They sat at their table at a diner with a view of the bay. Allie had the map she’d bought spread out on more than half the table in front of them.
“We’ll be going through Fort Bragg and Mendocino in Northern California,” she said, tracing her finger along the coast. “Eureka and Arcata. And Crescent City. Oh, and of course San Francisco first, but that’s coming up today, most likely, and I figured it went without saying. Not sure how big those other towns are. Hard to tell just by looking at the map. But I bet one of them would have a pawnshop. Monterey is not so huge and they had a bunch. Then Coos Bay in Oregon looks bigger. Tons of little towns along the coast, but they might be pretty small. Kind of hard to tell.”
The waitress came by, a plump, perky-looking young woman in her early twenties with hair piled up on top of her head. She handed them each a menu.
“Travelers!” she said, as though she’d just struck gold. “I can always spot the travelers. We get a lot of ’em here, and I always like to ask people where they come from and where they’re headed.”
Silence.
Allie looked over at Bea’s face. Bea seemed overwhelmed by the young woman’s open cheeriness. Not in a good way.
“Coffee,” Bea said flatly.
The waitress’s face fell.
“I’m from Pacific Palisades,” Allie said. “And my grandmother here is from the Coachella Valley. We’re going to drive up the coast all the way to Cape Flattery in Washington. It’s sort of an adventure.”
“Well, it sounds like a darn good one,” the waitress said, seeming relieved.
“I’ll have tea,” Allie added.
“Coming right up.” She hurried away for two steps or so. Stopped. Turned back. “Of course you’re going to see our aquarium while you’re here, right? It’s world famous.”
“No,” Bea said.
“Maybe,” Allie added.
The woman frowned. Then she headed back toward the kitchen.
“That was rude,” Allie said.
“I don’t like people like that. Never have. What business is it of hers where I’m from or where I’m going?”
“She’s just being friendly.”
“There’s such a thing as too friendly.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think there is. I think we’re having an adventure, and we might as well accept that people will be part of it. We’re going to meet people all along the way. Why not find out something about them? Why not tell them something about us? How can they use it against us? They can’t. A few minutes later we’ll be gone. It’s just communication with other humans, and I don’t know why everyone is so afraid of it.”
The waitress swung by their table again and poured Bea a cup of coffee. She stood several steps back from the old woman and reached her arm out comically to pour, as if Bea were radioactive, or otherwise deadly. She set a small stainless steel pot of hot water in front of Allie, followed by a basket of assorted teas she had been carrying under her arm. She smiled at Allie and Allie smiled back. Then she was gone again.
Allie looked over at Bea to find the older woman searching her face in return. With some variety of grave scrutiny.
“What?” Allie asked, automatically defensive.
“What got into you?”
“Why did something have to get into me? I just think an adventure can include people. We could actually learn something about the people we meet and the other way around. You did that with Jackson, and it changed everything. It changed the whole way you look at the past.”
“No, really,” Bea said, her expression not budging. “What brought this on?”
Allie sighed. Geared herself up to tell the truth. After all, she had just been advocating doing so. And Bea was hardly a stranger anymore.
“When I was saying goodbye to Jackson . . . he . . . said something. About me. He said he could see my pain. He said it was written all over my face. I was kind of shocked, because I didn’t figure people could see it. I figured I could keep it to myself if I wanted. So I left. I just walked away. And now I feel really bad about that. Why didn’t I stand there and admit how things are hard for me right now? He told us about his pain. He was so open about it. And then he reached out for me to do the same thing in return. And I ran away. Why? Why is it so scary to let somebody see you like that?”
“Hmm,” Bea said. “I have a bad notion you’re suggesting we both try this.”
“I thought you’d already started.”
“Involuntarily. Tell you what. Feel free to do this wherever you go. I’ll watch and see how it works out for you.”
“Fine,” Allie said. “You think you’re kidding, but I’ll take it.”
Halfway through her oatmeal and fruit cup, which she had been eating in silence, Allie said, “I think we need to go to the aquarium.”
“Nonsense.”
“Why is it nonsense?”
“First of all, I don’t think you know the meaning of the word ‘need.’ We need to breathe air and drink water and eat food. We’d need shelter from the elements if they were extreme, but here they’re not. I’m sure it’s expensive, that aquarium, and it’s just entertainment. It’s just a diversion. It’s the last thing we need.”
“But that’s the old you talking. And you said you weren’t going to keep making the decisions you made in the past.”
Bea paused with a strip of crispy bacon halfway to her face. “I didn’t say I would change every single thing about myself. Some of it is worth keeping. Especially frugality. Especially at a time like this.”
Allie ate her oatmeal in silence for a few moments.
Then she said, “But I have money. And if this is what I want to spend it on . . .”
“You don’t have money. We have money. You committed that money to our expenses. You can’t just take it back and waste it.”
They ate in a strained silence for several minutes longer. It was becoming increasingly important to Allie that she see that aquarium, and that she get Bea to do the same. It felt more crucial than she could really explain to herself. It seemed to set the tone for how this adventure was going to play out—whether it would be fabulous, like life paying her back for everything, or just another tense grind, full of sacrifice and boredom.
Finally she reached into her jeans pocket and curled her fingers around the one-ounce bar of gold. She pulled it out and set it on the table, covering it with her hand.
“What have you got there?” Bea asked.
Allie lifted one side of her hand so Bea could have a quick look. Then she stuck it back in her pocket, fast.
“Is that real? Where did you get it?”
“My uncle gave it to me on the day I was born. It was one of those things I was supposed to hang on to because it would just keep getting more valuable. I don’t know what it’s worth. But probably a couple hundred dollars at least.”
“Is it an ounce?”
“Yes. An ounce.”
“Then it’s worth close to thirteen hundred dollars.”
Allie could feel her eyes go wide.