“Just humor me.”
“Humor you? How?”
“Oh, I thought we could do more things together.”
“What type of things?” Sabrina asked cautiously. Knowing her mother, water aerobics and craft shops would likely be involved.
“It doesn’t matter what things.” Nola waved a hand. “I just want to spend more time with you. I want you to feel like you can tell me the same things you talk about with Molly. I’ll always be your mother, but I think there’s room in your life for another best friend. Don’t you?” Nola’s smile was worried and tentative.
“Oh, Mom,” Sabrina said, her heart full. “Of course we can be best friends.”
“Fantastic!” Nola’s smile spread into a full beam. She put her hands on the table and got to her feet. “I’ve got the perfect mother-daughter project for us.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared wielding what looked like two large toy rockets wrapped in ivory cloth.
“What are those?” Sabrina asked her.
“Why, they’re frosting bags.”
“What do we need them for?”
“Because, my culinary-challenged spawn.” Her mother smiled. “It’s about time you learned how to master the art of buttercream.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sabrina drove around the block three times before she finally pulled her car in front of the Chateau du Parker-Cole and turned off the engine. Sebastian’s Volvo wagon was in the drive. Molly’s quilting circle convened on Tuesday nights. He would likely be home alone.
Alone and vulnerable.
Sabrina stared at the picture of the Capitol on the screen of her cell phone and nibbled her bottom lip. That morning, KCAP had aired another of Gage’s old shows: “Top Ten Breakup Foods for Dudes.” After she had listened to him enumerate the gustatory comfort factors associated with white pizza, hot wings with blue cheese dressing and “anything with cheddar and chili,” she had finally broken down and called him, but his phone went directly to voice mail. She had left him a message, but he hadn’t returned it.
Then later, she had texted him.
No reply.
Sabrina’s thumb hovered over his name on the cell phone’s display before she finally stuffed it in her pocket. She glanced at the Parker house dismally. Like making hang-up calls and late-night cry-bys, this was beneath her. And none of it would have been necessary if Gage had simply gotten in touch with her. Certainly he wasn’t so angry that he’d move out without giving her notice. That wasn’t his style.
There had to be another reason he was ignoring her.
Sabrina took a deep breath and danced up the steps to the front porch. Here went everything. Or nothing at all. She lifted the knocker and gave it three sharp raps. No one answered. She knocked again. More silence.
Well, that was odd.
“Sebastian?” She thumped the door with the side of her fist. “It’s me, Sabrina.”
She walked to the edge of the porch and leaned over to get a better view into the study. The lamp in the back of the room backlit the drapery fabric just enough so she could see the outline of Sebastian’s head slowly dipping under the molding like the sun into the horizon.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I know you’re in there!” she called, exasperated. “You’ve done everything but make shadow puppets. Give it up, Cole!”
There was another long silence, and then she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It swung open. Sebastian’s solemn extraterrestrial eyes stared down at her. He wore old sweats with the University of Texas seal on the shirt. Without his fussy academic’s uniform — khakis, button-downs and sweater vests — he actually looked his age.
“You didn’t come here just to visit Molly,” Sebastian said as though simply stating a fact.
“Nope.” Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest. “I came here to see you.”
“That’s interesting, Sabrina.” He stroked his chin. “Very interesting indeed. And highly suspect.”
“Are you going to invite me in or must I freeze?”
Sebastian bid her enter with a jerk of his head. He didn’t need to tell her that he was unhappy with her. It was written all over his face. He was transparent, just like Molly. Only Sebastian had mastered the detached professorial frown that reminded her of her own university instructors, and it made her nervous. Sabrina followed him into the study.
“Ah, Molly’s home in an hour.” He took a seat in front of his desk and began shuffling around the clutter. “We can all hang out together. Drink hot chocolate. Watch that television show everyone likes where the high school kids sing. What is it called? American Idol?”
Surely Sebastian wasn’t so square as to be completely disconnected with popular culture, Sabrina thought. “I came by because I need to talk to you. Hey, we can talk. Right?”
“Please, Sabrina,” Sebastian said patiently. “The only time any of Molly’s friends want anything to do with me is when they need to borrow jumper cables or have me knock wasps’ nests out of the eaves. You didn’t really come here to ‘talk’ insofar as you want us to engage in true and meaningful dialogue. You came here to pimp me for information.”
She couldn’t believe he was getting precious about semantics. Okay, maybe she could. “I can’t imagine what you mean by that, Sebastian.”
He gave her a discouraging look. “Oh, I think you do. You want me to rat on Gage.”
So they had spoken with each other, Sabrina thought.
“If you want to put it that way—” Crossing her arms, she leisurely slung one leg over the other. “—Okay, fine. I came here to pimp you for information.”
Aping her body language, Sebastian crossed his leg over his prosthetic one and touched his forefinger to his lips contemplatively. “Hmm. Doesn’t seem to be working, does it?”
“Guess not,” Sabrina sighed.
“Just tell me your side of the story. The abbreviated version, please.”
She couldn’t believe that she was about to tell Sebastian Cole, the man who’d mastered the scholarly frown, girl stuff.
“Okay, Sebastian. Here’s the short of it. I didn’t want to rent out a room in my house. I really didn’t want to rent it to Gage. But I needed the money. Then I had the worst Christmas of my life with the partials—”
“—And how did the partials become part of this unholy alliance?” Sebastian used his “Tell me about your childhood” voice as he tapped a finger against his lips.
“I suppose they don’t matter,” Sabrina said quickly. “What matters is that Gage and I had sex. Really good sex. A lot of good … sex. I got confused and—”
“—Ah! Ow!” Sebastian plugged his fingers in his ears as though in excruciating pain. “Too much information, Sabrina. Way, way TMI. All I will say is that if you’re trying to channel Katherina in ‘The Taming of the Shrew,’ your performance is falling flat. It’s a little too late for that now.”
Her mouth fell agape. Gage as Petruchio? Sebastian had to be joking.
“What do you mean when you say it’s too late?” Sabrina asked.
“You want me to be blunt?”
“If you must.”
“Gage has far more important things on his mind right now than a bruised ego,” Sebastian said with candor.
“Look, I haven’t heard from him.” Sabrina gave him a beseeching look. “I don’t know where he is. He doesn’t return my calls. I just need to know that he’s okay.”
Sebastian’s solemn eyes softened. She’d seen that look before, although never expressly directed at her. What was it? Pity?
“So, Sabrina,” he began slowly. “You don’t know me very well — yet. But I’d match dimes to doughnuts that you quickly inferred that I’m not one of those guys who talks to my friends’ wives and girlfriends about their personal business. But I will throw you a small bone because you’re Molly’s best friend and therefore practically an in-law—”
“Don’t do me a favor because Molly would want you to, Sebastian,
” Sabrina demurred.
“—and because you’re clearly not leaving until you get an answer,” he added.
“What’s the bone?” she asked, her heart thudding dully.
“I know where Gage is,” Sebastian said in measured tones. “I know that he will be okay. You will also be okay. Whatever happened between the two of you? It’s life. But life moves on, and so will you and Gage.”
That was it? Sabrina was relieved that she didn’t corner the market on confusing relationships that fell in the vast gray zone between casual sex and commitment. But neither was she entirely sure that she could put her confidence in someone whose personal creed was “Life moves on.”
“Gage won’t leave you dangling. He’s got some things—” Sebastian clamped his lips shut. “—He will call you. When he does, I suggest that you file everything under ‘Bygones.’ Just some advice from someone who considers you both friends.”
Sabrina contemplated what Sebastian said. “Well. This conversation has been…”
“An exercise in self-recrimination?” Sebastian interjected helpfully.
“I was going to say ‘embarrassing’,” she told him. “I’ll see myself out. Tell Molly I came by, will you?”
On the drive home, Sabrina suddenly rounded the block and headed in the direction of the Zilker Park tree. As the giant structure appeared over the last swell of the expressway, she felt a rush of loneliness.
The lights seemed even brighter than they had the night Gage took her there. No cars lined the sides of the street. Sabrina pulled onto the shoulder in front of the tree and gazed at the intertwining strings of color. Everything around her was silent and still. She couldn’t help but to think that the Zilker Park tree looked a little bit lonely too, as though it knew it was only a moon tower adorned to appeal to the holiday masses. This was its final effort: to shine for her and her alone.
As Sabrina’s gaze drifted to the star on top of the tree, the realization came to her in an instant. Gage wasn’t her catharsis.
He was her resuscitation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Capitol was punctuated with brief spurts of activity as legislators and staff, still in a holiday frame of mind, dodged in and out of their offices to finish up busywork before the New Year’s weekend.
Theo had informed Sabrina that he would be back in his lair at the crack of dawn, so she had set her alarm accordingly to get in her morning workout before going to the office. She quickly made her way across the rotunda. Without the voices of tourists and guides bouncing around the walls of the whispering gallery, her heels clattered across the terrazzo tiles loudly, almost drowning out the sound of her cell phone’s ringtone. Only one person ever called her this early. She fished around for the phone in her messenger bag as she bounded up the stairs that led to the west wing.
“Theo, I’m almost there,” she said into the phone without looking at the display.
There was a brief silence. “It’s not Theo. It’s me.”
Sabrina slowed her steps. Gage’s voice sounded clear. No early-morning huskiness. Of course it would sound that way, she thought, remembering his work schedule.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Where the hell are you is a better question. Sounds like you’re at the Louvre.” She thought she heard a smile in his voice. Had he even been to the Louvre? She hadn’t thought to ask.
“I’m in the whispering gallery. Gage—?” She’d rehearsed what she would say when he called. If he called. Now she couldn’t remember anything that she’d planned to say to him. That she needed to say to him. The echo bouncing off the tile was also distracting her.
“Sabrina—?” His tone was slightly mocking.
She looked around. No one would be in the House Chambers at this hour. She slipped through the heavy wooden doors.
“Just tell me why you left,” she blurted.
“I had to get out of Austin for a while. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I have it on good accord that you’ve been wondering about my whereabouts.”
Sebastian.
“I am,” she said. “You disappeared, Gage. I was so worried.” She found herself using her hushed “in Chambers” voice even though the large room was empty.
There was a pause on the other end. Then he said, “Yes, I did. For that I do apologize. I should have called sooner. But maybe a little distance between us isn’t such a bad idea.”
Sabrina’s heart sank. This was precisely the fallout she’d dreaded.
“That’s not the reason I left, though,” he went on. “I have some things I need to take care of in Iowa.”
“Are you okay?”
“Everything’s fine on my end,” he said nonchalantly. “How do you feel?”
“Not wonderful, Gage. I did a reckless, selfish thing when I practically forced you into bed with me. Then I made it worse by being even more reckless and selfish. I regret—”
“—Don’t,” Gage interrupted firmly. Then he sighed. “You have nothing to regret. You didn’t make me do anything I hadn’t wanted to do since the minute I set eyes on you.”
During the brief pause that followed, Sabrina wrestled to curb the effervescent feeling that rose in her chest like the froth on freshly poured champagne. Gage had wanted her from the very start. But instead of forcing himself on her, he had waited for her to come to him.
Waited until she was ready.
“Look, Sabrina, I take responsibility for my part in this.” His tone was a bit too reasonable, like it was when they discussed divvying up the bills. “I tried to push you into a relationship you didn’t want. You were right. You really don’t know me, and I sure as hell don’t know you.”
For that Sabrina had no words. No arguments. She only knew that she wanted to beg him to please, please come home. Only the house had never really been his home. Just a dust-off pad in between work and play. Hadn’t she seen to that by making it clear that the only reason she’d tolerated his presence initially was for the rent money? And then later, for the sex?
“But you’re really okay?” she asked.
“No worries,” he said lightly. Now she heard other voices on his end of the line growing louder. “I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
Sabrina stared at the cell phone display after the call terminated. It took a while before frustration settled in. Looking at her list of recent calls, she saw an unknown number with a 515 area code at the top of the queue. Gage was so not getting away with the gratuitous telephone call. Not one so cryptic and short.
He owed her a better explanation than that.
She studied the rows of empty wooden desks facing the podium and the brown chairs behind them, each embossed with the state seal. The stillness of the chambers and its lofty upper viewing gallery failed to calm her.
She redialed the Des Moines number.
A woman with a pleasant South Asian accent picked up promptly. Sabrina’s processing skills were still running in low gear without her morning caffeine. She had difficulty comprehending the sing-song tumble of syllables.
“Excuse me, come again?” Sabrina asked.
“Meercy Medee-cal,” repeated the cheerful voice. Mercy Medical. That’s what Sabrina thought the woman had said.
“Mercy Medical? Where is it?”
“We are in Dee Moines, meece.”
“Am I calling a hospital?” Gage and Des Moines made sense. After all, he was from Iowa.
“Yes, meece. You are trying to reach Meercy Medee-cal, correct?”
“No, I guess not. Wait—” Sabrina said quickly. “—can you tell me if someone has checked in as a patient?”
“Name, please?”
“Fitzgerald. First name, Gage. No wait — it’s Michael. Michael Fitzgerald.”
“I do show a Mee-kel Fitzgerald, meece. May I transfer you to the room?”
“No, thanks.” Sabrina quickly ended the call and sank into one of the chairs. How could Gage assume she’d be so unconcerned that she wouldn’t care h
e was in the hospital? He’d seemed healthy. At least everything was in functional order that she could ascertain. Perhaps he was having routine surgery. But for something less serious, he would have surely stayed in Austin.
He had people in Iowa, he’d said. A support network.
Sabrina’s thoughts leapt forward, and her imagination projected the worst-case scenario.
What was she supposed to do now?
What could she do?
She walked back to the office slowly. Inside the Think Tank, Carlton and Moira were reading through a batch of Senate bills she had recommended Theo sponsor. Sabrina couldn’t concentrate. Returning calls seemed nonthreatening enough. But when she realized that Josiah Tide had been rambling on for five minutes and she had no clue what he was talking about, she asked Carlton to answer the phones and began the mindless task of replying to email communiqués instead.
A deliveryman brought in a parcel postmarked from an online menswear boutique after lunch.
“Fashion,” Carlton sighed gratefully. He retrieved an X-Acto knife from his drawer, neatly cut through the packing tape, opened the box, and shook a black fedora out of the tissue paper. He twirled it around lovingly before putting on top of his thick mop.
“If I’m stuck doing the Warehouse District crawl, at least I’m ringing in the New Year in style,” he said, adjusting the hat at a jaunty angle. “What about you two?”
“My housemate and I are having some friends over for Balderdash, Chex Mix and beer,” Moira said. “I bought sparklers.”
“Festive,” Carlton commented with an edge of snide. “And you, Sabrina?”
“I’m going out of town for the New Year,” said distractedly as she opened her desk and plucked a blank Unpaid Leave form from a hanging folder. The scene that would take place in Theo’s office later that afternoon after she slid it across his desk wouldn’t be pretty, especially when he saw that she’d left the return date blank. The Hon. Rep. would be fit to be tied, but there was nothing she could do about that.
Something About You (Just Me & You) Page 29
