She stuck to flat walking trails after that, and called Penny the next day. Nothing exciting was happening in the office, and Deanna had stopped calling, which was a relief. It was the first time Maddie had ever been relatively unavailable to her children for any length of time. She was always accessible to them. But Deanna had been too harsh with her, to the point of being toxic and certainly not compassionate, and Maddie and Ben had been texting. So she wasn’t totally MIA, though she hadn’t heard from Milagra in weeks, which wasn’t unusual. Maddie was planning to send her an email before she left Big Sur, to see if she wanted a visit after Maddie saw Ben. There was no predicting what Milagra would say. It all depended on where she was with her current book.
Maddie arrived at the wine bar at the appointed hour, right on schedule, and her rescuer was already waiting for her at the entrance.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, “I forgot to introduce myself yesterday, William Smith. I was so dazzled by you, I forgot my own name.”
“So did I. Madison Allen.” They shook hands and sat down at a table near a lit fire on an outdoor terrace. “I was hardly dazzling huffing up the hill, while you almost had to carry me.”
“You do a very creditable damsel in distress. I was quite impressed,” as she had been with him. He seemed easygoing and likable. “So what made you drive across the country from New York?” He was curious and she decided to be honest with him. She had no reason not to be, and she’d probably never see him again after she left Big Sur. She’d only been there twice in eighteen years.
“Ghosts,” she answered simply.
“Ghosts? A research project? A book? Are there ghosts in Wyoming?” He was amused and she smiled.
“I was visiting them. Three friends across the country whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.”
He got the drift and was intrigued by it. “Men, I assume.” She nodded. He was beginning to find her a very interesting woman, and certainly a brave, independent one to drive cross-country alone. “Were they good ghosts or bad ghosts?”
She looked amused by the question. “Originally, good ghosts, or at least I thought so. I hadn’t seen them in twenty years or more. One of them had turned to the dark side, and I think is quite a bad ghost now. The second one is kind of a silly ghost. Naughty, but harmless. The third one was a very good ghost, but I didn’t see him. He died two months before I got there.” She was serious when she said it, and he nodded, touched by what she said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been a bit of a nasty shock, if you didn’t know before.”
“I didn’t. But I had a very nice visit with his son and daughter-in-law.”
“What made you want to look them up after so long?” Ever the historian and researcher. She could tell he was a writer by the questions he asked. The question was very personal but she answered anyway.
“I’m not sure,” she said, honest with him again. “I found a box full of their old letters, and I thought it was time to lay old ghosts to rest, as they say, and answer some questions I had myself.”
“And did you get the answers?”
“Yes, I did, actually.”
“Do you feel better?”
“I do. Sad about my friend in Wyoming, but things happen as they are meant to.” She had said the same thing to Ben, and she believed it.
William nodded when she said it. “I believe that too, although sometimes that’s hard to swallow, if things don’t go the way we want.”
“It wasn’t a possible situation for either of us. But his life turned out well, so I’m happy for him. He did what he always wanted to do. He built a beautiful horse ranch, which was his dream.”
“You have two children?” he asked, changing the subject. “The daughter who’s a writer and the son in San Francisco?”
“Three. Another daughter in New York. And you?”
“A ten-year-old son in England, in boarding school. I got a late start. He visits me for three weeks in the summer, and a week at Christmas every year. It’s not much, but he’s young and in school. And I see him when I make occasional trips to England, though no more than once or twice a year. He’s a sweet boy. We usually travel when he comes. It’s a bit boring for him here, and the weather is very English. He gets enough of that at home.” Maddie smiled as he said it. “What do your other children do?”
“My son is an entrepreneur, he’s up to his ears in his second start-up. And my daughter in New York is a fashion designer.”
“Very varied,” he commented, impressed. “Do you see much of them? They must be busy.”
“They are. I don’t see them enough, but I’m used to it.”
“And you, Madison? What do you do when you’re not being rescued from beaches and visiting ghosts?”
She smiled at the description. “I’m a photographer.” He frowned for a moment, thinking, and then smiled at her.
“Lord, yes, sorry. I didn’t make the connection. I’ve seen your work. Who hasn’t?” She smiled modestly in response.
“I travel a lot for my work. It keeps me busy.”
“And you drive cross-country. Very impressive. Did you enjoy it?”
“Immensely. It was very relaxing, I like driving and road trips. I never have time to do that. It was a nice change.”
They talked about some of his work then, and their travels. He had lived in Hong Kong and Mumbai, which was called Bombay when he was growing up. His father had done business there. He talked about how odd it had been going back to England after that. He felt like a stranger at home, and was sent to boarding school immediately, which he hated, but not going would have been unthinkable. And he was amazed that his son, Theo, liked his school. William said he had gone to university in England at Oxford, and lived in London while he was married. He said the marriage hadn’t lasted long. It had been an unfortunate mismatch, and he’d only been married once. He admitted that he found all the ancient traditions in England stifling, and he felt freer to do what he wanted in the States, although he missed his son. And he confessed that a small inheritance from a generous relative had allowed him to leave England and come to the States to write. He had moved to California. First L.A., where he’d done some movie scripts, and now Big Sur. He said it was a good place to write his books, but fairly boring living there. You could only admire the view for so long. He went to San Francisco and L.A. for occasional cultural events, but he spent most of his time writing and not much else.
“Me too,” Maddie admitted about her work habits. “I’m something of a workaholic. That and I’m on planes all the time, to some pretty uncivilized places, but I love it. I couldn’t do that when my children were young. It would have been irresponsible.”