Shortly after opening the door to their room, both Grant and Barbara flopped down on top of the king-sized bed and fell sound asleep. They woke to the first rays of sunlight coming through the room’s heavy drapes, which they had neglected to close entirely. Sitting up on the bed, Grant looked around and gave a long, low whistle.
“Barb, wake up. This has got to be the nicest room I ever woke up in without remembering checking into.”
"Jeez, you’re right, Grant," Barbara said peeking out of one eye. "I wonder what we spent?”
Neither one of them was pleased when they found out the room cost nine hundred dollars for the night.
“I guess it’s cheaper than a DUI, and all the headaches the car rental company would have put us through if I’d run over a deer while driving the back roads of Napa County,” Grant offered.
“And, God, what beautiful country this is!” Barbara added. “Not to mention all the great wines!”
“Maybe we could be happy living here?” Grant wondered aloud.
“I think 70 miles north of San Francisco is a little too far for you to be from a major city. You may love fresh air and vineyards, but you’ve got steel, glass, and concrete in your veins,” Barbara said with a laugh.
“You’re right, but there’s something to be said for finding a little more peace in our lives.”
“I agree, darling. But too much peace, and I could see you losing your mind.”
It was still early when they stepped out to meet the day, discovering, thankfully, that they were at least sober enough to have parked their car in a legal space.
They wandered every street around Healdsburg's charming town square and found the perfect place for a relaxing breakfast.
They fell into a conversation with the couple sitting at the two-top table ten inches away from their own. Patrons of the popular eatery happily sacrificed some extra space and greater privacy for the efficient service and excellent food.
Between generous cappuccinos, yummy omelets, and homemade biscuits, they got to know the couple seated next to them: Ray and Debbie Sirica, who they learned had relocated to Sausalito from their native Chicago ten years earlier.
“Some of the locals can be a little quirky,” they explained, but they both agreed that the town was a great place to live. “It’s a quick trip into San Francisco, but none of the hassles of life in a big city,” Ray announced with a smile.
Grant reasoned that Ray—a big man, tall, broad-shouldered, with big hands, and a large frame to match—was five or so years older than himself. Debbie was closer to Ray in age than Barbara was to Grant. She was slim, with a pleasant, smiling face. Her hair was tinted to cover its emerging gray, and her brown eyes never wavered in their focus. Her manner was kind, and cautiously sincere.
Grant dealt with a lot of personalities in gallery sales. He had convinced himself over time that he was a reasonably sound judge of character. Ray was one of those rare people, who from the moment you met seemed like someone you had known for years. His relaxed smile said, “What you see is who I am.” There was trustworthiness in his open manner. It was a quality that Grant took a liking to instantly.
Both of the Randolphs felt comfortable enough with the Siricas to exchange contact information. Before they went their separate ways, Ray and Debbie asked if they would be in Sausalito on Friday night. “If so, come and join us for a reception we’re holding for the city’s fine arts commission,” Ray suggested, and added, “Given your backgrounds, they’re all people I think you’ll enjoy meeting.”
An hour later, as Grant and Barbara began the nearly two-hour ride south to San Francisco, he and Barbara agreed that Sausalito, a town they knew of but had never spent any time in, might indeed be the perfect spot to begin their new and hopefully happier future.
Chapter Five
To both Barbara and Grant, Sausalito seemed to answer many of the desires they had difficulty verbalizing when they first imagined moving to California.
For starters, like their new friends and former Chicago natives, the Siricas, they would be putting bone-chilling winters and uncomfortably hot summers behind them.
After settling into their room in Sausalito’s Casa Madrona Hotel, the Randolphs reached out to the Siricas and invited them to dinner at Poggio, the popular trattoria adjacent to the hotel.
The afternoon before their dinner engagement, the Randolphs took a leisurely stroll along the Sausalito marina, which held seemingly endless rows of piers lined with motor yachts and sailing sloops. Turning south, they walked past the small tourist district, busy as usual with day visitors. Farther along, they strolled the south end of Bridgeway, which hugs the bay until it winds its way up towards the Marin Headlands and onto the Golden Gate Bridge.
The tourist district itself lasts less than a mile. Where it ends, the Randolphs found themselves in a quiet, quaint setting of mostly small to moderately sized homes. They were mesmerized by the houses stacked on hills. In the soft blue air and bright light of a May afternoon, it could have been a painting of a small, seaside Mediterranean village.
“It’s a little too perfect to be real, don’t you think?” Grant said to Barbara as they began walking up a steep path.
They turned right onto Third Street, which was an even steeper incline that leads to a small neighborhood park called Southview. There, they sat down on a bench to recover from a climb neither was accustomed to making. From there, they looked out on a vista that included the San Francisco skyline, the Bay Bridge, and the golden hills of Berkeley, and Oakland beyond. They could even see the clock tower at the
