“Alex.”
“Thank you, Alex. Thank you very very much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t . . .” The green-blue eyes took another trip down my wet suit. “Do you live around here?”
“No, I was just kayaking.”
“Well, thank God you were. If you hadn’t happened to . . .” Tears filled her eyes. “Ohmigod, it’s just starting to hit me—what could’ve—I’m so—” She shivered, hugged herself, looked at me as if inviting a hug. But I just stood there, and she emitted several high-pitched whimpers, plucked at an eyelash.
Now her lip quaked. Both kids stared up at her. Sage seemed stunned, and for the first time Baxter looked penitent.
I squatted down beside them, sifted sand through my fingers.
“Mama, kie,” said Sage, with wonder. Her lower lip jutted.
“Mama will be fine,” I said, drawing a small circle in the sand. Sage dotted the middle.
Baxter said, “Mommy?”
Cheryl stopped crying. Crouching down, she gathered both children to her artificial breasts.
“Mama fine?” said Sage.
“Yes, I am, nibby-nib. Thanks to this nice man—thanks to Alex.” She held on to the kids as her eyes locked onto mine. “Listen, I want to give you something. For what you did.”
“Not necessary,” I said.
“Please,” she said. “It would make me feel better—to at least— You saved my babies and I want to give you something. Please.” She pointed up at the top of the cliff. “We live here. lust come up for a second.”
“You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Of course I am. I’m—I’ll bring the car down and we can ride up. You’d be helping me anyway. It scares me—the car. I’m always afraid they’ll fall out or something. You can hold on to Baxter, you’ll be doing me a favor. Okay?”
“Sure.” Her smile was sudden, warm, rich as she leaned over and kissed my cheek. I smelled sunscreen and perfume. Baxter growled.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “For letting me give you something.”
She walked over to the straw hat, lifted the brim, and pulled out a small, white remote-control unit. The push of a button triggered the cable car’s descent, soundless but for an occasional bump where an odd rail protruded.
“Neat, huh?” she said. To the kids: “Neat, right? Not too many people have something this cool.”
Neither child answered. I said, “Sure beats climbing.”
Cheryl laughed, tossed her hair. “Well, you couldn’t exactly climb that unless you were a—a lizard or something, I dunno. I mean, I like to work out—we’ve— There’s a great gym up at the house, and I’m real physical, but no way could I climb that, right?”
“No way,” I agreed.
“No-ay,” said Sage.
“I could climb it,” said Baxter. “Pizza cake.”
“Sure you could, honey.” Cheryl patted his head. “It’s kind of neat, being able to ride down whenever you want. He—it got put in a long time ago.”
Muffled thump as the car came to rest six inches above the sand. “Okay, here we go, all aboard. I’ll take Sage and you hold on to him, okay?”
The compartment was roofless. Glass panels in a redwood frame, redwood benches, large enough for four adults. I got in last, feeling the car sway under my weight. Cheryl sat Baxter down, but he immediately stood. “No way, Jose,” she said, returning him to his bench and stretching his arm toward mine. I gripped his hand, and he growled again and glared. I felt, strangely, like a stepfather.
“Close the door, Alex. Okay? Make sure it’s locked good— Okay, here we go.”
Another button push, and up we went, hugging the cliff. The transparent walls gave the ride a weightless feel—floating in air as the view expanded to infinity. A brief, dank wave of vertigo washed over me as I caught a stunning brain-full of ocean and sky and endless possibilities. Norris might be right about the millionaires and their pitiful scraps of beach, but this was something too.
The trip was less than a minute of Baxter squirming, Sage growing drowsy, and Cheryl staring at me from under half-lowered lids, as if I had something to look forward to. Her legs were long, smooth, subtly muscled, perfect, and as she flexed she allowed them to spread, offering a view of soft inner thigh, high-cut lace panties, the merest hint of postwax stubble and goose bumps peeking out beyond the seam.