It being California, and it being the middle of June, Tanner slathered on his sunscreen and a sporty tank top and hurried down to the lobby where Clark waited in a chest-hugging mall-brand T-shirt and some cut-off corduroy shorts. It being wind-whipped San Francisco, which only doles out sunny summer weather in tiny, half-day packages in April and October, if at all, they made it about two steps across the hotel’s bayside parking lot before they scurried back inside, clamoring for coats and long pants.
Ten minutes later, bundled into their layers and light jackets against the frigid fog, the gleam of Clark’s golden locks stifled under a knit beanie, they set out for the Millbrae BART station in earnest.
“Don’t they have calendars here?” Clark wondered. “It’s June.”
The train’s first sto
