Three knocks sounded right at four p.m. I skipped over to the door and opened it wide. The first thing I noticed was his eyes, which glimmered and squinted slightly with a look of wonder. He was wearing a black button-down dress shirt and black jeans cuffed over a pair of Converse. He looked sexy and hip, but a little dangerous, too.
“You look . . .” and then he paused.
“Handsome,” I said with a brazen smirk.
“Stunning.”
“Gorgeous.”
His eyes glanced down to my lips. “There have been no women before you and there will be no women after you,” he said, seriously.
I swallowed. “And he’s poetic, too.”
He moved into the room, put his arm around me, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “You inspire me.” Once he stepped back, he opened a long black jewelry case revealing a delicate filigree chain with a floating peach-colored briolette bordered with marcasite along the top.
“Oh my god, this is beautiful. It looks like an antique.”
“It is.”
“This is too much, Jamie.” I shook my head. “It’s gorgeous, really, but I can’t accept this.”
“Of course you can, and you will. I have a friend who owns a little antique store in town. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”
“I can’t even imagine how much this cost.”
“Please, don’t think about that.” He took it out of the box and twirled his other finger at me. “Turn around, beautiful.” He gently brushed the loose strands of my hair aside. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my head. When he clasped the necklace, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on the side of my neck. “God, you smell good,” he said softly.
I giggled from his ticklish breath. When I turned around he was smiling serenely, but he had an obvious look of desire in his eyes. “We better go now or we’ll never get out of here,” I said.
“You are so right about that. Come on.”
We drove across the big, red bridge and into the city of San Francisco, with its steep hills, Victorian row houses, and the famous trolley cars coasting along the main streets downtown. The energy in the city was like none other I’d experienced. Rolling down my window, I took in the sights and smells. Every time a trolley bell rang, it transported me back to another time, a time when the black-and-white photos from the winery were taken, when life was simpler. The smell of saltwater, baking bread, and wet pavement overtook my senses. We drove deeper into the city through Nob Hill and past Union Square. Jamie didn’t say much, he just let me take in the sights. We found a parking garage and parked, then he reached behind his seat and pulled out a woman’s short trench coat.
“Susan thought you would need this, and I think she was right.” It was chillier in the city than in Napa, and I was grateful for Susan’s thoughtfulness. “It’s a shame to cover you up, but I think you’ll feel more comfortable where we’re going.” He held the jacket open for me. I slipped it on and tied the belt.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to serve dinner to some of my friends. I’m taking you to GLIDE. It’s a homeless shelter that I volunteer at.” I stopped dead in my tracks. He turned to me, and for the first time since I had met him he looked unsure of himself. “I hope that’s okay?”
I cupped his face and kissed him softly. “Of course it is. I volunteer in Chicago. I can’t tell you how many times I tried dragging Stephen with me, but he wouldn’t have it.”
Jamie laughed once and looked down at his feet. At first I thought he was being bashful, and then he looked up and said, “This is our first date, Katy.” He shook his finger at me. “No talking about exes.” I took ahold of his finger and pretended to bite it. “Ooh, feisty, I like it,” he said before pulling me out of the garage.
On the way into the shelter, we saw homeless people crowding the streets. Many of them shouted “Hi” to Jamie as we passed by. I even heard one woman say, “Ooh, Jamie’s got a girlfriend.” He squeezed my hand tightly after that comment.
Once inside the shelter kitchen, he handed me a white hat and apron to put on.
“I look silly.”
“Not possible. You are the sexiest volunteer I’ve ever seen.”
The kitchen was bustling with helpers. A very tall and extremely thin man with an intimidating stare came walking toward us. I looked at Jamie for reassurance and could tell everything was okay by the way the corner of his mouth quirked up. He was amused.
“You’re late, my man,” the tall guy said in a serious tone, which didn’t hold long.
“But I brought an extra pair of hands. Charles, meet the lovely Kate Corbin. Kate, this is Charles, the man who runs this wonderful place.”
He gave me an ear-splitting grin and then reached for my hand and kissed the back of it. “Lovely, indeed. Okay, let’s put you to work, and let those hands give life to these hungry folks.”
We jumped right into serving food to a long line of hungry men, women, and children. Every single person that I had the joy of serving food to said thank you with so much sincerity and gratitude, I felt a chemical change in my heart. I had volunteered in shelters many times before, but somehow there was a stronger connection. I realized it was because of Jamie’s presence there beside me. He laughed and told stories to everyone in line. He teased all the little kids about eating their vegetables, and he heckled some of the men about the Giants and how there was no way they were going to win the World Series again. Evidently, Jamie was a Red Sox fan, and he assured me that if the Sox ever played the Cubs at Fenway, he would be there and I would personally be responsible for showing him around Chicago. Even during the light banter, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it would take to see Jamie again once I left Napa.
When the line started dwindling, I spent a little more time observing each person. There was a young woman about my age who was alone, wearing tattered clothing. I wondered what her story was. When she reached me in line, I scooped a lump of mashed potatoes onto her plate. She gave me a satisfied smile and then said, “My favorite, thank you.”
I was willing to spend the last moments of my life doing what I was doing with Jamie because it made me feel like I had a purpose. I felt more aware of the humanity in others, something I had lost sight of since Rose’s death. Serving food to the homeless truly made me feel like I was connecting more deeply with others. It was one of the most authentic and satisfying feelings I’d had in a long time. I thought about Jamie comparing love to food, and now I was comparing charity to life through food. I looked at the blessings in my life, my ability to give my time, to have a stable job and support myself. I started to wonder if R.J. was so terrible after all. The fact that he spent so much of his own money to provide life-improving and lifesaving resources to the needy deserved some measure of my respect. He didn’t need his accomplishments to be advertised—most people had no idea what he was doing. Maybe the goodness in R.J. had rubbed off on Jamie and Susan. I was seeing everything the other way around now. Writing the article weighed heavily on me, but being out with Jamie alleviated that.
“Katy, our replacements are here. Are you ready to go?” Jamie asked, snapping me back into reality.