Michael had a fleeting consideration of Sage's irate boss if he, a total stranger, stayed over night, as well as an irate boss of his own if he didn't get to work on time in the morning.
"Thanks, but no, I've got to get home and get up at five-thirty to go to work. But if I could spend a few minutes looking at my carburetor under a yard light, it 'd be a big help."
"Of course. Here...." She went over to the far wall, flipped a switch, the back yard became flooded in light. "See? Shall I drive you down to your car?"
"No, thanks. You've been through enough, and I don't mind a quiet walk in the country night."
"Okay." Sage stifled a yawn. "Nerves," she said. "I'll just leave this door unlocked. When you're through, you can turn off the yard lights and lock this door?"
"Will do," Michael said, exiting the indicated door.
"Thanks again. Good night," Sage said.
"Good night."
Michael walked to his car in the peaceful moon light, wondering about this beautiful, curious woman.
Chapter 2
Sage woke up the next morning in her darkened room, crying. "Aunt Vicky!" she strained to call out in her dream, but the words wouldn't come and the effort woke her up, her face wet with tears.
She climbed out of bed and dragged herself down a long hallway, passing closed doors. At the opposite end she opened a huge dark walnut double door, just wide enough to let herself into the rooms. Heavy pale green draperies and sensual, massively over-stuffed furniture seemed to fill the rooms almost to the dark-beamed ceiling. Brilliant swaths of light came pouring through the parted curtains of the windows and the French doors. A giant walnut four-poster bed stood on a dais dominating the room, and across the room, a natural stone fireplace faced the bed.
Sage stole across the thick creme and pale green Chinese carpet to the mantle. She reached out her hand in a bird-wing flutter toward an array of pictures of a stunningly handsome woman with a stunning hour-glass body, captured in moments of not-entirely-candid poses – evening gown, riding gear, bathing suit – wearing an inflexible smile less comfortably than the clothing, the poses.
Sage touched the cold face of her favorite picture of her aunt with gentle affection, then turned and left, closing the solid door behind her. She went down into the kitchen and poured water in the tea kettle and set it on the stove. A yellow-lined sheet of paper on the white-tile counter caught her eye, and then the memory of last night tumbled like an avalanche into her mind.
The note read:
To the limo driver - Thanks for the yard light and warm milk.
Michael
"You're welcome," Sage said, feeling oddly rebuffed. It
was
a thank-you note, but she wished he'd not written anything, it's tone sounded so peculiar and cold, as if this man acknowledged a distance between them that would have been perfectly fine left unsaid.
She balled the note up and threw it in the trash, dismissing it as she poured her tea.
In the breakfast nook she sat staring out at the sunshine and ivy. Well, she
thought
she'd dismissed the note and its author. But there, in her mind's eye, suddenly and clearly, appeared Michael's sweet, sincere face with that winsome tousle of hair.
Even when at first he'd been angry and cold, she'd noticed he had the looks she loved. Wind-tossed auburn hair, round, brown eyes, a sprinkling of freckles. Thin as a lightning bolt, strong, sure of himself, but shy too. She'd never even met a man who had all the features of... Michael. Sage smiled. Go ahead, be familiar, she thought. You'll never see him again.
So she let her mind wander over his lean body, his wide strong mouth, straight nose and studious brown... actually, perhaps almost hazel... eyes behind the glasses. She didn't realize that his face had etched itself so completely in her mind but now the bright sunlight faded as she recalled the plane of his cheekbone as she stole a glance at him in the dark limo.
"Anyway, I can't be angry with him, he probably saved my life," she said aloud, watching the wren dancing in the bushes outside the window. Then she realized this was the first waking moment she'd actually taken her mind off Aunt Vicky in three weeks.
She sighed. The phone rang.
"
Soooo
... what do you want to do now?" her friend Tina asked as if they were in the middle of a conversation.
Sage shrugged. "I don't want to do anything."
"Uh-uh, wrong answer. It's time to
par-ty!
We gotta get your blood circulating again, girl!"
Sage giggled. "What are you getting at?"
"Either you start getting in motion or moss is going to grow on you."
"I'm not that bad."
"No, no, she's not that bad," Tina announced to an omnipresent audience, "she's not that bad! When was the last time you went out?"
"Last night!" Sage answered. "
Touché!
"
Tina was quiet for a moment. Then, "oh yeah? What'd you do?"
"I went to an opening at the Newport Harbor Art Museum."
"Hmm. Okay. That's a little more 'out' than going to the grocery store. But who'd you go with? What'd you wear? Where'd you go after?"
"I wore the blue velvet."
"
Ohhh!
And?"
"And the blue velvet pumps."
"You know what I mean...."
"
And
I think it was enough that I got out."
"Okay, okay, you didn't go with anyone, you didn't go anywhere after, you just lugged that awful limo from the canyon to Newport and back again."
"That's right."
"And you're proud of yourself."
"Not proud, not ashamed. There's nothing to be either about. But..." Sage got up and started to wander about.
"But? There's a but? But what?"
"Well, I had quite an adventure."
"
Really
? What?" Tina's curiosity crackled.
"A motorcycle gang tried to steer me off the road."
"No!"
"Yes."
"What
happened
?"
"I'm trying to tell you. I was frightened to death. I really was. It made me... makes me angry to have been so weak, but...."
"Of
course
you were frightened. I shudder to think what they would have done to you! So then what?"
"So they heard a car coming and they left."
"That's all?" Tina sounded disappointed.
"A moment ago you were worried about me."
"Certainly. But you're still in one piece, so...."
"Anyway, that's not really quite all. The limo was stretched dangerously across both lanes of the road, heading into the ditch. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't back it up. I just kept going further into the ditch. Then this sports car came over the hill. A man jumped out, pulled the limo out onto the road, then drove me up to the house."
"No kidding! How exciting. You weren't afraid of him?
"No. He was so nice. I mean, at first he was really angry and sounded mean. Then when it was clear that I was helpless – and I
was
, I hate being that way, but there it is – he turned so sweet. So, no I wasn't afraid of him in the least."
"And then what happened?"
"And, and, and!" Sage exclaimed, "And that's all." Sage found herself in the kitchen, standing in front of the trash. She pulled out the crumpled note.
"Oh." Tina sounded deflated.
"Except he came in and had some warm milk with me."
"And?" Excitement again.
"And then he went down and got his car and brought it up to look at it. Meanwhile, I went up to bed. I was wiped out and, anyway, he certainly didn't need me hovering over him while he's being all mechanical with his car." Sage held the phone with her shoulder and smoothed out the note. "He turned out the yard light and locked the door when he left. And
that
really is all."
"Hmmm." Tina was silent for a moment and Sage couldn't read her. "You let him have run of all the valuable stuff there and just went to bed?"
Surprised, Sage retorted, "Stuff? I don't care about this 'stuff.' Besides, he maybe saved my life. He's just not the sort of person who takes 'stuff.' "
"Ohhh – sensitive. Okay. White-hearted, honest guy. I suppose there's a couple of them left. What'd he look like?"
"He was – he is sort of... gorgeous."
"WHAT?!"
Complete incredulity from Tina. "Sage calls a man gorgeous? Never! Never even 'nice looking.' Who
is
this masked marauder? When do I meet him? What's his name?"
"Michael. You don't meet him. I'll never see him again."
"
Augh!
You meet a man you think is gorgeous, and you know nothing about him!"
"Except that he writes terse notes on yellow-lined paper."
Sage ran her finger over his scribbled signature.
"But why didn't you find out more about him?"
"Last night I was... I felt weird, confused... because of the motorcycle gang. So, it was just, he did this good Samaritan deed, and that's all. Then this morning I woke up with a terrible dream about Aunt Vicky."
"Oh, Sage, I'm sorry."
"Well, I'm all right. But, you know. Anyway, and then I remembered him."
"Tell me more about the gorgeous Michael."
"There's nothing more to tell. He's thin, he has a mop of curly sort of auburn hair, sincere eyes, hazel I think, a wonderful mouth, wonderful cheekbones. Straight, perfect teeth."
"Jeez, again with the teeth, Sage! But, anyway, he sounds wonderful. But poor Sage, everything is so...."
"No, not poor Sage," Sage said. "What the earth-angel Michael did for me was to let me see that I'm still alive, that I can have a pleasant, positive emotion. For awhile I wasn't mourning. And, just when you called, I was thinking about him, and realized that again, I had a moment when I wasn't missing Aunt Vicky. And, you know, like I said, he opened the door in me where I remember that I'm still alive."
"Of course you're still alive!" Tina said. "Look at you! You're incredible! You're beautiful, you're intelligent, you're educated, you're talented, you're rich...."
"No, I'm not."
"Okay, scratch rich, who needs it anyway? But anyway, you're all that and not even bitchy. I mean, you're really sweet and nice. You're the kind of woman women love to hate."
"What a waste of their energy if that's true."
"Well,
I
don't hate you! You're my best friend, and friends like you are hard to find. But now I have a mission. I can do something for
you
, for a change. I'm going to help you find Michael."
"Are you crazy?" Sage folded up Michael's smoothed-out note and tucked it in her pocket. "I've never chased men, and I'm not about to start now!"
"You don't have to, I'm going to do it for you."
"I'm not desperate, Tina." Sage felt peeved.
"That's for sure," Tina answered quickly. "Every man wants you. The point is, you've never been interested in anyone."
"I'm not interested in Michael either. I mean, I don't know anything about him. I just liked his looks and he was kind. That's all."
"Phooey, Sage. Tell me another story! I've never even seen you
look
at a man unless there was something besides his appearance and first impression that caught your attention."
Exasperating, Sage thought. "It's just exasperating how well you know me, Tina," Sage shook her head in frustration. "But please don't embarrass me by stalking after some man."
Chapter 3
Michael sat staring at the computer chip architecture, but he couldn't find the bug. Couldn't see, for that matter, anything but a pair of diamond-sparkling-pale-turquoise-blue-eyes. Why was this strange woman taking his mind,
how
was she taking his mind? Why indeed, he thought, trying to shake the vision of her.
But he couldn't let someone he didn't even know interfere with his work. A woman who looked like that, who lived in a place like that, who wore clothes like that and yet who drove a limo... well, she surely must be living a complicated personal life. And he'd be unwise to get anywhere near it. It was definitely not his style, on the basis of simply knowing her first name and where her driveway was, to chase a woman.
Anyway, she probably wasn't actually as stunning as she'd seemed. And, what's more, since when did he base his opinion of a woman on looks alone?
True, he continued silently. But no one would overlook her looks. She was as mysteriously beautiful shrouded in the black cape in the dark car as she was shockingly beautiful in the bare-shouldered blue velvet gown, as she was home-spun beautiful in blue jeans, work shirt and bare feet.
But she wasn't just beautiful. He'd really
liked
her.
In the six-months since he came to California he'd gone out with several women. But he hadn't met one that he
liked
. He didn't dislike anyone. He just hadn't... he chuckled, thinking of the shock that passed between them... he hadn't had a shock pass between him and any of them.
Yes, something about this woman called to him. never mind her cover-girl beauty. Her earthy seriousness, and her slightly sad energy attracted him. He wondered where she grew up. There was country-side and heartlands in her somewhere, just as there was in him, transplant that he was. She
had
said her mother was Zuni.
There was a small knock at Michael's door and a pixie face with buck teeth peeked through.
"Busy?" Millie, the mail-girl, asked.
"Does a slave wear chains?" Michael answered.
Millie grinned, exposing more and yet more teeth. She came in and closed the door. "I got some mail for you."
"No kidding? And I thought you just wanted to talk to me!"
Millie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Don't I always, and don't you know it! And by the way, can I take you to lunch today?"
"Not on your salary. But I'll take you tomorrow or Wednesday. Today I don't get to have lunch. I've got to make some sense out of the errors in this chip. What have you got there, flyers about the company picnic?"