When they stepped inside of Gold’s Gym, near the town of Corte Madera about 10 miles north of Sausalito, Ray knew they had found the right place.
To begin with, it smelled like a gym. As they strolled through the cavernous space that had once served as a distribution warehouse, Ray was impressed at the three different areas dedicated to strength resistance training. From racks of free weights to dozens of pulley-operated weight machines, they both liked what they saw.
And when one of the gym’s fitness associates told them that the monthly membership was thirty-five dollars with no initial membership fee other than an upfront charge for the first month, they looked at each other, smiled, and signed on the dotted line.
On the short drive south to Sausalito, Ray talked excitedly about their new gym. In fact, it was all he could talk about, starting with, “Thirty-five bucks! Debbie spends more than that getting her nails done every week.”
“I’ve never been much of a gym guy, but I’ve got to admit I’m excited.”
“Buddy, you’ll see what a big difference this is going to make! Look, Grant, we’re both getting to the age where we begin that long slide toward falling apart. If we don’t do something now to slow that process, we'll be beyond hope in another ten years. In your twenties, you can coast, you should start paying attention in your thirties, and if you’re not doing something to improve your body in your forties, it all starts to show.”
“Ray, you’re right. I enjoy the good life. But cocktails, appetizers, steaks, and dessert while sitting out on your deck admiring the view are not going to get me back into the shape I was once in.”
“We’ll be a little sore the first couple of weeks, but believe me, you’re going to see some real changes over the next few months, and you’re going to like what you see.”
Grant did indeed like the results he saw within a few weeks. He particularly noticed the way Barbara ran her nails across his chest after he showered and walked into the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his tightening waistline. While he didn’t tell her, he was proud that she was noticing his progress.
Two months into what Ray referred to as his “Sirica boot camp program,” the changes were becoming even more noticeable. Grant’s body frequently balked at the demands he was putting upon it, but the increased passion of his and Barbara’s lovemaking more than compensated for a strain here and a little soreness there.
It had been a long time since Grant had caught Barbara looking at him longingly. This subtle but noticeable change in her increased his commitment to Ray’s rigorous workout program.
Ray admitted that he, too, had seen a change in Debbie. “She hasn’t shown this much interest in me, physically I mean, since we were both twenty-somethings. It’s nice getting some of that back.”
The Randolph’s cottage was in excellent condition, but it needed a lot of attention before Barbara and Grant would be genuinely pleased with its appearance. For starters, there was the hideous wallpaper in both the dining room and living room that had to go. The bedrooms, painted in soft shades of beige, probably a wise choice for a seller seeking to provide muted tones so as not to distract prospective buyers, was not to the Randolphs’ liking. Both of them believed that color gave a room life and personality.
“And,” as Barbara noted, going from room to room with Grant, “there are so many small changes that could make a big difference, like crown molding throughout, new windows, and new window treatments.”
It wasn’t their initial intention to sink more money into what was already an expensive home, but it was hard to resist.
“A home with world-class views, in an unquestionably beautiful setting, should present itself to the world with the tasteful touches it deserves,” Barbara reasoned.
In the evenings they sat on the high terrace holding cocktails and continued their enjoyment of sweeping bay panoramas. Ray had cautioned, “For the first six months, the views make it hard to turn away. Thank goodness it becomes less hypnotic after you’ve lived in your place for awhile.”
After much loving attention, Grant and Barbara created the look they had envisioned the first day they walked through the property.
It was time for both of them to look for other interests.
Barbara and Grant continued to enjoy Ray and Debbie’s company. And yet, after one more evening of hearing Ray talk about how you decide when to drop one nightwear designer and go with another, both of them decided it was time to widen their circle of friends.
To that end, Barbara happily accepted an invitation to a meet and greet luncheon at the Sausalito Women’s League. That same day, Grant committed to attending a meeting of the Sausalito Fine Arts Commission.
The Women’s League gathering was held in a century-old building that was an estate gift from the league’s founder, Dorothy Landau. Her granddaughter, Ethel Landau, spoke of her predecessor in reverential terms. She also gave Barbara a comprehensive history of the league.
A light luncheon was served with a mixed fruit cobbler for dessert prepared by, as Alma Samuels proudly announced, “Sausalito’s master chef, Warren Bradley.”
During this friendly but rather staid event, as Barbara later detailed for Grant, most of the conversation centered around an annual program called the Winter Follies, a holiday season satirical musical review of life in Sausalito.
Ethel shared a photo album of previous follies with Barbara and three other potential new members. Pointing to a chorus line of women with red cheeks and red noses, she explained that first year members are expected to join the “reindeer chorus.” Barbara smiled but was horrified by pictures of giggling women in ridiculous outfits.
Warren made a point of sitting next to Barbara for
