"Work at a job you don't like?" I didn't answer. He continued. "How about this? If I can change your flight and it won't cost you any money, will you call in sick and stay over?"
I couldn't believe I heard myself agreeing. Paul hung up before I changed my mind. He called back in ten minutes as I waited by the phone.
"All set. You fly out on Wednesday morning. I'll come by your room in twenty minutes."
"Wednesday? I only said I'd stay over until tomorrow!" I hadn't given him my airline or flight number.
"You were sicker than you realized. I fixed it with the hotel too. The room you're in was booked but they'll move you while we're out." I was learning for the first time that mundane concerns of us ordinary citizens are but minor obstacles to the very rich. I asked for more time than twenty minutes but agreed to meet Paul in front of the hotel at eleven. He arrived in a black car, far more luxurious than anything I'd ever ridden in.
We drove north from Boston, through a tunnel and through several miles of suburbia until reaching a long stretch of beach between the cities of Lynn and Nahant. During the drive Paul chatted about the reception and how he'd enjoyed himself. I was surprised he seemed as nervous as I. He'd sounded much more confident on the phone. We parked facing the ocean and Paul told me to remain in the car until everything was ready. From the trunk he carried two chairs, an umbrella, a small table, blankets, a large wicker basket and two bottles of wine. After three trips, he opened my door with a bow. How he was able to secure the supplies on such short notice, on a Sunday morning, amazed me.
While the sun was shining, there was a stiff breeze. The temperature was near freezing. We were the only humans save a bundled figure with a playful dog yards to the north and an old man with a metal detector equally far away in the other direction. However, wrapped in blankets and with the umbrella tilted to protect us from the steady breeze, we were almost comfortable. We drank white wine and ate cold chicken, chilled further by the Atlantic wind that blew white caps off the water. There we sat, bundled in coats and mittens and I loved it.
Later, when casual conversation dwindled, Paul asked a more personal question. "How did you end up in Alaska?"
"My husband was in the military and stationed there. Prior to that, we lived all over, even in Europe. After he died, I stayed on in Alaska."