by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
When Cassie told her she was surprising Grady with dinner out tonight, Corie had insisted she take it. Cassie had wanted to resist, but her sister had hugged her and said, “I’m just so happy to have something to give you.”
Who could ever be unhappy with such richness in her life?
She heard the truck pull up and hurried downstairs.
* * *
GRADY WALKED IN, noticing immediately that there were no wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen. But the room carried that fragrance the fabric and ribbon had brought with them. He stopped, almost paralyzed at the sight of Cassie coming toward him. She was a vision in simple black that hugged her small but shapely bosom, her tiny waist, then flared to just above her knees, the fabric moving and swirling as she walked, a red jacket hanging from her hand.
Her hair was caught up in curly disarray on top of her head, and her makeup had an aspect of glamour tonight. Unlike the pretty, seemingly happy woman who cooked, watered the plants, moved beautiful ornaments from far-off places across the ocean, this one wore the mantle of celebrity like a second skin. Or, maybe a first one.
“Hi!” she said warmly, taking in the casual jeans and sweater he’d changed into before leaving the station. “I thought I’d take you to dinner tonight as a thank you for all the ways you’ve helped me this week. The wedding’s day after tomorrow, and then I’m leaving on January third, so if we want to relax a little, maybe do a little dancing, tonight is it.” She smiled at his look of surprise. “Do you dance?”
“I do,” he replied. “In high school, before my father got sick, I took a dancing class with a bunch of friends because we thought it’d be a great way to meet and hold girls. But…” He looked down at himself. “I’m not sure I have anything dressy enough to be seen with you.”
“It’s just a black dress.” She grinned and pointed to her feet. “You’ll notice I’m not wearing boots.”
“Hey!” Applauding, he went closer as she posed as though selling shoes, pointing one toe, then the other. The heels weren’t very high but it didn’t take more than a few inches to make her as tall as he was.
She closed the small gap between them so that they were eye to eye. Her topknot of curls gave her a slight height advantage.
“You’re not going to try to push me around because you’re taller, are you?” he teased.
“Come on, I don’t need height to bend you to my will,” she joked back. “You’ve adjusted to glamour and fuss to help me with this wedding. I’ll bet you never thought you’d do that.”
That was true.
“What about that gray wool jacket I’ve seen in the guest closet?” She continued, smoothing the shoulders of his sweater. “You look very nice. You just need something to pull it together in a dressy way.”
He went to the closet and shrugged into the jacket. He looked at himself in the mirror on the door. All he focused on, though, was her beautiful face over his shoulder, looking on with approval.
“Perfect,” she said, hooking an arm in his. “Does the Bistro have dancing?”
“They do. There’s also a little supper club on the north edge of town. The dance floor’s bigger, but the food isn’t as good.”
“Are you okay with the Bistro? Then, if you want to, you could show me your new office. But we’d have to take the stairs.”
“Sure.”
* * *
AN UNUSUAL SORT of easiness seemed to take charge of the evening. Because they both knew she was leaving after the wedding, the pressure was off regarding where their relationship might have gone if she’d stayed.
He was relieved that she no longer talked about him being a missing piece in a life that messed with everything he knew to be real.
She ordered scampi and salad. When he hesitated, torn between the surf ’n’ turf and something more reasonable since she was paying—and that was something he had to adjust to—she ordered the steak and lobster for him, consulting him only on how he wanted the steak prepared.
“Medium-well,” he said to the waiter. When the man was gone, he added to Cassie, “That might constitute pushing me around.”
She shrugged it off. “Maybe. But height has nothing to do with it because we’re sitting down. I’m just ordering you around on principle. So, while I’m at it, let’s dance.”
“Sure.” He stood with her and, as he followed her to the small floor, he whispered, “But I’m leading.”
As they reached the roped-off parquet floor in front of the band, she turned into his arms and wrapped hers around his neck. He credited rugged police training for the fact that his knees didn’t give out.
She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his, and expelled a comfortable sigh as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The scent of lilies embraced him. She felt like a whisper in his arms.
“Your mom bought shoes today,” she told him, the domestic topic far from the very non-domestic thoughts taking over his mind.
“You are a miracle worker,” he said lazily. “She’s worn those brown things with the weird heel for a couple of years.”
“That’s called a wedge.” She leaned her head back to smile at him. Her eyes were always so frank, he felt as though he could see into her future. He felt the smallest twinge that it wasn’t going to include him. He’d known that from the beginning, but there’d been moments… “And they’re very comfortable. But she needed something black for the wedding. They have a small heel.”
“Really.” He tried to sound interested but he wasn’t. At all. “I’m glad your shoes came in. Did your tennis shoes come, too?”
“They did. Walking shoes. So I can get in some exercise when the wedding’s over.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t care, do you?”
“No. Except that I’m glad you don’t have to wear boots with your dress for the wedding.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing,” he said. At the slight tension he felt in her, he wished he’d thought a minute before answering. He added quickly, “I mean, our conversations usually end in an argument, and this peace is so nice.”
“You’re right.” She rested her cheek against his again. “Let’s just pretend that we get along all the time. That we’re like some old married couple with nothing to worry about because we know we’ll always be there for each other.”
He held her a little tighter. “Okay. I like that. Where did I meet you?”
“What?”
“If we’re like an old married couple, where did we meet?”
“Ah…” She thought. “In Paris. Buying macarons.” There was a tightening of the shoulders on which her arms rested. That’s right. Paris was outside of his reality. She added quickly, “You were a French policeman, a gendarme.”
He relaxed. “Mais oui. That helps make it real for me.”
“Maybe you arrested me because I couldn’t contain my need for macarons and ran behind the counter, swept every one I could reach into a bag and ran off.”
“I can see that, except that I wouldn’t have arrested you. If you agreed to share with me, I’d have let you off with a warning. And what was your line of work?”
She knew he expected her to create a different persona. She didn’t. This was who she was. “I’m a model. I’ve had my heart broken by a thoughtless boyfriend, and I’m planning to eat away my troubles.”
He stopped moving and tried to read her eyes. She wanted him to know she was proud of who she was, but she didn’t want him to think she considered anything his fault. “You were never my boyfriend, Grady. I’m harking back to Paul Preston. Remember? I ate away the whole humiliating incident.”
It took him a moment to accept her explanation. He nodded. “Okay. So, we’re on the run with macarons. Where are we going?”
“You have friend
s in Beggar’s Bay who are like family. You know they’ll protect us from Interpol. That’s how we ended up here.”
He laughed deep in his throat. “Interpol. Wow. Frenchmen are serious about their cookies.”
“And almost everything else. Looks like our food’s here.” They walked hand in hand back to the table, still stuck in the gendarme/model fantasy.
They talked about frivolous things and ordered champagne with their dessert of pears Charlotte. He leaned toward her on his elbows, the glass dangling from his fingers. “Were you an organized little kid, or is this attention to detail that allows you to plan a wedding something that came to you as an adult?”
She bobbed her head from side to side. “Fifty-fifty. I’ve always been somewhat organized, but I did get better at it when I started modeling because I had to keep a very complicated schedule that often changed from day to day. Even hour to hour. Now I have a calendar on my phone and refer to it all the time. At least in my other life, I do. Beggar’s Bay is a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of place.”
“Do you think you’d like to live here?” He wasn’t sure why the question came out. He hadn’t intended to ask it. But there it hung between them, seeming to echo through the room.
She looked as surprised as he felt. “Um…yes. That’s my eventual plan. Finish out my contracts, then come back here to live so I can be near Jack and Corie—and all the other members of the family, of course.”
She was going to live here. His heartbeat accelerated.
“What about your dad?” he asked. “Doesn’t he live in Paris?”
“He told me he’s selling the business. Probably won’t happen right away, but two of his employees want to take it over.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I think he’s feeling a little old for all the traveling around.”
“Yeah. That must have been frightening.”
“It was.”
* * *
ALL RIGHT, SHE THOUGHT. I can ask bold questions, too. “What about you? Do you feel any need to get around a little? See New York? Visit Paris as an adult?”
His eyes leveled on hers. This was a dangerous game they played. What if he simply said no? What would she do then?
“I’m beginning to consider it,” he replied. “I could take a tour. Maybe backpack around.”
A little chill of excitement ran up her spine. “If I’m between shoots, you can visit me. I’ll take you to my favorite places. Buy you a macaron.” She felt like it took every breath she had to speak those words. Her voice sounded pinched.
It was a nice thought. Though, as strong as her feelings now were, just an occasional visit from him made the next few years stretch out emptily, despite all she had to do.
As the evening wore on, the music began to slow and became romantic, and a little sad. Sinatra at his moodiest. The violinist tucked the instrument under his arm, held the bow aside and sang into the mike. “‘You’re nobody…’” His voice was scratchy and low, the music seeming to come out of him as though filtered through his own loss.
Grady stood, caught her hand and led her onto the dance floor again. “It’d be a shame not to show off that beautiful dress.” This time, he danced with her as someone who had taken lessons, with steps and flourishes that hadn’t been learned from his mother or his friends.
Cassie felt his body in contact with hers from her cheek to her knees. They fit beautifully together. Like Fred and Ginger. On a far less professional level, perhaps, but in perfect harmony, feeling the music together, connected by more than their arms wrapped around each other.
Grady stopped suddenly in the middle of the floor, his eyes lazily perusing her face. “What if I did come and visit you in Paris?”
Her heart experienced that bongo beat again. She didn’t want to frighten him with excitement. “That would be nice. I think you’d like it more than you expect.”
“And you’re sure you’re coming back?”
“Positive.”
He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him as he walked her back to the table. “Want to see our office?”
“Yes.” She withdrew her credit card, placed it on the little salver and signaled the waiter.
“Do you have furniture yet?” Cassie asked Grady.
“Nothing. Except the blue thing my mother brought home from Reno.” He put both hands over his face. “I have to find an excuse to hide it there.”
“You don’t have to hide it. It’d be perfect for supplies.” When he looked doubtful, she added, “Records you won’t want to have out on your desk, and the drawers with the locks would be perfect for those things you should stash, like weapons or cameras.” She grinned. “Or the macarons you bring back with you from Paris.”
The waiter returned her credit card and the transmittal, which she signed and handed back to him. She snatched up her purse and coat, and Grady followed her to the corridor.
She stopped in front of the elevator doors, hesitated a minute, then sighed and pushed through the door that led to the stairs instead.
“I’d like to give the elevator another try. Especially when we’re only going down one flight. But I hate to ruin this beautiful evening with a screaming fit.”
“It wouldn’t be so alarming now that I know what to expect from you on an elevator. And in a utility closet.”
She dismissed that subtle dig with a look. “I didn’t scream in the utility closet. I’m very proud of that.”
“You should be. And you were pretty controlled the night the power went out.” He followed her downstairs. “You’re going to defeat this again.”
“Right or left?” she asked, opening the door onto the second floor.
“Right,” he replied. “Then right again at the corridor.” From there he led the way to the third door along the hall, and stopped at the oak door with a window in it trimmed in glass squares. He unlocked the door and held it aside for her.
“I love the colors,” she said, walking into the middle of the room and stopping to look around. “Instead of all those landlord-beige places, this is really pretty. Blue-gray carpet. Gray walls with white trim. Is this your office?”
“This was all Ben’s idea, so he should choose. Shouldn’t he have the front office?”
“Usually you have to go through secretaries and underlings to get to the boss.” Without heat, the offices were cold and Cassie shrugged on her jacket. “Though the front office is a little bigger. Whichever one he chooses, I’d place your desk facing the door and put your armoire at the wall behind you. It’ll look wonderful with these colors.” She wandered back to the front office. “And, you know that leather love seat you have under the window in my room?”
“Yeah?”
She pointed to the front wall. “Put it right there and you have a perfect place for clients to wait.”
“After the wedding, I’m going to check out secondhand places for furniture. Jack got us three desks and office chairs from the old community college building he’s restoring. And the Realtor wasn’t sure the fridge worked, so we’ll have to see about that.”
“What are you going to do for computers and office machines?”
“We’ll get by with our laptops and our phones for now, but I’m sure we’ll want something more sophisticated eventually.”
“When are you going to be officially open for business?”
“Probably February first. We’ll need January to get the office together, get the word out that we’re here. Ben has some personal things at home to take care of—setting up the kids’ rooms and enrolling them in school.”
“That’s a pretty big order for him. New family, new business.”
“Yeah. But he’s the most together guy I know. He’ll have it mastered in no time.” He turned the light off in the smaller office as they passed through to the front.
&nb
sp; “Do you think anyone really masters family?” she asked, stepping out into the hall, waiting for him to flip the front office light off and close and lock the door. “Particularly children?”
“Maybe ‘mastered’ was the wrong word,” he agreed as they walked side by side to the stairway. “I guess I meant that he’ll learn to adjust. And become really good at being a father. He has a gift for doing whatever he’s determined to do.”
Cassie stopped in front of the elevators. She turned to Grady, drew in a breath and then expelled it. Everyone else she knew was able to do what they were determined to do. “I’m going to try it,” she said, staring at the elevator doors as though they had claws and fangs.
“Okay. I’ve got your back,” he said. “Would holding you make it worse?”
She couldn’t imagine having his arms around her would make any situation bad, but this was something over which she had little control, even though she tried hard to fight against it.
“No.” She pushed the button. “If you put your arms around me, I’ll put myself in Paris where I met a handsome gendarme in the bakery. It’ll be my happy place.”
“Let’s do it.”
The doors parted to reveal two elegantly dressed couples Cassie had seen in the restaurant. The couples moved back for them and Grady put an arm loosely around Cassie’s shoulders.
The doors closed.
Panic came and went as though unsure how to maintain a hold on her. The doors closing tightened everything inside her, but Grady’s hand on her shoulder moved gently, caressingly, and she relaxed. Still, the closed doors were right in her face, preventing her from leaving, and the space was so small, the sound of the elevator very loud.
She heard laughing conversation going on behind her and remembered that Grady said he might like to visit her in Paris. She imagined the bakery she loved so much just a few blocks from her apartment. She saw Grady in a gendarme’s uniform holding a plate of colorful macarons in front of her.
The bell dinged, the elevator bounced a little and stopped, and the doors parted. The couples behind them had to walk around her. She stood there, silently congratulating herself on the accomplishment.
