An offshore breeze carried the haze away, leaving the California Central Coast skies crystal blue. Ross drove Charity's Fiat with Aunt Doris in the front and Charity scrunched into the minia ture back seat. They cruised out along the shore, then turned in and drove through the lovely Spanish- Mediterranean neighborhoods to the mission.
"This one is called the Queen of the Missions," Ross explained as they walked across the patio where eigh teenth-century priests once roamed. "Each of the twenty- one California missions was established a day's ride apart along El Camino Real-the Royal Highway."
"Don't you love these old adobe walls?" Charity said as they walked through the gardens, her hands shoved down deep into the pockets of her denim skirt.
"I prefer red brick myself," Aunt Doris sniffed, step ping firmly across the red tiles. "But I suppose they were few and far between around here in those days."
After a tour of the historic downtown buildings and the restored structures of the presidio, she began to change her tune.
"I've got to admit," she said grudgingly, coming out of the old padre's quarters and blinking in the bright sun light. "Those thick ugly walls do keep a place cool in the summertime."
"Hey." Ross gave Charity an exaggerated poke with an elbow. "That's the first step. She's coming around. We'll make a laid-back Californian out of her yet."
"Don't you believe it," Aunt Doris said with vinegary spirit, but a quick smile for Ross. "I've got too much en ergy for that."
Evidence was abundant. Before the afternoon was over, she ran the two of them ragged. They raced through the botanic gardens, the Orchid Estates and then the natural history museum before heading out to see the giant fig tree at Chapala and Montecito.
"They say this was brought as a tiny plant from Moreton Bay, Australia in 1876," Ross said, shaking his head as he leaned against the tree. Giant gnarled roots covered half a city block. "I don't think I'd ever really appreciated that before." He stretched and grimaced. "Today I feel like I might have swam all the way from Australia myself."
"Getting tired?" Aunt Doris asked brusquely. "Per haps we ought to find a place to get a spot of tea to buck this young man up," she suggested to Charity.
Charity nodded dully. "Good idea," she said. A strained smile was her attempt to hide the fact that she was as tired as Ross. "There's a lovely little restaurant near here. It overlooks the shoreline."
A fairy godmother with a magic wand might have whisked them there more quickly, but not much. Soon they were sitting in padded wicker chairs and sighing with con tentment, tall, cool drinks in hand.