Jake watched the two of them carefully as the evening went on. They seemed happy enough to be in each other’s company. He knew from his discussions with Celia—usually during their morning runs—that Greg had stopped talking so much about Mindy in the past three weeks and that Celia believed this was a good thing.
“There’s no way he did anything with her,” she had proclaimed firmly to Jake on several occasions. “He would not be able to talk so easily with me on the phone if he’d put his chorizo someplace it didn’t belong.”
“And they’ve already shot all the sex scenes?” he’d asked the last time the subject had come up.
“That’s right,” Celia replied. “They’ve all been shot. He said they were awkward as hell, even uncomfortable at times, but that everyone was professional about it.”
“Fair enough,” Jake said.
And he had given both Greg and Celia the benefit of the doubt, because there was really nothing else he could do, but he continued to wonder about it. Greg, after all, was an actor, and a pretty good one at that. Jake had experience in how a good actor could make you believe anything he or she wanted you to believe.
Looking at the couple now, however, that speculation mostly faded away. The two of them seemed genuinely happy to be in each other’s company. They looked and acted exactly as one would expect a couple in love to look and act when they were recently reunited after a long time apart.
“Everyone is off tomorrow, right?” Greg asked Jake as they sipped cognac while waiting for dessert to be served.
“That’s right,” Jake said. “We always take Sundays off on this round. Sometimes even Saturdays too.”
“How about you and I take a drive out to the site tomorrow then?” Greg asked him. “I’m anxious to see how the work is going.”
“Uh ... sure,” Jake said with a shrug. He turned to Laura, who was sitting next to him. “How about it, babe? Feel like seeing how Greg’s golf course is shaping up?”
“I can’t,” she said. “Nat and Liz and I are driving up to Newport tomorrow to check out that aquarium they have there, remember?”
“Oh ... yeah,” he said. He did vaguely remember her mentioning something about that.
“I was actually planning to go with them,” said Celia. “There are two lighthouses on the drive that I want to check out.” Celia, since she started spending time on Oregon’s coast, had developed an affinity for lighthouses, collecting pictures and statues of them, buying calendars that featured them, and, when she could find the time and inclination, touring them if such tours were available. She had already hit the ones south of Coos Bay and was ready to start working her way north. She looked at her husband. “Do you mind? I promise I’ll visit the site with you before you head back to LA.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Greg said with a shrug. “It can be a guy trip. We’ll have some beers, smoke some cigars, talk about hunting and fishing and women and how annoying they are.” He turned to Nerdly. “How about you, Bill? You up for a guy’s trip to a construction site?”
“Uh ... well ... as appealing as that sounds,” Bill said, “Sharon and I plan to take advantage of our day off to work on our own construction project—” He winked in a manner that could only be interpreted as lascivious— “If you know what I mean.”
“Ahhh,” said Greg, grinning. “I see. You’re planning to have another child already?”
“Another child?” Sharon asked, frowning. “Absolutely not. Kelvin is quite enough for us to handle currently.”
“That is correct,” Nerdly said. “Whatever in the world gave you the idea we were planning further reproduction of the species?”
“Uh ... well ... you said you had your own construction project to work on,” Greg said. “And then you winked. I kind of assumed that ... you know ... that was what you were talking about.”
Nerdly gave the nerd laugh for a moment and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I was speaking almost literally. Sharon and I are constructing our own website on the worldwide web.”
“A website?” asked Greg. He had heard of such things but was uncertain exactly what they were.
“That’s right,” Nerdly said. “NerdlyandSharon.com. It will be a site dedicated to our lives, our stories, and our theories about sound reproduction, audio engineering, and quantum physics.”
“Nerdly and Sharon dot com?” asked Jake.
“That is correct,” Sharon said. “We secured the domain name several months ago and have been working on construction of the site ever since.”
“And so ... you would rather work on your website than go visit a golf course being built?” asked Jake.
Nerdly looked at him as if he were an idiot. “I would think that would go without saying,” he said tersely.
And so, it came to pass that Jake and Greg climbed into Jake’s BMW for the thirty-minute drive to the huge, empty expanse of dunes that Greg and his investors had purchased just north of the town of Bandon. The drive was pleasant enough, a short trip down Highway 101 through forests of shore pine and cedar trees and along scenic cliffsides overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The weather was clear and pleasant, with the temperature in the low sixties and a mild ocean breeze blowing. The marine layer that could make it cold and foggy was sitting well offshore today.
The property itself was accessed by means of a recently paved two lane road that led west from the highway and into the rolling dunes that defined this part of the coast. The road ended abruptly in a large, circular staging area with a diameter of several hundred feet. A collection of tractors, bulldozers, dump trucks, and other heavy vehicles were parked near the road’s end. A doublewide mobile home on concrete stands stood near the far end and seemed to be the construction office. Approximately two dozen vehicles, most of them work trucks, were parked in front of the office. Leading off in various directions were several unpaved simple roadways that led further into the dunes and rolling hills. Off in the distance, other heavy equipment was operating, either digging, leveling, or hauling. The only human being visible was an unarmed guard in uniform who was sitting in a shade structure just beyond the roadway. He stood when Jake pulled in and stepped forward, putting himself in front of them and holding out a hand.
Jake stopped the car and the guard approached his window. He rolled it down and looked up at the late twenties male who was looking down at him. He saw the guard’s eyes widen in recognition as he took in the two visitors.
“Howdy,” Jake greeted.
“Mr. Kingsley ... Mr. Oldfellow,” the guard said. “I was told that you might be dropping by today.”
“You were told correctly,” Jake said lightly. “Can we park somewhere?”
“Of course,” he said. “Anywhere you can find a place over by the office.”
“Thanks,” Jake said.
“Of course,” the guard said. “It’s an honor to meet you both.”
“Yes, it is,” Greg agreed with a nod.
Jake rolled up the window and pulled forward, parking between an F-150 and a Dodge Ram. He and Greg got out of the car and Jake followed the actor up the short flight of rickety steps to the door of the office. Greg opened the door without knocking and they stepped inside a fairly large construction office. In the center of the room, sitting at chest height on a mahogany stand, was a four-foot square three-dimensional scale model of the project underway, including the buildings that would one day stand. Against the far wall was a bank of vending machines and a cafeteria style table. Four men in jeans and work vests were sitting at the table, eating sandwiches and drinking from bottles of Gatorade or water. They looked up at the two visitors entering and recognition flared in their eyes after a moment or two.