Part Thirty-Nine

"At last, a real hotel," said Raoul as they steered into the driveway of a Marriott in Brooklyn, New York.

"Admit it, you've enjoyed all of our lodgings thus far," said Peggy.

"True, but now we get an indoor pool, and a bar, and people racing to see who gets to serve us first."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "You're going to be impossible after this."

A uniformed attendant opened Raoul's car door. Another opened Peggy's.

"What time do we meet Taylor?" asked Raoul as they were riding up an escalator.

"Around six-thirty," said Peggy. "In the Park Slope area."

"Great. We have time for a swim."

Once they were shown to their room, Peggy and Raoul changed into swimsuits and went to the pool.

"Aah, I've been waiting for this since we left D.C.," said Raoul after plunging into the clear water and coming up with rivulets trailing down his hair and beard.

Peggy smiled as she treaded water with gentle strokes. She was happy to see him having a good time; she hoped it lasted until he met Taylor. She never knew what her son's mood might be, and she had imagined the worst scenarios, like Taylor and Raoul getting into a fight over politics.

A couple of hours later a taxi dropped them off at the intersection of Seventh Ave and Third St. Taylor was waiting for them in front of a playground that was crowded with children and parents and strollers.

"Hello, Taylor," said Peggy. They hugged each other warmly. He stood almost a head taller. She looked up at him carefully and decided he wasn't getting enough sleep. She also thought he looked worried about something. "Taylor this is Raoul Stein. Raoul, Taylor."

They shook hands. "Good to meet you, Taylor," said Raoul.

"Um, likewise."

"I love your neighborhood," said Peggy. "I wasn't expecting so many families."

"Brooklyn has really become the in place to live," said Taylor. "But of course that drives up the rent."

They walked down Seventh Ave and then turned down a side street toward Prospect Park. Peggy was impressed with the tree-lined streets and the elegant-looking brownstones.



"I'm ashamed to say I haven't visited Taylor since he moved here," said Peggy.

"You've had a busy year, Mom."

They stopped in front of a brownstone with a small garden in the front. "I have a basement apartment here," said Taylor.

"Are we going in?" asked Raoul.

"I thought we would eat first, but don't eat too much or we won't fit into the apartment."

They laughed and continued toward the park, where a music festival was gearing up, and then back toward Seventh Ave via Second St, finally stopping at a pizza place called Two Boots. ( www.twobootsbrooklyn.com)

"Best pizza in Brooklyn," said Taylor.

"Exactly what I had in mind," said Raoul. Peggy looked at him with surprise; she knew he really wanted a steak dinner at the hotel restaurant. She gave him a point for being a good sport.

"I would love to hear more about your art projects," said Raoul after they had ordered pizza.

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"My work is becoming notorious in, uh, some circles."

"Taylor, what do you mean?" asked Peggy.

"I'm working on what I call the Melting Pot series. It's kind of a documentary in the form of sketches. I focus on immigrants."

Raoul shrugged. "Sounds like a worthwhile venture. I'm descended from German and Spanish immigrants. I suppose we all are in some way."

"That was one wave of immigration, mostly European. The country needed people for manufacturing and farming. We wanted them to come. Now we have another wave of immigrants. A lot of Muslims, for example, and people from Bolivia and Nicaragua. We don't want them as much. We don't have jobs for them because we are moving so many jobs out of the country."

"So they're stuck driving cabs and mopping floors," said Peggy.

"Those are the lucky ones," said Taylor.

"I still don't see why that would make your work controversial," said Raoul.

"Unfortunately, one of my subjects has been arrested for being a suspected terrorist," said Taylor.

Peggy involuntarily raised a hand to her mouth. "You didn't tell me that. No wonder you're not getting any sleep."

"How did you know I wasn't getting any sleep?"

"I'm your mother. It's my job to know these things."

"How well did you know the person?" asked Raoul.

"I didn't know him personally. I started hanging around neighborhoods with lots of immigrants, and doing sketches and stuff, and pretty soon I had a nice series going about a family that was looking for work. And then the cops came to my apartment and they had a photograph of me drawing a picture of a man sitting on a park bench. They wanted to know if I knew the man. I said I didn't know him, other than that he was from Pakistan and was looking for work. I saw his picture in the paper a few days later and it said he was arrested for having ties to a terrorist group."

"Do you think he did?" asked Raoul.

Taylor shrugged. "There's no way of knowing. How can you tell? How can anybody tell? The police are grasping at straws if you ask me."

"This Patriot Act stuff is getting completely out of hand," said Peggy with a worried expression.

"Are the police still talking to you?" asked Raoul.

"They came back a second time and showed me some pictures of other people, wanted to know if I knew any of them. I didn't." Taylor cleared his throat and looked at them hesitantly. "But, uh, I was thinking this might be a good time to take a little break from the city. You know. Maybe leave town for a little while until things calm town."

The pizza came and they all dived in hungrily. Peggy deliberately changed the subject and told Taylor about their trip to Washington, D.C., and visiting Marjorie. In the back of her mind she was forming a plan. When they were finished eating, Taylor excused himself from the table. Peggy immediately turned to Raoul.

"I think Taylor's right. He should leave town for a while," said Peggy.

"I'm not so sure. Might send the wrong signal."

"I can't stand the thought of him being hounded by the police. Raoul, I think we should invite Taylor to go with us to New England."

"What?"

"He would enjoy the fresh air."

"Fresh air! He might get us arrested."

"He doesn't look well."

"What about us? We won't look well when we're in jail."

"You're exaggerating. He's just an art student trying to get a start. But I'm worried that all of this is putting too much stress on him."

"What about stress on us? I thought we were going to have a romantic week in a little cabin on some lake that my brother told me about."

"It wasn't a lake, it was a bay."

"Whatever. I'm sure the F.B.I. will find it."

"Now you're paranoid. What's wrong with taking my son on a little vacation?"

Raoul slumped in his seat. "I'm not going to win this argument am I?"

Taylor returned to the table and took a large sip of his beer.

"It's all settled," said Peggy. "Raoul and I would love it if you came to New England with us."

"Really?" He looked at Raoul with skepticism written all over his face.

"What she said."

"Where are you going?"

"We're going to make a quick stop Connecticut to visit Raoul's brother…"

"Very quick," said Raoul, "he threatened to take us to Hooter's for dinner."

"...and then we were going to some kind of beach house in Maine that Raoul's brother knows about."

"If we make it pass the state line," said Raoul.

"Would you stop being so negative?"

At that moment, Raoul's cell phone rang. "Excuse me." He left the table to answer the phone.

"I don't think he's too crazy about the idea," said Taylor.

"He'll get over it. Besides I want you two to get to know each other. This is perfect."

"After this he'll hate my guts."

"Nonsense. You guys will eat a lobster and drink some wine and you'll be like old buddies."

Raoul returned to the table. "There's a conspiracy going on. That was Deidre. Her roommate Dirksy has the chicken pox and Deidre doesn't want to stay in the apartment. She wants to know if she can come to New England with us."

"Wonderful!" said Peggy.

"Wonderful? Didn't you ever dream of having a romantic vacation when your kids were all grown up and on their own?"

"That's so old fashioned. I think Deidre and Taylor would make wonderful company, as long as we treat them like adults."

"Who's Deidre?" said Taylor, looking like the conversation had left him.

"Raoul's daughter. Very smart, and beautiful. Of course, at the moment she hates men because she just broke up with a creep, but she'll get over it."

Taylor groaned. "I don't like the sound of this."

"Finally, someone's talking sense," said Raoul.

"All I hear is a lot of negativism," said Peggy. "I think men become set in their ways beginning at birth. Honestly. Now, who wants ice cream? I saw a nice little ice cream place along Seventh Ave."

Raoul turned to Taylor and spoke softly. "Take my advice: just go with the flow and say yes to everything."

"I heard that," said Peggy over her shoulder as she walked away from the table. She winked at Raoul.

What she didn't see, however, was a casually dressed man in a Yankees baseball cap sipping red wine at the bar. As soon as Peggy, Raoul and Taylor left the restaurant, he paid his bill in cash and left in a hurry.

TO BE CONTINUED