Love and the Lunch Lady Man

I felt like I was on top of the world. Not surprising as the view from my deck was endless.

Mike broke me out of my spellbound gaze, "Dad! I still can't believe we get to live here!"

I looked over at him standing at the railing, doing what I had just been doing. His sister, Heather, whose nickname of Feather had migrated to one of permanence, was standing beside him, also in awe of the view.

I agreed, "Yeah, son. This is amazing."

Feather suddenly got a little nervous, "Um, Dad? This house isn't going to fall down the mountainside, will it?"

I reassured her, "No, kiddo. The inspector told me this is anchored to solid rock and even in an earthquake, it won't slide down the hill."

Of course I kept the rest of what he told me to myself to keep the kids from worry. That in an earthquake, the house would likely fall in on itself, the original structure was built in the 1930's and the add ons over the next three decades. The more likely disaster being that a fire would rage up the canyon and there may be no way out if we were to be surrounded.

We wouldn't go down without a fight though. Over the summer, after buying the place and before moving in this very day, I had the house structure modernized, shored up with new and additional reinforcement. And then I replaced the roof and had installed a feature that would cover the entire property in foam goo that would retard the flames if the canyon ignited.

It really was an amazing property. Situated on just over an acre, something I understood was nearly unheard of in southern California, though most of it was unusable as it was on such a steep slope. The house itself was quirky, multi-level and built in three connected parts like a zig-zagging lightning bolt in a satellite view. There were decks off of most of the canyon-side rooms to take in the breathtaking and private views, but where we were standing, the primary deck between the house and detached garage situated a swimming pool in the center.

The pool was ordinary, nothing special and well short of Olympic size, maybe 15' x 25'. It was how the pool and deck seemed to be floating in the air that made it extraordinary.

Located in Topanga, a somewhat disjointed community but only because of the topography. It was supposedly an artsy, friendly place to explore. More of a sleepy bed and breakfast place to visit on weekends, not generally listed as a trendy place to live like the neighborhoods on either of its adjacent sides.

It was even harder to believe that the ocean was just 6 miles down the twisty-windy road.

It was a town I had never even visited a month before I bought the place but had been hearing of for many years. It already seemed like an alien planet compared to where we had come from.

Mike was thinking the same thing, and said it out loud, "Chicago was so flat. I can't believe this is all real."

I asked the kids, "Well, now that it is real, what do you both think? Do you approve?"

Mike responded first, "I definitely approve."

It was Feather that concerned me the most. I was relieved when she looked me in the eyes and said softly, "Approved."

"You know what I really approve of . . . ," Mike announced before kicking off his shoes and cannonballing into the pool, still in his shorts and tee shirt.

Feather giggled and yelled at her brother, "You're such an idiot," before she kicked off her own shoes and followed him in.

They were treading water and giggling, but I was their father and required by Dad-Law to scold them, "What's wrong with you two. You brought bathing suits in your luggage, it would have only taken five minutes to go and change into them."

Mike laughed at my attempt at authority, "I waited all Summer for this, I couldn't wait another second. Come on in, Dad!"

Feather chimed in, "Come on, Dad. Do it!"

I responded, still trying to remain stern, "No. I'm fully dressed, you ding dongs."

Mike took on a serious tone, "Dad. There are times in life you have to step off the edge and take a plunge. It's what makes us alive. That's why we moved here, right?"

Feather backed him up, "Yeah, Dad. My stupid brother is right for the first time in his life."

Fuck. How did these kids get so wise?

I quickly lost my sandals, wallet and phone to the deck before I jumped off the poolside edge. All in, making as big a splash as possible.

A perfect metaphor for our new lives.

*

"Hello?" I inquired into the empty front office from the counter. There were plenty of desks and office doors, just no people.

From behind me, Mike said, "There's nobody here, Dad."

"This is really creepy," Feather added.

It was a little creepy, I thought. The building had been unlocked, and there had been only a few cars in the parking lot of the 7th through 12th grade combination middle and high school; the new school year wasn't set to begin for another two weeks.

A woman walked out through a side office located within, "Is somebody there? Oh. Sorry about that. I'm the only one in the office today."

She approached the counter wearing a smile on a very pretty face. She looked to be about my age, 40, probably a little younger. Piercing, but friendly green eyes, her auburn hair tied into a ponytail that almost reached the small of her back. She had clearly spent the summer out in the sun, showing off skin with a rich caramel tone accented by a tan line that was visible around her neck, exposed by the tee shirt she was wearing. The tee shirt appeared well worn and had a print of Minnie Mouse on the front.

She noticed my unsaid observation, "Oh, sorry about being so casual, but it's a lot of dusty, dirty work getting the new school year under way and I forgot I was meeting a parent here today. You must be the Graves. I'm Lila Winn. I'm the vice principal here."

She held out a hand and I shook it with my confirmation, "Yes, I'm Charlie Graves, and this is Mike and Heather."

"Great. That's just great." My hand lingered in her grip a little too long, I had to sort of wiggle my fingers to signal I wanted it back. "Would you join me in my office?"

We rounded the counter and followed her into an extremely tiny office. Without sitting, she fumbled around in a paper tray on her desk and found a couple of papers, each the size of a half sheet.

She handed one of each to the kids, "These are your schedules, normally only given out on the first day of school, in your homeroom, but as you are new to the school, why don't you explore and find your rooms. Then on the first day of school you'll have the lay of the land and it will take the pressure off."

I thought that sounded like a great idea and said, "That would be perfect. Thank you."

She replied to me, "Yeah, no problem," and then to the kids, "If you come across anyone, tell them that Ms. Winn said it was OK."

Then she sort of paused and really studied Feather. She shuddered and then apologized. In a wispy sort of tone, she said to her, "You remind me of someone. Never mind, but you are awfully pretty."

Feather, never one to take a compliment well, did her best, "Um, thanks . . .?"

The kids scurried off on their mission and I was pleased that they appeared eager to do so. Lila motioned me to sit at her only guest chair as she sat in her office chair behind the desk.

"Welcome to Tacoma PS," she started, "I think your kids are going to like it here. It's a great school. I have a boy that attends here, the same age as your Mike, and he's thriving. I have no doubts that he'll be well prepared for college in four years."

I acknowledged her sentiment and then tried not to sound rude when I cut to the chase, "Now, why exactly did you need us to come in? When I got the message, the person on the phone said it was about their registrations. I submitted those weeks ago."

"Well, that was me," she smiled again, "after I was informed by Admin that your form was missing some critical data."

She went back to her paper tray and pulled out two packets held with paper clips and each had a number of sticky-notes poking out.

She looked at the cover page and her face brightened, "So, I see here that you live at the old Wainwright house on Canyonside Lane."

I shrugged, "Uh, I guess. I didn't know it was called the Wainwright house."

"I've actually been to it. A bunch of times since I was a kid. I live near there and the Wainwright's were friends of my parents. They'd throw a Fourth of July party there every year and when I was a kid, I'd spend the entire 4th in that great swimming pool."

"Ah. OK, then. Yeah, the pool was almost as big a factor as the view and the location when I purchased it."

"Pricey neighborhood. I can't even imagine how much that property must have set you back. Even though it looked a little beat up the last time I was there."

It did cost a fortune, and these days anyone can look it up to see what I paid for it, so I ignored that part, and covered the latter. "Yeah, well, new roof, new kitchen, new paint, and new furniture. I'm pretty happy with it. Most importantly, the kids are happy."

"Well, good for you." She turned to the first note-tab. "Ah, here's the first problem. The entire emergency contact section is empty."

I stiffened, "Uh, yeah."

"Will you fill that out for me?"

"Um, I'm sorry, but, uh, no. I can't do that."

She looked startled by my answer. "Well, I need you to. If there's an emergency, like one of your kids gets hurt or sick at school, and we can't contact you, we need another person to reach. Someone you trust."

"Sorry. There isn't anybody."

"Look, I'll take anybody. A grandparent, an uncle, a friend. I'll even take an ex-wife if you've got one."

I sighed, "I'm the only one the kids have. Believe me."

She got a sad look, "Nobody?"

I shook my head in confirmation.

She went on sadly, "Yeah. I noticed there was nobody listed as 'Mother'.

I let out a simple, "Nope."

She sat up straight and then drooped her shoulders, fully understanding the situation. She grabbed a pen and hunched over the paper and started filling some things out. "I'm putting myself down in emergency."

"No, you don't have to do that," I pleaded.

"Everybody needs somebody sometime."

That made me chuckle, "Isn't that Dean Martin."

She looked up at me briefly with a smile, "Yep. My father's favorite." She continued to write. "OK. I'm also going to list my mother. She's a nurse practitioner at the clinic. I'll let her know your situation."

She repeated the entries on both of the registration forms, then held her hand out and asked for my phone. "May I put in my contact information?" I did as she asked and watched her thumbs fly over the touchscreen. Her phone was laying on her desk, I heard it buzz when she finished with mine. "Call me anytime. Even if you just need to talk, OK?"

I lied, "Uh, yeah. Sure." Whatever. I didn't know her from Adam, so . . . as if.

She took in and let out a big breath before moving on to the next tab. "You don't happen to have their immunization cards, do you?"

I didn't and told her so. She pursed her lips, "Yeah, OK. That's not a problem. You listed their former schools in Illinois. I'll forward that to Mom's clinic and we can get that. Any missing vaccinations, you'll need to get taken care of before the first day of school. I'll put word in to Mom and I'm sure she'll squeeze Mike and Heather in."

She moved to the next tab and she hesitated before asking, "You don't have your employer listed. We like to know that as it's an additional way to reach you."

Aww, shit. I figured we'd get to this. "I'm going to state something that I've never said out loud in my life because I've never been in this boat. I'm unemployed at the moment."

"Oh. Hey, that's OK. Um, I don't mean to get personal, but what do you do? Maybe I know of something. I know a lot of people in this town."

"I don't know what I want to do yet. I was a restaurateur and chef. I had three restaurants in Chicago and sold them all, but I don't want to get back into that. The hours are terrible, just not compatible for a family, and I want to be closer to my kids than I was before."

She sat back and let that sink in before I looked into her eyes, almost seeing some kind of wheels turning in her head.

She asked cautiously, "Have you ever catered before?"

"Oh, yeah. Hundreds of times."

"How big of of events are you talking?"

I don't know why, maybe because I'm a baseball nut, but I truthfully bragged a little, "I did a wedding a few years ago for the Chicago Cubs' shortstop. We're talking 650 people, a full on multi course meal."

She started beating her desk with her pen like it was a drumstick, "Really. Hmmm. I've got it. A job that would be perfect for you."

I masked my disbelief but probably raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "Really? What?"

She nervously got in sales mode, "Before you say 'no', just hear me out. Our lunch lady just quit. Leaving us high and dry for lunch service. She got a job at another school down the mountain and told us not only wouldn't she be back, but she took her whole staff with her."

"You can't be serious." I wasn't sure if she was punking me or insulting me.

She was ready for rejection and hit back, "Just hear me out. You want to be closer to your kids, well think about this. Your hours would be the same as their in-school-hours, and you'll be here on campus when they are. At 2:30, you all go home together. No weekends, no late nights, all the bank holidays and your summers off. Your salary would basically be the same as mine, not great, but it comes with all the teacher benefits of pension, and . . . medical. The school district would insure your entire family." She narrowed her eyes and feigned exaggeration, "And it's gooood medical insurance."

Damn. I had never thought about all that, but yeah, it had some definite advantages. I didn't really need the money short term, I did well on selling my home in Chicago and my restaurants. I paid a total of three million for my new home and the remodel in cash. Zero debt and my investment portfolio was stacked. But I still had to work. Wanted to work.

I still didn't know. Thinking about it harder, it sounded so wonky.

She went to seal the deal, "We're a relatively new school, only four years ago the local students had to be bussed down to Malibu, so the kitchen is clean and modern. We're a small school, 800 students enrolled, we served between 180 to 220 hot lunches a day last year. That's just a chump-change catering job for someone like you."

That sounded manageable. I asked, "Could I make my own menu?"

She thought about it before answering, "Yes and no. The district sets the menu, but the lunch lady can make suggestions. I know the decision maker at the district, she's a close and personal friend of mine. She'll green light anything that's healthy and follows nutritional guidelines."

"I only cook healthy, nutritional meals. Especially with my kids eating it."

"Then, yes. You can make your own menu."

"Staff?"

"One full time assistant, two part time servers. And we're rotating student help as an elective, awarding school credit for what was called home-economics back in my mother's school years."

I let out a deep breath and thought about it hard. Drawing on some suspense, "If, and I mean it's a big 'if', and my kids would have to approve too, but if I said 'yes', . . . "

She leaned forward with bated breath, her eyebrows reaching for her widow's peak.

I finished, ". . . are you still going to call me the 'lunch lady'?"

She laughed and then seriously answered, "Yes."

I chuckled in surprise, "Come on!"

She laughed again, "I don't really know you yet, but I can already tell you're going to be fun to tease."

*

I decided to do it and got the kids' approval. I let Lila know through a text and she went into action.

First, she had to relate to the principal what she had suggested. With that approval, she got me in touch with the district's recruiter and I filled in the formal application. That went through in less than 24 hours, and I got the formal offer. It felt like there was a lot of motivation to fill the position in time for the first day of school.

After that, there was more shit than I was prepared for. Referrals were easy, I contacted a couple of my old restaurant managers who were happy to give me a technical and character review. Even if they did think it was sort of hilarious. Then, a background check, fingerprints, and so much more red tape, I never really knew what I was filling out or being questioned on day to day.

My kids were happy. They liked my cooking and knew I wouldn't make them anything they didn't like. They hated the school lunches in Illinois, so they understood the alternative. In fact, I promised that they'd be my soundboards when looking at menu options.

I got access to the school immediately and practically took the kitchen apart. It was gorgeous. So much stainless steel I almost needed sunglasses for the sparkle. The previous staff had kept it well maintained, and it was super clean.

I couldn't help myself though, and with my own money I ordered some additional equipment, including an industrial size vertical rotisserie spit. Gyros, shawarma, adobada and al pastor would all find their way to Topanga's school menu in the future. My kids were thrilled.

Beyond actually cooking, I went through all the paperwork and that included placing the initial food order ahead of the first day of school through their normal suppliers. I wasn't impressed with them at all. I was happy to find out they were working outside of a contract so I wouldn't be mandated to use them long term. Either way, I was going to hyper analyze the quality when the first delivery arrived, even before it was loaded into the walk-in cooler and freezer.

I lucked on to a restaurant-supply and food wholesaler just over the top of the mountain in West Hills, about ten miles from home. I got the school registered as a customer and worked with the district in order to buy fresher food there as long as I followed the budget, along with the student's fee of only three dollars per meal.

Buying healthy, quality food on the cheap, well that was up my wheelhouse. Something of which I had made an art out of when I owned the restaurants. No problem there. The school lunches were going to get a quality upgrade.

I tried to get the Coke machines full of sugary sodas removed from the cafeteria or at least substitute the sodas with healthy alternatives. I learned that was tried before and the teachers threatened to revolt if that happened. I dug back into my wallet and ordered large 304 stainless steel drink dispensers that the students could pour from for free, a rotating fruit water and an iced green tea. It wouldn't really ding my budget too bad to provide free drinks (it was mostly mountain spring water), and I was hoping to give Coke and Diet Coke a run for their money.

The teachers were all hands-on the week before school started for meetings and to prepare their rooms and lesson plans, I suppose. I actually have no idea what they were doing, but the three days at the end of that week, I used them as guinea pigs for some trial runs. Sure, a smaller sample size than when the school cafeteria would be packed with students, but it gave me a chance to run the kitchen and get the equipment broken in like a 'soft opening'.

I even had my kids in the house. Their opinion meant more to me than anyone else.

I also got to work with my staff. My assistant had experience in a kitchen, formerly cooking for a diner in town that closed. She was a huge lady, at least two inches taller than my 6'0" height, and, well, to paraphrase something my late mother used to say, she was 'big boned'. But damn, she was a force to reckon with in the kitchen with limitless energy and tenacity. I was going to take advantage of that. Now if only she didn't talk so damn much. That and a lot of what came out of her mouth was cringe-worthy. She promised me she would stay well clear of the counter and have no interaction with any students.

The servers were not exactly what I would have pictured as 'lunch ladies' from my childhood school cafeterias. Both were grandmothers, one with white hair and the other with pink hair, but that was where my stereotype ended. Instead of grumpy, mean old ladies, my servers had positive energy and smiled all the time. Instead of hair nets, I ordered bottle-cap hats to tuck their hair in, and once I got all my staff's sizes, I picked out modern kitchen coats and aprons from the uniform service so they wouldn't even need to do any laundry.

I planned to wear my button up chef's tunic and pleated hat. I worked hard to be an award-winning chef, I was going to continue to look like one. I had earned it, even if I was now working a kitchen in a high school. At least with this team, I dropped the formality and didn't require them to address me as 'chef' while in the kitchen.

A directive not always followed.

I was in early the day of our first soft opening when Lila burst into the kitchen like a chupacabra (a term I learned from my California-native wife). She had some printout clutched in her hand that she was waving wildly about.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" She accused, "Why didn't you tell me who you are?!"

I was confused, "What are you talking about? Of course you know who I am. And where I live. And where I worked. The district did everything short of a rectal exam on my entire life."

That seemed to frustrate her even more. She thrust the printout into my hand, it was a copy of when my photograph was on the cover of Bon Appetit Magazine. Now I knew what this was all about.

"Yep, that was me." I shrugged it off.

"You didn't tell me you were a James Beard awarded chef from Michelin starred restaurants!"

"The operative clause there is 'was'. I was a celebrated chef and restaurateur, but I have a new life now. I'm a lunch lady."

All of the angst and energy escaped her body like air from a let go balloon. "Nooo. No. No. I'm so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have asked you to do this. You should be cooking at Fleming's Prime in Los Angeles, or . . . or . . . or . . . The Polo Lounge. Or opening your own restaurant. Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't know who you were."

Feather had been sitting on a stool reading her book on the other side of the prep counter I was standing at and surprised Lila with a laugh as she hadn't been seen. "Yeah. Dad's kind of a big deal."

Lila wasn't sure what to think and then pleaded with me, "You don't have to do this, you know. You shouldn't do this."

I chuckled and tried to settle her down with a hand to both of her shoulders, "It's OK. You sold me on this and for sound reasons. I'm going to do my best and not let you down."

I winked at Feather, and she returned a fully amused smile before returning her gaze to her story.

Lila groaned and I gently spun her until she was pointed towards the door. I gave her a nudge. "You can't be in my kitchen right now; you belong on the other side of the counter. I'm cooking for you today."

And then, hunched forward, she shuffled out as if she was carrying a Volkswagen on her shoulders.

*

Between the teachers, custodians, security, office staff, and my kids, we served 70 hot lunches all three days. We crushed it.

I instantly gelled with the staff and the kitchen acted like a race car. I tasked it for 70 meals and it seemed to laugh, wanting more, and it wanted to go faster.

The food we served was based on the approved and district blessed menu in spirit only. Naturally I put my own spin on everything. The pizza was Chicago style deep dish, but with whole wheat flour and packed with vegetables in my house-made tomato sauce, spread over a layer of spinach disguised as (and with) basil. The mac-and-cheese contained 5 different tangy cheeses, and I rotated different lean meats and vegetables layered into the sauce and pasta each day. The soy-hamburger was dropped, but substituted with a lean beef patty melt sort of spin, on wheat, layered with fresh vegetables, some of them grilled. The grilled cheese was instead a croque monsieur. Healthy and tasty on all counts.

OK, don't nick me for all the cheese, everything else was well offset with super-healthy goodness, and cheese runs through my blood after all.

I was happy with everything, especially knowing it would get better. For instance, the pasta would be made in-house daily and would utilize a machine from Italy that I ordered, the same I once used in my past. The pizza would get another leg up when the authentic pans I ordered would arrive in the next 4 to 5 weeks from Chicago. The house-made pickle spears were still in buckets in the walk-in cooler getting ready, they would be served with every meal continuously starting on the first day of school.

As the patrons were eating, I made my way from table to table and got feedback. It was mostly praise, and I soaked that in but I had to take it with a grain of salt. The meals were miles apart from what I was used to making, but hey, it was better than the slop I used to eat when I was in high school.

I got to know the teachers in brief snippets as I floated around the cafeteria while they were dining, only I wasn't trying to make friends or pander for compliments. It was more like surveillance, wanting to know the people who my kids were going to learn from. I was keenly interested in Mike and Feather's education and wanted to get a feel for whether a teacher was motivated and engaging or just a lazy slob counting down the days until their pension kicked in.

On the Friday, the last day of my soft-opening, I found my kids at a table eating with Lila and her son, Ben. Mike introduced me and he seemed like a nice enough kid. Apparently, Ben knew how to surf and promised he would teach Mike how, provided that my son got his own board and wetsuit. Mike had been badgering me about learning how to surf as soon as we crossed the state line into California.

I got down to the brass tacks, "How did everybody like the food?"

Mike got the pizza, no surprise there. "It was awesome. As usual."

Feather had the mac and a small Greek salad. "It was great, Dad."

Lila had croque monsieur and the salad, "It was fantastic. Best school food I've ever eaten. The dressing on the salad was outstanding."

Ben was a little more critical of the mac and the pizza, "I like thin crust better, and it needed jalapenos. The mac needed peppers too. This is California, man, we need the heat." That was actually constructive, I could up my game with some spicy options in the future.

I still couldn't help myself when it came to the pizza and let him have it, "That pizza is straight out of Chicago, and done right. When my pans come in, it will be even more authentic and then you're going to tell me it's the best pizza you ever tasted. New York style pizza is just for grease peasants."

That earned me a giggle from Lila, but Mike got his own laugh from around the table after he nudged Ben, "Don't get my dad started on pizza. It will get ugly, and I don't want to get caught in the crossfire."

*

The kitchen was sparkling clean and my assistant left for the day, it was time to collect my kids and go home as well. My kids had spent most of the day hanging out in the library. In my mind I could picture what they were both doing. Feather would be reading from her Kindle and Mike would be racing against Mario on his Nintendo.

I took one last look around the kitchen and was satisfied that it would be ready for the first full day of school on Monday. I was coming out of the walk-in when I saw Lila enter the kitchen.

"Just dropped in to say hi," she greeted with a smile, "you done for the day?"

"Yep." I hung up my coat on the rack. "Just need to get the kids from the library and get the weekend started."

"Lucky. There's still so much to do before the new year, I'll probably be here all weekend."

"Wish I could help you with that. You're a seasoned pro, I am sure you'll pull it off."

"Yeah, I was just whining to get a little sympathy mileage." She chuckled at that and then tilted her head to one side, "Hey. I enjoyed sitting with your kids over lunch. They're good kids. You did a good job with them."

I wished she hadn't said anything. I had nothing to do with their dispositions, it was all their mother. In fact, I didn't do anything. Practically an absent father. Fuck.

My mood crashed, I'm sure Lila sensed that. "Yeah, well don't look at me. They turned out to be great kids despite their father."

"Whoa. Where did that come from?"

I shook my head with my latest regret, "No, sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's just . . . um. Sorry."

She asked softly, kindness behind her words, "That's OK. Was it something I said? Do you want to talk about it?"

Definitely not!

"Thanks, but no." I turned my back on her and left the room wishing her a good afternoon as I walked out the door.

*

I don't know who the ding dongs are at the school district's central office that makes the decisions, but I'll never understand some of them, starting with the schedule. Grades 9-12 start at 7:10 AM, while the 7th and 8th graders start at 7:55. The high schoolers also get their lunch first, from 11:35 to 12:20, the middle schoolers from 12:35 to 1:15. Plain weird.

I was stressed about it all weekend. In a school of 800 students, the prior year's data averaged 25% of students who would buy a hot meal every day. But what if that figure was to be higher? I would be ready for a higher percentage, but that could lead to both waste or would leave kids waiting in line while we made up the shortfall.

Catering seemed so much easier. If the customer paid for 200 plates, I'd prepare 220. No more, no less. That way I could feed the whole venue and any wedding crashers. On the flip side, poorly planned events with invited flakes that were no-shows, I didn't worry too much about the waste. It was paid for, after all, and I packaged leftovers for the mothers-in-law.

My worries were all for nothing. The first day of school was managed chaos outside of the kitchen, but inside, we were ready for the onslaught, and we pulled it off. The data had proven itself. We served 198 students.

The greatest part about it was that I was hands on. When I was growing my businesses in Chicago, the catering extension of one of my restaurants was eventually cooked and served by my enlarging staff until I no longer physically touched the food.

I actually had a lot of fun making school lunches. Maybe a lot of that was relief, but it reminded me of better times from back in the day.

My kids' first back to school day wasn't as well received. Mike just grunted when I asked him about his day. I had to pry it out of him until he finally relented, "School just sucks, Dad. I don't care where it is, Chicago or Topanga or Mars, it's still school. Sucks." I remember feeling that way when I was 14 so I left him alone and instead focused my queries on the class content and homework.

I did ask him if he talked to his new friend, Ben. I got the eye roll, "I saw him, passing in the hallways and stuff, he's nice and all but he's lived here forever, he already has his own set of friends. You don't think I'm going to have a new best-friend on the first day of school, do you?" That was not the reaction I was hoping for, but it made sense.

Feather loved her teachers, all of them, and was excited about her classes. She wasn't so enamored with her classmates. "I could tell that some of the girls were talking about me, so I ignored them. Nobody was mean to me, but they weren't very nice either."

Mike jumped in, "Because they were bitchy. There's a lot of stuck-up dudes too, but yeah, a lot of bitchy girls in my grade too."

I sighed in disappointment, "C'mon, Mike. Don't talk like that. Mom wouldn't have wanted you to use that word."

He replied without skipping a beat, "Well Mom isn't here, is she." And then he stormed off to his bedroom.

I looked at Feather, "Sorry, honey. Maybe you'll have a better day tomorrow."

She hugged me, "It's OK. I love you, Dad."

"I love you too."

I hugged her back, squeezing tightly, wondering if I did the right thing in bringing the kids here.

*

We were four weeks into the school year when Lila made a surprise visit to my kitchen just after the lunch service. That's how I was referring to it, that it was my kitchen, like I owned the place. I was in cleanup mode.

It was always random, but not unusual for her to make an appearance for a friendly chat. Lila announced her presence with her usual greeting, "Hello, Lunch Lady Man." I paused scraping the griddle and couldn't help but smile at her. "So, I read that you're up to 250 lunches a day now."

I chuckled, "Yeah, my kids tell me that my kitchen is gaining 'street cred'."

She smiled brightly at that. "I heard you made gyros today and that it was a knockout."

"You didn't try any," I almost scolded, "I carved the rotisserie for the buffet line and would have seen you."

She looked embarrassed, "Um. No. I don't usually eat lunch. Ben wouldn't like to be seen with me during school hours, I guess I embarrass him. And I'm usually too busy anyway."

I stopped what I was doing at that and got serious, "Well, I can't have that. It was you that got me the job, and I never thanked you properly. Please plan on having lunch here tomorrow."

She looked stunned, "What are you talking about? You're the one who saved the day, a big-shot chef taking over a podunk school cafeteria. It is you that needs to be thanked."

"Well. We'll quietly disagree on all that, just, please. Promise me you'll let me make you lunch."

She reluctantly agreed. Seemed nervous about it even.

Though the school was a peanut free school, I checked on any other allergies she may have, or if she was a picky eater, I wanted to know up front. She said she could eat anything, and I suggested that she could show up between the middle and high school services to avoid the crowds and it would be after her son's service was over.

I wasn't sure she was going to show, but she did the next day. It wouldn't have been all for nothing, I went very carefully over the special, off-menu dish with my student helper who by now had aspirations for being a chef herself. I'll take the credit for that.

One of the grandma servers, taking a break between shifts, brought her coffee into my kitchen with her and announced that Lila was at the counter. I went to where I was keeping her dish warm and brought it out to her personally.

I placed the plate on an ugly cafeteria tray and slid it under the glass sneeze shield at the server's buffet line and into Lila's hands. She looked down on the plate, back up to my face in confusion, back to the plate, and then made eye contact with me using extra drilling-force-focus with her green eyes.

She was searching for an answer, "What . . . .?"

I gave her the description she wanted with a smile, "Crab kebab over a seared fluffy potato pancake, all drizzled with melted compound butter and surrounded by a spicy bisque, flavored with isot pepper and other Turkish pepper, and then various garnishes. Bon appetit."

I then left her to find a table to eat at and returned to the kitchen. My student assistant, who was eating from her own similar plate of food that we had created together as part of her lesson, gushed over it.

"Well, Chef Graves, if your goal was for Miss Winn to fall in love with you, this crab dish might just be the thing that does it."

*

It was a Saturday in the middle of October and Mike's birthday was coming up. We piled into my pickup truck and, as we had arranged with Lila's son, stopped by his house to pick him up. We were going to go shopping in Malibu at Ben's favorite surf shop. He offered to help Mike pick out his equipment.

When Ben came out of his house, ready to go, his grandparents followed, and we exchanged greetings. I'm sure they wanted to meet me, to vet that I was a safe protector for their grandson, and probably to check out Mike to see if Ben's friend was a punk.

They seemed nice enough. They pried into my background a little, queried exactly what we were going to do and where we were going.

Lila didn't show herself. Then I found out she wasn't home, she had to do some things at the school.

It also gave me a chance to thank Lila's mother, Alice. "Hey, thank you for getting my kids' immunizations squared away before the school year started. I think they were thrilled that they didn't have to get another shot in the arm."

Alice replied, "Yeah. Hey, that was no problem. I was glad to see that they were up to date on everything."

I almost said out loud that all the credit should go to my wife, I had no idea that they were even vaccinated.

Lila's mother noticed my pause and then filled the awkward space, "I hear you're quite the chef."

I chuckled, "Yeah, I might have been at one time but that was my old life. Now I'm a dad and the school lunch lady."

"Oh, I believe the dad part, but not the lunch lady part. Lila tells me you've made some incredible lunches for her, like things she's never tasted before. Plates that would cost a hundred dollars at fancy places."

"She was surely exaggerating." It was obvious that Alice wasn't buying it. "Listen, I have a student helper and I'm teaching her how to cook specialty while we make hundreds of ordinary lunches for the student body. I'm just trying to inspire, and whatever I have left over, I like to feed Lila and the rest of my staff. I'm glad she likes it though, I'm eternally in debt for her finding me steady work with insurance."

That earned me a smirk just like her daughter frequently makes, "Charlie, you should come by for dinner sometime and taste my cooking. I have a few tricks up my sleeve myself and I'd like to get an honest opinion from you. I won't get it from him." She motioned to her husband, also named Ben. "This lug will eat anything. I could feed him a plate of nuts and bolts and this guy will tell me it tastes great."

I chuckled and then addressed her offer, "I would like that. Thank you."

The elder Ben then asked, "I hear you bought the old Wainright home and fixed it up some. I would love to know what you did with the place."

He seemed like a good guy, jolly like, and didn't want to be rude and invite himself over, so I did it for him. "Why don't you stop by one day for a cold beer and I'll show you. I'm usually home on the weekends. Lila can give you my number if you want to call ahead."

He smiled at that, so much so his eyes turned to narrow slits, "Yeah, that would be great. I'd really like that."

I said my goodbyes and promised I'd have Ben back in a few hours."

I checked that everyone was belted up before we headed down the windy road towards the coast.

Ben leaned over the front seats from the back and said to me, "Wow, Mr. Graves. You got the full-on third degree from Grandma. I'm pretty sure she had planned on pouncing on you the second you picked me up. You did good, though."

I was confused. Then I remembered what my student had said about my food, what was it . . . that I could be using it to seduce Lila? It is true that I had been cooking special, gourmet lunches for her a few times a week, but romancing my son's friend's mom who was also my boss was not what I was doing.

So what was I doing? I sighed out loud. Feather caught that and looked over at me from the shotgun seat in wonder.

I know exactly what I was doing. I was showing off. Trying to impress Lila.

I told myself that it was just part of my nature. Showboating my skills. In both trying to stay on top of my game and to stay relevant - for the good of my restaurants. Only I don't need to do that anymore. Shit.

*

I texted Lila when we got back from shopping.

Charlie: I brought Ben to Wainwright Manor. He's going to show Mike how to apply surf wax to his new-used surfboard. Hope that's OK. I can bring him home when they're ready.

I saw the dot-dot-dot, her typing a reply until they disappeared. Nothing else happened for about five to ten minutes before I finally got a response.

Lila: No problem. I'm home now. Dad said he can pick Ben up. Something about a beer and a tour.

Charlie: OK. Sounds great.

Lila: That's what you think. Dad can be Dad.

I was in the kitchen tinkering with something that would become a sauce I'd serve dinner with later when Ben, the senior one, dropped by.

I started the tour right away by bringing him into the kitchen and pulled us each a beer from the refrigerator. He saw my sauce-in-progress laid out on my kitchen-island countertop and asked what I was making.

I chuckled, "It doesn't have a name. I've got some pork, thought I'd hammer it thin, bread it and fry it like a schnitzel. But I got this zany idea for a sauce that I'll put over it."

Ben patted his oversized gut and all-but-drooling said, "Sounds delicious."

"You're welcome to stay for dinner."

"Oh, thank you. But Alice warned me not to spoil my appetite, she has big plans for dinner later. I think you inspired her. She was looking mighty determined going through the cupboards after you picked up Ben." He was looking around the kitchen in admiration and said so, "This looks great. You did a fine job with this."

I noticed that the big man had already downed his beer, so I opened him another before giving him the full tour. I figured he would want the whole soup-to-nuts visit, so I showed him everything. Even the technical improvements that were hidden from casual view.

I think he appreciated all that and enjoyed seeing the transformation of his old friend's home. We ended the tour on the swimming pool deck. Only after I opened a couple of fresh beers for us.

He was a nice guy and our conversation flowed easily. I could tell that he would be a great guy to have as a friend, but read between the lines and wouldn't want to ever be on his bad side. I was fine with that.

Right up until he asked me about my kids not having a mother around.

He studied me intensely as I tried to find the words.

I finally just stammered a reply, "She passed away."

His expression turned to one of sympathy and he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "I'm real sorry about that, son."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"How did she go?"

"She got sick. And by the time I found out just how sick, I only got a little time left with her before she was gone."

Ben nodded his head in understanding. "So, you packed your bags, pulled your family's roots up and out of Chicago, and then re-planted in Topanga."

"Yep. That's about it."

"Why Topanga?"

I manned up and fought back a tear before I answered, "I heard a lot about this place from Anna. I think it would have made her happy to know I brought our kids here."

*

It got dark in the living room while I was watching television, but I kept the room that way. It was easier on the eyes anyway. So it startled me when Feather sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

She giggled, "Really, Dad? You cook all day and then when you finally get some free time, you watch the Cooking Channel?"

"What's wrong with that?" I asked. "It relaxes me."

She sighed and then crossed over to my side of the couch and leaned into me. She pulled her legs up onto the couch beside her, so I knew she wasn't going anywhere. It had been a long time since we had snuggled together on the couch and watched TV.

I asked, "Is everything alright with you, Feather?"

She used the same tone as I did, "Yeah, I'm fine. Is everything alright with you, Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm OK."

"I don't ever remember you watching TV after I got too old for cartoons."

"You're never too old for cartoons, honey. Your older brother still watches them and laughs his keister off."

"I'm serious. You never used to do this."

I didn't want to spoil anything by reminding her that I never sat around watching TV because I wasn't always home.

Instead, I kept things safe, "Finish your homework?"

"You know that I did. I always get that out of the way as soon as I get home from school."

"Then why aren't you reading your book?"

"I finished it. I didn't want to start a new one this close to bedtime."

"OK. I can understand that. How are things going at school? I saw you in the cafeteria all week sitting with some other girls. Did you make some new friends?"

She looked up at me with a smile before settling her eyes back on the TV. "Yeah. Sort of. I think they're only being nice to me because they like Mike. They're so stupid though. They're being fake-nice to me, and I can see right through it. Well, two can play at that game, I'm fake-nice right back. Now I can protect Mike from these ding-dongs and mess with these girls' heads just for fun. The bonus is that I have people to sit with at lunch. I'm holding a royal flush."

"Where'd you learn what a royal flush is? You don't play poker."

"Oh. In the mystery I just finished, the guy was murdered while holding that poker hand. But all the money was still left on the table."

I chuckled, "I bet the butler did it."

"That's what Mom always used to say."

*

"Charlie. May I have a pickle?"

Lila looked so cute in asking, like a child asking for a cookie before dinner.

"You like my pickles, eh?" I asked while reaching into the cooler to retrieve her one.

"I just love them. The best pickle I've ever had."

I chuckled, "I'll send you home with a jar."

She had taken roost on a stool in the kitchen, the same one Feather likes to sit and read at when I'm running late in cleaning the kitchen before we go home. This day, Lila timed her visit perfectly, I had just finished before the final bell of the day. She munched her pickle while I prepared a jar for her.

I admitted, "Yeah, a good dill pickle is my weakness. My kids love them too, it's how I know they come from my DNA."

"Yeah. It's a family thing for me too."

The jar prepared, I leaned against the counter and looked at her. There was something different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the tough, take charge, action figure seemed to be missing. Instead, she looked like Feather in those moments where she's the most vulnerable.

She seemed to struggle for words, "Um. Charlie. Did my dad . . .?"

I tried to help her along, "Your dad is great. I enjoyed having beers with him."

She lightly shook her head, "Did he, um, did he say anything about me?"

I thought back, "Uh, no. I don't think so. Like what?" I shouldn't have asked.

"Like why a single mother and her teenager are living with her parents."

"No. It's none of my business anyway, but your dad never brought it up."

She looked towards the ground, for whatever reason unable to make eye contact, "Oh."

I brought her another pickle and she thanked me. She was quiet while she munched away.

I decided to change the weird mood that was in the air, "Hey, thanks for letting Ben help with the surfing equipment. He was a lot of help. And he seems like a good kid. I'm glad he and Mike get along and are getting closer."

"Hmm," she responded with a crunch. "How much did it set you back? That shit is expensive."

"It wasn't too bad. Ben helped pick out a used board to learn on, like a starter board. The wetsuit, yeah, that was expensive, but I splurged on a good one. I don't want my boy to turn into a popsicle on the Pacific."

She got a half smile, "Yeah. Good. Ben is thrilled that you're going to take him to the beach to surf-school Mike twice a week after final bell. Teaching or not, normally he has to wait for the weekends to surf, or get a ride with one of his surfing buddies who flake out on him all the time."

"Mike is thrilled too. But I can tell that he's a little nervous. Quite frankly, I'm probably more nervous than he is."

"He'll do fine. Ben's really good, a natural, and will get Mike up in no time."

The final bell rang. She got up off the stool and took hold of the jar I prepared. She was standing so close to me she had to look up when she thanked me. Adding, "Oh. Also, thank you for lunch today. I've never had lamb prepared like that, it just melted in my mouth. It was amazing."

"I'm glad you liked it."

Her eyes suddenly bored into mine, like she was back to her normal self. "OK. See you."

"Yeah. See you. Have a good evening."

*

We had reached an average of serving 300 lunches a day, well exceeding the previous single day record of 230 from before my time. It was a little more work, but manageable. Lila let me know that if we reached 350, I could hire another sous chef. My existing Amazonian-woman assistant had great instincts and work ethic, I never had to repeat an instruction or admonish a task. I'd want to clone her if I got to hire more help.

And my student helper was just great. She was super interested and enthusiastic in the process and quality of the food. Smart too. Very fast learner.

The other teenagers on campus? Well. I learned to appreciate my kids more. There were a lot of shithead students, and because I had one ear constantly tuned in on the serving line, if any one of them disrespected my grandma servers, I'd pounce on the brats.

Thankfully it was just a handful of rotten apples, but for the most part, I didn't have any trouble. Mike laughed at my growing reputation, both the good and the bad.

My reputation did earn me some unwanted attention outside of the student body. The principal, for one, was a mean looking old lady who from my general observation, didn't do jack squat around the school. Lila did all the heavy lifting and crappy tasks, while Queen Principal sat in her office and hid from the staff.

Somehow it got out that in addition to my staff, Lila was getting special attention and eating well. That earned me a visit from the Queen. She wanted in on the action. I thought it best, especially for Lila, if I just conceded to that. From then on, my student helper and I would add one more plate to the special dishes we'd make.

Then one day, the gym teacher bulldozed into my kitchen right at the peak rush when we were at our critical moments in getting the food ready. I had no time for this ding dong, but it was his attitude that set me off.

The guy puffed out his chest to try and look bigger than he was. I recognized the posture, he hadn't matured from when he was a high school student. "I hear you are seeing Lila outside of a professional capacity."

First, I was surprised the guy could string together multi-syllable words, but I suspected what this might be about. "Yeah, Lila is a friend of mine. But she's also my boss and I have nothing but respect for her. What's it to you?"

I hadn't exactly stopped what I was doing moving from station to station in the kitchen, I had no time for any bullshit, so when I got a little too close to the oaf, he stopped my movements with a strong grip to my bicep.

He grinned like he was King Shit, "We are seeing each other exclusively, so don't get too close."

I laughed at him, making him clench his jaw even tighter. "She never mentioned she was seeing anyone. But I'll be sure to tell her you stopped by, tonight even, when I prepare her favorite dish over candlelight and a bottle of wine. She always gets extra frisky after I feed her oysters."

Why I had to poke the bear, I have no idea. Only later would I admit to myself that I was jealous, maybe just as much as he was. Any way I looked at it, it was a dumb move on my part.

His look said he was trying to decide whether to punch my lights out or not when a voice came from over my shoulder from my Amazonian, Jacalyn. She warned, "Beat it, Gino. We have to get this food out and have no time for a dumbass like you." At least he let go of my arm. "And if you ever touch Charlie again, I'll beat your ass just like I did when we were in the 8th grade. I still can, you dumb fat fuck."

I didn't catch any of his mumblings as he turned and exited my kitchen.

We got back to work, but my adrenaline was pumping into the redline. Jacalyn tried to reassure me that all was not as it seemed, "Just ignore that, Charlie. Gino has been harassing Lila for a couple of years, they probably went on all of two dates. Once in high school, and the other just after she returned to Topanga. You still have a real shot with her."

"With Lila?" I asked, still confused and my pumping heart not slowing down.

"Duh."

I tried to push that all out of my mind. If I didn't get back into the game at hand, some kids would go hungry.

Lila was a no-show for lunch. I learned later from both my kids that she was filling in as a substitute for a math teacher that Feather and Mike had, just different periods. It was just as well. I needed some time for the gravity of the eventful day to stop pulling so hard to the ground.

*

I didn't see her for a few days. I actually missed her though I did my best at suppressing my feelings.

That's why I was surprised as hell when I did finally see her. Outside of school even.

I was soaking in my newly installed above-ground hot tub, situated on the pool deck in order to take advantage of the view. It was just before dusk when I heard her car pull into the gravel driveway.

She got out of her car and made a vector towards the house but couldn't miss me and she paused. I made a friendly wave from the 102 degree water. She altered her prior trajectory and went through the gate leading onto the pool deck.

"Hello," I greeted her, "what brings you to Wainwright Manor?"

"Hi." She looked nervous. "Um. I heard that Gino paid you a visit."

I chuckled, "Yeah. Right at the worst time before the first lunch service. I was so in the zone and buzzing about what I was doing that I wasn't thinking very clearly. Sorry about that. I hope I didn't make any trouble between you and your boyfriend."

She looked horrified before she composed herself, "I think you know full well that he's not my boyfriend. And never will be."

I nodded slowly, "Yeah. That's what I understand. Just teasing. I will tell you that I don't want him in my kitchen again and next time, if there is one, I'm not going to tolerate it."

"Yeah, that's fine. Do whatever you gotta do." Then she giggled, "But I don't think you have to worry about anything. Jacalyn told me that if he shows his face ever again that she was going to rearrange it with both her fists."

"Ugh, I hope I don't have to see that."

She smiled, "I know, right?"

There was an awkward pause between us, made even more awkward as it dawned on both of us that I was bare chested in the hot tub while she had both of her hands on the bartop looking over me in the warm water.

I broke the silence, "Uh, I'd invite you in but you're not quite dressed for it, and, uh, and coming in while only in your birthday suit might be inappropriate with the kids just inside the living room watching TV."

She blushed brightly while lifting her hands off the spa like it was suddenly a hot pan. "Oh!"

"That's OK. Maybe next time?"

She nodded and took a step back. "Yeah, OK, I won't bother you anymore. I just wanted to clear the air. I'll see you around."

"OK, g'night, Lila."

"G'night." She took two steps toward the deck gate before turning, hands on her hips pushed to one side. With a sexy look on her face and a smokey tone, left me with, "And just so you know, oysters do make me frisky."

Suddenly, the hot water I was sitting in felt so much hotter than before.

*

The flirting had been one thing, but what she said about the oysters was an invitation for something more.

I recognized that. I had been explicitly propositioned regularly in Chicago after my cooking had put me in the spotlight.

Only with Lila, well, it was different. I had no limelight any more with which to share, so what was that all about? Did she like me for me, perhaps?

Absurd.

But it felt kind of good at the same time. Something I hadn't felt in so very long.

Which was why I had to do something to squash all that. Lila needed to understand who I really was. See my true colors, the ugly side of my character. That would do it.

I got my opportunity sooner than later. It was the first day of the winter break at school. I was sitting on the beach in my Tommy Bahama folding chair, keeping a keen eye on Mike while he bobbed on the ocean, waiting to catch a wave. Feather was also in my periphery, just in front of the water's reach and building a detailed, actually sculpted, sand castle with some skill that she was becoming quite good at.

My attention, though divided, was all on my kids so it startled me when Lila set up an almost identical chair right next to me.

She smiled brightly and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

"Please do," I returned her smile.

We exchanged pleasantries. Winter break plans, the weather, the first half of the school year, and even food.

Then she took a few moments to school me on what was before us, the Pacific. She had learned to surf as a teenager and shared some of her knowledge. Like how to spot a good wave to catch vs. a swell to let pass, and technical things like that which went right over my head.

I let that in one ear and out the other as my mind was occupied, now was as good a time as ever. I probably couldn't have asked for a better opportunity.

"Lila," I started, with a serious tone before I fumbled, "I would like to, um, you know, tell you some things. Some things you don't know about me."

She gave me a worried half-smile, "Yeah, sure. You can tell me anything. I'd like to know you better."

That didn't exactly set me at ease to get on with it, "That's just the thing. When you do know me better, the real me, you're not going to like me very much."

"Well, I don't believe that. But . . . go on."

"I was a shitty husband. And a terrible father. I failed them all."

"No. Come on. That can't be true."

I sighed, knowing she didn't yet understand. "It is true. I loved my wife. Anna. I really did. More than anything in the world. But apparently not enough, I was absent when she needed me most. I was terrible to her."

Lila asked softly, "Did you cheat on her?"

"No! Never! Not even once. I wasn't even tempted. She was my forever love, I couldn't have . . . oh, god. I did. I did cheat on her. With my ambition. I was so driven to make my restaurants successful . . . no. To make myself successful. That I neglected her."

I took a deep breath, "We met at a wedding, friends of the bride and groom. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. At least that's how I remember it. She moved in with me and I supported her through her final year of college with a job that I absolutely hated. It was her that encouraged me to go to culinary school, and she supported me all the way. Then, after getting a couple of big breaks at some great kitchens putting out swanky dishes, we opened our first restaurant together. She was the business part of the operation, and I could concentrate on the food. We did well. Really well. So much so that after we had Feather, Anna stayed at home with the kids. I liked to think that right up until that point, I was a good husband and father. But as our restaurant portfolio grew and the accolades started coming in, my ego exploded, and I turned into a monster. The hours of a chef aren't compatible with a family life anyway, mine were worse. I hardly saw the kids and missed so much of them growing up."

I couldn't have gauged Lila's reaction as I had been staring out at the ocean keeping my eye on Mike when he suddenly disappeared from view, I stood up in a panic.

Lila tried to reassure me, "It's alright. He's still there, you just have to time looking in his direction as the wave amplitude is bigger. I'd say we're almost at the peak of high tide now."

She was right, I saw him sitting on his board, waiting for the right wave I suppose. I was able to sit back down and then trained my eyes to spot him in intervals as the waves broke.

"You were saying," Lila spoke, in anticipation I guess, "You neglected your wife and kids because your hours sucked . . ."

She brought me back to my story which came with a tinge of pain. "I should just stop right there."

She urged me on with gentleness, "Charlie. Keep going. It might help to talk about it."

I felt she could be right, so I continued. "Before I would go off to any of the restaurants in my routine, Anna would get up every morning and have coffee with me. We'd talk about our plans for the day, and she'd catch me up on the news from around the house. So, I should have noticed. I can't stop thinking about that." I heard my voice trail off as I stared out after Mike.

"Noticed what?"

"Her change." I felt another stab of pain. "No matter how late I would get home at night, I mean, some were really late nights, she would wait up for me and then we'd go up to bed together. And then . . ."

My voice got caught in my throat, "And then one night I got home and she was sleeping. In her chair. Under a blanket. So unusual, I thought. And so, for the first time ever, I picked her up to carry her to bed. She weighed almost nothing. Like she was just skin and bones."

I stole a glance at Lila and asked rhetorically, "How did I not see that?!"

Lila didn't break concentration on watching out for her own boy out over the break, but I saw a tear slide down her cheek and her lips were pursed.

I shook my head like it would clear it of the memory. That's when I noticed Feather standing over me with a concerned look on her face, fighting not to cry.

In a low, guttural voice, Feather urged me on, "Tell her what happened next, Dad. Tell Miss Winn what . . . happened . . . next!"

I didn't want to go on. Feather had been through enough; she shouldn't have to hear me recount the ending. I was disappointed enough in myself she had overheard whatever she had overheard.

A now very pissed off Feather took over, "Fine! I'll tell her."

She took a step forward and addressed Lila, "Dad quit working. He never went back to his restaurants. He stayed by Mom's side all through the rest of her sickness. And then when Mom left her body . . . " Feather finally dropped a tear of her own, looking angry over it as she wiped it away before continuing, "Dad never let Mike and I out of his sight after that. Except wherever we went in Chicago, we saw Mom . . . and it hurt. So we moved away from all our memories and came here. To Mom's favorite place. With none of the reminders."

It was weird hearing all that from Feather's perspective. I don't think we had ever talked about that part. I stood and wrapped her up in a hug. That's when she let it all go and started to sob.

Which was exactly the right moment for me to notice from over her shoulder that Mike had moved from his previous position on the seawater.

Seen clearly from atop of the swell, on his chest and using his arms to paddle his brains out. He got just in front of it as the wave began to break. Quickly, like I had seen him a hundred times practice in the swimming pool, he lifted himself to his feet on the board.

He was up! Not only did he catch the wave, but he was riding it.

The weight of the mood had been erased. Lila, now on her feet, got caught up in the excitement and was jumping up and down, shouting, "I knew you could do it!"

Feather had redirected her attention too and was frozen in what unfolded before us. I can only describe it as both disbelief and anticipation of how far Mike could take it. We were all urging him to keep going.

And he did. He took that wave almost all the way to the shore, but far enough that his feet left the board of his own accord. He stood, alternating between knee high and waist high in the water and he looked towards us, lifting his hands in victory. We signaled back that we saw it all and I pumped my fists in the air to punctuate that.

I looked down and smiled at Feather and it was bittersweet, but she smiled back. I asked her, "Are you OK?"

She responded, "I'll be alright. Are you OK, Dad?"

I nodded back, "I love you, kiddo."

"I love you too, Dad."

I looked over to Lila and she had a weird smile on her face. One of happiness and sadness at the same time, only that sounds weird. I can't describe it. It was a face still wet from tears.

She took two steps forward and wrapped me in an embrace. It started awkward until I brought my arms around her and hugged her back. It felt good. Reassuring even.

I barely made out her voice saying, "You're no monster."

*

Lila's mom had us over on Christmas day for dinner. It was just what my family needed.

Lila's parents are just wonderful people, I even got the feeling that they were playing surrogate parents to me and grandparents to the kids. I actually felt happy little flashes of when my folks were still alive, especially memories of the holidays.

I tried to play the man card and watch football with Ben senior, I mean, I was vested in the game as the Bears were playing but the sounds and smells from the kitchen sucked me in. That and I had to finish the dish I started as my contribution to Christmas dinner.

I brought the beginnings of authentic Bratkartoffeln (german potatoes) using bauchspeck instead of bacon. All I needed was to throw it in the oven to finish. I spent most of the rest of my day with Lila's mom in the kitchen and it was awesome, reminding me of cooking with my own mother when I was a teen. She was cute and funny, Lila was lucky to grow up with such a great family.

The kids seemed to have a good time. It felt like a throwback to our old family gatherings, from when our family was still alive. That thought should have sent me into a spiral, but I kept my head above water.

Somehow things got mixed up. At one moment it was pointed out that I was under (or nearly under) a sprig of mistletoe, and within arm's reach of Lila. We blushed furiously but honored the tradition and kissed. Never had there been one so chaste, yet I felt like I melted down just the same.

I chastised myself for days.

Then it happened again.

The Winns held a New Year's party, a family friendly one for all ages. I thought we should show up looking nice and festive so I went shopping with the kids, Feather picking out formal outfits for all of us like her mother would have done.

The party was a lot of fun and I felt almost alive again, socializing with the Winn's adult friends, meeting people and laughing. I couldn't believe how long it had been since I experienced that.

At one point it felt like Anna was with me and had her arm around my waist. She would have just loved the party.

All of a sudden like, everything reset. The stroke of midnight snuck up on me and before I knew it, the crowd was counting down from ten.

I looked around for my kids but didn't immediately see them. Instead, I was startled as I turned and almost walked into Lila.

Her smile was glowing at about a million watts. "Happy New Year," she rushed before putting her mouth on mine.

At first, my brain said, "No. Stop."

Then the other senses kicked in. She smelled amazing, her lips tasted better than any desert, and . . . and . . .

No!

I broke the moment, gently at least. And then let myself get lost in the white noise that my emotions bulldozed me with.

*

One thing Lila and I had in common: immaturity.

Yeah. Because we didn't talk about it. It never happened.

That's not to say that we avoided each other. Every day that was spent at the beach, we sat next to each other, watching our kids surf and sand sculpt. Winter break finally came to an end and we resumed our routines as normal. School starting back up was not embraced but came with a groan.

One day towards the end of January, we were in the final throes of the high school lunch service when Lila burst into the kitchen, angst written all over her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," was all she got out before one of my grandma servers announced herself in the kitchen.

"Chef," she dictated with some semblance of drama, "the Principal just came through with some guy, and they both loaded up on student lunches. They're now eating in the cafeteria with trays of one of everything."

I looked to Lila. "What's going on?!"

She tried to look small, "I didn't know until a few minutes ago. She invited a reporter, he's the food columnist from the LA Times. I don't . . ."

Shit. I thought that part of my life was over. Why was this happening?!

What else could I do but wait things out. I busied myself getting the next service ready. Jacalyn was notably quiet as a mouse. Confusion, tension, and wanting to know was palpable.

I was getting almost minute by minute updates from my new student helper whom I positioned to watch everything in the cafeteria with the principal unfold, like I might an FBI agent on a stakeout. After the pair finished eating, they floated about the room and talked to some of the students.

Finally, lunch service was over and I left Jacalyn to start cleaning up and made my way into the cafeteria. The principal saw me and with an enthusiastic smile, motioned that I should join them.

We all sat down at an empty student long-table while my grandmas came out in force to wipe down the surfaces, seeming to gravitate to just within earshot to be nosey. That was fine with me, I couldn't blame them for being just as curious as I was.

"Charlie," Mrs. Bickler, the principal, started out, "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Freedley. Food columnist for the LA Times."

He stood and pumped my hand with enthusiasm then begged me to sit down across from him at the table.

He started, "Fascinating. Just fascinating. I had the privilege of eating at two of your restaurants in Chicago while I was at a food-writers convention there. They were fantastic. Then, I heard you had just upped and disappeared. And now, here you are. Cooking student lunches in Topanga. Fascinating!"

I didn't know how to respond, so I tried to downplay it all, "It's not that big of a deal, really. Just needed a change of scenery and to get closer to my kids is all."

"Not a big deal?!" He looked mystified. "It is a very big deal."

Queen Principal interjected without thinking it through, "His wife died. She was from Topanga. This is how he's dealing with his grief."

Over her shoulder I could see Lila who was standing with her arms crossed just within earshot. She looked to the ceiling at what she overheard, and I saw her mouth a silent, "Oh my god."

The critic took on a look of kindness, "I'm sorry to hear about your wife." I wondered if critics actually could be kind, I had never met one. They wouldn't exactly reveal themselves when in my restaurant, and though I had many a great review, the bad ones stood out. Leaving an indelible, sometimes vitriolic, and permanent mark on my psyche.

"Thank you."

It was all I could get out before Mrs. Bickler exercised her stupid mouth again, "He was a tortured soul until he came here, to Topanga, where this good community and student body took him in as family, and we are restoring his healthy well-being."

Lila's head looked like it was going to explode while she swayed her head side to side with lips pursed so tight they turned white.

I stuttered while Mr. Freedley looked shocked and satisfied at the same time.

I wouldn't understand her motives until later, but Mrs. Bickler continued to push, "This feature that you are going to write on our school chef will be outstanding. You can get the word out in advance of the upcoming Chef Graves charity dinner that we will be hosting, right here at this school."

That rattled me. There had been no talk of anything like that. I made an accusing glare at the principal and she knew she had crossed a line a little too far but she still smirked back at me knowing I was trapped. Lila briefly put her face into hands before looking at me and mouthing, "I'm sorry."

I thought Mr. Freedley's face would crack from the broad smile, "Fascinating! Well. Your school lunch was the best school lunch I've ever tried, and for cafeteria food, it was better than most restaurants I have to review on a regular basis. I'm going to feature you in the Sunday edition. Thank you for agreeing to this interview. I won't be surprised if this gets picked up for syndication."

With that, he set his phone down on the table between us, pressing a 'record' button. "Let's begin, shall we?"

*

"Dad. It's not thaaaat bad." Feather spoke without looking up from the article in the paper. "It actually made you sound pretty cool."

"No, Dad. Not just cool. It made you sound like a badass." Mike said with a grin. "Because you kinda are. You're a badass."

I made a stern face in reply to my son for his language.

Lila chuckled and then said to the group, "I would have to agree. You are definitely a badass, Chef Graves."

Feather, Mike, both Bens, Alice, and Lila were all sitting at the Winn's dining room table, a sloppy stack of Sunday papers acting as a centerpiece. Each one of us had extracted the Food section from the paper, open for countless re-reading.

It felt like an intervention was in progress.

Feather held up the two full-page spreads for me to see. It was covered in highlighter ink. "The circles in green are the cool things, like smart quotes of yours or compliments. The circles in yellow are the things that are not so great. Pink highlights, well, kinda embarrassing. But look! It's mostly green!"

I sighed, "It's all embarrassing. I can't believe this."

Right then my phone buzzed while in front of me on the table. It had been doing that almost nonstop since I dropped in on the Winns following their invitation to come over and work on 'damage control' together.

I ignored the call. Again.

Alice spoke up for the first time, "Your picture came out nice. You look so handsome in your chef jacket."

Before Mr. Freedley had left the cafeteria that day, he snapped some pictures of me. No surprise that the principal was in every one. As she had insisted.

Alice reiterated her comment but directed it at Lila, "Doesn't he look handsome in that photo."

Lila smiled largely, right at me, but didn't skip a beat, "Yes. Very handsome." It suddenly struck me that her lips looked moist and kissable. Then I realized she was wearing some kind of lip gloss or lipstick or something I hadn't seen on her before.

Younger Ben got in the act by ribbing me, "I'm just disappointed you didn't give me any props in your interview. Your food kinda sucked until I suggested you add some heat."

Lila scolded her son, "Ben! Be nice."

He chuckled and sort of apologized, "Actually, I do agree with the food review part of the article. I really like every dish of yours I've tried."

"Thank you, Ben." I looked over at Lila. "What young Ben is saying is where the trouble really lies. There's going to be repercussions." As if to highlight what I said, my phone buzzed again.

Lila fully understood, "So if the entire student body shows up tomorrow and wants a hot lunch, I take it that you can't handle that?"

I replied in all truthfulness, "No. For weeks I've been prepared to cross the threshold of 350, but no way I can serve all 800 kids."

She asked cautiously, "What about 600?"

"Yeah, sure. I could. But I'm going to need more food, mind you, on short notice. And more bodies to help in the kitchen."

Feather jumped at the opportunity, "Dad, let me help!"

Mike doubled down, "Ooh. Me too."

Young Ben wanted a piece, "Count me in!"

These kids did lighten my mood with their enthusiasm. It made me chuckle.

I pointed at my son, "You just want to get out of math class. Don't tell me any differently."

He just shrugged his shoulders with a smile.

"But even if I allowed it, there's a fine line between student helpers and child labor laws."

Lila echoed my sentiment, "He's right. We can't have you kids in the kitchen without district approval and that would take weeks."

She then looked my way again, "I, on the other hand, will be there. Just tell me what to chop. And let me make some phone calls. I told you, I know people in this town."

I got a warm feeling. I knew Lila would pull out a miracle and not let me down.

Now I just needed to get my hands on more food.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed again. Only this time I looked at the screen. It was my West Hills food wholesaler.

I picked it up and heard a familiar voice, "Charlie? Tom here, WHFW. I read that article on you in today's Times. Who knew I was supplying an award-winning chef? That article is blowing up on social, too. Want me to double this week's order?"

I replied, all too eager, "Could you?! Hell yeah!"

"I'd be happy to. I also want to be first on the list for a ticket to your charity hoo haw. Would like to be your supplier for it too."

"Tom! Yes, on both. You are a lifesaver."

*

Monday was a surreal experience. Just walking from the front doors of the school to the cafeteria kitchen, the school faculty came out of the woodwork to congratulate me on the article. Students high fived me in the hallway.

It wasn't like I could say stop it, I didn't ask to be written up in the paper. Nobody wants to be humiliated and that's how I felt. All I could do was thank them and move on down the hallway.

My team got to work early, eager even. Only after I was asked to autograph all their copies of the newspaper. Damn LA Times.

Also getting in early was my food supplier. What a relief. I carefully supervised the load-in to the walk-ins and kitchen stores.

Lila doubled my staff. I didn't know them from Adam but had no choice but to put my trust in them. No matter. I was grateful but not at all surprised that she pulled off the impossible. She downplayed it shyly, "Don't thank me until later, so long as nobody severs a finger and loses it in your soup of the day."

We hit the ground running and set the assembly line for a big day. It paid off and we killed it. Serving 450 meals with room to spare, the leftovers going over the hill to a food bank.

I also have to give credit to Lila in finding us another grandma as a server. She did wonders on helping speed up the line that was longer than we had ever experienced.

It was cool having Lila volunteer in the kitchen though I got the distinct impression that the fact we physically made 'accidental' contact so frequently was no accident.

Proof of that came on Tuesday. Lila asked me to check on something in the cooler with her. I should have known something was afoot. Yet, if I had to admit, I'd do anything she asked me to. I seemed almost powerless not to. I had no idea why.

When we got to the back of the cooler, she turned to me and shivered, "I'm so cold."

I was slow on the take, "Well of course you are. It's 35 degrees in here, so let's get out . . ."

She got close and wrapped her arms around me. I reciprocated, albeit in confusion.

Then I got it. She leaned in to kiss me then paused with this most beautiful look on her face. It was a mix of wonder, want, and need. It was impossible for me to not finish the lean.

Our lips connected. So softly at first. I felt something run through my body, like a 'tingle', I don't know how else to describe it. Then, the kiss turned into something else, something deeper. My mind said 'no' but my biology wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.

She broke the kiss while I just stood there like a mindless mannequin, wondering how I lost control. She whispered to me, "I know you're not ready yet, I'm sorry. No. I'm not sorry. I just want you to know that when you are ready, I call dibs. I want the first chance at you. Please?"

In my daze, I just nodded my head at first. "Of course."

She got a giddy, blushy smile, "Thanks." Then she turned to make an exit before turning back just as quick. I got another peck on the lips before she said, "God, you're a good kisser."

And then she was gone.

*

We hit another milestone the next day when we served 550 lunches. By the skin of our teeth.

A feat that should have been celebrated if it wasn't spoiled by a number of events.

First was that some parents of our students tried to crash the school to buy lunches and eat with their kids. Ding dongs. It was a serious distraction and security nightmare. Good training on the part of the staff and school district kept things from going over the line.

Second was that a news camera showed up at the school. Targeted for me to make a statement, I suppose, following up on the feature article. Lila directed me and my kids to a secret way out the back after school and we narrowly managed to avoid more unwanted publicity.

Then the unthinkable happened on such short notice. The district sent down an employee to sous chef for me and replace Lila's hands-on help so she could get back to her real job.

Lila introduced her to the kitchen staff without a lot of fanfare, more like disdain. My new employee, named, I kid you not, Honey. Late 20's maybe, very pretty, curvy, and um, well endowed? Is that something I can admit to? Not like anyone could miss that.

Lila stomped off and missed the fact that my staff was so busy that nobody had any time for any extracurricular attention.

We finished the week with a crazy amount of lunches served. Something to really be proud of.

The kids were elated to start the weekend, but I got home that Friday night feeling very much alone. Feather loaded a much-anticipated book onto her kindle and cocooned herself in a little window-seat nook off of the living room with a great canyon view. Mike cemented himself in front of the TV with his headphones on and PS4 controls in hand, not to be heard from again for hours.

I started the night off in the hot tub with a beer and studied the stars. I spoke out loud in the direction of the universe, "Anna. What am I doing?"

*

The story did get syndicated and was reprinted as a human-interest piece in the far corners and places in between across the continent. I got lots of requests for further interviews and comments but turned them all down. There was nothing more to say, really. The article was pretty comprehensive of my life, background, and thankfully, my words concerning my commitment to serving yummy but nutritional meals.

I looked forward to when the hype would die down and it didn't take long. Still, the demand for hot lunches at school stayed strong. Settling down until it leveled off in the mid to high 400's.

What took longer to die down was a solid string of job offers to either cook at someone's restaurant or investors that wanted to bankroll a new opening per my design. Some were offering pretty big incentives, others even promised me control.

I had a sit down with the kids to discuss that. I reaffirmed my dedication to the school, but more importantly, my schedule would not be compromised and kept in their favor. Things would not go back to the way they were. I could feel an enormous wave of relief, especially from Feather, and she practically clung to me for the rest of the day.

My temporary staff of extras were eventually replaced or made permanent. All female, and of all ages. Not that it mattered to me, but it seemed to matter to Lila. I didn't notice at first, but she focused her ire all on Honey.

As a team, we worked together to fine tune our assembly line and processes to accommodate so many lunches, and I was quite proud of my staff. Things became routine and the kitchen ran smoothly. Whoever the architects of the school was, they had a lot of foresight when it came to future growth, nothing more so than with the kitchen.

Lila asked me to see her in her office before I went home one day.

She sat the kids down in the front-office lobby and asked them to wait, telling them that we wouldn't be long. Then she had me follow to her little closet-sized office and sit down. Lila closed the door, but instead of sitting in her own chair on the other side of her desk, she sat on the edge of it on my side.

The room was really not built for that kind of interaction, so let me just state the obvious, we were positioned close to each other. Lila with a serious expression looking down on me. Unusually dressed for her, she crossed her legs and her skirt rose, further exposing a pair of long perfect legs in stockings and heels.

I had to look. I couldn't help it. I returned to making eye contact and might have even gulped.

She narrowed her eyes and asked, "How are you getting along with your staff?"

"Excellent," I replied honestly.

"With everyone?"

"Um. Yeah. So. Where are you going with this?"

"I heard from Jacalyn that your new assistant, Honey, is a bit much."

Ah, I should have seen it coming. "She's good at what she does. She's a strong member of the team and came up to speed very fast." A flash of frustration flew across Lila's face.

"What I've come to understand is that she's very flirty with you."

"I never noticed."

"Oh, come on!"

I came clean, "OK, yeah. Out of her mouth, there's a lot of innuendo that is borderline not appropriate, but you don't know what I've been exposed to over my career. I'm used to it and I let it roll off my back. I'm a professional. I've never once taken the bait." That took a little wind out of her sails.

Lila sort of harrumphed, "She's awfully pretty."

"So."

"Don't you think she's pretty?"

"It doesn't matter." I changed tack on her, "I think you are awfully pretty. Even more beautiful than Honey. I haven't lost my control with you now, have I?"

She smiled at that and blushed, "Almost."

I asked, knowingly, "What do you mean almost?"

"That kiss. In the walk in. I almost had you, and you were this close ripping my bodice off." Not that she had ever worn one around me, but she emphasized her words by holding her hand up with thumb and index fingers almost touching. That close, huh?

I chuckled, "True. If it hadn't been so cold in the walk-in, I might have caught fire and burned the school down."

She snapped her fingers, "Damn. So are you telling me that if I laid that kiss down on you on a warm beach, or, um, maybe in your hot tub, that you would have lost all control?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny. What I will tell you is that it was no ordinary kiss. I felt it on my lips the rest of the day."

She sighed and rearranged her legs again, which I watched hungrily.

I simply asked, "Now who's being flirty?"

*

I turned our conversation over and over in my mind until I came to the final conclusion that I could have played a smarter hand.

Sure, I defused the jealousy missile, but I also led her on.

That makes me an asshole.

She clearly likes me, her words and actions demonstrated that on a number of occasions.

And to be truthful, I like her. A lot. I already thought of her as a good friend. She could make me laugh and seemed to work at that as if it were a personal goal. Our conversations at the beach were everything from interesting to teasing to downright silly, but always comfortable.

In my life, I had only been like this with one other woman. Anna.

Growing up and never really getting too far west of Chicago, I had this idea in my head that Southern California was warm all the time, like 75° weather every day and every night. Man, was I ever wrong. Up in the hills by the house, yes, the temperature is moderate and mostly warm with perfect days, but it gets cold at night. At the beach, in late-winter and early-spring, with the wind off of the Pacific, in the middle of the day it can easily hang in the 50's.

Which is amusing, really. When it gets into the 50's following a Chicago winter, people break out the shorts and a short-sleeve tee shirt. Whether California broke my tolerance or what, I don't know, but I was damn cold at the beach.

Mike was fine in his wetsuit, sitting up on his surfboard in 56° sea temperature, though he complained that his feet got cold so I bought him some 'un-cool' booties that went unused. Feather would build sandcastles wearing a poofy jacket and sometimes gloves. I say castles, but she had an affinity for carving haunted mansions. Weird kid, I know, but I was proud of her creations that were quite fantastic and whimsical.

So when Lila started bringing a blanket to the beach with her, she was generous. Or maybe she just found my shivering annoying. She'd place her chair close to mine to where our armrests made contact, and we'd share her blanket. Huddled under it shoulder to shoulder, sometimes hand in hand under the cover, as we supervised our children from a distance.

Sharing a little body heat was one thing. But she smelled nice. Is that weird? There was an aroma, unique to her I believe, that would collect under the blanket and waft up through where our necks and shoulders turtled out from under, and it was almost intoxicating sometimes.

Our beach gathering had become a regular thing, we stopped taking separate cars and instead would all jam into my truck, traveling to the surf and sand together. Feather, who had taken over the shotgun seat from her mother immediately after Anna passed, gave it up to Lila (somewhat reluctantly I think).

When Lila was in the front seat of the truck with me, I could smell that now familiar aroma. I know I'm super attentive to my acute sense of smell, probably something that paid dividends as a chef. But I liked the way she smelled. And I started to crave it.

All of which left me with a deep feeling of guilt at times.

What would Anna think? What would she want me to do?

There were times I just wanted to kiss Lila. Experience again what I felt in the walk-in cooler that one time. Or the kiss at New Years. Yeah, that one was memorable too.

I had been turning all that around in my mind after we had settled into our beach chairs, keeping my thoughts to myself when Lila brought me to the present with a squeeze of her hand in mine. "Hey. What are you thinking?" She asked. "You make this hard 'V' with your eyebrows when you are thinking real hard. What is it?"

Anna used to say that about me too. Nevertheless, I was caught out. "Oh. Uh. Nothing."

She grinned, "Alright, Lunch Lady Man, go ahead and keep it to yourself."

My relief at that was short lived, she asked, "Want to know what I was thinking?" It seemed like a loaded question to me, so I just grunted. "I was thinking that never in my life had I tried to seduce someone before. And that inexperience is now obvious. I've changed the way I dress, right up to the edge of appropriateness for a high school. I've upped the wattage on my smile that I point your way. All of this is for you, and only you. I'm being patient though. Only, it isn't easy for me."

I sort of stuttered, "You don't have to do any of that."

She sighed, "Why? Because I have no chance with you? Is that what you're saying?"

I took a long slow deep breath through my nose, bringing courage. "No. That's not what I'm saying. But I think your sexiest outfit was the Minnie Mouse tee shirt you were wearing the day I met you."

She chuckled. "Good to know." She paused before saying, "You know, after the other day in my office, I sort of sized you up as a leg-man."

I admitted, "I'm very much a leg-man." We were now staring at each other, our faces inches apart. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop looking."

"I wore what I wore so that you would look. I practically sat on your face. All on purpose."

Oh, god. The thought of her sitting on my face sent a ripple through my entire being. My brain disconnected from my motor skills and good judgement. I uncoupled my hand from hers under the blanket and reset it onto her leg, only I missed the top of her thigh and landed on the inside of it.

I felt her shudder while she emitted an approving, "Ohh."

I would be remiss if I didn't point out that we were fully clothed, dressed for warmth. It was not exactly bikini weather yet. Still, she was wearing not quite sweatpants, but more like heavy yoga pants, and it mattered not. There was an energy that passed between us at that slight contact. Such a small and delicate touch that transmitted an enormous amount of intimacy.

She put her hand over mine and slowly started guiding it higher, towards her most private place. The heat pouring out from under the blanket felt intensified, bringing with it her scent, mixed with a new scent. One of arousal. I could feel the strain of my own arousal.

I swallowed. She licked her lips. And we leaned in closer towards what would surely be a full lipped kiss when it all crashed.

It was Feather, "Dad. Hey, Dad!"

I removed my hand from Lila's inner thigh like a kid just caught with his hand in a cookie jar. I'm sure my whole body jerked as if an electrical shock ran through me.

"What is it, Feather?! Are you OK."

She giggled, "Of course. Mike and Ben are done surfing. Would you look at my sculpture before we go?"

I folded my side of the blanket off of me and all onto Lila. "Yeah, sure, kiddo. Let's get some pictures of it. It looks tall from here."

I made a brief glance at Lila before I trekked off. She looked so frustrated. I'm sure I looked no less.

*

I floated on air into the school building. I high fived a record number of students in the hallways en route to the kitchen. I could feel my smile altering my face.

Mike had asked over breakfast, "Dad, what's wrong with you?"

I replied, "Son, instead you should be asking what's right with me?"

Feather nudged him and I could just make out her saying, "I'll tell you later."

I didn't care. I no longer fought my feelings. Giving in to them completely, I felt better than I had in years. I had nearly, like almost, felt up a beautiful woman that I really liked. Even better was that she wanted it as much as I did. Booyah! So close. OK, yeah, not cool that it almost happened within eyeshot of our children, but that split second of a moment would buoy my confidence and well-being for a long time to come.

This old guy still had some life to live. I now had new hope.

I almost made it into the school kitchen when I spied the guy who refills the soda machines restocking the dispenser with cans and plastic bottles. I couldn't help myself and made a beeline over to talk to him.

"Hey," I asked him, "How's it going?"

Disinterested and without looking up, he responded, "Hey. Sorry, man, no free sodas."

I laughed, "Yeah, no, I don't want one. In fact, if your machine full of junk were the last thing on Earth, I would rather die of thirst. That's not why I'm pestering you."

Somewhat confused, he looked up at me and sort of did a double take. "Oh, hey. I know you. You were in the Times. You're the famous lunch guy here." He stood up and shook my hand.

I had a momentary thought that I was glad he didn't refer to me as Lunch Lady Man, not that he would know that as it's reserved for Lila, but I had a question that I had been waiting months to ask.

"What I'd like to know, is what your machine's sales are looking like since I installed my drink dispensers?"

He laughed, "First, they're not my machines. My company just gets paid to restock them. However, you might be interested to know that over last year at this time, sales are down by half. My supervisor said that there's some concerned white-collars over that. Not that I care, I get paid the same either way and it's been easier on my back."

I gave my hands a solid clap, "That's great."

He chuckled at my reaction and then got close like he was telling me a secret, "I'm with you pal. I used to bring my work home all the time until I watched my little girl get to be not so little, if you know what I mean. And her mouth is full of cavities. I don't do that no more."

I man-slapped him on the shoulder and led him over to my drink dispensers. "Take your pick and feel free to have as much as you want whenever you're in the building."

He seemed elated, "Hey, thanks man. That's real cool."

Still on a cloud, I turned and nearly ran over Lila who was crossing through the cafeteria. Stupidly, but fueled by my good mood, I kissed her first before affectionately squeezing her shoulders and saying, "Good morning!"

She recoiled and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before hissing, "Stop it. What do you think you're doing?! Not here, you idiot."

I fell ten stories back to Earth and collided face first into concrete. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, "It's OK, big boy. What put you in such a good mood?" Her eyes sort of twinkled after that and she fought back a smile.

I was thrilled to tell her, "First, this girl I like, well, she likes me back." Lila tilted her head and gave me a sexy kind of smirk. "Then, I just found out my free drink dispensers cut sales of pop by half."

She looked confused, "Pop?"

I chuckled, "Pop. Midwest vernacular for sodas, Cokes. Drinks like that."

She giggled and then play-slapped my abs, "OK, you. Get to work."

I resisted the urge to kiss her again and gave in to her logic of avoiding any PDA, "Yeah, OK." I turned back towards the kitchen, thought of something, then made a sharp 180 until I was standing in front of her again.

"Lila? Would you go out to dinner with me this Friday?"

Her face morphed into an ear-to-ear grin. "You mean, like, a date?"

I responded, "Of course it would be a date."

She blushed while squirming her body into the shape of a flower stem, "Yes. I thought you'd never ask."

*

Friday morning, I found some time to make my way over to Lila's office. I was glad to find her alone. She smiled at me as if happy to see me and said hello.

I greeted her in kind and set a jar of pickles on her desk. My gesture was obviously appreciated by the look on her face.

"Lila," I started out sheepishly, "for our date tonight, I know I brought up dinner."

She gave me a cautious smile, "Uh, yeah. Are you bringing me pickles because you want to back out?"

"No! Of course not. But, um, I'm sure you wanted to dress up and go somewhere fancy. Would you, um, instead, uh, dress real casual and let me take you somewhere, uh, divey like?"

She couldn't contain herself and laughed heartily. Finally, she got under control and affirmed my hopes, "I'd go anywhere you want, happily."

I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her before resisting another desire to kiss her and turned back to leave her office.

At the doorway she paused me with, "Hey, Lunch Lady Man, by casual do you mean you want me to wear my sexy Minnie Mouse tee shirt."

I exaggerated some sense of swooning over that, "If you want me to lose all control, then yes, please."

Her giggling sounded like music behind me as I walked through the front office full of grinning middle-aged women sitting at their desks.

*

As I pulled up in front of her parent's house for our date, I felt self-conscious. Suddenly I thought that my old truck wasn't good enough for her to be seen in, my mind even went through thoughts of buying a new car. That slowed me down enough that when I saw her jog towards my passenger door, I wasn't able to reach it in time to open for her. At least she saw me try.

Back in the driver's seat, I admitted, "You saved me that awkward 'talk to the parents, what are your intentions' moment."

She giggled, "Yeah, I meant to do that. So. What are your intentions?"

"Oh. Perfectly honorable."

She made a mock pouty face, "Damn. That's really too bad."

I took stock of what she was wearing, skintight, leg complimenting yoga pants but more noticeably, her Minnie Mouse tee shirt underneath an unbuttoned jean jacket. Her hair tied back in a red ribbon that matched her lipstick.

I groaned, "Well, my self-control may be in serious doubt with you in that tee."

She giggled, "So worth it then."

As I pulled out and headed towards the 27, I tried to brace her for what was coming, "I hope you won't hate me for where I'm taking you."

"Hate you? Not possible."

I then pulled my truck into the Burger Shak parking lot. It took her a moment to process that before she burst out into a belly laugh.

When she got under control she asked, "Really?! Mr. Nutrition wants a burger?"

I admitted it. "A chili burger, to be precise."

That brought another bout of laughter from her, "My champion-of-nutrition Lunch Lady Man wants junk food. Mr. One-hundred dollars a plate, collector of Michelin stars, can you be seen in a place like this?"

I returned her goofy smile in my response, "Shhh. I've been craving a chili burger. One wouldn't want to live on Michelin star food alone, you know."

Tears streamed from her eyes with laughter. When she settled down and cleaned her face using the inside of her tee, she unclipped her seat belt and leaned towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck. Following that, I received a deep and lingering tongue-ie kiss.

"I love Burger Shak," she admitted after breaking our smooch. "This hidden side of you is fun and unexpected. If you were looking for a way into my pants, well, this was a perfect start."

*

Unfortunately, the Burger Shak is a popular Friday night hangout for high schoolers. The teenagers couldn't miss us and we got high-fived all the way to the booth we were seated at. Others dropped by at random intervals to say, "Hi."

Lila found it all amusing, "Your reputation just hit the skids, fella."

I chuckled, "Ahem. I beg to differ. I think being in this fine establishment just made me look human. Maybe even cool."

We ordered and were waiting on our food when Lila got somewhat serious. She asked, "What about the kids?"

I knew what she meant, "I talked to them about our date, and they seemed OK with it. I was mostly worried about Feather, but she seemed supportive. My kids like you. What about Ben?"

She didn't seem so sure about my response, but she answered for her side, "He seems fine with it. Remember what I told you in one of our beach conversations, I escaped from his father so long ago, Ben doesn't even remember him. My son likes you too, and he's really gotten to be friends with your kids. My parents are thrilled, of course. They think you walk on water."

Our food was served and before I dug in, I gathered a bunch of paper towels from the roller on the table for both of us. This was going to be messy. But Lila didn't move, just looked at her plate while she mulled something over.

She finally looked up in seriousness. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you this or not. I have to be honest with you and be clean. Feather skipped her gym class a week ago and she came to see me in my office. She really hates gym, by the way."

In surprise, I responded, "I know. But she knows better than to skip class. She flies straight as an arrow, avoiding getting in trouble like the plague. Why would she chance that and skip?"

"She works hard at school because she wants you to be proud of her. That's why it couldn't have been easy for her to skip class." Lila took a deep breath before continuing. "She sat down in my office and said, 'I know what you are doing. You're trying to make my dad like you.' I admitted to her that I was and asked her for permission. What she said next, um, well, you need to brace yourself."

All I could do was blink at her while I processed all of that.

Lila took another deep breath, "She said, 'I will let you be with my dad, on two conditions. One, Mike and I just got our old dad back when we got to Topanga. We don't want to lose him again. Two, I promised Mom that we'd be happy. All of us. A happy family. I want him to be happy too, which is why I'll give you my permission, but if you try and take him away from me or make him unhappy . . . I'm not going to stand for it.'"

Oh, Feather. We were going to talk about that.

Lila added, "Hard to believe your kid is only 13."

"Yeah. I know. She had to mature fast after . . . well . . . you know."

"Just so you know. I wrote out a permission slip for her to skip the rest of gym class and sent her to the library until her next class."

"Thanks. Holy shit."

Lila took my hands from across the table, "Listen. You have great kids. And they love you. You once called yourself a monster, but you're not. People can change, people do change. And whether you did all those things you think you did or not, the person you are right now? Well, you are just one terrific father. I would never take you away from your kids, just like Ben will always come first for me too. But I know exactly how you feel, because I feel the same way. It's lonely being in our situation. Together, maybe we can cure each other of that. And I think I can make you happy. Very happy. Thanks for giving me the chance tonight."

She giggled at my total loss of words and squeezed my hands before letting go. "Now eat."

*

"What changed your mind?" She asked, as we sipped a second house-made rootbeer after our plates had been cleared.

"About what?" I asked, knowing what she meant.

Her face wore mock annoyment at my feigned ignorance, "What got you to ask me out."

I decided on honesty, though it would confirm I'm crazy. "I talked to my wife. She's in the stars. I told her that I had a chance to be with a seriously wonderful, beautiful woman that I really like and seems to like me back. I told Anna that I wanted to take a chance and see if you were serious."

"Really?"

"Really."

She wore a funny smile when she said, "I'm totally serious. Hey. Can we get out of here?"

I paid up and we walked to my truck in the parking lot. She put her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss that was on the level of eleven out of ten.

When we came up for air, she was breathing hard. "Charlie. I sort of figured that tonight, there would be some alcohol involved. I actually counted on it."

I responded, "The Watering Hole is less than a mile from here. We can go get a beer or glass of wine, or whatever. Their sign says they even have dancing."

She shook her head, "Too many teachers hang out in there. They'd get into our business or make me feel uncomfortable or worse. I don't want to share you with anyone tonight."

"Oh. OK. Well, do you want me to take you home?" I already felt a pang of disappointment at that.

"Definitely not. Know what I want to do? Drive." She held out an open palm, "May I have your keys?"

I chuckled, never knowing what to expect next from this woman. I dropped my keys into her hand.

She started the truck and pulled out onto the main road leading up the canyon. "Since I didn't drink any courage, I thought driving a big old truck might substitute for that. There's something I'd really like to accomplish tonight, and I don't want to chicken out."

"And what might that be?"

"You'll see. I do hope you'll like it."

It was a short ride. She parked my truck in an empty parking lot, right in front of the school.

To my surprise, I sputtered, "Here?"

She looked over at me as she turned off the ignition and handed back my keys, "Shhh. I'm nervous enough. But I'm determined to do this. So just, please, don't say anything until I show you what I want to show you."

"OK." I took the keys and then followed her lead.

She unlocked the main front door after going through a large ring of keys she extracted from her enormous purse. We got into the lobby where she told me, "Wait here." The very giant female night security guard waved to us from the window of what we refer to as 'the guard shack' but was really just a room by the front doors, even smaller than Lila's office.

Lila entered the shack and had a quick conversation with the guard. All I could make out was what sounded like whispering.

When she emerged, she had a determined but devilish look, "All settled. Follow me."

She led me through the labyrinth of hallways until we reached the auditorium/gymnasium, but instead of going in through any sets of the double doors, she went back to fingering her keyring until reaching the one she wanted with an, "Aha!"

She opened a door I had never noticed before, but then again, I didn't wander too far outside the radius of the kitchen and cafeteria region anyway so no wonder I had missed it. Beyond the door was a narrow hallway filled with an upward leading dark staircase that started three feet from the opening. "Turn the lock behind you," she asked as the door closed and everything went to black. Lila was ready for that and the staircase went to 'dimly illuminated' from the flashlight feature of her phone.

It was a long stairway, we probably climbed close to twenty feet in elevation by the time we reached a landing. Though there was nobody even close to us that would overhear, Lila spoke in almost a whisper, "This is the mezzanine that wraps 360 degrees around the auditorium. In intervals there are hatch like doorways that peer into the gym, it was meant to be used for projectors and special effects and things but we've never found a real purpose for it. Well. Someone did, until I found out."

She led me down the hallway until we turned a corner and then another hallway and paused at the next corner. There, in the dim light from the phone, there was an oversized bean bag atop a Mexican style woven blanket and a steamer trunk beside it.

"Here we are," she announced, still in whispers.

She put her purse down next to the bean bag and then embraced and kissed me while standing, we necked like that until my lips were throbbing.

"God, you're a great kisser," she said as we finally broke.

I was still confused by our situation, and she sensed that. She wandered over to a hatch on the wall and opened it up for me to see. Surely enough, the auditorium laid beyond and a long way down. She closed it up again with a piercing screech from the latch hardware.

"In our first year when the school was new, I didn't even know this was here." She explained, "But one of our teachers who likened himself as a Casanova did know. He set up this nest and seduced as many teachers as he could right here. Some of them were even married."

She motioned to an inside wall beam that had been marked with a number of 'X's using a black Sharpie. "In lieu of a bedpost notch, the shithead documented it here.

"One of my teachers, a good friend of mine, after being a willing victim, was crestfallen in the aftermath, and I found the whole thing out. Firing a tenured asshole teacher is impossible, so I re-keyed the lock and then had the teacher reassigned. He went to Malibu and became their problem."

Lila then seemed to flip into a different state of mind. Normally tough and in control, she suddenly switched into a vulnerable spirit.

"Charlie," she asked, "will you?"

It was all overwhelming but there would be no way I'd say 'no' to anything she asked. Still, I wasn't sure of all that was really happening.

She nodded as if she understood. Reaching into her massive purse she pulled out and turned on two electric LED lights that resembled flickering candles before shutting off the flashlight feature of her phone.

She stated clearly, "Since I met you, we haven't been alone for longer than 5 minutes. It's been frustrating, but now that it's happening, it feels wonderful. Exciting."

I admitted it, "It is nice. Though even when we're surrounded by people, you somehow make it easy to forget we aren't alone. Look at what almost happened on the beach."

Her breath shuddered. "Do you know what you did to me under that blanket? It's why I had to bring you here tonight. To finish what you started."

Oh my god, did she just suggest . . .?

Then she extracted a large bottle of water for us to share. "I thought about a bottle of wine, but no way I'd want to have that on site if we got caught."

I was caught up in what was obviously deep planning. Still, I added fuel to the fire, "Get caught at what?"

She chuckled, "Goof."

From the trunk she extracted a bedsheet and laid it over the bean bag and then pulled out a blanket. In no time at all, she stripped down naked and got in between.

I was stunned. At first for watching a beautiful woman that I badly wanted going au natural, and then for the cold truth of what was happening. Wait, make that hot truth, because this was definitely hot. Then again, cold truth works too because I froze at what lay before me in offering.

She looked distraught. "Please. Come to me. Let's put our own 'X' on the wall. We're finally alone and I want you so much. Please."

"It's just our first date. Are you sure?"

She smiled and rolled her head, "I consider all those times at the beach or in the kitchen sharing pickles as bona fide legit dates. So we've gone well beyond the sex appropriate date and we're actually overdue. Tell me that I'm wrong."

I broke a world record in removing my clothes, joining her between sheet and blanket. Our lips then went on to maul one another as we tangled up our limbs in exploring, trying to maximize skin on skin contact and discover our most sensitive parts.

She magically extracted a condom from her purse, obviously left strategically within arm's reach.

I paused the heat. I just had to. "I got snipped after Feather was born. Is that Ok?"

She almost gasped into my mouth, "So OK." The still-wrapped condom got flipped into the nether regions of darkness.

Here's where I have to come clean and be absolutely clear. A bean bag is not exactly a flat mattress. Anna and I had one in our first apartment when we were too poor to buy a couch and chairs. So I knew it took a different approach to what we were about to do.

I asked gently, "Have you done it here before?"

"Never!" She smiled at me anyway, "How can you think that? I'm as pure as the driven snow."

I went into a naughty mode, hoping she'd approve. "You won't be 'pure' when I'm done with you."

She approved with a giggle, "Please. Sully me any way you wish."

Her hand toyed with my erection while my hand also wandered, and my tongue toyed with hers in her mouth. She paused it all and breathed, "Please."

There are a lot of kinky and fun ways to use a bean bag, I instead went with what I thought best for our first time. I centered her on the bag until she was reclining with her knees bent and feet forward on the floor. I went in between, my knees also on the floor but able to bend and still meet my lips with hers. Cock to pussy in perfect alignment.

The dusty smell of the room was replaced with the scent of her and of her arousal.

The moment caught up with me. "I've seriously fallen for you."

Her eyes went from dreamy-blissy to astonishment, "I wish you could really mean that."

I replied in all honesty, "I do."

She kissed me hard again before saying, "I fell for you long ago."

With that, I buried myself into her warm, wet, and silky perfectness. We groaned in unison as we fell into a very pleasurable rhythm to rock in and out of.

There is sex, and then there's emotional sex, and that was what I was experiencing. I felt it returned to me in full. That intensified the pleasurable feeling of friction she applied in squeezing her inner walls around my pole as we moved in synchrony.

I'd like to say that my stamina could be likened to Conan the Barbarian or some kind of rock star, but there was no way. The moment was so outstanding, and I was so caught up in it, I was overwhelmed and couldn't last into the ages. I exploded into her all too soon.

It took only a few circles of fingering around her button, fully wetted by our biologies, to bring her to her own climax where her entire body vibrated through the experience.

In between our post-coital hugs and kisses, I expressed, "Sorry, baby. It had been so long for me and I wanted you so much."

She smiled, "It had been even longer for me. You were perfect and exactly what I wanted. Did you really mean it though?"

"I did. I'm sure of it. I love you."

She shuddered as if a mini orgasm pulsed through her and then wriggled out of our entanglement which was a dripping, sticky but shared state. Extracting a Sharpie marker from her purse, she wrote an 'X' on the inside of an unmarked beam.

She climbed back on the bean bag and into my arms, pulling the blanket back over us. "That's one. When you get to ten, you can redeem it for any fantasy you desire."

We added two more 'X's before we reluctantly went home for the night and back to our respective families.

*

I was in the middle of cooking breakfast when Lila showed up at the house early in the morning. As planned, with young Ben leading the charge.

The boys had an epic day of surfing all mapped out. The conditions were ideal. The best window for surfing is in the morning, when there's an early low and about an hour after that, up until an hour before the peak of high tide. The forecast for the morning called for strong offshore winds, so the timing and conditions were perfect, but we had to get up early for it. Mike was bristling with excitement.

All sitting down together for a hearty breakfast, we listened to the boys go on about their exciting day ahead. Feather just shook her head at 'silly boy talk'. Lila stole glances at me every minute or two and blushed in silence, it was easy to tell what she was thinking about.

By the time we hit the coast it was still only 7 AM, the heavy marine layer turning the entire coast a thick and dark cloud gray. The boys made a beeline for the water with boards under their arms. Lila and I set up our chairs and got under the shared blanket while Feather sat cross legged on a beach towel and wrapped herself up in another blanket.

Lila looked at me in wonder over why Feather was hanging around, something we weren't used to her doing, and all I could do was shrug my shoulders.

Then Feather asked Lila a hundred questions about surfing. Lila answered them all, imparting knowledge from being an experienced surfer at one time in her life.

Feather finally asked what she really wanted to know. "Are there sharks out there?"

Lila looked at me and hesitated before going with honesty, "Yes. But in all the years I surfed here, I never saw one. I don't think the sharks like getting close to the reef that the boys are up against and so they don't go for the surfers. Now take a kayak out there beyond the break, and there've been a few shark encounters in the last 30 years. Pretty safe for surfers overall though."

Feather seemed satisfied by that but announced her final conclusion. "I don't think I want to learn how to surf. That just isn't for me."

I gently responded, "That's OK. I don't think I would want to surf either." I smiled at her and she smiled back. "No sandcastle today?"

"Naw. The wind is making it too cold, and I forgot my gloves. I'm just going to read my book, if that's OK."

"Knock yourself out kiddo."

Feather fired up her Kindle but then turned towards both of us. "Miss Lila. Was my father a gentleman on your date last night?"

Lila answered with a smile, "Why, yes. Yes, he was."

"Did you have fun?"

"Very much so."

"Even though he took you to Burger Shak?" Feather scrunched her face in disapproval.

Lila giggled again, "Even though he took me to Burger Shak."

"Dad will do better next time, won't you Dad?"

I sighed but gave in, "Of course. I will take her somewhere nicer, some place that my daughter will approve of next time."

I suddenly realized that Feather was gaming the conversation. I used to watch her mother do this all the time. I knew where this would go.

She asked the both of us, "So there's going to be a next time?" And there it was.

Lila and I looked at one another. In my mind, yes, there would be many more times. Lila gave me a large smile and gently nodded her head like she was thinking what I was thinking. She even pulled her hand out from under the blanket and made a subtle 'X' in the air with her index finger.

At the same time, Lila replied to Feather, "There will be a next time. But I don't know . . . he hasn't actually asked me. What does a girl have to do to get a second date?"

Feather now giggled, her game was complete. "Miss Lila, this is the twenty-first century. A woman can ask a man out on a date. If she wants one, that is."

"You are right. Charlie, would you go out on another date with me?"

I chuckled at the whole exchange, "I would be honored, fine lady."

She put her arm back under the blanket and I slyly turned her hand over to an open palm where I traced an 'X' with my finger.

She turned the most beautiful shade of pink with a cute sigh, inaudible over the face of the wind off of the ocean.

*

The truck ride back up the mountain was mostly full of excited boys recounting their adventure in the surf. Then, without warning, from the backseat bench, Ben leaned forward towards his mother in the shotgun seat.

"Hey, Mom. Know what Mike said? He and Feather have never been to Disneyland. We gotta take 'em and show 'em how it's done."

Lila looked over at me as I drove, "Really? You guys have never been to Disneyland?"

I gulped, "Does that make me a terrible father? That I've never taken them?"

She laughed, "Well, sort of. But it's not too late, we can fix that pretty easily."

Ben then said excitedly to my kids, "Awesome. It's so fun. Mom and I go twice a year, and we've figured out the system and know all the tricks. We'll show you how to go on every cool ride, like four times each."

Lila then asked me, "Spring break is in a few weeks. Mike and I were planning on going, would you like to join us?"

I chuckled when I asked my kids in the back, who were already sending shouts of, "Please, Dad."

I responded to Lila, "Sounds like the kids are 'in', and I have to redeem myself as a father. So, yes, please. We'd be happy to join you and Mike."

At that I could hear the kids say, "Yesssss," followed by high fives all around. Talk of surfing evaporated, replaced with Mike sharing his wisdom on how to strategically dominate Disneyland.

Lila took my hand in hers, and if the kids noticed, they didn't say anything. Maybe too caught up in the news.

I would remember that moment. It would be the final good one of the day before things would go to hell.

I took the Winns to our home where Lila had left her car. I planned on making lunch while the boys cleaned up their boards and wetsuits and de-sanded my truck and towels. I thought I might even steal a few moments of privacy to get a kiss and tell Lila how much I enjoyed the night before. We still hadn't had a chance to talk over what happened in the bean bag.

Leaving the coast and heading up the mountain, we had left the marine layer behind and now in a cloudless blue sky, things had warmed up considerably. I took Lila into the kitchen and made us a couple of ice teas while Feather poured herself an apple juice.

Lila reacted to the kitchen just like her father had, "Wow, it looks great in here. You did a marvelous job."

Then it occurred to me, "Oh, that's right. You haven't seen the whole house yet. Hey, Feather, why don't you give Lila the full tour while I get lunch together."

Feather was easy, "OK, Dad," and she led Lila off into the downhill wing of the house, to start with her bedroom I suppose.

I gathered all the ingredients for making roast beef, pepper, onion, and cheese sandwiches with an au jus to dip into and I started chopping. Right up until I heard a glass smash, the sound coming from the great room next to the kitchen.

I rushed into the room and found Feather standing by our fireplace mantle which was covered in family pictures. My daughter looked scared and confused, and Lila stood next to her with her eyes shut and her fists balled up tight. There were shards of glass and tea spread out over the tile floor.

"What happened?" I asked Feather.

She responded shakily, "I don't know. I was showing her a picture of Mom and then Miss Lila dropped her glass, and it broke."

Lila had been holding in a deep breath and finally let it out, bringing air back into her lungs with a gasp. She sounded wounded when she said with a groan, "You said your wife's name was Anna." She took another deep breath and then with wild eyes in my direction, she screamed, "You said her name was Anna!"

In my confusion, words wouldn't come to me.

Lila made a tearless sob and then ran a hand tenderly over the side of Feather's face. "I should have known. I probably did know and pushed it out of my mind. You're just like your mom. You look like her, you talk like her, and you're smart like her."

Lila looked up at me, her face in agony. "Sorry about your glass. You won't ever want to see me again. I'll stay out of your way. I'm so sorry."

With that, Lila practically ran from the room yelling for her son when she got outside. The confused boy was dragged to their car, and she sped away. Spraying gravel all over the front yard behind her.

*

Feather was helping me pick up the shards of glass and mop the floor with paper towels while I showed her how to do it so as to not cut herself. Still, I endlessly begged her to be careful. Especially because our minds were still occupied over what happened.

Mike burst into the house and demanded, "What the heck?! What happened to Miss Lila? She totally freaked us out."

I was asking myself the same thing. I said to the kids what I did know, "Lila must have known your mom, and it upset her."

Both the kids asked at the same time, "Why?"

"I don't know. I mean, maybe I do." Then I had an idea. "Feather, do you still have your mom's old scrapbooks?"

"Uh, yeah," she responded.

"Will you find them?"

"Yeah, sure," and then she scurried off to go look.

I texted Lila and asked if she was OK. I didn't get a response.

Feather brought Anna's scrapbooks over into the kitchen and the three of us huddled over them on the island countertop. I paged through the first book, getting halfway through until I found what I was looking for.

Glued to the top of a page decorated all in pinks and purples, was a picture whose edges had been specially cut with scissors that left fancifully designed trim. There were two girls in the picture with arms around each other, big smiles on their faces. Adhered above each of them were cartoon voice-bubbles, reading, "You're my bestie!"

The girl on the right was a duplicate of my 13-year-old Feather. The girl on the left looked like a 13-year-old version of Lila.

Feather gasped, "Miss Lila was Mom's best friend."

Mike asked, "Then why did she freak out like that?"

I suddenly put it all together, knowing exactly what it was about. I called Lila only to find she had blocked my number."

Mike was almost crestfallen, "Oh, great. I guess this means we're not going to Disneyland."

Feather got into his face, pissed, "Mike, you jerk! Can't you see that Dad is in love with Miss Lila, and all you can think of is Disneyland?!" Then she turned to me and said, "Dad. You can fix this. You just have to."

I spent the next couple of hours going over in my mind what happened and some of the cryptic things Anna told me about her past in Topanga. I also tried to zero in on the reasons she never wanted to return and some weird things that she had told me that only now made some kind of connection.

I tried to reach Lila a couple more times with no luck. Then I got a call from her mother, Alice.

I opened the connection and said, "Hi. How's Lila."

Alice answered, "That's why I'm calling, Charlie. She's kind of a mess. I think you should come over. You two have some things to talk about."

"OK, I'll be right there, but I don't think she wants to talk to me."

"You're right. She doesn't. But not because of what you might think. Come over anyway."

"Yeah, alright."

"And, um, Charlie? Bring the kids. You're going to need some support."

*

When I got to the Winn's home, Ben Sr. answered the door and welcomed us in. With a sympathetic tone, he said, "Do your best, son. My little girl is hurting. It's not your fault, but she needs you on this."

He led us into their living room and Lila was sitting on the couch. Her face showed the story that she had been crying in the recent past. The tough, confident, no-nonsense woman I had gotten to know over the school year had left her body. Leaving her looking distraught and wounded. It saddened me. I wanted to run to her and just hold her.

Less than 24 hours earlier we were holding each other, naked even, and I had never seen her look happier. What a development.

She balanced a scrapbook and pile of photos on her lap. She noticed a matching scrapbook that I was holding, then looked away from it as if it hurt her to see it.

We stared at each other making sad faces before she couldn't make eye contact with me anymore and dropped her gaze away and to the side, as if I wouldn't be able to see her after that.

I stated what I already knew, "You knew her. You knew my wife."

She nodded and took a deep breath, still hiding her face. She finally found a voice, "You should just go home. I won't bother you anymore."

"What do you mean 'bother'? You've never bothered me. And I won't go home. Not until we've talked this through."

"There's no point in talking. You could never love me now, knowing that your wife hated me. Hated me!"

"Are you sure about that?" I asked. "I know some things that might surprise you."

She looked back at me, sharply. "What things?"

I looked back at my kids briefly, they were standing just behind me. I had warned them that it might be tough on Miss Lila to see their mother's resemblance in them at first until we could get through all this. They looked back at me sympathetically, as if saying, "Do something."

Looking back at Lila, I let her fill in the first blank, "By now you've probably figured out why I knew her as 'Anna'."

She nodded her head and acknowledged the rest, "Suzanna. Her real name was Suzanna. She hated it. So in middle school, she started going by Susan. I instantly shortened it and called her Suzy. Only her real friends called her that after. She must have tired of that when she went to Northwestern and shortened it a different way, to Anna."

"She gave you a nickname too. Didn't she El?"

Lila nodded her head, "How do you know that?"

"We talked about everything. The subject of you and her came up a lot. It was the one thing from her past that she never really got over. Well. That and her parents' car crash."

Lila put her face in her hands, "Oh, god. I should have been there for her after that. They were great people, I loved them like my own parents."

Hidden from view, I heard Alice begin to sob from an adjacent room. Feather began to cry as well. I shouldn't have brought the kids.

Maybe if I sped things up. "I, of course, never met them. But I heard all about them. And they did sound like great people. I was glad she grew up in a loving family like she had.

"Remember I told you in one of our beach conversations that Anna had been in Chicago for a few years when I met her. What I didn't tell you was that she was still grieving, but had built a solid shell around herself. It was hard for her to let me in, but once she did it was our love that we grew and nurtured that I like to think helped her believe she had a bright future still ahead of her. It was also our love story which made us decide to have the kids. They were a celebration of our love together.

"Even still. She never got over breaking up your friendship after the fight you two had just before she left for college."

Lila just shook her head sadly, "She hated me so much after that. Now you and your kids hate me too."

Mike came around me from behind and took a couple of steps towards Lila, "I don't hate you. I think you are the coolest mom I know. I don't know what you and my mom fought about, but my mom would have forgiven you. If you really knew her, then you know that it's true." Lila grimaced at his words, but I think they got through to her.

Feather went and sat down next to Lila, "What did you and Mom fight about?"

Lila shook her head, "I'll tell you someday if you really want to know. Maybe when you're older. It was just a stupid fight."

Knowing my daughter wouldn't let it go, I let the story out, "It was over a boy. Your mom tried to warn her best friend that this boy was not good for her. Miss Lila thought that Mom was jealous and trying to take the boy for herself."

Lila's eyes almost glazed over at that. "Deep down I knew Suzy was right. And in the end, she was. But we said so many mean things. It was too late for us. We couldn't ever go back after that."

Lila looked up at me, "But I always thought that she was out there. Living a good life. It hurt that I lost my best friend, and I've missed her terribly, but I always thought that maybe . . . maybe . . . "

Lila gave a huge sigh and somehow continued, "Now that I know that she's really gone . . . that's so sad."

She started sobbing and Feather started to console her, starting with a hug. "Miss Lila. You don't have to be sad. Mom isn't in any pain anymore. And then just think. You have us now."

At that, I almost lost it. Lila must have felt the gravity of that too. She held Feather at arm's length and tried to say something, but nothing would come.

Feather shook her head sympathetically, "And Daddy doesn't hate you. He's in love with you. Mike and I love you too."

Somehow Feather's words took effect and everyone's tears abated. I decided to push it, "And wherever Anna, er Suzy, is right now. She loves you too."

Lila didn't look too sure. Fortunately, Anna had told me something a long time ago, and if Lila could remember, it had the potential to help, maybe even fix everything."

I asked Lila, "Do you remember when you and my wife buried a time capsule?"

She got a surprised look that morphed into a slight smile, "Yeah. I remember."

"Would you be able to find it again if you looked for it?"

"I think so. Why?!"

"Because she left something there for you to find."

*

Lila was driving my truck while I sat shotgun and my kids sat in the back, we even brought young Ben who had overheard everything that went on in their living room. She pulled up in front of a yellow house with a big tree in the front yard.

Lila informed us all, "That's where Suzanna grew up. She lived her whole life in that house until she went away to college."

Mike asked from the back if he could get out, and without waiting for an answer, he jumped out of the truck and ran to the sidewalk. He was looking for something and we all followed him until he started pointing at three parallel gouges in the concrete. "There! They're still here! And they're for real."

Lila started laughing, obviously having the same inside knowledge as Mike, but I was lost. "What do they mean, Mike?"

Mike had a face splitting grin, "Remember that time I broke the garage window? Well, Mom was lecturing me about making mistakes and owning up to it. She told me a story about one time when she made a mistake. My grandfather had a tractor for something, and Mom used it and made these marks. She said that grandpa was so mad at her but forgave her when she told him the truth."

Lila started laughing and it was good to see her in a more uplifted demeanor compared to an hour earlier.

She said, "It didn't happen exactly like that. Your grandfather rented a tractor to dig a hole for that tree in the yard. Your mom and I watched the whole thing and then when he finished digging, he went in the house to get some lemonade before he dropped the tree into the hole. Your mother dared me to drive the tractor. I double-dog-dared her to do it instead, and so she jumped on and somehow started it up before pulling and pushing all kinds of levers. Finally, the tractor bucked like a bull, then backed up and smashed the bucket thing into the sidewalk. Yeah, your grandfather was furious."

I laughed, "Well, how about that. I'd never heard that story. Sounds just like something she would do."

Lila stopped laughing and repeated what I had said, "Just like something she would do."

Lila and I both accusingly looked at Anna's offspring. Feather defended herself, "What?! I would never do that."

Mike laughed, "Who knew? Mom was a rebel!"

We sort of wistfully stared at the house, each to our own thoughts in trying to read the past until an old man opened the front door and stepped out onto his front porch, "What do you want! Go away!"

We made a run for the truck. Lila said that was the current homeowner, Mr. Kartrunks who also owned the feedstore.

Mike laughed and said, "But we all call him Mr. Crankypants. Except in October, we call him Mr. Cheapskate because instead of candy, he gives out pennies for Halloween, one per kid."

Lila drove us a couple blocks to the end of the street and parked the truck. She grabbed a garden spade and handed me a small shovel she had brought from home before leading us to a thick hedge at the dead-end.

She turned to us and warned, "This part probably isn't as easy as it used to be."

She examined the hedge, looking for something before turning her body sideways and slipping through the bushes like it was a teleportation portal or something. One by one the kids did the same. Only I didn't fare with quite the same luck.

When I got through the hedge, I was received by a round of laughter. They all made it through scott free while I was covered in sap, dirt, leaves, a torn sleeve from when the bush grabbed me, and pollen in my hair. I did my best to slap my clothes and wipe my face clean.

Past the hedge, the ground sloped downhill, and Lila carefully made it ten yards over a bed of iceplant until things flattened out and a trail finally showed itself. Lila pointed out some greenery on both sides of the trail, "See that? Poison Oak don't touch it. The rule is, 'leaves of three, let it be'."

We followed her for about 50 yards until we came up to an outcrop of boulders with some random bushes strangely growing through its crevices, and just beyond the top of the pile was a large Eucalyptus tree.

Once again, Lila lectured us. "I don't want to freak you out, but I have to say this. It's still March, so the rattlesnakes are probably still hibernating, but you can't always count on that so be on the lookout for them. This is just the kind of place they like to either sun themselves or hide in."

Feather did freak out. "Dad?!"

Ben tried to settle her down, "Feather, just follow me in my footsteps, I'll look out for you."

"What if they sneak up from behind?"

"Mike and your dad will take up the rear and keep that from happening."

We all made it up and over the collection of boulders to the tree without any snake sightings and I'll admit, I had been just as terrified as Feather was. Call me Indiana Jones, but I hate snakes.

At the base of the tree, the ground was littered with smooth curly ribbons of strange bark that had peeled from the tree like it had shed itself. Using the spade for leverage, Lila cleared them off the uphill region of the trunk

She studied the base and then made an 'X' with the spade at a point between two roots only half buried into the ground. "Dig," she asked me. Instead, I handed the shovel to Mike and he eagerly took the honors and broke ground.

While Mike dug, Lila leaned over and whispered to me, "This seems like it was a lot easier all those years ago."

Mike struck something and Feather used her hands to clear the dirt, gently moving more dirt away with the spade before wiggling a container free and clear. It was a cylindrical tin, one that hadn't weathered well in the ground, but I could still make out the ghostly image of a cookie on it.

Lila said to no one in particular, "Linda's Cookies, we sold them to raise money for the school at Christmas every year. Loved those cookies."

Feather went to twist the lid off, but it was stuck. Mike asked for the container, "Here, let me try."

I stopped him, "This is your mother and Lila's time capsule. Please. Let Lila open it and take a look before you guys do, OK?"

Nobody argued and Lila put some muscle into it to remove the lid. She almost looked mesmerized peering inside before reaching her hand in. She removed an envelope and said gently, "It's addressed to me. That's Suzy's writing, I would know it anywhere."

Lila handed the container back to Feather, but all eyes were on Lila as she held that envelope in her hand in wonder.

"Lila," I broke her out of the spell, "that was to you and you only, why don't you take a few steps into the clearing and read it alone. Everyone else, let's see what trinkets the teenagers thought were important before they each became mothers."

Lila nodded her head in agreement and found herself somewhere to be alone.

Like I had thought, the trinkets were sort of goofy and nothing could be put on ebay for any real value, but Feather, Mike and Ben looked at everything as if each item were priceless. A snapshot of importance by their loving mothers from when they were younger I suppose would do that to a kid.

I watched the kids revel in the time capsule, all the time worried about Lila and what was in that letter. I actually didn't know, only I remember what Anna had said, that it was all about the truth, apology and forgiveness. I asked her one time why she didn't call her out of the blue after some years had gone by to guarantee she'd get the message. In my mind, thinking that Lila would someday dig up the time capsule seemed like such a longshot. She responded that the situation and the words they said to each other were so awful, it would take more time, and somehow she just knew that El would dig it up someday.

I heard Lila shout out from the distance, asking if I would come to her. Alone. I followed the sound of her voice until I found her with drying tear tracks glistening against her cheeks, clutching the sheets of paper from the envelope.

When I got to her, she asked if I would hold her. I did as she asked and made my embrace in the style of a full wrap, bear variety. She buried her face in my chest, "Thank you for this."

*

Lila had so convinced herself that Anna had hated her, that me and my family would have to hate her too. It was not in Anna's nature to hate anybody, and since Lila knew her throughout their childhood, she should know that, but whatever actually did happen between the two, it evolved into something even darker over time and drove her outside the bounds of rational thinking.

I would never learn what all was in that letter, but I do know that it went a long way to easing the weight which Lila had been burdening her soul with carrying. That was all I cared about, I didn't need to know word for word what Anna had written.

Through a lot of love and tenderness, Lila came back inbounds and gripped the reality that my feelings for her were quite the opposite of hate.

After sharing a bottle of wine one night, it did come out that after Anna lost her parents, she returned to Topanga to settle her parents' affairs. That was when she reopened the time capsule to leave the letter for Anna. Within the message, Anna had written that she vowed to never return to Topanga, she wanted to keep only memories of a happy childhood and no reminders of all that she had lost.

And then what do I do? I bring her children here to live.

So as much as I worked on assuring Lila that I loved her, she worked to reassure me that I made the right decision in coming here.

What a pair we were.

And what a roller coaster ride of 24 hours that we had gone through at that time.

It was another set of roller coasters that helped settle things between us for good.

Disneyland is truly a magical place. As soon as we entered the park, my kids got all giddy and turned into those cute and goofy ding dongs I remember from when they were little. Lila plastered a smile on her face that never left and also stepped back in time, reverting into a little girl herself. Every one of us got caught up in the magic.

Before we had gone on any ride, we stopped at a stand in Frontierland that sold snacks where Lila bought a chilled dill pickle for each of us. She swore by them. It was fantastic.

Lila asked me, "See what I mean?"

I agreed, "Yeah, these are really good. Damn good!"

She then flattered me, "The only pickle better than a Disneyland pickle? The ones you make at school."

All the kids agreed, but I don't know. It made me think that I need to up my game. The Disneyland pickle was just that good. So good that I bought two more rounds throughout the rest of the day.

We followed Ben's lead and true to his word, he knew the park like the back of his hand and knew how to take advantage of some tools which makes shorter wait times if you know how to do it. We hit all of Ben's favorite rides twice before we settled down and had lunch.

Though wary of any PDA around the kids, Lila and I still managed to hold hands throughout the day. The kids didn't seem to care or just pretended not to notice.

When we did have to stand in lines, it wasn't that big of a deal. The kids acted like anti-teenagers, talking excitedly about everything, fully engaged in communication, acting silly and were just plain fun. And the nearness of Lila to me at all times made the time fly by at supersonic speed.

To anyone observing, we looked like a close, happy family unit.

Feather spoke to Lila at a quiet time while we were eating lunch together, "In Mom's scrapbook, there were lots of pictures of you and her at Disneyland. There were even ones with you, Mom, and some boys in the pictures."

Lila blushed, glanced at me, and then sheepishly replied to Feather, "Yeah. Your mom and I double-dated a couple of times here. Wait until you get a little older, Disneyland is the place to go on a special date."

When we finished eating, the teenagers turned into conspirators and turned us around. It was Ben that issued the decree, "You two are officially on a date. Go on some Mom and Dad rides."

Lila didn't hesitate, "OK. Let's all meet back together at Thunder Mountain at five."

Then comically, Ben held out his hand. My kids followed his lead and put out theirs, also palms up. Lila started going through her purse to get some money but I beat her to it. Three one-hundred-dollar bills later, Lila and I were finally alone.

Funny that even surrounded by 50,000 people, when you're with the right person, it could feel like it was just us two.

She led me to the Peter Pan ride and we got in line. She leaned in close and said, "This is my favorite. We'll sit real close and it's super dark inside. If you want to, I'll let you kiss me in Neverland."

*

The school year was rapidly coming to a close, and it was a busy time.

We were still crushing it, serving a lot of lunches while my kitchen performed like a well-oiled machine. My staff met at one point and pledged to finish the year strong. I was so proud of them.

One evening, I was sitting in the hot tub when Lila slipped in, wearing a very modest but white one-piece that glowed in the moonlight once I spotted her. She had crept up all in stealth mode, like ninja kind of stealth.

I stated in surprise, "I didn't hear your car pull up."

"Because I parked on the shoulder in front of your neighbors to surprise you." She responded, clearly proud of herself.

"Effective."

After kissing me deeply, she asked, "Is this where you talk to your wife?"

I pointed to the stars in affirmation. Yes.

"Good. I have a lot to say." I could just make out her smile in the darkness.

Lila then talked to the stars as if Anna was standing over her in a personal conversation. It was deep. Positive. Apologetic. Cathartic.

I got another deep kiss and then Lila popped out, dried and wrapped herself up with the towel she brought, and slipped away into the darkness.

The following Saturday night was senior prom. Our kids wouldn't attend but I volunteered to chaperone with Lila and some other teachers. She whispered to me in frustration that the mezzanine was calling to us, knowing that I wanted to add to our growing accumulation of 'X's as much as she did. Only it was too risky, and we needed to stay vigilant in supervising the seniors and their dates.

That didn't prevent us from dancing, and damn, Lila was a great dancer. It was either her dancing and affection or someone really did spike the punch because I felt drunk in love as we glided across the floor.

A pin went into our Fred and Ginger moment temporarily when a drunk kid made himself obvious and I had to eject him, waiting outside with the little shithead until his pissed off parents showed up.

Going back inside, Lila swooned over me. "I missed you, handsome."

I know I'm nothing special, but she sure was. In her dress and with her hair down, she looked amazing. "And I missed you, beautiful."

*

The charity dinner went off on the day after the last day of school. The event was sold out and there wasn't an empty seat in the cafeteria.

At a ridiculous sitting of $100 per plate.

I brought my student from the first semester back to assist as well as my student from the last one. I was proud to announce at the event that both young ladies got full scholarships to a Los Angeles culinary school.

I made that happen through my contacts and reputation, but only Lila knew the truth.

The district gave me the green light to teach another two hopefuls next year and I was already able to assess and hand pick them from the bundle of essays submitted for consideration.

Each plate served was a masterpiece. I was going to give these patrons value for what they paid for or exceed that. Many had never experienced a Michelin star meal experience, so I followed through to make it authentic and memorable.

My two veteran students made me proud as they shadowed me while I supervised them closely.

The food critic made it to the event and reviewed all seven courses in print with gushing enthusiastic prose. My supplier, who I had grown closer to by then, attended and made a big deal of showing me off to his wife who took a selfie of the three of us. I think my future deliveries went up a notch in quality from that point on.

Our kids and some other students acted as servers, helpers, and sous chefs alongside my regular staff. Lila, acting as maitre d and event moderator, didn't make things easy on me. Seeing her in a thigh high slit dress, showcasing her legs was distracting.

I told her so. She laughed. Removing my cap and running her fingers through my hair on a brief five minute break, she admitted, "I knew you would like this dress. It's all for you."

I responded in kind, "I wish I could wear something to do to you what you do to me."

She chuckled, "You're such a ding dong. How do you not know that I'm lusting after you right now?!"

A bell rang from somewhere. Lila smiled at me knowingly and took to the dais set up in front of the cafeteria with the principal standing slightly behind, near enough to be seen but also not having to make any effort.

Lila kept her speech short, thanking the food distributor by name, the patrons, and others who stuffed the donation box at the door. She spoke to the crowd about the spoils of the evening, "We collected thirty-five-thousand dollars from tonight for the charitable non-profit, the Surfrider Foundation." She waited for the applause to die down before looking at me directly. "I was prepared to hand over a check to them but need to write another one after a last minute anonymous five-thousand dollars that just got added to the till."

I rolled my eyes. Can't get anything past this woman.

I was about to turn and get on top of the kitchen cleanup when Lila added, "I hope you enjoyed dinner tonight. I know it was something special, I had sampled everything throughout the school year. For that, I would like to thank the one that made all of this possible. Tacoma PS's very own, Chef Charlie Graves."

Applause broke out and I made a respectful bow as the crowd looked towards the kitchen side of the cafeteria where I had been observing from.

Along with my helpers, we cleaned the kitchen. I would be back the next day to do a deeper cleaning. The kitchen would be officially closed for the next 10 weeks of summer vacation.

I was moody while I cleaned. Everyone around me seemed to sense that and we dispatched the kitchen in silence until Feather made a cough that sounded like, "Ahem." I looked up to see Lila leaning against the doorway, watching me. With an expression like her favorite pet had just died.

I knew what that look was all about. With school closed, we weren't going to see each other every day. We were both going to have to make a serious effort to see each other, and I hoped we wouldn't drift apart in living a long-distant relationship from just a few blocks away.

*

I spoiled the moment, asking, "What are we going to do?"

Lila had a leg over me in the mezzanine beanbag and stroked her fingers through my chest hair, our stickiness having leaked out and smeared between us, almost a warm glue-like connection. We were both still covered in a sheen of sweat, both from our exertions that had been somewhat frenzied and animal-like in nature, and the fact it was now June. Making it damn hot in the mezzanine.

She didn't respond to my question, but she was thinking about it, knowing what I was asking. I could feel that she was feeling it too. She finally just murmured, "I don't know."

Curled and spooned in the bean bag, the glowing aftermath of making love being of some comfort nonetheless.

I thought of something and asked, "Aren't you going to Sharpie an 'X' on the beam?"

She didn't look up at it but sort of lackadaisically answered, "Naw. After all these times now, it feels kind of . . . like, why bother? I mean, really, it's adolescent, right? It's . . . "

I understood and finished her sentence in a different way, "It's sneaky."

She nodded. "I agree. We can't keep coming back here. At least not until after Summer. It's hot, dusty, and gross. And did I say hot?!"

"I was thinking. What if we took a family vacation? We could go to Italy, see museums and cathedrals with the kids, like real learning experiences, and in between sights we do a deep dive culinary exploration."

She didn't reply, deep in thought. Maybe she was worried financially since a European trip like that would be way expensive. I tried to ease her mind, "I'll pay for everything."

I let her think it over for a while until she finally responded, "That would be nice. I would really like that. Maybe go for two weeks. Something like that. And then we get home and find out that all we did was kick the can down the road a bit. We're right back to our situation."

I lifted her chin up so I could see her face with those beautiful green eyes turning moist. Her chin was trembling, she was trying so hard not to cry.

The thing was, I was feeling the same way. I didn't want to live like this anymore either.

Our shared time at the beach had changed. She rotated through several bikinis, each were amazing, and looking at her legs had become my favorite pastime. But I couldn't touch her, not there. I had to forget about getting handsy under a shared blanket, it was way too warm for one at the time of year.

Same thing in the afternoons that she would spend at the house playing in or by the pool. I'd be teased again by her amazing body in her swimwear, made more tantalizing by the lustful looks she would give me. And as much as we both wanted to jump each other's bones, it was impossible.

Some evenings she and Ben would come over for dinner, and after cleaning up, we'd watch the sunset over a glass of wine on the patio with the best view. Though my favorite view was of her.

Yet, whenever we were together, there was a doomsday clock counting down the minutes to when we'd have to part ways. Leaving each of us to sleep alone.

Sneaking around had become so much harder to do. The risk vs. reward beam had tilted in the wrong direction.

I blurted it out, "I can't do this anymore!" If there were bats in the mezzanine, they would have scattered from my outburst.

She flinched, "What do you mean?"

"Sorry. I mean . . . this. I want you in a clean bed. Spoon you, hold you. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, make you breakfast, and start my day with you."

"That all sounds wonderful . . . "

I sighed and then went for it, "Let's be done with this place. Come home with me, we'll cool down in the pool, and then you can sleep over. And then the next day after that, and as many days after as you want. Please?"

"And what about the kids?"

"They'll just have to deal with it."

She rearranged herself until she was able to sit up and look down on me. Taking a corner of the sheet, she did her best to wipe the sticky off of her before doing the same to me. The flicker from the fake candles dimly lit her beautiful naked body as she did so.

She confirmed she had my full attention and went into story mode. "There's something I have to tell you. At some point when we were teens, Suzy and I knew that we loved each other. We had everything in common. Could finish each other's sentences, and I know this sounds weird, but we could sometimes communicate without speaking, in a way, well, that I've read only identical twins can. Suzy liked to say that we had identical hearts."

She took hold of my hand before continuing, "Identical hearts. I didn't know it then, but that would ultimately wedge us apart. When it came to boys, no matter how hard we tried not to, we'd fall for the same one. Which meant that one of us would always have to settle for someone else, and it was a terrible feeling and sometimes the wrong signals were sent and received. We were each the destroyers of all our relationships.

"In our final Summer, I had fallen in love with a guy that I was sure to be my forever one. I nurtured the relationship, and hid him from Suzy. She found out. How could she not? If I loved the guy, then she naturally would too. Only I really didn't get it until now. So young, so stupid.

"For so many years, I thought I was in the wrong. Thought she wanted to take him from me. And now I know that she would have tried to. She started the fight intentionally, on a made up premise but that didn't matter. She had to ensure we would break up our friendship and go separate ways. It was the only way we could move on and give us both a chance at love. Longterm, real love."

Lila grabbed a different corner of the sheet and leaned over to blow her nose with it having gotten overly emotional. If the mood wasn't so serious I would have enjoyed the view of her naked ass as she did so. OK, I enjoyed it anyway but at least I felt a little guilty.

I asked, "This was what she tried to tell you in the letter, isn't it? That's why she wanted it to be years before you got the message."

She nodded, "Yes. Only she couldn't have known about you, that the love of her life would someday come to Topanga after she was gone and fall into my heart. I love you Charlie. And it was easy to fall in love with you given that you plucked my heartstring the same way you did hers. Identical hearts, remember? The connection still exists. I also think that's why I fell in love with your kids like I did. I'm hoping someday they'll love me almost like they did their mom for the same reason. It's crazy, isn't it? You don't believe me do you."

I gave her a reassuring smile before reaching to move a lock of hair from her face, "I do believe you. Anna was just like that too. I don't want to call it mysticism or anything, but she had an intuition like nobody I've ever known. And somehow, I don't know, somehow I see that in you just like that."

She looked relieved and smiled down on me, I think purposely getting the errant lock of hair to fall out of place again. "Thank you. Thank you for not thinking I'm bat-shit crazy. And it felt good to get that off my chest."

I tried to add to the mood uplift, "What did you take off your chest?" I felt up her breasts, kneading them, alternated with rolling her nipples. "Whew. They're still there."

She giggled, "Really?! So now you're a boob-man too?"

"Um. I thought you knew how men worked."

"Oops. You're right. I almost forgot." She thrust her chest out to be fuller within my hands.

"Now. Back to my invitation . . . "

"I heartily accept. Thank you. Can I pick my side of the bed?"

I nodded my head and then felt my face wrap up into a big smile.

Then I had a fleeting thought about the kids, including her son. "Is this going to blow Ben's mind? How do you think this will go?"

"Would it blow your mind to know that Ben has already staked a claim on what would be his new bedroom in your house? He's eager too. Even asked me what's taking so long."

I chuckled and then pulled her down over my own naked body. "Looks like we're going to merge our families. I love that. And I love you."

"I love you too. Um, will you let me make you breakfast now and again?"

I mocked disgust, "Touch my kitchen? I'd sooner have someone touch my wife."

She giggled, "At this exact moment, you don't have a wife."

"I'm working on that. We just took a big step closer to that tonight."

"Oh, Lunch Lady Man. Just kiss me, you fool. And before we merge families, I'd like to merge some of our naughty bits. If you don't mind."

"It will be my pleasure," I said to her with our noses touching before I sealed it with a kiss filled with love and a promise of a future, of being together at last.

*

*

Epilogue

*

Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving.

It's one of the few times a year I can cook for me and my family and not give a shit about what anyone outside of that circle thinks. It's also easy.

OMG, what am I thinking?! I'm such a ding dong sometimes.

When cooking for my family, what they think about it does matter.

But apparently not this year. I got benched.

Feather tried to reassure me for the hundredth time, "Dad, just sit back and relax. For a change, we got this."

I looked over at Lila, also sitting at the kitchen island bar, she returned a shit eating grin which I couldn't read. Her mother, Alice, returned the same weird look at me.

Actually, the kids looked cute in the kitchen, wearing their competing school colors. Feather in her first year USC sweatshirt, Mike in his second year UCLA tee shirt, and Ben in his Berkeley logo and colors. They teased and talked smack about their rivalries in fun fashion yet it was clear they were all happy to see each other after being apart since the start of the semester.

I sat at the kitchen island in a purely supervisory role for the first time in my life. It was literally killing me.

Ben was peeling a potato. I'd like to say he was peeling 'potatoes' but, no, he was going to make a career out of peeling just one. Singular. I would die a thousand deaths watching so I had to look away.

Mike was chopping carrots into slices. Every third slice he shot a coin sized piece onto the floor where he would look down on the errant piece with a simple, "Whoops."

Feather, wearing a permanent grin, said to me, "I missed you, Daddy. It's good to be home."

"I missed you too, kiddo," I replied but it didn't come easy as I watched her nearly remove her fingertips with the knife as she diced a cucumber.

Mike brought out the bread roll dough from the refrigerator and announced his great idea, "Dad, I think I can save some time here. I'll just put the dough in the toaster and shape it into rolls later."

That was my breaking point. I threw up my hands and yelled, "Enough! Stop what you're doing, I've had enough! All of you, stand back!"

The kids simultaneously started laughing, then I noticed Lila and her mother doing the same.

Ben shouted, "Who won?"

Alice announced, "It was twenty minutes total."

Lila put her arms in the air and did a Dua Lipa style spinning dance. "That would be me! I called it!"

Feather made a mock pouty face, "Shoot. Missed it by ten minutes."

A paper was withdrawn from the junk drawer that documented their betting. Subsequently scrunched and discarded by Mike who said, "Ben and I weren't even close."

Still a little stunned, I said out loud to nobody, "Really?!"

Feather hugged me in a big way, "Sorry, Dad. It wasn't my idea, it was all Mike's."

Mike defended himself, "Hey! Don't listen to her, Dad. It wasn't my idea."

I looked over at my wife, "I know who's behind your charade, you ding dongs. She's not fooling anyone."

Lila smiled brightly at being caught. "Hee haw, just playing, you."

I got down to brass tacks, "Everyone out of my kitchen."

I heard a guffaw from Ben Sr. who was in the next room watching the Lion's game but who had overheard the kitchen antics. "Need me to help you make dinner, chef?" Then he went into a fit of laughter.

I responded with mirth, "I got this, Dad," as he insisted I call him since I had married his daughter. I then pointed at my Mother-in-law, "You, though. I could use you."

Alice made a playful show of jumping up and down with little claps before grabbing an apron and joining me in the kitchen. She giggled, "I really thought you'd go at least 45 minutes before you lost your mind."

Feather indulged herself, "Dad, I haven't been able to read anything for fun since school started . . ."

"Go ahead," I encouraged her. She ran off to her reading nook, Kindle in hand, and as I watched her trot off, I remembered how Lila and I cried our eyes off after moving her into her dorm at school.

Similarly, Mike and Ben went off to play some kind of competitive PS4 or something that I don't understand. What I did know was that they had missed each other after going off to different schools and were going to make up for lost time with digital explosions and car chases.

It did make me proud when Mike said to me, "I can't wait to eat your food again. The meals at my dorm suck. You kind of spoiled me for school food."

Lila uncapped a bottle of beer and went into the other room to give to her father.

Alice looked up, double checking that we were really alone. "I'm so happy you're family. When you showed up to Topanga, you seemed so lost and sad. My daughter was also lost and sad. Now look at you two. I've never seen Lila look any happier, and when she gets anywhere near you, you do flips. I just love to watch you two."

As if to prove a point, Lila showed up in the kitchen and gave me a beaming smile, getting close enough to hip-bump me in affirmation.

Ben Jr. made himself shown after the turkey had come out, rested, and his grandfather was slicing it. Both Bens liked to pick at the trimmings over the carving process.

Lila got close while we watched the artistry of the trimming from a respectful distance. She asked, "I'm looking forward to going to Disneyland with you and the kids tomorrow. Most magical place on Earth."

That struck me as amusing, so I had to correct her, which I also delivered with a kiss, "The most magical place on Earth is with you."

*

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I almost abandoned this, thinking it was unfairly too soon and maybe even insensitive.

I had written 2/3 of this story when I decided to put it on the shelf to finish another project. I had planned to then come right back to it. At the time, I was pleased with where it was going and had the ending mapped out in my mind. All that was needed would be some muscle memory at the keyboard.

I chose the setting of Topanga due to great memories from when I was a little. I remember it fondly as a great place to play.

In January 2025, what was dubbed the Palisades Fire, made uber furious by hurricane-force Santa Ana winds, burned for 24 days. It ripped through the coastal neighborhoods in the region, effectively erasing parts of Malibu, the Pacific Palisades, the in-between southern part of Topanga and vast areas of other parts of the canyon. The final tally stood at 6,837 structures burned to the ground, taking 12 people's lives and countless animals.

The very beach depicted in this story was in the middle of it all and if Mike and Ben were to sit on their surfboards at the time of this submission, looking up and down the coast all they would see is a scorched Earth, alien looking landscape. All gone.

Someone close to me had boots on the ground fighting another Los Angeles regional fire simultaneously, a large and ferocious disaster in its own right, known as the Eaton fire which also took more than 6,000 homes. The reports from his wife that we were getting every few days from the front line were grim and like a nightmare. A veteran firefighter, he said it was the worst he had personally ever experienced.

The timing won't last, but if your constitution can handle it, open Google, go to Maps, set it to satellite view, and enter Topanga Beach in the search widget. Zoom in close to the affected areas and the devastation will get real. Then do a random 'street view' in the affected neighborhoods, a contrasting look at before and after.

A shout out to the responders who worked tirelessly to save homes, lives and put the devils out.

My heart goes out to the people affected. I wish them all the luck in rebuilding their lives.