Where the Light Plays

by C. Fonseca

  Caitlin licked her lips, cleared her throat, and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear as Erica scrutinised her.

  “Oh my Goddess, Caitlin. If that look on your face is any indication, you already know that.”

  “Really, Erica, must you?” Caitlin asked.

  “I haven’t seen you like this before. It’s precious. You’re blushing, and on you, that’s divine.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh, you are, darling,” Erica said.

  Andi looked up. Her gaze caught Caitlin’s and her forehead wrinkled. The waiter announced that their table in the Green room was ready, and Caitlin breathed a sigh of relief. Erica stood to go but hesitated and leaned down to whisper in Caitlin’s ear. “I’ll miss our date nights, but by the look on that beautiful young woman’s face, you have your hands full. Is that so, Caitlin?”

  “Erica.” Caitlin shook her head. “I owe you an explanation, don’t I? I thought we could meet for coffee early next week? Is that okay?”

  Erica nodded. “I can guess what’s going on. But yes, coffee next week is fine. We are friends, after all. No promises, no regrets,” Erica said wistfully as she moved to join the other women gathered at the base of the stairs.

  Caitlin sat quietly. That had been easier than she’d anticipated.

  Andi touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?” Her thumb stroked the back of Caitlin’s neck.

  Caitlin turned and looked into Andi’s smoky, brown eyes. “Yes, I am. Thank you. How about you?”

  “That was Erica?”

  “Yes, that was Erica.”

  “Okay,” Andi said.

  Caitlin lifted her hand and gently stroked Andi’s cheek. If she wasn’t careful, she might just drown in the unguarded desire she saw in Andi’s eyes.

  “If you look at me like that, I won’t be able to sit through dinner,” she whispered.

  * * *

  Caitlin held on to the bottom of the ladder as Kim balanced near the top. “There you go Caitie, all done.” Kim passed down the box that had been sitting high on a shelf above the door of Caitlin’s office.

  Caitlin lifted the lid and peered inside. “You are right again, Kim. Here it is.” She grabbed the electronic tape measure and surveyed the other instruments stored in the cardboard box. “Spirit level, screwdriver set, roll of masking tape, pliers and fishing wire.” Caitlin listed the contents as Kim made her way down the ladder. “And what were you planning to do with this little hoard?” Caitlin asked.

  Kim shrugged rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “This is my emergency stash. At the museum, things were always going missing. So, when I first came here, I thought I should keep my own set of tools hidden in the office.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did, because I seem to have misplaced my measuring tape, and I promised I’d email the figures to the architect today.”

  The restoration was going to schedule. Caitlin was pleased that the work on the landing’s pressed metal ceiling, almost the length of a cricket pitch, was due to begin next week. The 150-year-old metal panels had only suffered minor corrosion and could be saved.

  Caitlin opened up a spreadsheet on her desktop computer and turned the screen towards Kim. “So, once Period Restorations does the ceiling, the electricians can reinstall the original Victorian chandeliers and wall lighting.”

  “The new halogen lights are going to complement the original lighting. I think it will look fabulous,” said Kim.

  “And the reduction in overall energy consumption fits with our goal of working sustainably,” Caitlin said. They’d decided to retain the original period lighting for ambience but had added a modern lighting system for efficiency.

  The door hinges squeaked, and Kim and Caitlin turned simultaneously towards the sound. Andi stood holding a tray laden with three steaming coffee mugs. Caitlin bit her lip to stifle a grin. The sight of her, leaning against the doorframe—golden tanned skin still flushed from her shower—filled Caitlin with a mixture of longing and contentment.

  At the university, Caitlin had always maintained her professional decorum. But this morning, she was comfortable with the convergence of both her worlds. Personal and professional. This was her home too, and seeing Andi here in her office made Caitlin very happy.

  “Andi,” Caitlin said as she took the tray. She ushered her inside. Andi smiled and seemed to devour her with her appreciative gaze.

  Kim stood with her mouth open.

  Caitlin was amused to see her colleague, for once, stunned into silence. She turned back to Andi. “Good morning. I see you got my note,” she said. “Did you find everything you needed for breakfast?” Caitlin placed the coffee mugs onto her desk. She gestured for Andi to sit in her chair.

  “I helped myself to fruit and yoghurt, thanks,” Andi said. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her faded jeans and moved behind the desk.

  “Good.” Caitlin smiled. “Kim, this is Andi. Andi, I’d like you to meet Kim.”

  Kim leaned across the desk and offered her hand. Her face was red as a beetroot. “A pleasure to meet you, Andi.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Kim,” Andi said, as Kim continued to grasp her hand firmly.

  “Kim is our registrar and curator, but I’ve discovered her talents are boundless.”

  Kim shook her head, let go of Andi’s hand and sat down. “Caitie is being too kind. What she really means is that I can’t resist meddling with everyone around here.”

  Caitlin choked. “I think you mean every thing around here.”

  Andi laughed. “I do recall Caitlin mentioning that you’ve come to the rescue with your ingenuity on many occasions,” she said.

  Kim’s face flushed a deep crimson. “On the other hand, I’ve heard only a tiny bit about you. Our Caitie is a secretive one,” Kim said.

  Caitlin sat and stretched her legs under the desk, brushing against Andi’s calf. “Kim and her partner Sharon were at the dance at the Emerson.”

  Kim placed her hands on her hips. “Well, it was noted that you made a very hurried exit Caitie—and we didn’t even meet Andi.”

  Caitlin felt her own face colouring. “Yes, I do apologise Kim. It was a rather rushed getaway.”

  Andi spluttered.

  Caitlin calmly sipped her coffee as Kim questioned Andi about her exhibition and just about every other aspect of her life—or so it seemed to Caitlin. Knowing how shy Andi could be, Caitlin was surprised how easily Kim drew her out.

  Twenty minutes later, Kim rose to her feet. “It’s been a real treat getting to know you, Andi. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” She bowed her head to Caitlin. “Now, I have a hundred things to do. I’ll see you in the gallery, boss.”

  Caitlin nodded. “Give me about fifteen minutes. I won’t be too long.”

  Kim closed the door behind her and Andi said, “Quite a colourful character. She’ll keep you on the straight and narrow. She’s a good sort though, isn’t she, Caitie?”

  Caitlin raised her eyebrow. Nobody but Kim had got away with calling her Caitie. She stretched her arms above her head. “I really needed that coffee. I was rather hoping you’d venture down here in my green cashmere jumper. Like the first time you stayed the night.”

  “I don’t think Kim could have gone any more red in the face. She would have had a coronary,” Andi said.

  “Possibly. I can’t argue with that, can I?” Caitlin grinned. “After last night’s activities, that could have been my fate as well.” She raised an eyebrow again.

  Andi whirled around in the chair to face the floor-to-ceiling window. “You have an excellent view. All those colourful spring blooms. I don’t think I’d ever get any work done sitting at this desk. I’d want to be out there in the garden.”

  Caitlin stood behind Andi’s chair and rested her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you go downstairs and explore?” She kissed the top of Andi’s head. “I have an hour’s work before we join Isabella.” She turned Andi to face her. “Is that still okay? You said last night you’d have lunch wit
h us today.”

  Andi wrapped her hand around Caitlin’s neck. “I’d like that,” she murmured and pulled Caitlin in for a kiss. “I don’t want to outstay my welcome. I should head back after lunch.”

  “Keep kissing me like that, and neither of us will leave this office,” Caitlin whispered softly, as she returned Andi’s kiss.

  A loud knocking sound emanating from the floor above caused them to draw apart. They looked at the ceiling and giggled.

  “That will be Kim trying to get my attention. I guess it really is time for me to do some work,” Caitlin conceded.

  CHAPTER 23

  Unlike the native bush garden and coastal vegetation at Kinsale, the estate garden was more in the style of Sissinghurst in Kent. Andi had discovered a lot about the garden from a recent television documentary. One day, she hoped to visit Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicolson’s property, but for now, she was more than happy to just be here.

  Andi was overcome by the fragrance of wisteria that clung to latticework bordering the formal, structured garden. The vivacious, lilac-coloured petals contrasted with its grey, crusty gnarled branches. The sound of rippling water drew her along the pathway lined with English box hedges towards a tiered Victorian fountain. Her senses were flooded with the sound of birds chirping and the incredible beauty of spring. Near the fountain was a garden with clipped hedges, purple lavender, and white hydrangea. The rose garden, further down the path, was filled with a multitude of blooms—dark reds, burgundy, light pinks, pale peach, and orange. Andi thought of her mother, who loved roses. She would be totally overwhelmed by this display.

  “Oh Mum, I wish you could see this.”

  She stood under a giant weeping elm. It must have been at least ten metres tall. The tree cast a light shade and intricate patterns across the tiled pathways with their neat cobblestone edges.

  Beyond a row of fig, apple, and apricot trees sat a beautiful stone cottage with a wide covered veranda. Near a high stone fence lay a vegetable and herb garden tucked beside the brick garage.

  Andi hadn’t even walked two sides of the extensive garden before she heard Isabella call.

  “Andréa. Come join me.” She was on the veranda, pushing a small-wheeled trolley. “I have fresh lemonade. Come and sit with me in the shade.”

  Andi stepped onto the veranda and pulled out a chair for Isabella.

  “Thank you, Andréa. That is such a lovely name, but if you prefer Andi, that’s what I’ll call you. Do you prefer Andi?”

  Andi gently pushed Isabella’s chair closer to the table until she was comfortably seated. “My mother calls me Andréa, especially when she wants to make a point. But I don’t mind. I answer to either.”

  “Andi it is, then. Now, if you would be so kind, you can pour the lemonade. We have an abundance of lemons. You must ask Caitlin to pick some for you before you leave.”

  “I’d love some, thank you.” Andi carefully filled the glasses and replaced the tapestry cover, which was weighted with tiny beads, on the pitcher.

  “You can still smell the last of the flowering magnolias. I adore their perfume.” Isabella’s blue eyes crinkled with pleasure.

  “Your garden is extraordinary. Actually, the whole estate is stunning, and you have a beautiful home,” Andi said.

  “Thank you, dear. The house belonged to Maggie’s family, but I can take some of the credit for the garden. I’ve spent many, many hours here.”

  “It is a credit to both of you, then. I feel very lucky to be able to visit.”

  Isabella looked directly at her. Andi was captivated by the same intense blue of Caitlin’s eyes—so compelling.

  “You are a beautiful young woman. I can see why my niece is so taken with you.” Andi blushed and looked down at her lemonade glass. “Shy and charming as well,” added Isabella, making Andi even more self-conscious.

  “Thank you.”

  “As far as visiting, you are welcome here anytime.”

  Andi nodded slightly in response and searched for something she could add to the conversation.

  Before she could, Isabella said, “This is Caitlin’s home as well. I love her with all my heart, and I’m glad to see her enjoying life.”

  Isabella was remarkable. She seemed vivacious, graceful, and sharp as a tack. Andi hoped she’d have the same grace and pluckiness when she reached Isabella’s age.

  “I haven’t known Caitlin very long, but it’s clear she admires you. She’s lucky to have someone she loves and respects so much,” Andi said.

  Isabella placed a delicate hand on Andi’s forearm. “You are very sweet. I look forward to getting to know you better,” she said, then shifted her gaze to the other side of the garden. A wide, sparkling grin spread across her face.

  Andi turned to identify the source of Isabella’s happiness. Caitlin was striding across the lawn. Seductive, confident, and shining as she picked two flowers from the frangipani branch above her head. She twirled the flowers in her fingers before making her way to the veranda.

  Watching Caitlin made Andi deliriously happy.

  Caitlin kissed the top of her grandaunt’s curly, grey hair and handed her a flower. “ A flower for you,” she said. She leaned over to Andi and tucked a flower behind her ear. “And one for you.”

  Caitlin sat down in a chair beside Andi. She took her hand, entwined their fingers together, and placed their joined hands in her lap. “I’ve obviously done something right in my life.” She smiled, and her eyes danced with mischief. “Lunch with two of my favourite and most irresistible women.”

  Isabella released an unrestrained burst of laughter. “Well, darling, whoever said the Irish charm was a dying art was wrong.” She looked lovingly at her grandniece. “Caitlin, would you collect the tray from the kitchen? The sandwiches are in the refrigerator, and the vegetable tart is in the warmer. I’m feeling rather peckish now.”

  Caitlin squeezed Andi’s hand lightly. “Right, will do.” She sprang out of her seat and stepped into the cottage.

  “You’ve certainly put a spring in her step,” chuckled Isabella.

  * * *

  After seeing Andi to her car and sharing a rather prolonged goodbye that involved a lot of kissing, Caitlin returned to the veranda.

  She heard the familiar ring of a silver spoon as Isabella tapped the bone china teapot.

  Caitlin sank back into her chair and watched Isabella stir the tea. She was entranced by the gentle back-and-forth movement of the teaspoon, transported back to the rituals at home and the afternoon tea parties hosted by her parents. Pots of dark, aromatic teas, along with three-tiered plates of lemon and vanilla curd cake, buttermilk scones, soda bread, and delicate sandwiches. Her father would entertain his students and colleagues with stories. He was handsome in his rustic Donegal tweed jacket and matching houndstooth cap. Caitlin recalled the oaky smell of his small, root briar pipe.

  “Are you all right, Caitlin? You seem lost in thought,” said Isabella “What’s on your mind?”

  “Ma and Da. All those tea parties with students on the lawn terrace. The sound of you stirring the teapot brings it all back.”

  “Are you feeling homesick?” Isabella asked.

  “A little. I only just realised it.” Caitlin sighed. With her elbow rested on the table, she cupped her chin in one hand and stared out into the garden.

  “When was the last time you spoke to your mother?”

  “Two weeks ago. But we email regularly. Ma gives me news about the apartment and my tenants.” Caitlin’s gaze returned to Isabella. “I like to catch up with the gossip on campus.”

  “I talked to Orla last week.” Isabella poured the tea for them both and passed the cup and saucer to Caitlin. “Your mother, as usual, has ten things going at once. Next week she’s off to a librarian conference in Edinburgh. She was helping your father organise a dinner for the dean—I think they have an American writer staying at the house for the weekend. I’m flabbergasted by your mother’s schedule and her boundless energy.”
r />   Caitlin laughed. She, too, admired her mother’s limitless enthusiasm and zest for life. Her role as the main librarian responsible for the university’s arts and humanities collection kept her fully occupied. How she managed the role of professor’s wife and their joint social and community obligations was amazing.

  “Orla has always been a busy bee. Frankly, I don’t know when she found the time to have you,” Isabella said with raised eyebrows in feigned astonishment.

  “That’s what a weekend of passion in Paris will do. They’ve never made a secret of their first trip to La Rive Gauche,” Caitlin said. “I’m the mistake that resulted.”

  “You are the beautiful mistake that resulted.” Isabella smiled. “I still remember your mother’s letter about their first trip to the Left Bank. She was totally besotted with Patrick and Paris. You may have been unplanned, but they were enchanted by you. They doted on every minute detail of your progress. I have albums filled with photographs from the day you took your first breath, Caitlin Isabella Quinn,” she stated dramatically, but not without affection. “Orla was never the stay-at-home, overly maternal type—but she’s always loved you. And, well, you can do no wrong by Patrick. You’ve had your father wrapped around your little finger all your life.”

  “You are right, Isabella,” Caitlin said. “I’m very lucky. Ma and Da have always shown belief in my career and me. They’ve been very supportive—without being imperious.”

  Two small blue and black birds perched on the end of the silver tea trolley.

  “The naughty scoundrels. I think they’re after the crumbs,” Isabella laughed and waved her hands at the tiny thieves.

  “Possibly after Marion’s sultana scones, do you think?” Caitlin smiled. “What are they?”

  “They’re superb fairywrens. These lovely cobalt-blue birds are the males.” Caitlin and Isabella watched as the birds flitted away to forage in the dirt under the decaying leaf matter. “They’re actually more likely to eat worms and insects than sultanas. Beautiful little creatures, aren’t they? We’re lucky that the garden attracts so many birds.”