

 

“All that matters is that you’re happy together.”

 

Jamie looked at her father while he made a comment to Karl. He took her by surprise nearly every time they spoke. And hearing him express his wishes solely for her happiness was the best kind of surprise.

 

***

 

Catherine sighed, pushing her plate far enough away so that she wasn’t tempted again.  “If I eat another bite I’ll surely explode!”

 

“You certainly seemed to enjoy it,” Conor chuckled, surprised and pleased by the appetite she’d displayed. She’d only had a tamale and some chips and guacamole, but that was near gluttony for Catherine.

 

“I probably have Mexican food once a year, if that. I don’t know why I have it so infrequently, since I truly love it.”

 

“I have it around seven times a week,” he laughed.  “I’m the only Anglo on my crew, and I’m never in charge of ordering lunch.  Luckily, I love Mexican food too.”

 

“When we were dating, Jim used to take me to a place in Palo Alto that we both really liked.  That was the last time I even had a favorite Mexican restaurant.  I should investigate and find a place that I like.”

 

“Why did you stop once you were married?”

 

“Oh … lots of reasons,” she mused, as she picked up her water glass and drained it.  “We had Marta then, and we ate most of our meals at home.  She’s Spanish, and even though she could manage to prepare Mexican dishes, they aren’t her specialty.”  Looking up and meeting his eyes she said, “Things just changed after we married; I’m not even sure why.”

 

“It was never great for you, was it?” he asked, seeing the sadness in her eyes.

 

Shaking her head briskly, she admitted, “No, it never was.  We were too young, too immature.  We were married at the end of July, and after a short trip to Rhode Island, Jim started his job.  In no time, he was working sixty and seventy hour weeks, and I was at home alone, struggling to get used to the idea of having a child.”

 

She looked tired and defeated, and he reached across the table and grasped her hand.

 

“You deserve another chance, Catherine.  I really hope you take it.”

 

“Someone has to want to take a chance on me, Conor,” she reminded him with a wry smile. “I haven’t had much interest from people on this side of the Atlantic.”

 

“You’re talking crazy again,” he chided gently, giving her small hand a squeeze.

 

***

 

Jim and Jamie were led to a table immediately, gliding past a bar full of hungry-looking patrons. They ordered a cocktail and sat back in the comfy chairs to wait for them to be delivered. “Do you still want to know why I think you look like your mother?” Jim asked.

 

“Oh. Sure. ’Cause I don’t see it.”

 

“It’s not your features. Those are more like mine … but prettier, of course.”

 

“Uh-huh.” She smiled at him, waiting.

 

“It’s the way you carry yourself. Your … style. As you mature, you remind me more and more of her at your age. She … and you have a real presence. You’re much more mature and sophisticated than other girls your age.”

 

“Thank you. That’s nice to hear. It’s always nice to be compared favorably to Mom.”

 

“You have a lot more self-confidence than your mother had at your age.” He looked up and nodded at their server when their drinks were set down. “Sometimes you have too much for my comfort.” The beginnings of his smile were covered by his lifting his drink to his lips.

 

“It’s too late to turn back now, Dad.”

 

He shook his head quickly. “I don’t want you to change. Well … that’s not always true. But in my sane moments, I admire your spunk.”

 

Brows knitting, she asked skeptically, “You do?”

 

“Only in my sane moments. Those aren’t frequent.”

 

She chuckled at his words and his self-effacing look. “I don’t think that’s true. Poppa says all parents and kids go through some tough times. I’ve made a lot of changes in the last year or two. I can’t expect you to welcome all of them.”

 

“There you go with that maturity again.” He grinned at her, his eyes crinkling up just like hers did.

 

“I have some less-than-sane moments, too. Even though I know you have a lot of adjusting to do, I’m not always patient with you. I expect too much sometimes, and I’m sorry for that, Dad.”

 

He waved her off. “No need. I’ve done so much I’m ashamed of. I’m dozens of points behind you in the maturity tally.”

 

Jamie sipped at her drink and tilted her head. “Has Poppa been talking to you?”

 

“Good thing I’m not on the Intelligence Committee; I’m utterly transparent!”

 

“Not really. You just seem … reflective. And I know Poppa visited you a few weeks ago. He had a great time, by the way. He went on and on about how impressed he was with you and what you’ve accomplished.”

 

“I hope he thinks that. But I know I’ve disappointed him a lot through the years. He reminded me of that when we were together.”

 

“He called you out?”

 

Puzzled, Jim said, “He didn’t lecture me or anything. You know he’s not like that. But he told me that he didn’t think I’d done a very good job with the women in my life.”

 

“Glad he didn’t lecture you,” she teased.

 

Jim shrugged. “It’s not like I had a very good defense: a failed marriage, a tumultuous relationship with my only child, what will probably wind up being a meaningless relationship with Kayla. All in all …”

 

“Meaningless? Are you and Kayla not getting along?”

 

Their server returned and took their order, nodding politely when Jim told him they weren’t in a hurry. “I want to make sure Karl gets some pie,” he said. “It sounded good, didn’t it?”

 

“Kayla?” Jamie reminded him.

 

He sighed. “I thought we were getting serious, but she doesn’t seem to feel the same way. She thinks she’ll stay in Washington when I come back to California.”

 

“Does she … want you to stay with her?”

 

With a resigned smile, he shook his head. “She didn’t ask. She said she assumed I’d tire of her and move on, so she thought she’d do the same. She plans to find another job—with someone in Congress or a lobbying firm.”

 

“Hmm … sounds like she’d thought this out from the beginning.”

 

“I think she has. No, I’m sure she has. She was surprised that I wanted her to move in with me when I returned to California.”

 

“Wow. Did you really want to make it permanent?”

 

Jim dipped his head, looking chagrined. “I hadn’t thought it through. But it was stupid of me to think she’d want to stay with me. She’s a young woman who wants a career. Being with me makes her look like a user.”

 

Nodding, Jamie took another sip of her drink. “It does. That’s what I assumed. But I liked her when I met her. She seems kinda good for you.”

 

“I think she is, but I’m sure I’m not good for her. I may have already put a blot on her reputation that she can never erase.”

 

A busboy delivered their salads and after a judicious grinding of fresh pepper, Jamie took a bite. “Delicious. Really well dressed.”

 

“Mine’s good, too. Karl was right.”

 

“So, is Kayla ready to move on now?”

 

“She plans on staying until my term is over. But I assume she’ll start looking for a job during the summer recess.”

 

“You seem pretty down about it, Dad.”

 

“Your grandfather thinks I’m getting some return on my bad investments.”

 

“Investments?”

 

“I set things up this way. I dated young women in my firm and didn’t mind that people found out. I treated them well—made sure they weren’t harmed in terms of promotions and things like that—but I certainly never gave anyone the impression I was serious about having a relationship.” He stared at his salad for a moment. “Except your mother.”

 

“And you lied to her again and again, didn’t you.” There was no malice in her voice, but the words themselves stung.

 

“Yes. I did.”

 

“You know … Ryan and I had a terrible fight a few weeks ago.” His eyebrows popped up, as if she’d pinched him. “Yeah, it’s not that common,” she continued. “But I told her that I was worried about her cheating on me—”

 

His face started to redden. “Has she done anything—”

 

“No! Nothing! That’s not the point. Jack didn’t cheat on me and Ryan wouldn’t, but I’m still worried about it. Just knowing that you cheated on Mom has made me doubt Ryan, just enough to put a little kernel of suspicion in my mind. I don’t worry that she’s doing anything now. More that she’ll eventually get tired of me, like you did with Mom.”

 

“Why are you telling me this? You’ve never given me the slightest hint that you doubted Ryan. And I never tired of your mother. Never.”

 

Jamie shrugged. “I’m just trying to explain why neither Mom nor Kayla nor any woman who knows your history will be able to trust you. I’m on the periphery and your cheating affects me; I can’t imagine how Mom feels.” She reached across the table and covered his cool hand with her own. “You have made some bad investments, Dad, and you’re gonna have to do some work to convince a woman that you’ve changed—if you have.”

 

He looked away and took a bite, chewing slowly. “It’s probably useless. You’re right, honey—no decent woman will trust me. I’ll just have to keep dating until women get tired of me or find someone better.”

 

“Oh, you sound like you’re a big loser. I think you just want what you can’t have. You were perfectly happy going from woman to woman before. It wasn’t until Mom decided to divorce you that you wanted her back.”

 

“That’s not true,” he said, staring into her eyes. “I’ve always loved your mother, and I never, ever wanted to hurt her. She’s the brightest, funniest, warmest woman I’ve ever known. I was a complete idiot to betray her, but I swear I’ve never cared for any one like I have for your mother.”

 

“But you did things that would hurt any woman, Dad. Your actions are what counts.”

 

“I know. Believe me, I know.” He looked down at his salad and casually asked, “Is she seeing anyone?”

 

“Heh. No chance, Dad. If I did know Mom was dating someone, I wouldn’t tell you. Just like I wouldn’t tell her the things you tell me.”

 

“Has she asked?”

 

He looked so hopeful that Jamie felt a stab of pity for him. Trying to sidestep the question she said, “She’s not the type to ask. You know how private she is.”

 

“True. She also has good manners. She wouldn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, like I just did.”

 

“Who are you?” Jamie laughed at her father’s befuddled expression. “You’re so … introspective!”

 

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It won’t last. Your grandfather’s influence doesn’t tend to stick.”

 

***

 

 “How about walking around the neighborhood to digest our dinner?” Conor asked as he and Catherine stepped out into the rather bracing evening.  She was wearing warm clothes—a knee-length dark brown leather coat and a matching pair of gloves—to fend off the chill, so she agreed.  As they walked along, she slid her hand around his arm, finding that she couldn’t even get it halfway around the muscled structure.  The warmth just radiated from his body, and within a block she was as warm as toast.

 

They walked along Valencia, the main business district of the Mission, passing all manner of stores, all of them of a caliber substantially below those that Catherine normally frequented.  Nonetheless, she was fascinated by the brightly decorated windows of many of the storefronts, and mused at the signs propped against the glass.  “Many different Latin cultures live in this neighborhood, don’t they?”

 

“Yeah.  Quite a few.  Do you speak Spanish?” he asked, sparing a glance at her intent perusal of the signs.

 

“Not well.  I speak French and Italian, so I can guess at most words, but I’m far from fluent.  Jamie is, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I knew that.  Ryan’s actually a little jealous of the languages she speaks, now that she has to learn French.”

 

“She’s mentioned that,” Catherine smiled.  “She says her Gaelic doesn’t help her a bit.”

 

“In this country, speaking Gaelic is a nice trick to show off at parties,” he grinned.  “Not much use for it.”

 

They had passed the most populated parts of the street, so they crossed the street to return on the other side.  As they passed in front of an all-night donut shop, one of the patrons caught sight of Conor.  Martin was being waited on, so he couldn’t step outside just then, but as soon as his order was paid for, he went outside to say hello to his son.  Ahh, he thought to himself as he saw Conor escorting a stylishly dressed woman down the street.  They were arm in arm, and occasionally stopped in front of a store to comment on something.  I didn’t know he was dating anyone, he mused as he turned to take his purchase back to the firehouse.  I suppose I’m always the last to know, he reminded himself with a chuckle.

 

***

 

Ryan was already in bed when Jamie got home. She was half asleep, but she sat up the minute Jamie’s foot hit the stairs. “Jamers?”

 

“Yeah, honey. I’m home.”

 

“James?” Mia called out, giggling.

 

“Yes, dear?” She poked her head into Mia’s room. “May I help you?”

 

Mia was lying on her bed, watching TV. “Miss me?”

 

“Always.” Jamie went to the bed and kissed Mia’s curly head. “But I have to go. As soon as Ryan’s asleep, I’ll come back.” She ruffled Mia’s hair and went into her own room, waggling her fingers at her lover. “I had to make sure the little one was tucked in properly.”

 

“I tucked her in. After rubbing her feet and moisturizing them.”

 

Jamie bent over and kissed her. “Good girl.”

 

Ryan got up and started to undress her. “Did you have fun?”

 

“Ahh … yeah, I did. Things were very different between us. I have no idea what’s gotten into him, but he was Mister Sensitive. He actually sounded like he was related to my grandfather for the first time that I can recall.”

 

“Weird. Has he gotten religion?”

 

“Doubtful.”

 

“Do you need to take your splint off?”

 

“No, I’m fine. I’m gonna brush my teeth. Get me a T-shirt?”

 

Ryan turned and took the shirt that was lying on Jamie’s pillow. “All ready for you.”

 

“You … my little spouse … are very nice to come home to.”

 

Ryan put her arms around Jamie and hugged her tightly. “Are you gonna sneak off to Mia’s room when I’m asleep?”

 

“Damn, you’ve got good ears!”

 

Taking a playful nip from one of Jamie’s, Ryan growled, “I’m keeping a close eye … and ear on you.”

 

***

 

When Martin arrived home from work on Thursday morning, he asked Maeve if she wanted to go to the children’s house, so they could all eat breakfast together.  As usual, she was amenable, and they showed up just as the boys were getting up.  When Conor appeared, bright-eyed and alert, Martin couldn’t help but tease him.  “I thought you might be a little bleary after your date last night.”

 

Conor blinked at him. “I didn’t have a date.”

 

“It’s all right, son.” He chuckled.  “You don’t have to hide such things from me at this point in your life.”  When Conor still looked blank, he informed him, “I saw you walking down Valencia last night with an attractive woman.”

 

Conor nodded slowly in comprehension.  “I wasn’t on a date, Da; I was with Catherine.”

 

“Catherine?” Martin gaped.  “Really?”

 

“Yeah. She came by in the afternoon and neither of us had plans, so we just hung out.  Why didn’t you say something?”

 

“You know I don’t see clearly in the darkness,” he explained.  “I was fairly sure it was you, but I didn’t want to run down the street carrying two dozen donuts only to find out I was wrong.”

 

“No, it was me,” the younger man said agreeably.  “Sorry we didn’t get to chat.  Catherine could have told you what a great meal we had. She’s never been to The Mission so I took her to La Cabana. I think she really enjoyed herself.”

 

Martin nodded, giving his son a concerned look before he went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.  “Anything wrong, Marty?” Maeve asked quietly.

 

“No, no, of course not,” he said brightly.  “Nothing at all.”  As he walked into the kitchen, he thought, There had better not be.

 

***

 

At six o’clock on Friday evening, Ryan pulled up to the three-flat in The Mission. She waved to her cousins, uncles, and aunt and said as she let Jamie out, “We’re the last ones. Go on and start looking around. I’ll find somewhere around here to park or go home and run back.”

 

“Got your running shoes?”

 

“No. I tried to dress nice for my girlfriend. But if I have to run back, I’ve got plenty of single-girl clothes at home.”

 

“Take your time, honey. With all of these people, we might be here until dawn.”

 

***

 

Ryan did have to go to Noe to park, so she decided to take Duffy with her. It had been so long since she’d run with him that it took both of them a few blocks to get in synch, but they were both smiling when they arrived at the building. Her uncles Francis and Malachy were outside, looking at the foundation.

 

“I predicted you’d have the dog with you,” Malachy said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

 

“She likes to have Duffy around to remind her that she used to be the one in charge,” Francis said, laughing. “Now she’s the one on the leash.”

 

“Not funny, but true.” Ryan kissed her uncle. “Everybody upstairs?”

 

“Yeah. We thought we’d better check out the important parts. A bad foundation is what costs big money.”

 

“How does it look?”

 

“Remarkably good,” Malachy said. “And I think we can take these shingles off. The wooden siding looks like it’s in good shape. These ugly things might have protected it.”

 

“Jamie said the real estate guy thought they were asbestos. Won’t it cost a lot to have them removed?”

 

“Depends on who’s watching,” Francis said, adding a wink.

 

Ryan nodded, deciding not to discuss the issue with her pragmatic, cost-cutting uncle. She was determined to follow all of the city codes … especially where they involved hazardous waste, but her cousins would be much easier to manipulate than her uncle.

 

It had taken her so long to park, change and run back, that the crowd was almost finished touring when she and Duffy ran up the stairs, almost knocking down her Aunt Peggy in the dimly lit staircase. “Whoa! Sorry!” she said.

 

Her aunt kissed her and patted Duffy. “This place reminds me of a building my family lived in when I was a girl. It could be nice if the boys do everything that needs to be done.”

 

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Ryan said, “but Duffy likes it.” The big dog hadn’t stopped sniffing since they’d stopped, his nose detecting scents from many, many years of use.

 

***

 

They decided to go to Francis’ house for soup and salad while they discussed the pros and cons of the building. Ryan and Jamie stopped for the salad ingredients and what her uncles called “fancy bread.” Despite the gentle derision, they always seemed to enjoy the baguettes and filoni Jamie and Ryan contributed. Francis still didn’t understand why a salad had to contain more than a quartered head of iceberg lettuce with a half-cup of Thousand Island dressing, but he ate everything except the arugula, which he declared a weed.

 

Everyone agreed that the building was a good one—if they wanted to be landlords. That aspect of the discussion took quite a while, but Brendan had done some homework and explained that it would help them secure future loans if they already owned some property. And given that rents were always climbing, having two units to rent at market price could be very beneficial. The biggest sticking point was price. Niall’s money would make a good down-payment, but they’d need a construction loan and money for supplies.

 

Jamie raised her hand. “I’d like to make the loan.”

 

“You?” Frank said, his voice squeaking.

 

“Yeah, me. I’m ready to take my money out of the stock market and put it in something more secure. I think this is a good investment.”

 

Never one to beat around the bush, Frank asked, “Do you have that kinda money?”

 

Kieran punched him gently on the shoulder. “Are you the only one who hasn’t figure out that Jamie’s rich?”

 

“You’re rich?” Frank asked, clearly surprised.

 

“She’s rich,” Ryan said, sparing Jamie the need to reply.

 

Frank’s eyes narrowed and he glared at his cousin. “Damn you, Ryan. It was bad enough that she was good-looking …”

 

“Behave,” Francis said. “Don’t embarrass the girl.”

 

“Oh, who’d be embarrassed?” Jamie asked, blushing furiously.

 

Ryan put her arm around her. “She can’t help it. She was born rich and beautiful. But if Jamie wants to invest some of her money, I think we should do it.”

 

“I don’t like it,” Niall said. “What if we lose money on the deal?”

 

“That’s the risk of investing,” Jamie said. “I know you won’t lose money because you do bad work or buy materials that are overpriced. The only reason we’d lose money is if the real estate market crashes. And if that happens, it happens. If I lost this money it wouldn’t make me have to start working nights. This is just an investment to me—not any different than investing in stocks or bonds. And I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t afford to lose the money.”

 

“Mortgage rates are about 8% now, right?” Ryan asked. “Is that good?”

 

“I don’t want that,” Jamie said. “I want Treasury Bill rates. That’s the safest investment, and that’s where I was gonna park this chunk of money.”

 

“Is that less than 8%?” Ryan asked.

 

“Yeah. But it’s fair. I shouldn’t profit off the family. I should just stay even.”

 

When she saw her cousins all looking at one another and nodding, Ryan smiled. Jamie was clearly one of the family.

 

***

 

 

 

 

Part Eleven

 

 

 

Catherine was already sitting in the stands when Conor and Rory arrived at the Cal/Stanford game on Saturday afternoon. She saw them and waved, and they made their way through the crowd to join her. “Saving a lot of seats, aren’t you, lady?” Conor asked. He bent and kissed her cheek, then Rory leaned around him and did the same.

 

“I’ve been getting some dirty looks,” she admitted. “I hate to save seats, but I thought today it was necessary.”

 

“We’re the only two from the family. Everyone else had something going on.” Conor looked around, nodding happily. Then he stretched his arms out and his deep voice proclaimed, “These are my people.”

 

“You shouldn’t take him to nice places, Catherine,” Rory said. “He thinks he’s a South Bay millionaire now.”

 

“He fits in beautifully, Rory. You know … you would, too. I have more appointments than Conor could possibly help me with.”

 

The younger O’Flaherty held up a hand. “No, thanks. I mean, I’d go anywhere you needed me to go, but Conor’s your man. He’s always been sure he was delivered to the wrong family.”

 

“Someday, when my real parents find me, I won’t forget you guys. I’ll have you over every Christmas, when I have the party for my servants.”

 

“I hate to add to his delusions,” Catherine said, “but he honestly does seem like he was born to money.”

 

“He was born to blarney,” Rory, said, chuckling.

 

“Hey, look who’s here,” Conor said. He pointed to Jim walking along the third base line, watching heads turn and people elbow each other to point him out. “See. I want people to do that when I walk into a place.”

 

“They do,” Rory teased. “They say, ‘Isn’t that the jerk who led my sister/daughter/cousin on?’”

 

“He’s got your number,” Catherine said, giggling.

 

“That was the old Conor. The new Conor is much more serious and mature. I’m looking for a relationship now.”

 

“That I’ll believe when I see it,” Rory said.

 

Conor jumped up. “I’ll go tell Jim where we’re sitting.”

 

“You just want people to see that you know him!” Rory called out.

 

“He’s impossible to offend, isn’t he?” Catherine commented. “It’s so nice that you can all take a good tease.”

 

“You either learn to take it or end up in tears … or fights. Only one of the cousins doesn’t take well to being made fun of.”

 

“Donal?” Catherine asked.

 

“You know us well,” Rory said, smiling.

 

“He seems like his skin is a little thin. I’ve heard him give some pretty sharp responses to some pretty benign comments.”

 

“He’ll burn your ears if you really get to him.” He looked at Catherine for a second. “Is it okay that Jim’s here? I can ask Conor to sit with him in another section—”

 

“It’s fine. But thank you for asking. We’re getting along well. We’re united in being friendly, for Jamie’s sake.”

 

“That’s what good parents do. Too bad there aren’t more good parents.” He stood and shook Jim’s hand as Conor led the senator to their seats. “Rory,” he said, assuming Jim would have trouble remembering all of the O’Flaherty names. “Welcome home.”

 

“How are you, Rory? Is the music business treating you well? I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you went to Ireland in the summer.”

 

“I do,” he said, smiling. “But not until May.”

 

Jim put his hand on Rory’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I’m glad to see you again. I may give you a call before you leave. I’m considering joining in the sponsorship of a bill to ease imports of certain Irish goods. Maybe you can do a little investigation for me while you’re there.”

 

“Sure. I have a lot of free time, and we travel all over the country.”

 

“That’s great!” He turned to Catherine, took her hand and kissed it. “The ever lovely Catherine Evans, I believe?”

 

She flinched, realizing she hadn’t told him about changing her name. Deciding that now wasn’t the time, she smiled and inclined her head, silently inviting him to sit next to her. When he did, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “How’s the distinguished junior senator from California?”

 

“I’m good,” he said. “Very good.”

 

He’d barely settled in his seat when people began to approach him, wishing him well or reminding him they’d met fifteen years ago at a golf tournament or something similarly forgettable. Catherine watched him work, a little surprised at how comfortable he seemed to be in the unfamiliar spotlight. When they had a moment alone, she said, “Maybe you should have gone into politics. You’re a natural.”

 

He smiled. “Not really. Practicing law for all those years helped me get comfortable in uncomfortable situations. I truly prefer being a lawyer.”

 

“I suppose you’ll be back to that fairly soon. That is still your plan, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes. I’ve enjoyed my time in Washington, but I much prefer San Francisco. I’ve been putting aside some money to buy a small place in Carmel or somewhere else around Monterrey Bay. That’s still my favorite place on earth.” He gave her a smile that was heavy with memory and sadness.

 

She found herself almost reaching up to touch his cheek, but stopped herself an instant before her hand moved. She would have never guessed that she would make the offer that was to come from her mouth, but as the words left her lips, she didn’t regret them. “Don’t do that, Jim. I haven’t been down to the house in so long I hardly recall what it looks like. And even though Jamie loves it, she doesn’t want to spend her weekends down there. I want you to use the house whenever you want. It was always your refuge, and there’s no reason in the world that it can’t continue to be.” His eyes widened, then he tucked his lower lip into his mouth, a gesture she recognized as his guard against showing too much emotion.

 

 “I … can’t believe you’re being so generous.”

 

Laughing softly, she said, “Am I usually not?”

 

“Oh, no!” He touched her arm, looking almost panicked. “You know how much I admire you, and one of your best traits is your generosity. It’s just that … I don’t deserve a gift like that.”

 

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it? When you get back, treat the place as your own. If I’m ever planning on being there, I’ll call you. You’ve kept up your golf membership, haven’t you?”

 

He grinned, looking like a little boy. “They waived my fees for my term in office. It’s just like you always said, ‘If you don’t need the money, everyone is willing to give it to you.’”

 

Charmed that he’d recall her having said that, she smiled at him. “It’s sad, but very true. The club would never do that for a man who’d lost his job.”

 

“Not unless he lost his job as the head of a law firm to become a senator,” Jim said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

***

 

Jamie and Mia showed up just before the band play the National Anthem. “Hi!” Mia said to everyone, kissing each as she moved down the line. Jamie followed along behind her, doing the same. They ended up next to Catherine and Jim, and Jim moved aside so that Mia would sit between him and Catherine, leaving Jamie next to him.

 

“What took you so long, honey?” he asked Jamie.

 

“Nothing important. I wanted to wear a long-sleeved shirt to cover up this stupid splint, but all of my nice ones were at the cleaners, so we had to stop and buy something.”

 

She smiled placidly, and her father chuckled at her expression. “You look very nice,” he said. “But are you sure you didn’t have even one long-sleeved shirt?”

 

Catherine reached over and patted her daughter’s leg. “He’ll never understand, dear. Your father and I have had this discussion too many times to count.”

 

Jim turned to Mia. “How’s life treating you? Are you enjoying Colorado?”

 

She made a face. “I’ve seen about one one-hundredth of a percent of it, and that much of it was nice. Jordan’s so busy that we have almost no time to do anything fun, but being with her makes it worthwhile.”

 

“I’m going to see your father tomorrow. Are you and he…?”

 

“We’re getting along pretty well. He knows I’m here, so you don’t have to plead the fifth to protect me.”

 

“I’d gladly stand up for you, Mia. Let me know if your father gives you any trouble. I might be able to arrange to have him named ambassador to … someplace very, very far away.”

 

“Cool! Could you have me named ambassador for Colorado Springs? I could use the dough.”

 

“Really? Adam isn’t taking good care of you?”

 

“Oh.” She looked at Jamie, then back at Jim. “I thought you might know that my parents stopped supporting me.”

 

Jim cocked his head, his brow narrowed. “They stopped? Why?”

 

“Because of Jordan. They don’t think I’m a lesbian.” That got Conor’s attention, and he leaned over and raised an eyebrow. “Which I’m not,” she added, sticking her tongue out at Conor. “But I’m in love with Jordan … no matter what you call me.”

 

“I have some experience with being unreasonable, Mia. I’d be happy to try to knock some sense into him.”

 

She laughed and leaned against him, pushing him a little, treating him just like one of her friends. “No, but thanks for the offer. We’ve made some progress, but I think it’s better if I don’t take money from my parents. It’s hard for my mom to keep her opinions to herself if she’s footing the bills.”

 

“I understand,” Jim said. “Far too well. But by the time your child is ready to graduate from college, you don’t have much control.”

 

“You don’t know my mom very well,” she deadpanned. “I’ll be fine. I just have to find a job that pays well, gives me unlimited vacation, and requires no experience.”

 

“Sorry, but I got that job,” Jim said, laughing as hard as Mia did.

 

***

 

The group spent the next hour and a half chatting more than watching the game. Since Ryan didn’t play and the game lacked offense there wasn’t much happening on the field to hold their attention. “Who wants to go out to dinner?” Jim asked. “I should treat since my team won.”

 

“I’m not gonna tell Ryan you were openly rooting for Stanford,” Jamie said, frowning.

 

“She’ll understand,” he predicted. “Years from now she’ll be a Cal fan, no matter what.”

 

“Probably true,” she said. “Well, we were planning on having dinner here,” Jamie said. “Mia?”

 

“Sure. I have plans, but not for hours.”

 

“We should have a party,” Jim said. “It’s not often I get home. What do you fellas say?”

 

“We can make it,” Conor said, not even giving Rory a vote.

 

“Catherine?” Jim asked.

 

“I’d love to.”

 

“Where should we go, Cat? Anyplace you know of that can seat a big group?”

 

“I know just the place. It’s in Hillsborough, and the chef is always ready to get to work.”

 

***

 

Even though Catherine offered, Ryan didn’t invite her teammates to the house. She knew Marta loved to cook, but she couldn’t imagine anyone loved having twenty-five unexpected guests show up. Jamie called Marta and offered to stop at the grocery store to buy whatever she needed to feed the crowd. By the time they arrived at the house, Rory and Conor were sitting by the pool, sipping cool drinks and listening to Jim talk about something that obviously interested them.

 

Jamie looked out the door of the kitchen, then commented to her mother, “Dad’s charming the boys, eh?”

 

“He seems to be.” She leaned over and whispered, “He was doing his best with me this afternoon, too. That always makes me suspicious.”

 

Turning, Jamie tried to put her arm around Catherine, then realized it was her left, which had no flexibility. She laughed and moved to her other side, giving her mother a hug. “He was very nice to me at dinner the other night. He seemed different somehow.”

 

“Mmm … not to me. He was his same old charming self, the persona that was always able to talk me into nearly anything.”

 

Jamie looked at her mother with a grimace. “That might be bordering on too much information.”

 

“Oh! No! I didn’t mean anything racy, dear. I’m not that insensitive.”

 

“Aw, you’re not insensitive at all.” Jamie faced her and gave her a long, warm hug. “You’re as sensitive a person as I’ve ever known. You and Ryan are very similar in that way. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I was attracted to her.”

 

Pulling back, Catherine stared at her daughter, obviously surprised. “If there’s even a kernel of truth in that, I’m enormously pleased.”

 

“Much more than a kernel, Mom. I’m just sorry I’ve been so grouchy these last few weeks. You’ve been wonderful—taking care of me and getting me in to see a good doctor. I truly appreciate it.”

 

Catherine kissed her gently. “You may be an adult, but you’re still my sweet little baby in here.” She tapped her chest over her heart. “I’ll always try to be there for you.”

 

***

 

Mia was hovering around Marta, sneaking a bite of food every time the cook turned her back. “Are you doing anything interesting tonight, Mia?” Catherine asked.

 

“I think we’re going out clubbing. Probably in the city.”

 

“Did you bring another outfit?” Jamie asked. “Or are you going to wear what you have on?”

 

“No, I didn’t think to bring anything. I’ve gotta go home and change. I’ve gotta look good to get into the coolest places.”

 

“Come up to my room,” Jamie said. “I’ve got some dresses here that you might like.”

 

“Let’s go! I’d love not to have to go to Berkeley first.”

 

They left the room, leaving Catherine smiling at Marta. “It seems like yesterday when they were riding their bikes to visit each other, doesn’t it?”

 

“It does.” Marta reached up and wiped away the tears that threatened to slip from her eyes. “The time has gone so fast. They seemed so young then … and now …” She shook her head and turned away, wiping at her eyes again.

 

Catherine moved to stand behind Marta and tentatively hugged her. “She’s not our little girl any more.”

 

“No,” Marta sniffed. “She’s a woman now with her own life. But I miss her.” She turned and grasped Catherine, crying against her shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Then change of life makes me act like a different person.” She pulled away and composed herself while letting out an embarrassed laugh. “I act like she’s my daughter.”

 

Catherine touched her cheek, looking into her eyes. “She’s both of ours. She wouldn’t be the woman she is without your influence, Marta.”

 

“You’re her mother,” Marta said, her gaze intent. “I’m just lucky I was here to watch her grow up. You make me feel like I’ve done an important job and that means so very much to me.”

 

“You have done an important job. Very important.”

 

Marta turned Catherine around and gently pushed her towards the back door. “Now go visit your guests and let me do it!”

 

***

 

Ryan sat by the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water.

 

“I’m disappointed I didn’t get to see you play, Ryan,” Jim said.

 

“I’m the secret weapon,” she said. “So secret that even Coach Roberts forgets about me. But I love being outside and getting free sunflower seeds … so I don’t mind.”

 

“Ryan would join any club that gave her free food,” Rory teased.

 

“Depends on the food,” she said. “I really love sunflower seeds.”

 

“Tell me about this math competition,” Jim said. “I’d never heard of it.”

 

“Nobody has,” she admitted. “Nobody who’s not into math, that is. For college students, it’s the biggest math competition in the country. It’s been going on for years.”

 

“Jamie said it was an all-day thing. Is it like the SATs?”

 

“No, not really. There are only twelve questions.”

 

“Twelve?” Conor asked. “I didn’t know that!”

 

“Yep. Only twelve.”

 

“How do they pick a winner? Don’t most people get ’em right”

 

“Ahh … no.” She smiled. “You get up to ten points for each question. So even if you get the wrong answer, you can get points. It’s hard to get more than five or six points for a question.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Conor said. “You’re a genius!”

 

“Right. Well, your genius sister got a fifty-eight.”

 

“Fifty-eight?” Both Conor and Rory looked surprised. Rory said, “But you got an award, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“’Cause you’re the girl with the highest score?” Conor asked.

 

“I got a $1,000 for that, but I don’t think they should even have that award. It’s not like we have to solve problems while carrying bags of cement on our shoulders. Women’s brains are just as adept at math as men’s.”

 

“How did you do against everyone?” Jim asked.

 

“I came in twenty-fifth.” Ryan smiled. ‘Now that I’m proud of. Even though that only merits a measly $250.”

 

“People obviously don’t take this test for the money,” Jim said.

 

“No, it’s all for bragging rights. They publish the top 150 scores and the solutions in American Mathematical Monthly, and that’s an honor.”

 

“How many guys got 120?” Conor asked.

 

“None,” Ryan said. “I’m telling you, Conor, it’s hard. The top score was 74.”

 

“That’s a ‘D’!”

 

“I know. But I got an ‘F’ and I came in twenty-fifth! I’m sure there were a lot of people who got zero.”

 

Rory raised his hand. “I would have been one of them.”

 

“I bet I could have gotten a five or a six,” Conor said, grinning at his sister.

 

“I’ll let you take the test,” Ryan said. “The solution’s in the magazine. If you get more than a two, I’ll give you the $1,000 I got for being the top woman.”

 

Scowling, Conor said, “No thanks. You wouldn’t make that kinda deal if there was a chance in hell I could do it. Prying a thou out of your hands is like trying to get Heidi Klum’s phone number.”

 

“I could have the INS look it up for you,” Jim said. “She’s a foreign national.”

 

“Good lord,” Ryan said, getting up and going into the house for a refill. “With Conor’s mind and your connections—the federal pen isn’t too far off!”

 

***

 

Assembling in the living room when it got too chilly outside, the guests sipped cocktails and shared jokes and stories, the scene reminding Ryan of parties at her own home. The difference between this gathering and the first one she’d attended at the Evans house was stuck in her mind when Jim asked, “How are your plans for the future shaping up, Ryan? The last time we talked, you were considering applying to every graduate program except astronomy, weren’t you?”

 

She nodded, thinking of how he’d used her plans to make her feel insignificant and greedy.

 

“Tell Daddy what you’re thinking of now, honey,” Jamie prompted when it became clear Ryan wasn’t going to elaborate.

 

“Oh.” She tried to snap out of her reverie. “I’m a long way from making up my mind, but if I stick with biology, I’m thinking of sociogenomics.”

 

“That’s a new one for me,” Catherine said. “It sounds like a cross between sociology and economics.”

 

“It’s not, but it does kinda sound like that. It’s a term for a pretty new area of study. It’s … kinda … complicated, but in short—it’s the study of how genes affect the behavior of humans and how social forces can affect a gene.”

 

“Sounds fascinating,” Mia said, yawning dramatically.

 

Ryan scratched her cheek with her middle finger, making Jim laugh out loud. “I did that when I was in grade school!” he said.

 

“That’s Ryan’s emotional age,” Jamie said fondly. “The math and science parts are overly developed—leaving precious little room for anything else. She’s brain-bound.”

 

“This clearly isn’t my field, but I’m very interested, Ryan,” Catherine said. “I’m a little shaky on exactly what a gene is, but I know it’s the main thing you study in biology, correct?”

 

“Absolutely correct!” Ryan said, smiling. “I’m a biology major, but it’s hard for me to find anything in biology alone that interests me enough to spend my life studying it. But it’s hard to branch out and not bang your head against a wall. I’d like to be a biophysicist if I work in research, but even that isn’t everything I’m interested in.”

 

Jamie put her hand about a foot away from her head. “Big, big, brain.”

 

“Help your poor brother out,” Rory said. “What’s a biophysicist?”

 

“Uhm … let me see how to explain this without using too much jargon.” She considered the topic for a few moments, then said, “It’s the merger of biology, chemistry, and physics. That doesn’t sound like a new thing, but it kinda is. Even though it’s obvious to anyone who thinks about it that there aren’t borders around the different systems of the body—biologists tend to study only genes and their infrastructure of cells and receptors and proteins and the complex systems they produce.”

 

“Yeah, only an idiot wouldn’t understand that,” Mia said, batting her eyes.

 

“I’m interested,” Rory said, staring at Ryan’s mouth as if that would make her explanation more understandable.

 

“Well, chemists study the microscopic products those cellular systems put out. Those systems produce microscopic interaction … commerce really, between those molecular products. And physicists study the behavioral psychology of the forces and particles that are kinda the mechanics of that commerce.” She looked puzzled. “I don’t know why people think biophysics is a fad. It just seems obvious to me.”

 

“Oh, me too,” Mia said solemnly. “Plain as day.”

 

“Did you understand that?” Jim asked, stunned.

 

“Not a word. But she shuts up faster if you act like you agree with her.”

 

“Hey!” Ryan said. “Rory asked!”

 

“I tracked a little bit,” Catherine said. “But did you ever say what a gene was? I got a little lost.”

 

“Oh. Sorry. Maybe I didn’t. A gene is the string of molecules,” she spoke slowly and watched Catherine’s face to make sure she understood, “…which build cells, which then assemble into organs...”

 

Catherine nodded. “I’m with you.”

 

Smiling, Ryan went on. “And the organs organize as systems … like the endocrine system or the alimentary track and so on…”

 

“Got it,” Catherine said.

 

“And those systems make up the human body. So a gene is a small building block of the body, but it’s not the smallest one by far.”

 

“It sounds so simple when you describe it,” Catherine said. “But I think I’ve had you describe it many times. It just doesn’t stick.”

 

“It would if you took the basic classes,” Ryan said. “It’s hard to jump in at the biophysics level and expect to get much out of it.”

 

“Isn’t the atom the smallest thing?” Jim asked, looking a little embarrassed at his lack of knowledge.

 

“In a way,” Ryan said. “Unless you want to talk about sub-atomic particles and things like that.”

 

“Do we have to?” Mia asked, folding her hands in prayer.

 

“No, we don’t need to,” Ryan said. She turned to Jim. “Right now, both chemists and physicists study the atom, but chemists stick to the electrons and physicists stick to the nucleus. To me, that’s like trying to understand a car by having one set of guys look at the transmission, another look only at the engine, and another look only at the cooling system.”

 

“But that’s what mechanics do,” Conor said, suddenly interested. “They’re all specialists now.”

 

“Right, right,” Ryan said, glad to see some spark of interest in the room. “But you need a generalist … someone who understands the whole system … to design the car. A designer has to be an engineer who can get all of those systems, and more, to work together. A biophysicist looks at the bigger picture … by looking at the small picture.”

 

Conor threw up his hands. “You had me, but you lost me.”

 

“That’s because the analogy isn’t perfect, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. Biophysicists focus on particle science. They study atoms—both the nucleus and the electrons. They also study molecules and genes and cells and organs and systems—just the way an automotive engineer looks at everything from a drop of oil to an engine when designing a car.”

 

“Okay, I think I understand that a biophysicist tries to understand all of the three major branches of science,” Catherine said, “but why isn’t that enough for you?”

 

“Oh, right! That’s where we started, isn’t it?” Ryan chuckled. “I’d like to be a biophysicist who also made math and computer science part of my discipline. But math people are uncomfortable with hard science, and hard science people think math is too simple to bother with. They’re really antagonistic to math, which I just don’t get, since math is required in almost every scientific study at some level.”

 

“Maybe they don’t understand it,” Mia said, her voice a monotone as she acted like she was fashioning a noose and hanging herself with it.

 

Ryan’s face lit up. ‘You know, you’re probably right. Most scientists are pretty narrow and most mathematicians are, too. Maybe it’s just a turf war!”

 

Jamie got up and sat on the arm of Ryan’s chair, and ran her hand along her partner’s face, brushing some stray hair from her cheek. “I wish I understood more of what you love, but that was a really good explanation. Now let’s see if I can repeat any of it tomorrow.”

 

“Don’t bother asking me,” Mia said, blowing Ryan a kiss. “It’s all gone already.”

 

***

 

Marta called them to dinner and Jim pointedly sat in the chair Catherine had occupied during their marriage. She was taken aback, but didn’t move to his old place at the head of the table. Instead, she sat opposite him, and everyone else sat on the sides of the table as well, leaving the head vacant. Jim gave her a sly smile as she sat and she returned it, adding a wink.

 

Helena started service by placing bowls of a rich, caramel-colored soup in front of each of them. “Mmm … chestnut puree,” Jamie said, nearly squealing in delight.

 

“I think I have a better chance of understanding your career plans,” Jim said, addressing his daughter. “Cooking school?”

 

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t want to work in a restaurant, so it would be kind of a waste.”

 

“Do you have any plans yet, dear?” Catherine asked.

 

“Well …” Jamie pursed her lips in thought. “I wanna do something fun and pretty easy … I was considering making trivets out of Popsicle sticks.” Ryan reached under the table and pinched her. “Ow!” she said, scowling at Ryan. “I really don’t have any idea, Mom. I’m not like the big, giant brain here who can’t find something hard enough.”

 

“You can do anything you want, Jamie Evans,” Ryan said. “You’re as bright as a shiny, new dime.”

 

“I know I have a lot of options,” she said. “I just haven’t settled on anything that speaks to me.”

 

“Having time off will help,” Ryan said. “I’m looking forward to this summer as much as I did when I was a kid. Graduation can’t come soon enough for me!”

 

***

 

At around 10:00, Mia looked at her watch and said, “I need to get going to meet my friends.  Does anyone mind if I take off?”

 

“We’d love to have you stay over,” Catherine said, “but we understand you have a busy social life while you’re here.”

 

“Still okay if I drive your car, James?”

 

Jim looked up, then laughed. “I forgot you call Jamie that. But you can have my car if you want it, Mia.”

 

“You guys are easy,” she said.

 

“Sure. You can drive my car. But will you be sober enough to drive home? That’s the critical question.” Jamie gazed intently at her friend, knowing Mia would be honest with her.

 

“Eww.” Mia’s sweet-looking mouth turned down in a grimace. “I guess I’ll have to go to Berkeley anyway to ride with Leighton. He’s allergic to alcohol.”

 

Conor’s eyes had been darting back and forth between Mia and Jamie. He cleared his throat and said, “We’re ready to leave. Want a ride?”

 

Jamie raised her hand. “Hey! Don’t forget about me! You brought my car down here, Mia, and it’s gotta get home. I can’t drive it yet, and Ryan’s is down here so she can’t do it.”

 

Conor chuckled softly. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re not like Ryan. She drove her motorcycle with a broken wrist.”

 

“Don’t tell her that!” Ryan whispered menacingly.

 

“Sorry,” Conor said, “I thought she knew all of your secrets.”

 

“Not half of them,” Jamie said, making a face at her partner.

 

“That estimate is a little high,” Ryan teased.

 

“How do you drive a bike with one hand?” Jim asked.

 

“My throttle hand was fine, so I just drove slowly since I couldn’t change gears.”

 

“I could imagine myself doing something like that when I was in college,” Jim said.

 

Catherine laughed. “Not after I got my hands on you!”

 

“True,” he said, smiling fondly at her. “I had to grow up. Finally.”

 

“Ryan doesn’t realize that yet,” Jamie said. “But she’s trying.”

 

“I’m gonna go change into my clubbing clothes,” Mia said. “I’ll take the car back to Berkeley.” She headed for the doorway, but stopped when she reached it and turned back to the group. “Why don’t you guys go with me?”

 

“I don’t wanna go back to the city tonight,” Jamie said.

 

“I was talking to Conor and Rory, James. I don’t wanna take a good-looking woman clubbing. Too much competition.”

 

“Where are you going?” Conor asked, frowning slightly.

 

“Not sure. But it’ll be fun.”

 

“Will there be girls there? Besides you, that is.”

 

“Yeah. The guys I’m going with are gay, but there are always a lot of straight chicks at the clubs. I’m not sure why they go, but they’re always there. The odds are fantastic,” Mia added, smiling wickedly.

 

“I’m in,” Conor said.

 

“Ehh … I don’t know.” Rory looked very hesitant.

 

“Come on,” Conor said. “I don’t wanna be the only straight guy.”

 

“Okay. But I’ll only promise to stay for an hour. If there aren’t girls there—I’m out.”

 

Conor looked at him blankly for a few seconds. “If there aren’t girls there, I’m out in 10 minutes. I don’t mind hanging out with gay guys, but I don’t wanna dance with ’em.”

 

“Argue amongst yourselves,” Mia said. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

 

“You ride with Mia and meet me at home,” Conor suggested to Rory. “Then we can all ride in my truck. Mia can get a ride home from one of her sober friends.”

 

“The world has changed,” Jim mused. “When I was in college no one considered whether he was sober enough to drive. It’s amazing all of my fraternity brothers reached adulthood.”

 

“Thank God it’s changed,” Jamie said. “But that’s one of the best things about living within walking distance of bars.”

 

Mia got ready in a flash and she returned to appreciative murmurs from all of the men and Ryan. “Thank you,” she said, bowing. “Jamie lent me this dress.”

 

“Give it back in a hurry,” Ryan said huskily, her eyes looking Mia over slowly.

 

Jamie elbowed her, whispering, “Don’t ogle girls in front of my parents.”

 

“Oh! Sorry,” Ryan whispered back. “I just saw the dress and imagined how fantastic you’d look in it. I was really ogling you.”

 

Slipping her hand under the table, Jamie squeezed her partner’s upper thigh. “Good save.”

 

Ryan’s cheeks were rapidly coloring and she whispered intently. “I’m being serious. You’d look much better in that dress than Mia does. I took her out of it and put you in it. Really!”

 

Turning, Jamie saw that Ryan was agitated as well as embarrassed. She started to stand up, whispering, “It’s okay, honey. It’s no big deal. Forget it. Everybody’s leaving now. We’ve got to say goodbye.”

 

Everyone else was already standing, and Ryan hurriedly got to her feet. Everyone was talking at once, spending at least 10 minutes in a flurry of goodbyes. After they left, Jim said, “I suppose I shouldn’t be one of those guests you have to throw out.”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Catherine said. “Let’s all go into the living room and have some brandy.” She slipped her hand around his arm and led him out of the room, as Jamie gave her partner a puzzled shrug.

 

***

 

 “Jamie’s been telling me about this big project you’re working on, Ryan. Is it something a political science major can understand?” Jim asked.

 

Ryan took a sip of her brandy, a spirit she’d decided she rather liked. “Uhm … the science of it is pretty far out there, but you might be interested in the results.”

 

“Hit me. I’m willing to show my ignorance.”

 

“I get this one, Dad. It’s a snap.”

 

“Even better.”

 

“Like I said,” Ryan began, “the science is pretty difficult, but what I’m trying to do is use a formula to predict the stock market.”

 

“Hasn’t that been done before?” Jim asked. “A thousand times?”

 

“Yeah, sure. But this theory is based on physics and math and—”

 

“Don’t tell me,” he said, “Biology?”

 

“No.” She laughed. “Computer science.”

 

He snapped his fingers. “Should have guessed that one.”

 

“The point was to show I knew enough physics and math to work out the formulas,” she said. “It’s almost incidental whether or not it works. But I sure as heck thought it was gonna work.”

 

“And it hasn’t?” Catherine asked.

 

“Not as accurately as it should. If my work was correct, the market would have started to tank about two months ago.”

 

“Things have slowed down a little,” Jim said. “And Alan Greenspan has been urging caution for what … two years?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ryan said. “The stock market isn’t my thing … at least until I started working on this. Now it’s holding my interest.”

 

“It’s like gambling,” Jamie said, gazing fondly at her partner. “Ryan loves to gamble.”

 

“Me too,” Jim said. “We’ll have to go to Las Vegas some time.”

 

“I don’t have enough money to throw away,” she said. “Let me get a job first.”

 

He gave Jamie a quick look, but didn’t follow up. He was sure the girls were sharing money, so it didn’t make sense that Ryan felt she had none. But Ryan was speaking again, and he knew he had to listen to not be left behind. “Even though Greenspan has been bearish, I talk to a lot of economists,” Jim said. “A lot of them think there might not be a limit to how high the market can go. They think the equilibrium of the past might really be over.”

 

“Because of technology?” Ryan asked.

 

“Yes. Technological innovations might have created a whole new ballgame.”

 

“I could buy that if this boom was based on manufacturing or services, but it seems more like the tulip frenzy in Amsterdam.”

 

“I knew the Dutch loved tulips, but I hadn’t realized it was a frenzy,” Jim said.

 

“Oh, not now. This was in the seventeen hundreds. In the space of a month, the price of a single tulip bulb went from a relatively consistent price to an astronomical one,” Ryan said. “Like from $1 to $200.”

 

“For one bulb?” Catherine asked in disbelief.

 

“Yep. And there was nothing special about the bulbs. These were the same old tulips they’d always had.”

 

“Why the rise?” Catherine asked.

 

“No one knows. But it lasted a long time. It was the beginning of the Dutch bulb trade, and that lasts to this day. So this bubble started a new trade, kinda like Internet stocks might be doing now.”

 

“You do agree that Internet stocks have potential, don’t you?” Jim asked. “It’s not possible that they’re a total bust.”

 

She chuckled. “Well, it is possible, but I think the bubble will settle down and people will start investing in things that can make money. Before this craze started, that used to matter to people.”

 

“It still does,” Jim said. “But people are betting on the potential of these companies.”

 

“I understand that. But there aren’t many predictors that show these companies are doing much to actually make money. They’re using venture capital that people are literally handing over without much investigation.”

 

“But, as you said, there was a legitimate tulip market that was created,” Jim said.

 

“Right. But tulips never reached those crazy prices again. They call that kind of speculation ‘the greater fool’ theory. You’re not crazy to buy a tulip for $1,000 if there’s a greater fool who’s willing to pay $1,010.”

 

“It seems foolish not to be in that market,” Jamie said.

 

“True,” Ryan said. “People were making money hand over fist. And people from all over Europe heard about this and went to Amsterdam to get in on the action. Increasing the pool of fools.”

 

“So, what happened?”

 

“One day — and no one knows why — a guy stood up in a tavern and offered a rare bulb for … let’s say $200. No takers. He dropped the price and kept dropping it. Everybody was frozen … like they’d all just realized they were thinking of buying a bulb for a ridiculous amount of money!”

 

“Did he get a buyer?” Jamie asked.

 

“I don’t know. But within two days, you couldn’t give a tulip bulb away. People lost fortunes, true fortunes. And some of these people had gone from nothing to the equivalent of millions and back down to nothing in a couple of years.”

 

The room was quiet for a couple of minutes, then Catherine said, “If you were in the market, what would you do?”

 

“I’d get out of tech stocks completely. That’s what I did in my play portfolio.”

 

“Completely?”

 

“Yeah, I would. I’d look at what I’d earned so far as a very nice profit, and then take my money and hide.” She laughed softly.

 

“But if tech stocks crash, so will the whole market,” Jim said.

 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, scratching her head. “I guess I’d get out of the whole market and invest in bonds. Then stick my head out in a while and see if the bottom has hit.”

 

“You’re alone in that prediction,” Jim said. “I know you’re a very bright woman, but economics isn’t your forte.”

 

“All true. I’m not saying I’m right, just that my theory says the market’s past its zenith.”

 

“It makes sense to me,” Catherine said. “I’ve made a ridiculous amount of money in the market in the last few years. Maybe it’s time to be a little more cautious.”

 

Jamie looked at her mother. “What do your brokers say?”

 

“Buy, buy, buy,” Catherine admitted. “I’ve had to fight them to let me be more conservative than they want me to be.”

 

“I’ve been pretty conservative, too,” Jim said. “I try to invest in companies that are going to make something or sell a good service. Things like Webvan, and companies that are filling a need and have a lot of capital behind them. I’ve made a thirty-seven percent return this past year, and I’m not going to walk away from that kind of money.”

 

Ryan nodded. “I’m certainly not saying I’m smarter than economists who’ve been doing this for thirty years. I guess I have a vested interest in the market crashing,” she admitted. “So maybe I’m making a bigger deal out of small signs. But I’ve seen enough signs—like the Palm/3Com spin-off—to make me think it’s time to hide. I might lose some profit—but I won’t lose what I’ve made so far.”

 

Jim looked at her for a moment, his eyes slightly closed in thought. “You’ve obviously spent a lot of time on this, Ryan, but for the economy’s sake—I hope you’re wrong. I’m willing to bet you are.”

 

“I did work hard,” she said, “but I kinda hope I’m wrong. San Francisco has sure benefited from all of the money people are throwing at local technology companies and start-ups.” Everyone was quiet for a minute, the topic clearly exhausted.

 

“It’s late, baby,” Jamie said, scratching Ryan’s back. “You must be tired.”

 

Ryan stood and stretched. “Yeah, sitting on the bench is more tiring than it looks.”

 

Jamie bent and kissed her father, then her mother. “See you in the morning, Mom. And I’ll see you the next time you’re in town, Dad.”

 

Jim stood and shook Ryan’s hand. “I had a very nice time talking with you tonight, Ryan. I can see why Jamie says she’s never bored.”

 

“Well,” Ryan said, smiling at her partner, “we don’t really talk about the stock market very often—”

 

Jamie put her hand over Ryan’s mouth. “Too much information,” she giggled. “Let’s go before you say something I’ll regret.”

 

***

 

Jim watched the young women walk upstairs. “They’re a pair, aren’t they?”

 

“They are.”

 

“How could I have never seen that kind of spark with Jack and still thought Jamie was happy?”

 

“I was fairly sure she wasn’t happy,” Catherine said, “but I didn’t step in. I still feel criminally negligent about that.” She stood up and started for the door.

 

Jim followed her and leaned against the wall, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s a good thing she knows herself better than we did.”

 

“And it’s a good thing she didn’t let us … especially you,” she added, smiling impishly, “stop her from doing what she felt was right.”

 

“Let’s not revisit that, shall we? Being an idiot was bad; thinking about it is worse.” He smiled at her, looking very relaxed and comfortable. “Are you really thinking of following Ryan’s advice?”

 

“I am. And not just because of her theory. I’ve been skittish for a while now, and my brokers get more aggressive every time I try to back off. I don’t like that.”

 

“Mmm … I see what you mean, but I don’t think we’re at the peak. I’d hate to lose ten or fifteen percent on the basis of Ryan’s school project.”

 

“It sounds silly when you say it like that,” Catherine admitted, “but she’s worked awfully hard on this and her advisors agree that it’s very well done.”

 

“I hate to undersell Ryan, but I’ve gotta go with the economists in Washington.” He grinned. “It’s a close call, I know, but I’ve gotta believe the guys whose entire careers are riding on these things—not just an incomplete.”

 

“I won’t tell her,” Catherine said, tilting her head and gazing at him through half-closed eyes. “If you make millions in the next few months, I might have to ask for alimony, though.”

 

“I’d give you everything I have, Cat,” he said, gazing into her eyes so deeply that she felt her heart start to race.

 

She reached out and opened the door, the fresh air that flowed in helping her get back on track. “I’m sure you would. It’s been nice seeing you, Jim. Next time you’re in town, we’ll have to make it over to the city to see my new place.”

 

“Right. I forgot all about it. I got involved with a few things and the time flew by.”

 

“Next time,” she said. She hugged him quickly, pulling away before he was ready to. “Good night.”

 

 

Continued in Part Eleven