Part Thirty-Six

"Oh how lovely," said Marjorie as she and Peggy strolled down a quiet, tree-lined block of N Street in Washington, D.C.

"I love the neighborhood; it's mostly residential, and right in the middle of it is the Tabard Inn," said Peggy.



They emerged from the shaded sidewalk and crossed the street toward the gray stone structure. The midday air was oppressively hot and bright. It was Wednesday. Peggy had spent the night at her daughter's house after the baseball game and was now taking her to lunch at the Tabard, a date they had previously arranged.

"Have you heard from Raoul this morning?" said Marjorie.

"My phone hasn't stopped ringing," Peggy laughed. "I'm exaggerating, of course. He called me last night on my cell phone, late. Then he called twice this morning. He's at a meeting at his firm."

"Has he seen the picture?" asked Marjorie. A small picture of Raoul had appeared in the Washington Post in connection with the incident at the baseball game.

"I don't know. The picture was buried in the inside pages; chances are, no one will see it," said Peggy.

They walked through the tiny lobby of the Tabard.



"Stan and I should come and stay here," said Marjorie.

"It's great fun."

After passing through the lobby they entered a dark room with paneled walls and old paintings and an assortment of sofas and chairs scattered about. "This is where Raoul likes to sit and sip his eighteen-year-old Scotch in the evenings," said Peggy.

Beyond the sitting room they entered the restaurant and elected to dine in the cool interior instead of the patio.



"An interesting lunch crowd, as I expected," said Marjorie.

They ordered crab cakes. Peggy had white wine. Marjorie chatted about her job. "I hardly ever get out for a nice lunch," she said. "This is such a treat."

"In a few months you won't be getting out for much of anything," said Peggy.

Marjorie patted her stomach. "Not me. I plan to work until the last day."

"I figured as much. You were never one to sit still."

"I think I got it from you," said Marjorie.

"Me?" Peggy sipped her wine and then spotted a painting on the wall that caught her attention. "I hadn't noticed that before." She pointed to it.



"Who is it?"

"Pablo Neruda. I remember a poem of his that I always liked about old women who go down to the seashore…"

To the solemn sea the old women come
With their shawls knotted around their necks
With their fragile feet cracking.

"I love the imagery," said Marjorie.

"There's another verse that I think about often…"

They come from all the pasts
From houses which were fragrant
From burnt-up evenings.

"That's my predicament," said Peggy. "I have a past. Of children, and fragrant houses, and happy times." She stopped, unable to continue.

Marjorie held her mother's hand across the table. Then they heard a man's voice speaking in Spanish.

Es una copa llena
de agua
el mundo.

Peggy looked up to see Raoul standing by their table. "That's from another of Neruda's poems," he said. "The translation is, 'The world is a glass overflowing with water.' My grandmother recited it to me often in Spanish."

"What does it mean?" asked Peggy.

"I think to her it meant that there is more life than we can possibly live in one lifetime. There are too many possible experiences. It's overwhelming."

Peggy felt a wave of warmth flow through her.

"Can you join us?" she asked.

"I don't want to interrupt your lunch. But if we could chat when you're through…"

"Sure," said Peggy.

Raoul left the dining room. Marjorie looked at Peggy. "Mom, you know what your problem is?"

"Yes. I need another glass of wine."

Twenty minutes later, Peggy walked Marjorie back to her car and said goodbye.

"Thanks for the lunch. When are you coming back to our house?"

"I'm not sure. I'll call."

Peggy walked back to the hotel and climbed the creaky stairs to their room. Raoul was waiting.

"Today I received glaring proof of what a jerk I've been," he said.

"You saw the picture."

"Me and everyone else at the firm. And it's already been emailed back to Seattle. At the moment I'm the class clown of Burnett and Edwards."

"I'm sorry. I feel terrible."

"No, no. I had it coming. It's the most humbling thing I've ever been through. I've been taken down a few notches and I needed it."

Peggy sat by the window in a worn armchair. The pale yellow room calmed her.

"You see," he continued. "I think I'm going through this phase where I'm resentful of those who are more successful than me. In our D.C. office, for instance, there are lawyers much younger than me who are working on the hottest legal issues of the day, right here in the nation's capitol, rubbing elbows with all the big shots, making more money than I do. And I'm sitting on the West Coast defending corporate polluters."

"Would you consider moving here?" Peggy asked.

"Not a chance. Years ago I made a choice to stay in Seattle. It was what Priscilla and I both wanted. I don't regret it. But this week I've been reminded of what I gave up, and it sent me into this midlife crisis panic."

"What did you give up?"

"Nothing really that important. I gave up income and status, but what I got in return was worth much more: quality of life, a happy family…"

He paused, and sat in a chair near her. "Trust me. I know the things that are important. How I live and who I spend my time with mean much more to me than having power lunches with movers and shakers."

"Who would you rather spend your time with?"

"You."

Peggy listened to him without commenting.

"And I'm going to prove it," he said. "I've decided to leave the firm. I've already given notice."

"No," Peggy said with amazement.

"Yes. But I'm not ready to completely retire. Instead I'm going to look for something interesting, like maybe a small nonprofit that needs a little bit of legal help. Maybe an arts organization, or an environmental organization."

Peggy threw her arms around Raoul's neck and pulled him into her chair. They rolled onto the floor with a thud. "I can't believe it," said Peggy. "I never thought I would hear those words from you."

"Let's go downstairs and celebrate," said Raoul.

"And let's plan the rest of our vacation."

"Do you mean you're staying?"

"How did you know I was thinking of leaving?" asked Peggy.

"Just a hunch. I suspect you're the type who doesn't tolerate fools for very long."

Peggy laughed. "We're all fools once in a while."

They returned to the bar of the Tabard Inn, under the watchful eye of the fireman.