by Jeane Watier
“You’ll know.”
Her aunt seemed to read her mind, and it caused the tiny hairs on the back of Cassandra’s neck to stand up. Something beyond her understanding was at work. She sensed, as she had the day before, that their visit was over. As if an indistinguishable force was directing her, she stood up to leave.
“Thank you for coming, dear,” Sophia smiled and embraced her niece. “Let’s have tea again, soon. I have some things I want to tell you.”
The old woman’s words implied that she’d already forgotten what she’d had Cassandra write down moments before. Cassandra didn’t know how to respond. Could she be suffering from dementia? Does she actually have something important to tell me, something worthy of putting in print, or is she just lonely, wanting someone to talk to? Whatever it was, Cassandra was committed. She was determined to follow it through, sensing somehow that she needed to hear what her aunt had to say. Before she left she made tentative plans to return the following weekend.
JACE COULDN’T believe it. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair. He’d dreamed about her—the rich bitch. Of all the women he would have welcomed into his dreams, she was the last one he thought would have affected him that way.
It left him with a bizarre mix of emotions, as though two opposing substances had been poured together, causing a chemical reaction throughout his entire being. The woman who had just yesterday aroused anger and resentment was now arousing something entirely different.
He tried to recall what she looked like. Given his feelings the day before, she might easily have had warts on her face or hair on her chin. Now, although he had no clear image of her in his mind, he could feel her…and she felt amazing. He longed to step back into his dream and hold her, touch her, talk to her some more. The connection they’d had was exhilarating, deeper and richer than he had ever known. It was more than physical intimacy; the woman in his dream felt like his soul mate.
Soul mate? The absurdity of it struck him. There’s no way in hell a woman like that could be a soul mate. She’d have to have a soul…and a conscience. That snobby debutante probably has neither.
Sweeping the thoughts from his mind as best he could, he got up from the sofa he’d passed out on the night before and looked around Chad’s living room, which was littered with beer cans and pizza boxes. Images of the game, as well as post-game parties, filtered into his mind. They were a welcome replacement for the dream that had awoken him.
They’d begun partying on the train ride back from the city. Once in Port Hayden, they’d gone to two parties, maybe three; he couldn’t remember. As for female company, they’d picked up some girls, and he recalled making out with one of them. That caused Jace to question again why he would dream of the stuck-up debutante instead of the cute chick he’d been with the night before. If the decision had been his to make, he’d never choose a rich, haughty bitch over a cute girl he met at a post-game party. He had his standards.
Jace left without waking Chad. He went outside, attempting to ignore the queasiness in his stomach and the vise-grip tightening around his head. He’d been in worse shape but had to admit it had been awhile. As he sat in his car, letting his head clear, he opened his wallet to see what, if anything, remained of the money he’d borrowed. A lone five was all that was left—not even enough for breakfast. He shrugged. At least I’ve got groceries at home. I won’t starve.
As he drove, Jace pieced together the fragmented memories of the night before. Though there were blurry patches, what stood out clearly was the euphoric feeling he’d had when the game ended in victory. It had been easy to get caught up in the celebration; he’d given himself over to it entirely, effortlessly shedding the tiresome burden of worry he’d been carrying for months. His mind went there again easily, experiencing the thrill as if he were still in the pulsing arena witnessing the memorable event. It caused him to question how the mind worked. Feelings seemed arbitrary and illusive, governed by circumstance, yet they held the power to transport him to a place he longed to be. I’d love to feel that way all the time, he admitted. No cares, no worries—just blissed out on life.
His reasoning mind retorted quickly. What a stupid, unrealistic way to think! Get a grip on yourself. Get real. It was the conversation with the old woman that had put those thoughts in his head. The problem was, deep down he wanted to believe her. Part of him wanted to hear more. Another part was telling him how dangerous that would be.
Turning onto his street, Jace began looking for a place to park. As he drove by slowly, he noticed an Aston Martin parked in front of his building again. He was quite sure it was the same car, only it looked to be a different color. It was darker, almost bronze in the morning sun. He drove another half block and slipped into a spot that someone had just vacated. As he neared his building on foot, he stared at the expensive vehicle. What he saw now was silver. To be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he walked past the car and looked again. This time he saw a muted copper color. He walked by once more, his still-foggy brain entranced by the chameleon effect he was observing. He was about to turn and go up the steps of his building, when a female voice addressed him.
“May I help you?”
Jace turned to look straight into the eyes of the woman he’d met the day before. Her eyes were a distinct copper-brown color, not unlike her car when viewed from a certain direction. He noticed her skin as well; it was smoother and softer-looking than any he had ever seen. He wondered what it would feel like to touch.
“Are you okay?” she demanded sharply. “I just asked you a question, and you’re standing there staring at me.”
“What? Oh sorry, I…I…,” he stammered. “What did you say?”
“Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m not drunk!” His mind snapped to attention. The question was a direct allegation, and it put him on the defensive, reminding him of his disgust for her.
“Well, I asked you a question, and you didn’t answer.” She spoke slowly, repeating herself as if talking to someone with a learning disability. “You were staring at my car, and I asked if I could help you.”
“Can’t a guy look at a car?” he shot back. “You park an expensive car like that on a street in this neighborhood, you’re bound to have people take a second look.”
“You looked more than twice. I thought you were casing it out,” she accused blatantly.
“You assume because I live in this neighborhood that I’d steal your car, that I’m a criminal? What are you doing here, anyway? This is a long way from your part of town.”
“It’s none of your business why I’m here,” she replied haughtily. “I have every right to be in this neighborhood or any other.”
“Well, you’re not welcome here,” Jace growled, suddenly remembering Chad’s suggestion that she may be buying the building. He reached for self-control, but it eluded him. “Why don’t you take your fancy clothes and your fancy car and go back where you came from?”
He turned and walked up the steps before he could say more. It wasn’t like him to get into an argument with a complete stranger on the street, yet this woman infuriated him. It’s not her, he reminded himself. It’s what she represents. Nevertheless, he couldn’t seem to separate the two. Nor did he see the need. He loathed what she represented, and he didn’t mind letting her know.
CASSANDRA HAD NEVER been treated so rudely in her life, and the shock of it left her unsure how to react. She simply watched him walk away. He’d disappeared into the building before she could think of an appropriate comeback.
How dare he tell me I’m not welcome here! she seethed, clenching her fists and stamping her foot. He acts like he owns the building, the whole damn neighborhood for that matter. Are all the people around here this rude? She hoped not, for her aunt’s sake. When she thought of her sweet, soft-spoken aunt being treated that way, her anger surged.
Needing to cool off, Cassandra got in the car and drove, quickly distancing herself from the uns
ettling incident. As she regained her composure, she began to think about future visits. I hope I never run into him again, but there’s a chance of it if I continue to meet with Aunt Sophia at her apartment. She was aware that it could take several visits to document all that her aunt wanted to impart to her. Cassandra was willing to make that commitment despite the possibility of running into her aunt’s ill-mannered neighbor. I’m going to be the bigger person here, she asserted. I’m going to treat him like he doesn’t exist. I won’t let him get me riled up. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
Content with her decision, she headed back to the Town House. The garden party was about to begin, and she was to be the guest of honor. Her mother loved showing her off and bragging about her accomplishments to all her friends. Although Cassandra found social functions like that tedious, it was easier to comply with her mother’s wishes than explain why she objected to them.
She would have preferred to spend the afternoon roaming the grounds or relaxing by the pool. Moreover, she still hoped for time alone with her father to discuss the ideas Sophia had brought up and get his take on them. He was wise and levelheaded, and she valued his opinion.
They got the opportunity later that afternoon as he drove her to the airport. Cassandra appreciated the gesture, knowing he could have sent Wallace. She sensed that he wanted to talk to her, too.
“How was your weekend, kitten?”
“Interesting.” Though she didn’t lie, she chose to omit the unpleasant details. Turning to her father, she asked, “Daddy, has Aunt Sophia ever told you what she believes?”
“I guess she’s imparted some of her wisdom,” he grinned. “I used to shrug it off, but in recent years it makes more sense. There’s truth to it,” he remarked pensively. “She’s happy. If nothing else, we could learn from that. It’s not everybody that finds the secret to happiness in their lifetime.”
“She is happy, isn’t she? And yet she lives such a simple life.
“Most people believe an accumulation of assets equals happiness,” her father remarked. “And yet…I’ve seen plenty of people with material wealth, and I wouldn’t describe many of them as truly happy.”
“I know what you mean. It seems like we start out happy and then lose it along the way. We spend our whole lives looking for it. You’re right, Daddy. Few people find it. I think that’s what she wants to tell me!” Cassandra exclaimed, suddenly understanding. “I don’t think it’s her memoirs at all.”
“You may be right, kitten,” he glanced at her as he drove. “Her achievements, her possessions—those don’t mean much to her anymore. Maybe she knows she’s not going to be around much longer and wants to pass on what she’s learned.”
“I feel honored that she chose me.”
“She probably knew you’d receive it better than most.” He winked at his daughter as they pulled up to the departure gate. “She can read people. I’d trust her judgement of anyone.”
“We’ll see,” Cassandra laughed. “She seems to think my future husband is close by. When I meet him, I’ll have to take him there so she can read him.”
Cassandra signaled a porter to carry her luggage and turned to say goodbye to her father.
“See you next weekend, kitten.” He embraced her warmly.
“Bye, Daddy. I love you.”
CHAPTER 5
JACE TRIED not to think about the unpleasant encounter with the woman at his apartment or the dream he’d had of her, though the feeling of it remained etched in his mind. He sincerely hoped she was done with whatever business she’d had in his building and would never show her face again.
He didn’t want to think about finances either, yet he was painfully aware that payday was still several days away, and his debt was building quickly. It left him irritable. He’d even blown up at Chad for asking him to go for drinks after work. Jace had been telling himself it was only temporary, that his life would turn around. In the past, he’d been able to hold on to that hope. Lately, doubt had been prevailing.
Luck had never been his ally, and that belief reinforced itself the following day as his car died on the way home from work. He pushed it the final block and a half and laid it to rest down the street from his building. The transmission had been giving him trouble. He’d been meaning to have it looked at but had been putting it off. Now it was gone completely. He might have gotten a thousand bucks for it if he’d sold it in running condition. As it was he’d be lucky to get five hundred, and it would cost a lot more than that to have it repaired.
On top of that, his mom told him that her washing machine had quit working. It was old, too, not worthy of repair, and she didn’t have the money to buy herself a newer one. She told him not to worry; she didn’t mind going to the laundromat. However, she worked full time, and her employer often asked her to work extra hours if they had a special function. He hated to see them take advantage of her that way. It meant she had little time for herself, and Jace couldn’t bear the idea of her lugging clothes to a laundromat on her rare days off. The following day after work he went to a used appliance store, bought the best washer he could afford on credit, and paid to have it delivered to his mom’s place. When he got home, he put a for-sale sign in the window of his car. Defeated, he sat down on the front steps of his building and with his chin in his hands let out a solemn breath.
“Does it feel like life is beating you up again?”
He turned to see his elderly neighbor walking toward him. Nodding a reply, he turned away. He wasn’t in the mood for her pie-in-the-sky advice.
“I have a proposition for you.” She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her face level with his. “I’m not as spry as I used to be, and I don’t get around easily anymore. I’ve been thinking of getting a car, but I don’t drive now.”
“Are you…asking me to drive you?”
“I’d pay you, of course. I don’t go out much—two or three times a week.”
Jace contemplated her offer. She hadn’t mentioned an amount, yet whatever she paid him would be a bonus. He could certainly use the extra cash. Ready to jump at the opportunity, he forced himself to relax. She didn’t know how bad his situation was, and he didn’t want to appear desperate. “Sure, I guess I could do that for you,” he shrugged, trying to act indifferent but knowing deep down that she was doing him a favor.
The old woman started to go past him up the stairs. Before she entered the building, he jumped up and grabbed the door for her. “Um…thank you, Mrs. Langdon.”
“Call me Sophie.”
She smiled her sweet, grandmotherly smile, and Jace noticed for the first time that she looked pleasant for her age. Her white hair was full of tidy curls, and her skin was like silk with soft, delicate wrinkles. Her fingernails were manicured, and her clothes looked as though they’d been bought at a respectable store, not a bargain department or thrift store. Now it seemed she had money to buy a car.
In his apartment, Jace pondered the situation. Something about the old woman didn’t add up. The furniture and china spoke of wealth, but that could be from the past. If she has money, why does she live in a place like this? he continued to speculate. Why would she buy a car just to have someone drive her a couple of times a week? It would be much cheaper to take a cab. Try as he might, he couldn’t sort it out.
CASSANDRA REMAINED unsettled after returning from Port Hayden. She was sure it had to do with her aunt’s prediction. She’d had a mild yearning, a faint desire to do more with her life than she was doing. Something bigger was definitely calling her. The unsettling part was not knowing what it was.
“That’s all she told you?” Tanisha asked after listening to the voice recording. “What does it mean, anyway?”
“I’m not sure; it’s all new to me,” Cassandra answered. “I mean, I understand what she’s saying about energy, but this connectedness and the order and perfection she talks about…”
“Is she talking about God?”
“She’s not the religious type, and this isn’t t
he kind of message you’d hear in church. It’s deeper than that. It’s like a puzzle, I guess. I’ll know more once I have all the pieces.”
“What does she want you to do with it?” Tanisha inquired. “Besides write it down, I mean?”
“I don’t know; she didn’t say.” Cassandra shook her head. “She’s mysterious. Sometimes she seems like a sweet, little old lady who forgets, and I have to remind her what day it is. Other times she looks right through me like I’m not even there and tells me stuff no one else could possibly know. I really think she’s psychic.”
“Why? Because she told you you’re going to meet a guy?” Tanisha laughed. “You meet guys all the time. You do realize you could have any guy you wanted, right?”
“I don’t want just any guy,” Cassandra contended.
“So what do you want?”
“I want a guy who’s everything that Nick wasn’t.”
“Okay, you want a poor, dumb, unsophisticated slob who won’t cheat on you,” Tanisha teased. “Maybe the guy at your aunt’s apartment would qualify after all.”
“Definitely not!” Cassandra shuddered at the outrageous suggestion. Having recounted the incident to her best friend, they’d laughed about it. She wasn’t as angry as she had been. Still, she hoped she’d never see him again. “I think I’m giving myself tangible examples of what I don’t want in a relationship, so I’ll know more clearly what I do want and be able to recognize it when it comes along.”
“Or maybe it’s one of those situations where the guy is the exact opposite of what you think you want, and he turns out to be your dream come true,” Tanisha suggested.
“You watch too many movies.”
“I wonder what he’d be like under different circumstances,” her friend mused. “What if you met him at a bar or nightclub? Is he good looking? How tall is he?”
“For starters, we’d never go to the same clubs.” Cassandra was getting annoyed with the teasing. She didn’t know why the guy irritated her so much. It was unusual for someone to affect her in such a negative way, especially someone she’d only met twice. “And good looking? I really don’t know. His personality was unattractive; I guess I assumed his physical appearance was too.” She tried to recall what he looked like, wanting evidence to support her assumption. She found none. The image that came to mind was a pleasant-looking man about her age, and that annoyed her even further. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she added defensively. “I’ll be happy never to see him again.”
