• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Oh no,” Lois said. “You’re not going to want to drive sixty miles to Laguna Beach. Besides, I’m going to a black-tie party tomorrow evening.” Lois leaned back a bit, eyeing me as if to say, And you probably don’t even own a tuxedo.

She was right. But I did have some good-looking military uniforms.

“Maybe another time,” Lois said.

I looked at this woman and felt strongly that I didn’t want to let her go. “I will take you to that party,” I said firmly. “What time do you want me to pick you up? I assure you that I will be properly dressed.”

Lois seemed surprised, but not put off by my straightforwardness. “What you don’t know,” I continued, “is that tonight is my last night in Los Angeles, and I’m moving to Laguna Beach tomorrow.” It sounded like a good pickup line, but it was true. “I bought a place there about a month ago,” I explained, “and I’m taking my final load of belongings to my new home tomorrow. So I will be in Laguna Beach, and I will take you to the party.” I wrangled Lois’s telephone number and promised to check in with her the next day.

Lois went back to her daughter Lisa’s home in Beverly Hills that night and admitted that she had not handled our meeting well. “How could I have allowed him to talk me into going to the party tomorrow night?” she groused. “I wanted to go by myself because I’m sure there will be a number of outstanding gentlemen in attendance.”

Lisa laughed and tried to console her mother.

“Maybe he won’t really call,” Lois suggested.

I did.

The following evening, I wore my Air Force dress white coat, replete with an assortment of medals that I had been awarded, decked out over my left breast pocket area. I rang the doorbell at Lois’s home in Emerald Bay, the exclusive, private gated beach community at the north end of Laguna. When she opened the door, I was nearly flabbergasted at her appearance. She looked positively radiant, wearing a Chanel sweater and a long black Chanel skirt. Lois greeted me warmly, and I noticed her eyes roaming up and down my body; she seemed pleasantly surprised that I “dressed up so well.”

The event we attended was the opening of the members-only Center Club for the Orange County Performing Arts Center, a rather sophisticated, erudite bunch. As we made what we thought was going to be an inconspicuous entrance, photographers’ flashes started going off in our direction. Lois’s friends seemed impressed by the moonwalker astronaut tagging along in his dress whites. After making the rounds, Lois greeting her friends and perfunctorily introducing me, she and I danced the night away. Although she tried to remain a bit coy, every so often as we swirled gracefully around the dance floor, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I detected a glint in her eye. When I took Lois home, I politely kissed her goodnight. I wanted to see her again, and it seemed that perhaps astronauts had finally made her list, albeit at the bottom. Both of us, however, had already committed to dates with other people the following night, so we practically stumbled over ourselves in trying to apologize for not being available.

“I have an idea,” Lois suggested. “I’m attending a charity event, the Concourse to Elegance, tomorrow afternoon. You could come along with me to that.”

“Good,” I said. “But before we do, why don’t you come over to have lunch with me. My uncle, Bob Moon, is visiting, and I’d like you two to meet.”

On Sunday afternoon, Lois and I enjoyed lunch with my uncle and then toured the Concourse to Elegance at the University of California Irvine campus near Laguna. As we walked along, we conversed about my future plans. “What do you want to do in life?” she asked straightforwardly.

I answered her equally directly, without a moment’s hesitation. “I want to serve my country.”

At one point, as we were riding in my car, Lois asked me gingerly, “Tell me about yourself.” I was uncomfortable in talking about myself, so I simply reached into the backseat of the car and pulled out a copy of Return to Earth, the first book I had written following my trip to the moon. “Here, read this,