Chapter 42 — Before Dark

By Thursday, Focus Man had moved the same piece of paper three times.

It was a letter from Helen, the realtor they had met in Tahoe City. She had sent several listings and a short note asking whether they were still considering the area. He had opened it at the kitchen counter, carried it to his desk, and brought it back downstairs intending to show Claire. Now it lay beneath a grocery receipt beside the telephone.

Several months had passed since the funeral. They had gone back to work, resumed appointments, and learned how easily a week could fill itself. Sometimes he thought of calling his mother while driving home. The thought would arrive complete with something to tell her, and for a moment he would be occupied with deciding whether it was too late. Then he would remember.

He called Jill more often than he once had, though the conversations could be awkward in ways he hadn't expected. Without their mother’s condition to ask about, he sometimes discovered how little he knew of Jill and Dave’s ordinary days. He was learning to stay on the telephone after the first exchange of news.

On Thursday evening, Claire found Helen’s letter while looking for a telephone number.

“Have you answered this?”

“Not yet.”

“She wrote two weeks ago.”

“I know.”

Claire laid it on the table. He had brought work home again, and she moved the letter away from his papers before sitting down.

“What are we telling her?”

He looked at the listings. One showed a house he remembered passing, though he couldn't have said whether he had liked it.

“That we’re still interested.”

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, but didn't pick up the letter.

“We haven't done anything.”

“It’s been a difficult few months.”

“I know.”

He waited for her to continue. Instead she began opening the rest of the mail, and he returned to the page in front of him. He read the same sentence twice before setting down his pen.

“Let’s go somewhere Saturday.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere nearby.”

Claire looked up.

“Together?”

“That was the idea.”

“All right. But I’d like to leave before the afternoon.”

He promised they would.

At the office the following morning, a customer asked for a change that had sounded simple over the telephone and became less so once Tom began tracing what it affected. Focus Man stood beside him while they worked through the problem. There were three ways to handle it, each with a disadvantage someone else would eventually have to explain.

He still liked that part of the work. He could lose an hour following a difficulty to its source and come away satisfied with an answer nobody had seen at first. What tired him was how often the answer returned them to where he thought they had already been.

They had finished discussing the change when Ellen came in carrying a folder.

“The meeting’s been moved to Monday.”

“Again?”

“They need someone else there.”

He took the folder. The customer had been close to a decision for several weeks. Each conversation produced another person who needed to be consulted, another question, another reason to wait.

Tom went back to his desk. Ellen remained in the doorway.

“Anything else?”

She shook her head.

Focus Man looked at the work they had just planned. That customer was paying them. The one coming Monday might pay them. There was enough to keep everyone occupied, and he could describe the prospects convincingly if asked. He had done so recently over dinner with friends. Listening to himself, he had recognized every reason to be encouraged.

He put Monday’s folder beside the others and called Claire.

“Tomorrow’s still good,” he said.

“I’m glad.”

“I thought we could walk somewhere. Bring lunch.”

“I can do that.”

Saturday morning, he was nearly ready when he remembered a set of figures at the office. He had meant to bring them home. Monday’s meeting would be easier if he checked them beforehand.

“It’ll take twenty minutes,” he told Claire.

She stood beside the bag she had packed.

“At the office?”

“Yes.”

She looked at her watch, then picked up her coat.

“We can stop on the way.”

He was grateful for how readily she agreed. During the drive, they talked about where to walk. They chose a place they both knew, with enough climbing to feel they had gone somewhere and a view worth taking lunch for.

At the office, he left Claire in the car.

“I’ll be right back.”

He found the figures where he had left them. He could have put them in his bag and gone. Instead he opened the folder to check that it contained the page he needed, and saw a note from Tom attached to the front.

He sat down.

The note referred to a change made late Friday. Focus Man read it, looked at the figures, and began working through what it meant for Monday. There was an answer, but he wanted to be certain before leaving it alone for the weekend.

He had almost finished when Claire appeared at the door.

“Would you like me to go and get coffee?”

He looked at the clock.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“I know.”

He put down his pencil.

“I just need—”

She waited.

He looked back at the page. It would take a little longer to make the work neat enough that he could return to it without having to remember the whole sequence. He could explain that to her. He had explained similar things before.

“Let’s go,” he said.

He closed the folder and stood. Claire stepped aside while he turned off the light.

They drove without much conversation until he asked how long he had been inside.

“Nearly an hour.”

“I thought it was about twenty minutes.”

“I thought you would.”

She said it quietly. He glanced toward her, but her attention was on the road ahead.

They stopped for coffee. By then, he wanted to discuss the incident and settle it so they could enjoy the rest of the day. Claire seemed less interested in settling it than in having the day itself. She bought two coffees while he filled the car, and they continued toward the trail.

It was well past the time they had intended to start. The parking area was crowded, and they walked along the edge of the road before finding the entrance. Focus Man carried their lunch. Claire set a steady pace up the first slope.

He felt better as they climbed. The air was cool, and the work of walking gave him something to do with the uneasiness he had brought from the office. Below them, cars moved along a road he used often enough to recognize its bends. From here, their progress looked orderly.

Claire stopped where the path widened. He came up beside her, and they stood looking out.

“Nice day,” he said.

“It is.”

They walked on until they found a place to sit. She unpacked sandwiches and handed him one. For a while they ate, watching people pass in both directions. A small boy ahead of his parents announced that he was not tired, then sat down in the middle of the path.

Focus Man smiled.

“I know how he feels.”

“He seems to have stopped when he needed to,” Claire said.

He looked at her. She took another bite of her sandwich.

“Fair enough.”

She smiled a little, and some of the tension between them eased.

After lunch, they considered the longer loop. He thought they had time if they kept moving. Claire pointed out that they had already had a late start, and neither of them had come to hurry.

They took the shorter route.

On the descent, he told her what had happened at the office. He kept the explanation brief, leaving out the details that would have made his delay sound necessary.

“There was something I wanted to finish.”

“I understand that.”

“I could have finished it tomorrow.”

“Would you?”

He thought about the folder still on his desk.

“Probably.”

Claire stepped over a root and waited while a couple coming uphill passed them.

“I don’t mind your work,” she said when they were alone again. “I mind not knowing when we’ve actually made a plan.”

He had no answer ready. He could remember other mornings with a bag waiting near the door, other meals delayed by one more telephone call. Some of those interruptions had mattered. Others had mattered chiefly because he had allowed them to come first.

They reached the car with plenty of daylight left. Claire suggested stopping for groceries on the way home. He agreed, then asked whether she would rather have dinner somewhere.

“I’d rather cook.”

“All right.”

“Something simple.”

He drove while she made a list on the back of an old receipt.

At home, she put away the groceries and he carried the lunch bag into the kitchen. Helen’s letter was still on the table. He picked it up and read the note properly this time.

There was no urgency in it. She hoped they were well. She had included a few properties that might interest them and would be glad to hear how their plans were developing.

He sat down and began a reply. After two sentences, he stopped.

Claire came in with a bowl of vegetables to prepare.

“What are you telling her?”

“That we haven’t made much progress.”

She pulled out the chair beside him.

“And?”

He turned the letter so she could read it. He had written that work remained busy and they had been unable to get away. Seeing the words with Claire beside him, he crossed out the second part.

“We could get away,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Even if we only went to look.”

She reached for one of the listings.

“We could.”

He asked which weekend might work. They brought out the calendar and found two possibilities, then one. There were arrangements to make before either could take the time, and he began listing them in the margin.

Claire touched the page.

“Put the weekend in first.”

He wrote their names across the space. Then he returned to Helen’s letter and asked whether she would be available.