She ordered dinner in her room that night, but planned to eat in the dining room the next day. It was a romantic spot, a destination for couples, and she suspected she might be the only one there alone, but she was used to it. It was the reality of her life, had been for a long time, and maybe would be forever, but she wasn’t going to let that spoil it for her.
She set Andy’s photograph on the dresser when she unpacked. She had taken the room for five nights. She would go to San Francisco after that, to see Ben and his family, and maybe on to visit Milagra. But first she wanted to soak in the atmosphere of tranquility around her. There were massages and spa treatments. It was all part of the healing process, which was why she had come here.
She had come a long way since she’d left New York: to Boston, to see Bob Holland, Jacques in Chicago, and she had laid the memory of Andy to rest on his ranch in Wyoming. Now she was in Big Sur, alone and at peace, ready for whatever came next.
Chapter 9
Maddie took full advantage of everything the Post Ranch Inn offered: the less strenuous trails because of the cast on her ankle, the views of the ocean, a massage on her first day there. She felt thoroughly spoiled and pampered. She drove a little way to the next town on the first afternoon. She felt rested and relaxed, although there was still a lingering sadness over Andy’s death, as much for him as for herself, but she didn’t let it pull her down.
She stopped at a little coffee shop for a cappuccino before going back to the Post Ranch Inn. She took it outside, sat at a small table in the sunshine, and noticed a man a few tables away reading a British newspaper. People came from all over to enjoy the coastline and the ocean. He didn’t notice her and was reading avidly as she sipped her coffee and looked out at the Pacific. There were whitecaps and a cool breeze. She was thinking of all the places she had been in the last week. It had been an interesting odyssey, even more so than she’d hoped, and she had laid all her old ghosts to rest. She felt freer than she had in years.
She finished her cappuccino and walked past the man reading the English newspaper. He looked up when she did, and smiled at her. She smiled back and nodded, then went to take more pictures and drove back to the hotel.
She ate in the hotel restaurant, then read in her room and went to bed early. The next day, when she had driven to a spot to take photographs, she found a trail that led down to the beach and she followed it. She walked along the ocean for a while, although it was hard on the sand with her cast. She was surprised when she crossed paths with a man going in the opposite direction. He smiled and looked familiar, and she realized it was the Englishman from the coffee shop. She smiled back. It was a windy day and her hair was flying around her. He had his collar up in the stiff breeze. She eventually decided to go back to her car and return to the hotel. It was harder to negotiate the trail going up than down with her cast. She wasn’t making much progress when she heard a voice with a British accent behind her.
“Can I give you a hand?” She turned and saw the same man. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her, but had been watching her struggle for a while, not sure whether to offer to help her or not. “You’re at a bit of a disadvantage with the cast.” He smiled at her. She hesitated and then nodded, and he stepped up to where she was, gave her a strong arm to lean on, and half pulled her up the hill as she laughed and felt awkward.
“It wasn’t this hard on the way down,” she said to cover her own embarrassment. “It’s coming off in a couple of weeks. It’s easier to navigate on even ground.”
“I would think so. Not a skiing accident, I assume, at this time of year.” He was tall and slim and athletic-looking, and appeared to be somewhere in his mid-fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair. He had laugh lines around his eyes, which were a deep blue.
“No, a very stupid household accident. I fell off a ladder.” But it had turned out to be providential after all, given everything she had done since then.
“Are you down from San Francisco?” he asked her. They were halfway up the hill by then, and it hadn’t been easy so far, but he was strong and pulling her along with a firm hand under one arm. She felt a little silly, but she was grateful for the assistance. She might have been stranded on the beach otherwise.
“No, New York,” she answered, slightly out of breath from the effort.
“Did you fly in to San Francisco or L.A.?” he asked, making friendly chitchat to cover the awkwardness of dragging her uphill, while she thanked him for the help.
“Neither one. I drove down from Wyoming yesterday. I started from New York.”
“That’s adventurous,” he said, looking impressed.
“I visited friends along the way.”
“That’s quite a drive. Are you driving back?”
She shook her head. “I have a son in San Francisco, I’m flying back from there. Are you here from London?”
“No.” He smiled at her again. He’d been trying to admire her discreetly. She was a very attractive woman. “I live here. In a small cottage. I’m a writer. Big Sur is a good place to write.” It made her think of Milagra in Mendocino, which was similarly foggy and windy with a rugged coastline. Writers seemed to be drawn to moody places of the sort.
“What do you write?” Maddie asked.
“History. Biographies, mostly. Very British,” he said with a wry smile. “Nothing so amusing as a novel.”
“I have a daughter who’s a writer. Gothic novels.” He nodded, and they both gave a major effort as they got to the top of the hill and back on the path where she had started. “Thank you!” she said again, out of breath. “They probably would have had to airlift me off the beach if you hadn’t come along.” She laughed, and he smiled.
“Could I interest you in a glass of wine sometime before you leave?” He didn’t usually pick up women, but there was something he liked about her. She had an easy, friendly style and a sense of humor.
“That would be very nice,” she said. She didn’t want to brush him off after he’d been so helpful, and he looked pleasant and interesting.
“Or a cappuccino if you prefer,” he offered.
“Wine would be fine.”
“Tomorrow then?” He suggested a little place in town as he walked her to her car and she unlocked it. She didn’t normally talk to strangers in circumstances like that, on a lonely road, but she wasn’t afraid of him. He seemed respectable and kind. “Five o’clock?”
“That’s perfect.” She smiled at him again. “See you then. And thank you for the damsel-in-distress rescue.”
“Anytime.” He watched her get into the car and she drove away, and then realized they hadn’t introduced themselves. She didn’t know his name, but it didn’t matter, since she was seeing him the next day.