After we introduced ourselves, I showed the men how to set the ladders and ladder jacks up to position the walk plank at a comfortable height, so that the edge of the roof was at waist level when we stood on the plank.

It was a simple job. The section of roof that was disturbing Baba’s nirvana was an unobstructed rectangle, twenty-four feet wide by fourteen feet deep, which meant a minimum of cutting and fitting. The shallow six-in-one slope would be easy and safe for amateurs to work on.

While the able-bodied guys started carrying the heavy bundles up and spreading them out on the roof where they would be handy as we progressed, I helped Evelyn and the artistic guy, whose name was Walt, run a starter course, then showed them how to place and nail down the shingles. When the laborers had caught their breath, I got them going too, each person working a six-foot-wide section, lacing their shingles in with those laid to their right.

We put the new shingles down on top of the existing ones. With the old shingles to guide them, my helpers did reasonably good work. It wasn’t the neatest job I’d ever seen, but I was confident the living room would stay dry. When Evelyn started to lag behind, I went over and helped her. Squeezing past her on the narrow walk plank, the front of my body was in full contact with the back of hers. She didn’t seem to mind the intimacy.

Standing to one side, watching me work, she wiped her forehead with a bandana and smiled.

“How did you learn to do roofing?” she asked.

“Funny story,” I said. “I had just gone into the remodeling business in St. Louis, doing carpentry and concrete work, when there were two hellacious hail storms that knocked out about a third of the roofs in the city. Big roofing companies were giving people three-month waits just to get an estimate. I had never nailed down a shingle before but I had an alcoholic friend who knew the trade, and he showed me how. Within a month I had three full-time crews working and more jobs coming in from referrals than I could handle. By the time the season was over, I pretty much knew the business.”

“Weren’t you worried about learning the trade from an alcoholic?”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I said. “All roofers are alcoholics.”

“Really?” she laughed.

“Really.”

“That’s a great story. You were fated to be a roofer. And you know carpentry, too. It must feel good to have all those skills.”

I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it seemed like she was flirting with me. That opened up possibilities.

“What about you?” I said. “You look like someone with a lot of skills. What do you do?”

“Oh, I golf and play tennis quite a bit. I used to surf, but I stopped after I hurt my back. I still ski and ride. I have two horses at a little stable up in the valley.”

“Do you work?”

She made a wry face. “I guess you could say I am a philanthropist.”

“That’s a noble calling. Do you help support the ashram?”

“Yes,” she said, briefly. “I help out a little bit. What’s your connection to the center? I don’t remember seeing you before. Do you take classes?”

“I am thinking about taking some,” I said. “How ‘bout you? Do you take classes?”

“Yes, since last summer.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s good,” she said, without conviction.

“Do you live in the area?”

“I just moved into a house in the canal district, as a matter of fact. It needs quite a bit of work, but I think it will be a great place once it is fixed up.”

“What kind of work?”

“Quite a bit of carpentry work, actually.” She paused. “Are you still in that business?”

“Yes, I am.” I took one of my Coast Construction cards out of my wallet and handed it to her. I’d worked in remodeling for ten years in St. Louis during my laughable attempt to fit into straight society, five years sober and five years drunk, so I knew enough to make the cover story stick.

“Would you have time to come by and take a look at the house and tell me what you think?”

“Be glad to,” I said, keeping my voice light and conversational. “I’ll get your address and phone number when we are done.”

“Wonderful.” She gave me a nice smile.

When we had shingled as much of the roof as we could reach from the walk plank, we climbed up onto the roof, kneeling on the shingles we had just nailed down, working our way up the slope to the wall where the shed roof ended. I flashed the final row of shingles to the wooden siding with roofing cement and membrane, using a putty knife someone had thoughtfully sent out with the materials.

When I was finished, one of the able-bodied guys helped me take the scaffolding down. He was a cowboyish kid named Johnny dressed in Levis and a jean jacket, about twenty-five.

“It’s nice to see someone around here who knows what they’re doing,” he said, when the equipment was stacked and the trash picked up.

“Are there some issues with competency?” I asked.

“You could say that. This used to be a super place when Swami Sankarananda was running it, but it’s gone downhill since the big guy took over.”

“In what way?”

“Seems more like a singles bar than an ashram nowadays. Those girls of Baba’s are always trying to cozy up. I told them I’m married and trying to live a clean life, but they don’t seem to get the message. I know it’s supposed to be spiritual union and everything, but it rubs me the wrong way. I come here to meditate and get my head straight, not get laid. I’m about ready to switch to the Ramakrishna Center. It’s farther from where I live, but at least those guys stay down on the farm.”

“How did Baba happen to take over?”

“No one seems to know. Maybe Ganesha knows, but he’s not saying. Baba’s not even from the same order as Sankarananda. From what I hear, he came out of the Naropa Institute, and that place got to be a real can of worms. Everybody was fucking everybody and a bunch of them died of AIDS. You can call that tantra if you want to, but I don’t want any part of it.”

“Me either,” I said.

“Really?” He cocked his head and gave me a look. “What about Evelyn?”

“What about her?”

“Nothing.” He held up his hands at shoulder height with his palms toward me like someone surrendering. “She’s a cool lady. And foxy, too, for her age. I’m just saying she gets around.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. She pretty much goes with the new flow. I know three or four guys she’s taken home. I guess she’s pretty hot. One of the guys got hung up on her, but she told him she doesn’t want anything serious. Just likes to play around. Which is great. More power to her. It’s a free country. I just don’t reckon this is the place for it, necessarily.”

Ganesha came around the corner from the backyard and walked toward us.

Seeing him, Johnny stuck out his hand, which I shook. He had a firm grip.

“Good working with you, man,” he said. “Don’t tell Evelyn or Ganesha I said anything. I like both of them. I just don’t agree with the way this place is being run.”