Chapter 8

If Sara had ever been asked to predict how much of a battle it would have been, hypothetically, to get Grissom to let her go with him to make his mother's arrangements and take care of her affairs, she probably would have predicted world war three, but in fact Grissom appeared to take it for granted from the beginning that she would be going with him. And Hank. He seemed surprised when Sara asked about driving versus flying.

"We have to drive. I'm not putting Hank in cargo!" Sara had been assuming he'd want to leave the dog with the sitter.

Sara called Ecklie and let him know she had a family emergency and needed a few days off. Grissom called Catherine and told her he'd be out for the week. It said a lot about the upheaval at the lab that neither asked any questions. Sara and Grissom left as soon as they were packed, pausing only to make sure that all of Grissom's critters were adequately fed and watered before heading out. Sara drove the whole way, initially in heavy silence.

They were passing through Barstow when Grissom spoke.

"Sorry, I'm not being very good company."

"You're kidding, right? Don't worry about me. Or Hank. You just do what you need to do, Bugman."

"For so much of my life, after my dad died, it was just Mom and me. When I was growing up, she was the one person who didn't think I was a freak, you know?"

"I know she was incredibly proud of you."

"She saw you once, you know," Gil told her softly.

Sara stared over at him, surprised. "When?!?"

"Do you remember, that first weekend in San Francisco, my mom swung through town on a buying trip, and I met her for coffee while you were at the conference, and then caught up with you on the wharf?"

"Sure."

"Well, I guess I talked about you a little bit too much, because rather than just heading home when I left, Mom followed me. She wanted to catch a glimpse of the woman who kept popping up in our conversation." He shook his head in remembered amazement. "I'd known you less than 48 hours, and my mom knew…"

"Knew what?"

"That you were it for me."

Described only as a friend, and a new one at that, Sara had piqued the older woman's interest. And she'd been glad she had trailed him to his meeting with Sara. Never had she seen her son gaze at any of his friends the way he did at this lovely young woman. And miracle of miracles, she looked back at him with the same bright light shining in her eyes. She'd said as much to her son later, via TTY.

"I'm far too old for her, Mom."

"She looks like she has maturity beyond her years, Gil. If you're not interested, that's one thing, but don't set up artificial impediments. It's hard enough to find someone to spend your life with. And after all, your father was older than I was. Maybe it runs in the family."

"I told her—about us getting back together. She was really happy, Sara. She liked the look of you, thought we were good together. She'd never stopped asking about you, all this time."

She glanced briefly over at him, curious.

"When?"

"Hmmm?"

"When did you tell her?"

"Ummm, a couple of months ago, I guess. I've been meaning to mention it to you, but I guess it never really came up." He paused, and looked over at her, his eyes caressing her profile. "I'm really glad I told her. I would have hated for her to have died without knowing. But I wish you'd met. You would have liked each other."

And with that, he lapsed back into a silence that lasted the rest of the drive.

Sara followed Grissom's directions from the 10, south on Lincoln Boulevard then west on Venice to a neat little California Craftsman cottage on Linnie Canal.

"You never told me you grew up on the canals!"

"I didn't. We lived further north, on Brooks. My mom bought this place in the early nineties, after her gallery started to take off, back when you could actually afford property in Venice." He unlocked his mother's door and held it open for Sara and Hank, postponing for few seconds more the moment at which he himself had to enter the house.

"What a lovely home!" Sara exclaimed, moving into the living room. She unclipped Hank's leash and he trotted off on a mission of exploration. Grissom took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Sara slipped her overnight bag from her shoulder and looked back at him.

"Would you like some coffee? I'll make a pot."

"That would be great, if you can find any. My mother leaned more towards tea, but usually she kept some coffee around for visitors."

Sara moved into the sunny kitchen. It was a little dated, but tidy and airy, with details in bright yellow, blue and white. She caught sight of a set of breakfast dishes in the sink—the only object she'd so far seen out of place in the house—and was stopped dead by the huge lump in her throat.

"Gris?" she called back to him, "Why don't you check on Hank and take our bags upstairs while I make the coffee?" If seeing the lonely dishes left so casually by a woman who was never coming back to wash them affected her that strongly, she didn't want to see their effect on her son.

She heard her lover head upstairs, found the coffee, started a pot and quickly washed and dried the teacup and cereal bowl. Pouring coffee into two mugs, she followed Grissom up to the second floor. She found him in his mother's orderly bedroom, perched on the neatly made bed, Hank's chin on his knee as he idly stroked the soft, brown head. He didn't look around as she entered, but started speaking after a second.

"It smells like her in here."

Sara sniffed gently. "Smells nice."

"She was always aware of scents, especially after she lost her hearing. It's just hard to believe that she's not going to come walking back from the gallery any minute now, you know?"

Sara sat down next to him, handing him one of the coffee mugs and putting an arm around him. He switched the mug to his other hand and pulled her tightly against his side.

"I know, Baby," Sara replied.

"I've got to call Carl." He made no move to get up.

"Gil, we just drove six hours, the last two mostly stopped in LA rush hour traffic, after putting in nearly a full shift. You've hardly eaten and haven't slept. Hank needs a walk, and then I think we need to get something to eat and to sleep a little. There'll be plenty of time to start making arrangements when we wake up."

He didn't respond initially, and Sara wondered if she'd somehow upset him, but then he nodded wearily and turned his head to kiss her on the forehead.

"I'm going to need you to take care of me while we're here, Sara."

"That's why I'm here."

"What do you say we walk down to the ocean, then find a place to get some food?"

"Sounds like a great plan."

"Are you up for a long walk? There's a place right on the boardwalk almost to Santa Monica I think you'd like. They have a patio, so we can take Hank."

"I think a long walk is just what the doctor ordered. Mind if I take a shower first?"

"Good idea. Want company?"

"Yeah, I do."

Showered and changed, they went along the canals and then across Pacific, down a walk-street to the beach. Heading north on the boardwalk, they walked in silence, in synch, side-by-side. Hank initially cast about a bit on his leash, and they slowed for him, but after awhile he settled in beside them, trotting happily, paying only the slightest attention to the other dogs out on the path.

Figtree's Café was quiet on a weekday, after the breakfast rush. They arrived just early enough to order off of the breakfast menu. Grissom hadn't thought he had an appetite, but one bite into the cornmeal pancakes and his hunger stood up and made itself heard. Sara made equal inroads into her French toast while Hank lapped happily at a bowl of water the waitress brought for him. They ate in a comfortable silence, then walked back up Abbott-Kinney, past endless little galleries, book stores and restaurants.

"You ready for a nap?" Sara asked as he let them back into the house.

"As soon as we feed Hank."

Grissom had taken their bags to the cheery guest room. Neither of them had any desire to sleep in his mother's bedroom, opting instead to use the much smaller but less personal bed across the hall. Sara worried that Grissom would have trouble sleeping, but his exhaustion took over and he was sound asleep in her arms within minutes of hitting the bed. Not long after, she dozed off herself. Hank, waiting patiently on the floor, climbed carefully up on the foot of the bed as soon as he heard their gentle snores.