some leaves on it tangled up in his collar. The big dog looked elated to be there, and so did Sallie, as Coco smiled up at Leslie.
“Thank you for understanding what this means to me. My family thought I lost my mind when I moved here. It's hard to explain to people like them.” Leslie found himself wondering if she would have stayed there if Ian were still alive, or someplace like it in Australia, and he suspected that she would. Coco was someone who wanted desperately to let go of her origins, the values she found fault with, and all the trappings of that world. This was the outer manifestation of all she had rejected when she came here. The falsity, the obsession with material goods, the fight to get ahead, the sacrifice of people for careers. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she offered, as he let himself down into one of the two faded deck chairs.
“I'd love it.” He noticed the old statue of Quan Yin then, which Ian had given her. “The goddess of compassion,” he said softly as she handed him a mug of tea a few minutes later and sat in the deck chair next to his. “She reminds me of you. You're a kind woman, Coco, and a fine one. I saw the photographs of your man. He looks like a good man,” he said respectfully. Ian was a tall, handsome blond, and the couple looked carefree and happy in the photo. For a moment as he walked by the smiling images, Leslie felt envious of them. He suspected that in his entire life he had never had what they had shared.
“He was a good man.” She looked out to sea and then turned to smile at Leslie. “Everything I want in the world is here. The ocean, the beach, a quiet, peaceful life, this deck where I watch the sun come up every morning, and a fire at night. My dog, books, people I care about in houses nearby. I don't need more than this. It works for me. Maybe one day I'll want something different, but not now.”
“Do you think you'll ever go back, to the 'real' world, I mean? Or perhaps I should say the unreal one, where you used to live?”
“I hope not,” she said firmly. “Why would I? None of that ever made sense to me, even when I was a child,” Coco said as she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun. Leslie watched her closely. Her hair shone like freshly polished copper, and both dogs had gone to sleep at their feet. It was a life one could get used to, an absence of complication and artifice. But he could imagine that it would get lonely too. It was a life for the most part without people, or strong attachments for her right now. But his was no better. He was hiding from a woman who was trying to kill him. Without question, this made more sense. Leslie loved everything he was seeing here, but he wasn't sure he could live here. Although thirteen years younger than he was, Coco seemed to have found herself long before he did. He was still looking, though closer to knowing what he wanted than he had been in years. At least he knew what he didn't want. Coco had figured that out sooner too.
“I have to admit…” He chuckled softly as Coco opened her eyes and looked at him again. Everything about her was centered, solid, and peaceful. She was like a long drink of pure water from a mountain stream. “I can't see your sister here.” Coco laughed at that too.
“She hates it. Lizzie likes it more than she does, but it's not their thing. They are women of the city. Jane thinks San Francisco is a village. I think they both prefer L.A., but they love their house here, and Lizzie says it's easier to write here than there. There aren't as many distractions.”
Leslie was still smiling. “I remember when I met Jane. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was in her mid-twenties and she was a knockout. She still is. I had a huge crush on her for about a year, I kept taking her out, and she kept treating me like a buddy. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. I finally lost it completely and kissed her one night after we