Sleepless in San Francisco

Excerpt:
Chapter One
Ed said his final goodbye on a Sunday morning in early September, one of those crisp, late summer days without a cloud in the sky. Ed and his son, Noah, had driven out to East Hampton to visit the grave of Ed’s deceased partner, Jake. He had been gone for more than a year, but it didn’t feel that long.
Ed stood next to Noah in front of a dark gray headstone that had a hot air balloon carved in the center, his hands clasped together and his eyebrows furrowed. Young Noah kept looking up at him with wide eyes and pinched lips. Noah’s head tilted all the way back, because he was only half Ed’s size. But they both had the same ash blond hair, the same slightly bowed legs, and the same strong chin.
A familiar blowing sound was approaching above their heads. There was no other sound like it. It whished and echoed and rushed. It was loud enough to make them both look up at the sky at the same time, and yet they didn’t see anything at first. Noah shielded his eyes from the bright Long Island sunshine with his hand and looked to the left. Ed put his hands in his pockets and looked to the right.
A moment later, the noise grew louder. And Noah pointed to the sky and said, “Look, Dad. They’re passing right over us.”
When Ed looked up and saw that a cluster of hot air balloons was crossing over the cemetery, he smiled for the first time that day. There were too many to count: hundreds. They dotted the blue sky with the colors of the rainbow, some had stripes and some were solid. From a distance, they reminded him of upside down toy spin tops suspended above tiny, dark specks. He placed his hand on Noah’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be damned.” Then he ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head back and forth.
Noah leaned into his father’s side and smiled. “Do you think it’s a sign, Dad?” he asked. “Maybe Dad’s trying to tell us something.” He’d always called Jake “Dad,” too. Noah’s mother lived in France, and Jake had been the only other parent he’d known.
“I don’t know, buddy,” Ed said, “But if I were the kind of guy who believed in signs and things of that nature, this would be a good example of one.” His deceased partner had loved hot air balloons. He was always bugging Ed to go for a ride in one, but Ed had a fear of heights. So Jake had gone on balloon rides with friends instead. And he’d collected small models of them for years. And now his collection was packed in boxes that were sitting in a storage unit up in the Bronx.
They stood there watching the balloons pass until the last one was completely out of sight, and then Ed took a deep breath and said, “I guess we’d better get moving, buddy. We have a plane to catch this afternoon.”
They were leaving New York for good. He’d closed his veterinary practice in the Village and he’d sold the townhouse in Turtle Bay. Their house in East Hampton had been rented for a year. Without Jake around, nothing was the same anymore. And they didn’t have any extended family. So he’d decided to move to San Francisco—as far away as possible—to make a fresh start.
Noah stared down at the granite headstone and frowned. He reached forward and placed his right palm on the top and held it there for a moment, then turned to his father and said, “I’ll wait for you at the car, Dad.”
“I’ll be right there, buddy,” Ed said. Evidently, ten-year-old Noah was smart enough to know he wanted to be alone for a few minutes.
When Noah was gone, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rock. He wasn’t Jewish, but a Jewish friend of his had once told him to always leave a rock on top of a headstone when you visit a grave because it was a sign that someone had been there. And Ed knew he wouldn’t be back for a long time. So he placed the rock on the headstone and said, “Take care, Jake. Thanks for the balloons this morning. I wish I’d been able to go up with you just once.”
As he turned to leave, his eyes filled with tears. But when he looked across the lawn and saw Noah leaning against the car watching him, he tightened his lips and squared his shoulders. He had to be strong. The past year had been hard on his son. Jake had died suddenly in an automobile accident, and they were both still in shock. So he shoved his hands into his pockets, loped back to the car, and sighed.
His life felt so disorganized. It wasn’t even his car. He’d borrowed it that morning from his best friend because his Range Rover had already been shipped.
A few hours later, they were back in Turtle Bay to do a final walk-through of the townhouse. Tucker, Noah’s black lab, was there to greet them at the door. When his nails clicked on the wooden floors, the sound echoed through the empty rooms. Their lives had already been shipped out to the West Coast. The only things left were a stack of brown leather suitcases in the living room and a chipped soup bowl filled with water in the kitchen for Tucker.
A woman’s voice called down from the second floor. “Are you guys back?”
“We’re here,” Ed shouted. His best friend, Lisa, was upstairs. She’d been there all morning supervising a cleaning service so Ed and Noah could drive out to East Hampton. Without her, he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to survive the last year.
She came rushing down the steps, a short, thin woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She wore tight jeans, a black leather Donna Karan jacket, and black high heels. When she reached the bottom step, she kissed Ed on the cheek and grabbed Noah’s hand. “Can I take him out to lunch?” she asked. “It’s the last time I’m going to see him for a while, and I want him all to myself.”
Noah looked up and smiled. “Can we take Tucker, too?” He’d already attached a leash to the dog’s collar, and Tucker was wagging his tail.
“Sure, kid,” Lisa said, brushing the top of his head with her fingertips. “We can go to that little place on the avenue with the red and white umbrellas and sit outside.”
“Hold on,” Ed said, “I don’t know if there’s time. Maybe we should just wait until the cleaning guy leaves and have something at the airport.” He knew they had to arrive extra early to get Tucker into his crate and safely boarded.
“But it’s his last chance to have lunch here in New York, the only real city in the world,” Lisa said.
Noah gave him a pathetic look and said, “Please.”
Ed smiled. Lisa knew the move to San Francisco was the best thing for them both, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. She really did believe New York was the only real city in the world. “Just get back here in an hour,” he said. “The plane leaves in three hours, and you’re the one driving us to the airport."