When my own mood turned somber again, I walked over to the guardrail to say my private good-bye to him, while looking across the bay at the city he had loved. Peace of the sort that I hadn’t experienced in many months washed over me. The city was turning golden in the late afternoon sunlight. I knew it was only makeup to hide its blemishes and scars, but I also knew that the imperfections masked an inner beauty. Good people, such as those who had gathered here for J.D., were a large part of that, as were—
Strong hands grasped my shoulders. I smiled, recognizing Hy’s touch.
“Hey, you,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t make it on time for the service. Flight delays …”
“It was a good one. I spoke for both of us, told the story of the whale-watching expedition.”
“I’ll never forget how he kept saying, ‘I can’t be seasick, I’m a
reporter!
We’re only allowed to get sick when we’re drunk!’ ”
“That was J.D.”
“So how’re you, McCone?”
“Ready.”
“For?”
“Two-five-two-seven-Tango.”
“Destination?”
“Touchstone.”
“I figured as much, and called North Field. She’s gassed up.”
I pictured the airport and the city of Oakland shrinking beneath us till they were toylike. The bay receding behind us. The thickly forested ridge turning dusky as we crossed it and turned north along the coast. The scalloped coves of Mendocino County welcoming us …
“Home, Ripinsky.”