A local paper had rehashed the story under the headline Lost Coast Hamlet to Become Public Land. Most folks cited felt positively about the change.
Most.
Albert Bock, a Swann’s Flat resident of almost two decades, vowed to fight the initiative.
“They want my house, they can come and take it over my dead body,” he said.
Amy said, “I saw Regina today.”
I pressed Pause. On-screen, a cute couple held hands on a balcony overlooking turquoise water. A graphic displayed the price in euros. “Really? Where?”
“Mountain View. It’s halfway. We met for a ladies’ lunch.”
“I didn’t know you were in touch with her.”
She nodded, sipped her wine. “We text sometimes. Work. That kind of thing.”
“Right,” I said. “How is she?”
“Good. She asked me to give you a heads-up. She’s wiring you some money.”
“What money?”
“From your client. She’s sending your half.”
“How much is that?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Okay. It’ll be like Christmas come early.” I reached to unpause the TV. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Amy said, “She thinks I’m being selfish.”
“About what?”
“Your job. She thinks I need to let you do it.”
“Hang on.” I put down the remote. “Hang on. That’s absurd. You are the least selfish person I know.”
“She says you need to be free to operate without fear, and that walking around preoccupied about me actually makes you less safe.”
“Amy. Stop. She is way out of line, here. She has no business getting involved.”
“No, she doesn’t. But she did.”
“Okay, but—”
“Clay.” She put her hand on my wrist. “Please listen.”
I said, “I’m listening.”
Her hand moved to my cheek, stroked softly. “We’re so alike, you and me. Almost everything important, I know how you feel, because I feel it, too. I don’t even have to ask. We’re so lucky to have that.”
I nodded.
“But there’s this one part of you,” she said, “this core part, that drives you to run toward things I would run away from. I don’t understand it. I’ve tried, but I don’t think I ever will. It scares me, and makes me feel distant from you.”
“I know.”
“But I also admire it. And I’m grateful for it, because the world needs it, and it’s rare. I love it, because it’s you. I knew it was there when I married you.”
“That was before we had kids.”
“Yes. And I want them to know — when they’re ready — that their daddy is the best, bravest man in the world. They deserve to know that. It will help them. I’m not encouraging you to throw yourself in harm’s way. I know you never would. But I don’t want you to be someone you’re not, either. I love you, for you, even if that means feeling uncomfortable sometimes.”
“I love you, too,” I said. “And thank you for saying that. It means a lot. But—”
“No buts, okay? We’ll make this work.” She smiled. “Just. Don’t overdo it.”
“How do I gauge that?”
“I’ll inform you. Regularly.”
We both burst out laughing, shedding tension.
I pointed to her wineglass. “Refill?”
“Yes, please.”
When I returned from the kitchen, the TV was off.
“Don’t you want to find out what happens to our friends in Majorca?” I said.
“House number two, ‘The Villa in Need of Love.’ ”
“We haven’t seen the third option yet.”
“Trust me,” she said.
She took the glass from me, put it on the table.
“All the signs are there,” she said and kissed me.
Acknowledgments
Avi Klein, for his wisdom and generosity.
Raphael Shorser, for his excessive attention to detail.