Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

the alcohol and attitude of the bars. He sometimes repaired there after his stint at the AIDS switchboard.
Today, as he entered, an animated game of Scrabble was in progress. At the bar, two men in business suits were arguing about Joan Sutherland, while another couple rehashed the Forty-Niners’ victory at the Super Bowl.
He found a seat away from the conversation and immersed himself in the latest issue of the Advocate. An ad for a jewelry company caught his eye:
I’M SAFE—ARE U?
Dating is growing more and more complicated every day. Herpes, AIDS … If you are socially active it can be awkward and embarrassing to ask. How do you let someone you’re interested in know that YOU ARE SAFE? NOW you tan let others know simply by wearing your “ I’M SAFE ” ring or pendant. The jewelry does the “talking” for you. These handsome 14 Karat Klad gold plated rings and pendants are a great conversation starter for breaking the ice. So don’t get tagged out trying to slide into home. Let ’em know you’re safe, with your “ I’M SAFE ” ring and pendant.
It was too much. He growled and threw the magazine on the floor, attracting the attention of the Forty-Niners fans. He gave them a sheepish grin and left without further explanation, heading straight for his car.
When he got back to Barbary Lane, sunlight was streaming into the courtyard for the first time in weeks. Wisps of steam, like so many friendly ghosts, hovered above the courtyard as he passed through the lych-gate. He stopped long enough to savor the sweet, wet, ferny smell tingling in his nostrils.
A figure rose from behind a low hedge, startling him.
“Oh … Mrs. Madrigal.”
The landlady wiped her hands on her paisley smock. “Isn’t it a grand day?”
“It’s about time,” said Michael.
“Now, now,” she scolded. “We knew it was coming. It was just a question of when.” She looked about her on the ground. “Have you seen my trowel, dear?”
He scanned the area, then shook his head. “What are you planling?”
“Baby tears,” she answered. “Why aren’t you going to London?”
“Hey.” She had pounced without warning.
“Never mind, I guess I’m being selfish. Still … it would have given me such vicarious thrills.” She fussed delicately with a strand of hair at her temple. “Oh, well. Can’t be helped.”
These days, Mrs. Madrigal almost never tried to pull off her helpless-old-lady routine. Michael couldn’t help smiling at the effort. “I hope Mary Ann also told you it was a question of finances?”
“She did.”
“So?”
“I’m not as gullible as she is.” The landlady found her trowel and slipped it into the pocket of her smock. Then she removed a pale yellow parchment envelope and handed it to Michael. “So I’m hereby eliminating it as an excuse. You’ll just have to come up with another one.”
He opened the envelope and removed a check for a thousand dollars. “Mrs. Madrigal … this is awfully sweet, but …”
“It isn’t a bit sweet. It’s a cold-blooded investment. I’m commissioning you to go to London and come back with some happy stories for us.” She paused, but her great blue eyes remained fixed on him. “We need that from you, Michael.”
There was nothing he could say.
“But money’s not the reason, is it? Not really.” She sat down on the bench at the end of the courtyard and patted the place next to her. “You haven’t finished settling up with Jon yet.”
Typically, she had lured him onto the appropriate set. He sat down less than ten feet away from the brass plaque that marked the spot where Jon’s ashes had been buried. “I’m not sure I ever will,” he said.
“You must,” she replied. “What more do you want him to know?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … if we had him back with us right now … what would be your unfinished business?”
He thought for a while. “I’d ask him what he did with the keys to the tool chest.”
Mrs. Madrigal smiled. “What else?”
“I’d tell him he was a jerk for needing to hang around with pissy queens.”
“Go on.”
“I’d tell him I’m sorry it look me so long to figure out what he meant to me. And I wish we’d taken that trip to Maui when he suggested it.”
“Fine.”
“And … I wore his good blazer while he was in the hospital and somebody burned a hole in the sleeve and I never told him about it … and I love him very much.”
“He knows that already,” said the landlady.
“I’d tell him again,