but I don’t. Something I have discovered about myself over the years: I resist change.”
He sucked on his cigarette again then threw it over the balcony. “She’s still there? Your mother?”
“No. She died a few years ago. Truth is, I haven’t got an excuse in the world to live where I do.” Not anymore, nobody in the world. “I’ve just been caught up in things with the book and all that, and moving just hasn’t really been a priority. But I was hoping to spend Christmas somewhere else this year.”
“Moving? Really? Where to?”
“Still San Francisco, hopefully downtown.”
“Looking to buy?”
“Ideally, yes.”
“You’re not giving yourself much time, are you?”
“I know. I’m looking into it. If I don’t succeed, it can be my New Year’s resolution.
But I definitely want to move.”
Donald Jefferson suddenly burst out laughing somewhere inside, so loud they both turned to look at the door. Jessica rolled her eyes and Blaise smiled at her. He had a friendly smile, defined lips.
“Look, I know this is gonna sound like too much of a coincidence,” he said, “but I’m moving out of my apartment. It’s in Nob Hill, not too large but spacious enough. Five rooms. I’m trying to rent it. You would definitely be in by Christmas and you could look for a place to buy from there when you feel ready. You think you’d like to come and have a look?”
It did sound like too much of a coincidence.
“... I don’t know... I suppose I could have a look.”
Blaise took a black business card out of the inside pocket of his grey jacket and handed it to her.
“This is the address and my number. I’ll be here until next week. You can come to have a look anytime you like. Just think about it and give me a call.”
He waved his hand and walked away. Not a goodnight, not a nice to meet you. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared among the guests in the room, then moved down to the card in her hand.
William T. Blaise
Chambord Apartments
1467 Sacramento Street
415 558 3857
14 November 2000
IT WAS her third day at the Palace Hotel. It had started raining before the sun had come up and it hadn’t stopped since.
Jessica had planned to climb the hill to Sacramento Street by foot, but the weather had dampened her resolved and she had ended up travelling up the steep slope in a cable car, listening to its struggling engine, marveling at the view outside the dripping windows.
Even in this weather, travelling up Nob Hill’s beauty and cultural richness made her feel invigorated —a feeling she never remembered enjoying while walking through Croker Amazon, not even as a child. Window shops were slick and meticulously arranged; restaurants looked expensive but inviting; pruned potted plant adorned entrances; big, old, famous hotels loomed over the streets. Everything tidy, tall, in order.
Once off the tram, the walk to the Chambord Apartments was short and pleasant. The building stood elegantly at the end of a leafy residential road, within a wide silver gate enclosing a large manicured grass area.
Jessica walked briskly through the gate’s entrance holding her umbrella with both hands and stopped to admire the tall building in front of her. Curved balconies and immaculate statues adorned the exterior of every floor.
Blaise had told her that the apartment was on the third floor and she studied the third row of windows before walking in, trying to guess which ones were his, which ones could become hers.
She walked through the main door into an empty lobby paved with large glossy tiles and headed for the elevator. Third floor. When the lock on the 3C apartment door clicked she was standing in the middle of the carpeted corridor shaking rain off her coat trying to hold the umbrella as far away as possible. Blaise held the door open for her before she even had the chance to knock, staring at her with a cigarette between his lips. He was wearing a tight black V- neck sweater, black trousers, bare
He sucked on his cigarette again then threw it over the balcony. “She’s still there? Your mother?”
“No. She died a few years ago. Truth is, I haven’t got an excuse in the world to live where I do.” Not anymore, nobody in the world. “I’ve just been caught up in things with the book and all that, and moving just hasn’t really been a priority. But I was hoping to spend Christmas somewhere else this year.”
“Moving? Really? Where to?”
“Still San Francisco, hopefully downtown.”
“Looking to buy?”
“Ideally, yes.”
“You’re not giving yourself much time, are you?”
“I know. I’m looking into it. If I don’t succeed, it can be my New Year’s resolution.
But I definitely want to move.”
Donald Jefferson suddenly burst out laughing somewhere inside, so loud they both turned to look at the door. Jessica rolled her eyes and Blaise smiled at her. He had a friendly smile, defined lips.
“Look, I know this is gonna sound like too much of a coincidence,” he said, “but I’m moving out of my apartment. It’s in Nob Hill, not too large but spacious enough. Five rooms. I’m trying to rent it. You would definitely be in by Christmas and you could look for a place to buy from there when you feel ready. You think you’d like to come and have a look?”
It did sound like too much of a coincidence.
“... I don’t know... I suppose I could have a look.”
Blaise took a black business card out of the inside pocket of his grey jacket and handed it to her.
“This is the address and my number. I’ll be here until next week. You can come to have a look anytime you like. Just think about it and give me a call.”
He waved his hand and walked away. Not a goodnight, not a nice to meet you. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared among the guests in the room, then moved down to the card in her hand.
William T. Blaise
Chambord Apartments
1467 Sacramento Street
415 558 3857
14 November 2000
IT WAS her third day at the Palace Hotel. It had started raining before the sun had come up and it hadn’t stopped since.
Jessica had planned to climb the hill to Sacramento Street by foot, but the weather had dampened her resolved and she had ended up travelling up the steep slope in a cable car, listening to its struggling engine, marveling at the view outside the dripping windows.
Even in this weather, travelling up Nob Hill’s beauty and cultural richness made her feel invigorated —a feeling she never remembered enjoying while walking through Croker Amazon, not even as a child. Window shops were slick and meticulously arranged; restaurants looked expensive but inviting; pruned potted plant adorned entrances; big, old, famous hotels loomed over the streets. Everything tidy, tall, in order.
Once off the tram, the walk to the Chambord Apartments was short and pleasant. The building stood elegantly at the end of a leafy residential road, within a wide silver gate enclosing a large manicured grass area.
Jessica walked briskly through the gate’s entrance holding her umbrella with both hands and stopped to admire the tall building in front of her. Curved balconies and immaculate statues adorned the exterior of every floor.
Blaise had told her that the apartment was on the third floor and she studied the third row of windows before walking in, trying to guess which ones were his, which ones could become hers.
She walked through the main door into an empty lobby paved with large glossy tiles and headed for the elevator. Third floor. When the lock on the 3C apartment door clicked she was standing in the middle of the carpeted corridor shaking rain off her coat trying to hold the umbrella as far away as possible. Blaise held the door open for her before she even had the chance to knock, staring at her with a cigarette between his lips. He was wearing a tight black V- neck sweater, black trousers, bare
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