by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
Cassie swallowed around a lump in her throat. It was perfect. Life wasn’t, but the sign was. She pushed back from the easy slope to a pity party when she remembered that she’d conquered her claustrophobia, at least for that moment, when she’d searched for Grady in the fire. Her love for him was stronger than what she was afraid of. She thought with a little twist of irony that what she now feared the most was living the rest of her life without him.
Diane pointed her to one of two chairs at a little round table in the corner. “Have a seat. How about a cookie with your tea?”
Cassie sat but put a hand to her stomach. “No, thank you. I ate too much at the wedding.”
Making a face at her, Diane filled the kettle. “You did not. You hardly ate anything. I watched you. I know it had something to do with that little boxing incident your dad and I interrupted.”
“Oh, it’s nobody’s fault. Well, the house burning is my fault, but…”
“You don’t have to explain.” The kettle clanged as Diane put it on the stove and turned on the burner. “I guess in his upset over the whole thing, Grady blames you, but not because he thinks you did it on purpose.”
“I know. But that would be almost easier to understand. It’s because he thinks I messed up his life with glamour and fuss. He says life works best for him when it’s real and on track.”
Diane brought over two mugs and two black tea bags, and sat opposite her. “He thinks that because when he came out of school to help his dad and me, our finances were a mess and his father was irascible and ungrateful.
“Grady worked a lot of double shifts to make us solvent again, and remained kind and loving to his father despite getting very little back. He just put his head down and kept going when there was very little positive from day to day. When his father passed away, there was a lot to do—a lot to pay for—then, finally, things were looking up.
“Grady helped me move to this town to be with my sisters, and when he saw how beautiful it was, he decided to stay. I thought life would finally open up for him. Then, early this year, he met Celeste.”
Cassie nodded grimly. “I’ve heard about her.”
Diane made a face. “She just looked like trouble, but she fussed over him and, for the first time in a long time, he took a chance.” She pretended to stick a finger down her throat. “She called him ‘lover boy,’ wanted to go to fancy places, do fancy things, then she got tired of him and married somebody else. He was heartbroken.”
“I know.”
“He took it as proof positive that he wasn’t entitled to have fun and do extravagant things. He became even more of a head-down, on-track kind of man. Thanks to Ben and Jack, he manages to have fun, but not too deeply, and never for very long. But, he’s such a good man. Don’t give up on him, Cassie.”
“He’s given up on me, Diane.” It hurt to say it, but in loving him, he claimed she’d broken his heart and his dreams.
“He needs a couple of days to find his feet. All the stuff going on with the wedding and then the fire…”
“I’m going over there in the morning to meet the cleaners and the contractor I hired, and to arrange to have the chandeliers shipped back. I’ll leave an account at the bank for both of them, but I have to fly back the following day.” Cassie’s voice cracked and she took a minute to pull herself together. No more loft, no more Bay Boutique, no more get-togethers with Corie and Sarah, no more Jack and Ben, no more Grandma and Helen and Diane.
No more Grady. She stood to alleviate an undefined pain. “I can’t bear to be here anymore.”
Diane got to her feet and wrapped her arms around her. “He’ll come to you in Paris.”
“He won’t. It’s over.” She patted Diane’s back and moved her gently away. “I got along without Grady for twenty-five years, I can do it again. My life is busy and exciting, and I can get back into it.” She paused, trying to imagine that, but it all seemed empty now that she loved a man, had family and felt at home in Beggar’s Bay.
“Drink your tea,” Diane said. “Life always makes more sense when you’re running on caffeine.”
Right. She could do this. It was just a matter of convincing herself she couldn’t have Grady and she had to leave.
They talked about Diane visiting her in Paris with Cassie’s father. “He says there’s a bakery near your apartment that makes wonderful pastries.”
Macarons.
The very thought brought back her playful discussion with Grady about her stealing all the macarons and him being a gendarme, giving chase.
She crossed her arms on the table, put her head down and dissolved into tears.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CASSIE RAISED HER head at the loud knock on Diane’s door. She took a napkin from the middle of the table and dried her eyes as Diane, with a who-could-that-be frown, went to answer it.
“That better be Grady coming for you,” she said.
Cassie seriously doubted it. He’d thought it made good sense to tell her he would “always care for her” but never love her. What chance was there for a man who thought like that to change his mind? Why did she want a man so determined not to love her, anyway?
She didn’t anymore, she told herself firmly as she stood and pushed in her chair. She squared her shoulders on the chance that it was Grady at the door; she didn’t want him to see her looking as bereft as she felt.
“Cassidy Chapman?” The sound of her name in an unfamiliar male voice floated into the kitchen. Then two men in Beggar’s Bay Police Department uniforms appeared in the doorway, Diane standing behind them, both arms extended in a gesture of confusion.
“I don’t understand,” she was saying. “Cassie Chapman is here, but you have to be wrong. I mean, she’s been at a wedding all day.”
The older of the two officers—Brogan, according to his badge—held up an important-looking document. “We have a warrant for your arrest.”
Cassie blinked, wondering if she’d fallen asleep at the table and was dreaming. “What?”
Brogan approached her, barring her path to the door. The other, younger, taller officer came up beside him, looking severe. His badge read Kubik. Her heart picked up its beat.
“You’re under arrest,” Brogan said, “for assaulting Oliver Browning on Black Bear Ridge Road on December 31.”
“He was stalking me,” she said, aware that she looked nervous and probably guilty. Because, technically, she was. “Well, he wasn’t, but I thought he was. He was working for my grandmother, but he had a camera, and I’d seen him hiding and watching me before in town, so I naturally assumed… I mean, the paparazzi are always after me.”
“He has a black eye,” Kubik said, “multiple contusions, his jacket was torn, and you tossed his camera at a tree and broke it in several pieces.”
Well, this wasn’t good. Oliver had assured her he’d understood her reaction. He’d told Grady he wouldn’t press charges. Something must have changed his mind.
“I…” she began when Brogan came around to put her hands behind her back. He read her her rights as he put the plastic cuffs on her wrists.
The other officer took hold of her elbow and began to lead her away. “But I…I…” She stammered, unable to decide how to defend herself. She had hit Oliver, she had broken his camera, she didn’t remember ripping his coat, but she probably had by the time Grady had pulled her off him. But what had made him decide to press charges, after all? And wouldn’t this look good alongside the news story about her meltdown in Ireland?
“You can explain it all to your attorney,” Brogan said. “Put her in the car, Kubik.”
“My son is on the BBPD,” Diane said, following them to the door. “I’m calli
ng him right now. You have no right to take this poor woman…”
And that was all Cassie heard as Brogan handed Diane his card so she knew who to complain about and closed the door.
The night was dark and cold, and Cassie still wore her maid-of-honor dress. For once, she wished she hadn’t left the green raincoat behind at the foot of Diane’s stairs with her things.
“There you go, ma’am. Into the cage.” The officer opened the door for her and, palming her head, pushed her gently inside the shadowy police car. Getting in was awkward with her hands cuffed behind her. She had to turn her back, sit down, then tuck her long legs into the tight space. The door closed beside her. The back of the car was dark, the cage that separated her from the front feeling as though it was right in her face. She waited for the choked feeling, the desperate need to scream and climb out of her own skin.
Weirdly, she felt nothing like that.
Taking her completely by surprise, a voice beside her said suddenly, “Oh, God! I didn’t think about that.”
Grady’s voice. She was hallucinating. Or she’d gone insane. Or her brain had been smoke damaged, after all. Grady, sitting on the opposite side of the back seat, opened his door, climbed out, then reached in and pulled her out with both arms around her waist.
Holding her by the shoulders, he looked apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket for a knife and cutting off the cuffs. “I didn’t stop to think that being in the cage could make your claustrophobia react.”
Cassie looked into his penitent eyes and struggled for clear thought. Two things crowded her awareness. She should have felt claustrophobic in the back of the police car, but she hadn’t. And Grady had had her arrested? If so, why had he cut her out of the cuffs? The only thing that made any sense to her was that she was freezing.
Grady pulled off his jacket and put it on her, zipping it up then holding it by the collar.
Over his shoulder, she saw Brogan and Kubik standing side by side, wide grins on their faces.
“Mission accomplished?” Brogan asked Grady.
“Partially,” he said, still holding Cassie by the jacket collar. He turned to face his friends. “The rest is up to me. Thanks for agreeing to help me, guys. And for giving up your break.”
Brogan gave Cassie an apologetic bow. “Our pleasure. Sorry we had to cuff you, ma’am, but knowing what you did to the guy you thought was stalking you, we wanted to protect ourselves.”
“Mmm,” she said, just beginning to see a trace of light and comprehension. “Seems to be some form of collusion, here. Is this kind of thing allowed in the police department?”
Both officers smiled without answering and got into their unit.
“Grady Joshua Nelson!” Diane called from her doorway. She was fighting a smile. “Get Cassie out of the cold. You’re welcome to come inside to finish out the rest of this fiendish plan. I’m going to bed.” She turned toward the stairs, leaving the front door open.
“I’m sorry about putting you in the cage,” Grady said. “After all you’d been through in the fire.”
In that instant in the back of the police car, she’d made a revealing discovery. She told him with the wonder she felt as she understood what happened, “It’s all right because I was fine. I may have conquered the claustrophobia.”
“Seriously? Because of the fire?”
She looked into his eyes. She saw the man she knew and loved in them and felt peaceful about that for a moment. Until she wondered what he saw in her eyes.
“No,” she replied. “Because I’ve been conditioning myself to learn to live without you, and now that’s the hardest thing I have to face.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Cassie,” he said heavily, “I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I didn’t realize you’d run back inside during the fire to save me. I guess I thought you’d realize I’d gone out.”
She placed a hand on each side of his waist, loving his closeness and his rapt attention. “I couldn’t see anything. The smoke was everywhere. I felt the sofa and there was nothing on it but what felt like a folded pile of your blankets. I thought you might be somewhere else in the house and overcome by smoke. So I got my dad out and went in to find you.”
“That’s what the fire department is for.”
She sighed and leaned into him. “Grady, if you’re in trouble, helping you is what I’m for.” She raised her head from his shoulder to smile at him. “And, anyway, you should talk. You came in after me.”
“I love you,” he said simply. “In fact…” He pulled her up the walk toward the house, crushing her against his side. “I have to take issue with something you told our parents.”
She really tried to think back, but was too caught up in how tightly he held her to be aware of anything but the moment. “I can’t remember.”
He stopped at the foot of the steps to the porch and held her by the shoulders, his chin taking on a stubborn line she knew well. “You said I was too much of a gentleman to show passion.”
“Because you’re always so careful with your feelings and reluctant to—”
That was as far as she got. He cupped her head in his hand, brought her lips to his and kissed her with a torrid attention to detail that completely falsified her claim. She couldn’t breathe but that didn’t seem to matter—her lips and not her lungs seemed to be in charge at the moment.
When he finally put her a step away, still holding on to her, she gasped in a frail voice, “I take it back.”
“Good.” He took her hand and led her the rest of the way up the steps. He stopped short of opening the door.
“I have something to ask you,” he said.
She held the sides of the jacket together with one hand. “Can we go inside and sit down where it’s warm?”
“No. I have to ask you now or I’ll forget the words.”
“Okay.”
He took a breath, firmed his stance and began haltingly. “Ah—veux tu—me…ah…étouffer?”
* * *
OH, GOD, SHE didn’t want to. He’d been such an idiot. Why did he think that his sudden enlightenment would change everything between them? He’d hurt her…
“Um…” She narrowed an eye and he began to wonder if she hadn’t understood the question. That was possible, but she was supposed to be fluent in French.
“Grady,” she said, putting a hand to his chest. He placed his hand over it, feeling as though it might burn through his shirt. “You just asked in really atrocious French if I would suffocate you—or join you in a New Orleans crab dish. I’m not sure which.”
He groaned in frustration. He’d practiced that line while he’d waited in the cage for his friends to bring her out. He consulted a note he pulled out of his pocket and began to try again.
She took the note from him and read in flawless French “Veux-tu m’épouser?”
He saw fireworks in her eyes. “You know what you’re asking?” She looked up at him. “I mean…you understand that you’re proposing?”
“I do.” He kissed her again. “I wanted to learn it in French since, you know, that’s the language of love. And the language I’ll be speaking when I go back with you.”
Her smile was blinding. “You really want to do that?”
“Yes!” Love opened his world. “I think Oliver’s going to stay to help Ben get the agency started until we come back, and I’m going to learn about the world you live in, see if I can find a way to fit
in there.”
“Grady, we’ve fitted together beautifully since the day I fainted in your arms.” She wrapped hers around his neck. “My answer is oui.”
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488012365
New Year’s Wedding
Copyright © 2017 by Muriel Jensen
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