When I arrived at the estate, she was perched on a big sandstone boulder to the right of the gate. In a navy blue windbreaker, jeans, and tennis shoes, she sat with her knees drawn up, cigarette in hand. When she saw me, she took one last drag and then scrambled to the ground. The moment she got in the car, I could feel the nervous energy pouring out of her like heat. Her movements were agitated and her eyes were too bright. "What'd you do to your hair?" she asked. "Got it cut."
"It looks good." 'Thanks." I put the car in reverse and did a three-point turn.
She craned her neck and looked back at the gate. "I just hope she's gone by the time I get back. I couldn't believe she showed up like that unannounced."
"How do you know she didn't call him in advance?"
"That's even worse. If he agreed to see her, he's crazier than I am."
"Hey, take a deep breath and get a grip. You're all over the place."
"Sorry. I feel like there's someone inside trying to crawl out through my skin. I wish I had a guy. I'd rather have a drink, but getting laid would help."
"Call your sponsor. Isn't that what they're for?"
"I haven't found one yet."
"Then call Priscilla Holloway."
"I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I've got you," she said, and laughed.
"Yeah, right. This is way beyond me."
"Well, me too, you know? I'm just trying to muddle through the same as anybody else." She was quiet for a moment, staring out the window. "Fuck it. Never mind. I can tough it out on my own."
"As you've so amply demonstrated in the past," I said.
"Well, you're so smart, what do you suggest?"
"Find a meeting."
"Where?"
"How do I know? We'll go to my place and check the yellow pages. There's bound to be a listing for AA."
Once we reached my apartment, it took less than a minute to look up the number and make the requisite phone call. As it turned out, the closest meeting was at the city recreation center four blocks away. I drove her myself, not trusting her to make it on her own.
"I'll be back to pick you up in an hour," I said, as she got out of the car. The slamming of the door was as much as I received in the way of a reply. I made a point of waiting until I saw her walk in the door and then I waited another minute in case she intended to sneak out again. I could see how an alcoholic's family became ensnared in the game. I was already battling an urge to monitor her every move. That, or wash my hands of her altogether and be done with it. If I hadn't been intent on keeping her under wraps until she met with Vince, I might have cut her loose.
To kill time, I circled back to my neighborhood and parked outside of Rosie's. And yes, I recognized the irony of waiting for Reba in a bar while she struggled with the urge to have a drink. Lewis was there tending bar by himself, an apron tied around his waist. Two day-drinkers had taken up residence at the far end of the room. The color television mounted in the corner was tuned to a golf tournament being played someplace green. Rosie must have been back in the kitchen doing dinner prep because the place smelled like sautéed onions. She was also doing something with fried kidneys I didn't want to know about.
I perched on a bar stool and ordered a Coke. I honestly might have minded my own business, if Lewis hadn't seemed so chipper and oblivious. He gave no indication that he regretted, or even recognized, the trouble he'd caused.
He set my Coke on the bar, saying, "Where's Henry? I haven't seen him the last couple of days."
I studied him. "You really don't know."
"What? Is something wrong with him?"
I debated for half a second and then said, "Look, I know this is none of my business, but I think William was out of line when he talked you into flying out. Henry and Mattie were doing fine until you showed up."
Lewis blinked at me as though I were speaking in tongues. "I don't understand."
"You didn't have to barge in on breakfast and ask her for a date."
"I didn't ask her for a date. I suggested an art exhibit and a bite of lunch."
"Out here, we call that a date. Henry was upset and rightly so," I said.
Lewis seemed bewildered. "He was upset with me?"
"Sure he was. She was supposed to be spending time with him."
"Why didn't he speak up?"
"How could he? You called him a little old lady, in front of Mattie, no less. He was mortified. He couldn't speak up without looking even more foolish than he already felt."
"But that was just good-natured jostling. It was a joke."
"It's not a joke when you hustle in and try to beat him to the punch. Life's complicated enough."
"But we've always competed for the ladies. It's all in good fun. Neither of us takes it seriously. For heaven's sake, ask William if you doubt my word."
"He's never going to cop to it. He set the whole thing up. He had no business meddling, but what you did was worse. You knew Henry was interested in her."
"Of course he is and I am, too. That was obvious on the cruise. I made my pitch and he made his. If he can't handle the challenge, why complain to me?"
"Mattie broke it off. She said she didn't want to see him again."
Disconcerted, Lewis said, "Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but it's got nothing to do with me."
"Yes, it does. You flew out to California and got right in the middle of something that was none of your concern. There's nothing 'good-natured' about that. You were being hostile."
"No, no. Not a bit of it. I can't believe you're saying this. I'd cut off my right arm before I'd do such a thing."
"But you did do it, Lewis."
"You're completely wrong. That wasn't my intention. Henry's always been my favorite. He knows I'm crazy about him."
"Then you better find a way to make amends," I said.
It was close to 8:00 when Reba emerged from her AA meeting and headed toward my car. It was still light out. A massive fog bank hovered on the horizon and the breezes coming off the ocean laid a chill in the air. "Feel better?"
"Not especially, but I'm glad I went."
"You still want to have dinner?"
"Shit, we have to go back to the house. I forgot the photographs."
"Why do you need those?"
"Visual aids," she said. "There's a guy I want you to meet. He has dinner the same place every Friday night at nine. I did some reconnoitering this morning just to satisfy a hunch. We'll make a run up to Pop's for the pix, have a heart-to-heart with my pal, and then take some time to explore."
"Isn't a nine o'clock dinner kind of late?"
"I hope so. Prison, you eat at five in the afternoon. Talk about depressing. Makes you feel like a kid." She turned in her seat. "Why're you going this way? You should have taken a right back there."
"Actually, we don't need to go to your house. I have a set of pictures at my office. Cheney gave 'em to me." I wondered if she'd question my having copies of the photos, but she was sidetracked by something else and gave me a speculative look.
I said, "What."
"I notice you're dropping Cheney's name every chance you get. Is that where you got that?" She pointed.