Caitlin's eyes widened. "But why?"
"He likes you and he is a terrible flirt."
"You are doing that fatherly thing again," Caitlin said, reminding him.
Todd reached across the table and touched her hand. "This should not come as a surprise to you, Caitlin, because I know that you feel the tension between us. I don't feel very fatherly toward you. What I feel is very protective and possessive."
He caressed her fingers slowly and Caitlin could feel every single touch all the way up her arm to all her erogenous zones. She took in a shaky breath.
Todd removed his fingers from hers.
"And obviously I am not alone in this." He looked at her through hooded eyes. "But we should call it a night. You have work to do and I want you to catch up on your beauty sleep. I really want you to do well at this, Caitlin."
Chapter Seven
Caitlin barely had time to process the various feelings for Todd that were running through her head because of her neck-breaking schedule, but through various parts of her day on Wednesday she found herself scribbling his name on the notepad beside her, and she was fully looking forward to seeing him again at his company mixer on Thursday.
She got a jittery, unsettled feeling when she thought of Todd. On one hand, he was the handsome wealthy suitor. On the other hand, he was the guy who murdered his wife. She was a mass of conflicting emotions.
She found herself liking him more than she should.
Her phone rang and it sounded like a rebuke that was saying, Stop thinking about Todd Taylor in romantic terms. Have you forgotten that he killed his wife? The thing trilled at her. She vowed to change her ringtone.
She picked up the phone on the third ring. It was Brigid.
"Caity!" Brigid said happily. Caitlin resisted the urge to chuckle. Brigid was so happy these days it was a pleasure to hear. It was as if her relationship with Nick had given her a personality transplant.
"Yes, Brigid!" Caitlin said, imitating her happy sound.
"Helen Benedict tomorrow at six. Nick says you are to carry a recorder. No cameras. They make her jittery. You can photograph the paintings she gave him, so afterwards you can go to his apartment and photograph those too."
"Okay, thanks a million," Caitlin said. She had not expected to get this far so fast, and then she remembered the mixer with Todd tomorrow. She would just have to reschedule.
When she hung up the phone with Brigid she called his phone. She had wanted to do so all day anyway. She didn't want to examine why it gave her such pleasure to dial his number. His personal cell phone number.
A female voice answered.
Caitlin looked at the phone and then down at the number that Howard had given her so long ago. He wrote his sevens and his ones almost identical.
"Oh sorry," she said, "I thought I was calling for Todd Taylor."
"Yes this is his phone," the lady on the phone said pleasantly. "I am Marlene Stone, his assistant. Mr. Taylor is in a meeting at the moment. Would you like me to take a message?"
"Well, er..." Caitlin fought down her disappointment at not being able to talk to him. "I was calling to cancel the mixer for tomorrow. I won't be able to make it."
"Okay," Marlene said briskly, "I will relay the message."
She hung up before Caitlin could say thank you. She wished she hadn't called so soon. She had wanted to talk to Todd instead.
Why didn't he have his phone with him this time? Why did Marlene have to get her message?
She got up from her desk feeling disgruntled.
Thursday was not much better for Caitlin either. She wondered why Todd hadn't called her back to acknowledge that he had gotten her message. She gritted her teeth through four meetings and went to a lunchtime fitting for Casey's wedding dress with the rest of her sisters and Patricia.
The dress had been perfect for Casey and flattered her so well. She would make a beautiful bride and, as Caitlin expected, a very good wife.
And then stupid Brigid had started tearing up and then the rest of them had spent the rest of the time trying not to do the same. Not that they had succeeded. Patricia had excused herself to the restroom and when she came back her eyes were blood red.
It had dawned on Caitlin when coming back to the office that life was full of changes and unexpected events. Just like Casey and Luca's life. Maybe there would be something unexpected and miraculous that could happen for her and Todd. Maybe he would end up being her dream guy for real. A girl could hope.
She had put down her handbag on her desk and wrote non-stop until five o’clock about Casey’s early life, as well as Casey’s and Luca's courtship and romance. When she had finished she was tearing up, like all the energy and the emotions that she had poured into the story had affected her too.
It was going to be a good piece when she did the second draft. She blinked at her computer screen and then sniffed for good measure. It was a good thing that most of the staff had gone home. She didn't look like a professional feature editor who had it all together with her teary-eyed, but at least she had gotten the main piece done.
She heard a knock on her door and looked up.
It was Todd; he was dressed in a well-tailored gray suit that fit him spectacularly. He looked like he had walked off a movie set. He was leaning on the door, his arms folded.
"I can't wait to read it."
"Todd!" Caitlin blinked. "What are you doing here? I didn't even hear you."
Todd nodded. "That's understandable. Your hands were flying over the keyboard and you were in deep concentration. I wouldn't dare disturb the writer in the throes of what looked like an emotional piece. Let me guess: it is the piece about Casey Givens getting married."
"Yes." Caitlin sighed. "We went to her final dress fitting today and it brought it home. I am feeling kind of nostalgic."
"So you'll be living at home alone with Brigid, huh?" Todd grinned.
"You investigated me?" Caitlin squeaked.
Todd shrugged. "I was curious about your housing situation. Are you ready to go?"
"No," Caitlin gasped and looked at her watch. "I called your phone yesterday. Your secretary Marlene answered. I told her I won't be able to make it. I am going to interview Helen Benedict. I had to grab the opportunity while I could."
Todd frowned. "I didn't get your message. I must have a talk with Marlene. Usually she is super-efficient."
Caitlin started packing up her desk and he hovered.
She looked up at him; he was staring at her almost fixatedly, as if he was trying to work something out in his mind.
"What?" she asked and smiled.
"When you went to Magnolia House it wasn't too bad, was it?"
"No, not all," Caitlin said, putting her papers in her bag. "If I hadn't gone I wouldn't have met my sisters and Patricia and Matron Nash and all the other friends and people I have met over the years. I would not have had the kind of life that I now have. Who knows? Maybe my life turned out exactly the way it should have."
Todd nodded. "That's an interesting way to look at things."
Caitlin smiled. "You are so curious about me. I wonder why."
"You know why," Todd said. He didn't elaborate after that but Caitlin wanted to know what he meant. She was slow on the uptake. She couldn't quite read him.
She walked around her desk with her laptop clutched to her. Todd stopped in front of her and cupped her face inspecting her features one by one. "You are beautiful."
"Well, er, thanks," Caitlin said shakily. "I have to go."
"But we have to get this out of the way," Todd whispered. He lowered his mouth almost in slow motion, and then his lips were on hers, cool, soft, barely any pressure. It drove the breath from her body and she gasped almost imperceptibly, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss.
Todd was the first person to step away. She was standing there shaking from the impact of the kiss, not remembering what she was supposed to do. Dazed. Her fingers crept up involuntarily to her lips and her eyes met his.
"Have a
good evening, Caitlin," he said huskily. "I hope your interview goes well."
Caitlin put one shaking limb in front of the other and before she knew it she was sitting in her car.
He kissed her. Todd Taylor kissed her and she liked it.
Chapter Eight
When Caitlin reached home Nick was in the living room with Brigid. They were eating pasta and Nick was gobbling it up like he was starving. So much for her having a quiet time to herself to process what happened to her a mere ten minutes ago.
"I cooked," Brigid announced. "It is not quite up to Hazel's standards but it is good. Isn't it, Nick?"
"Definitely." Nick grinned. "The best pasta I have eaten in a while."
"He is your boyfriend," Caitlin said, sitting down across from them. "He'll say anything to encourage your cooking. Anyway, I am not hungry."
"You look strange," Brigid observed shrewdly. "Zombie like. No, not zombie like, kind of shaken. What's up?"
Caitlin shrugged. "Nothing much. It was an eventful day. I feel kind of zombie like." Well, actually that wasn't true. She felt alive; she felt re-energized in a way that she couldn't tell Brigid about. At least not in front of Nick.
Nick glanced at his watch. "I told Aunt Helen six o'clock. If we come even a minute later it could spook her. She's a stickler about many things, and time is one of them."
"Wow," Caitlin said, reluctantly dragging her mind from the kiss with Todd. She wanted to go curl up on her bed and think about what it could mean, but instead she had a job to do and Helen Benedict was an interesting subject to pursue.
"Tell me more about her."
Nick finished eating and wiped his mouth. "Well, she is the fifth child of seven for my grandparents. My father was born after her, and then Aunt Patricia. Aunt Helen is fifty-three years old but because of her mental challenges you'll find that she acts much younger. She is not very trusting of people."
"So was she always like this?" Caitlin asked.
"More or less, according to my father. She was normal as a girl and then she slowly started showing mental retardation in her late teens. She lived on her own in a cottage on one of grandfather's estates for a number of years…completely independent of the family.
"She was content to paint her landscapes. She would even sell some of the paintings at the time. I can vaguely remember her at that time I was pretty young, though, but the truth is she wasn't anything like she is now."
"So what happened?" Caitlin was fascinated and so was Brigid. They were both leaning toward Nick, eager to hear about Helen.
"She just deteriorated," Nick said. "She got hysterical over something. Nobody knows what it was for sure. The caretaker that my grandparents had hired to be with her said that one day she just snapped. That's when my grandparents moved her in with them to keep a closer eye on her, and that's where she has been for the past twenty-two years."
"That's so sad," Caitlin said. "How lucid is she?"
"When she takes her medication she's almost normal but she is not very responsive, she doesn't have any energy, she doesn't paint." Nick got up and took Brigid's plate and carried them to the sink.
He turned to look back at Caitlin. "When she is off her meds she is not very coherent but she paints like you won't believe. The best time to get an interview with her is when she is not on meds but just going into her frenzied creative state. She's unbelievably normal then. I thought today would be best. She knows you are coming and she doesn't mind that you are going to showcase her work in a magazine.
"I convinced her that you are beautiful inside. My aunt is very particular about whether people are ugly or beautiful on the inside. Apparently she can sense whether people are genuine or not.
"And of course I told her that you are my future wife's sister, which automatically makes you beautiful on the inside as far as she's concerned."
"Aww," Caitlin said, glancing at Brigid, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat and throwing Nick air kisses.
"Love you too, honey." Brigid got up and hugged him.
"Before you guys dissolve into lovey-dovey stuff I must say thank you once more, Nick. I am just going to get my tape recorder."
"Sure." Nick hugged Brigid to him and then turned to the sink. "Brigid cooked so I'll wash up. I'll be ready after that."
*****
Nick's grandparents’ place was a lovely house which only came into view after they drove through what felt like a very long driveway flanked with mango trees.
"This is where Patricia grew up?" Brigid asked. "It's incredible but we have never been here before. She's taken us everywhere else."
"Yes." Nick nodded. "This is where she grew up. She was born over at Magnolia House though. Before they owned this place my grandparents lived at Magnolia House."
"Yes, we remember the history," Caitlin grinned. "We had to recite it on special days at the house. Martha Benedict started the home when she realized that there were disadvantaged female children who had nowhere to go."
"Martha Benedict was my great-grandma," Nick said with satisfaction. "She was a lovely woman according to my grandfather. I never got to know her."
He drove up into a circular driveway and they all got out of the car. Caitlin looked at her watch; it was three minutes to six.
Good. Maybe Helen would not go into a tantrum because they were on time.
"Come this way," Nick said, leading them around a cobblestone walkway to the back of the main house. "She is in her studio. She spends most of her time out here."
Caitlin followed behind Nick and Brigid. She was still not sure what she was going to ask Helen. Maybe she should play it by ear, follow her cues. She didn't want to spook Helen.
Helen was sitting in the studio, a round building with plenty of natural light. The evening sun was still shining through the glass windows. Helen was sitting on a sofa, her legs curled beneath her. She had on a bright pink caftan; her hair had flecks of gray in it and was pulled back in a tight curly chignon. She was staring outside into the gardens beyond the glass.
A sense of familiarity hit Caitlin when Helen turned to look at them. Helen didn't look like Patricia or even Nick but somehow she still felt familiar.
Helen smiled at them and Caitlin's feeling of familiarity increased. Where had she seen that smile before?
"Hey Aunty H," Nick said, walking fully into the studio.
Helen got up and hugged him. "Nicky! I did something for you."
Nick nodded. "And I know it is gorgeous, as usual. Remember I told you about my girlfriend Brigid and her sister Caitlin."
"Yes." Helen looked at both Caitlin and Brigid and smiled. She moved over to Brigid and hugged her. "You are beautiful, Brigid."
"How did you know she was Brigid?" Nick asked, "I haven't even introduced them yet."
"You described her," Helen said, looking at Brigid appreciatively, "and though you may not realize it you have an artistic eye just like I do. It is lovely to meet you, Brigid."
She moved toward Caitlin and hugged her too. She smelled nice, like lilac. Caitlin hadn't smelled lilac in years. Not since her mother.
Caitlin hugged Helen back. She felt strangely comforting.
When Helen let her go, she said, "Sit everybody. I must say though, Caitlin, that I hate being publicized in any way. I don't know if Nicky told you but I am stark raving crazy at times. The family secret. I don't think they would want the world to know that I exist."
Caitlin laughed. Helen was refreshing. She didn't know what she had expected but it hadn't been this kind of candor or intelligence.
"But I will do my best because it is for Nicky."
"Is it okay for me to record this interview?" Caitlin asked.
"Sure." Helen nodded. "Do you want to see my paintings in the studio first?"
"Yes, please." Caitlin got up and so did Brigid and Nick.
Helen walked before them serenely, almost gliding. She turned on the light and stepped aside for them to pass her.
Caitlin gasped as soon as she saw the
first painting. She knew where she had seen Helen before. It had been in her dream!
She swallowed and looked around at all the pictures in the circular studio. They were stunning in their clarity. Almost lifelike. Vivid colors told a story, and they spelt out exactly why Helen had been hysterical.
Caitlin could feel herself almost trembling with the suppressing of her observation. She went from picture to picture. The pictures were not arranged in any order but they did tell a story if you knew where to look.
Helen pulled Nick to a particular piece that she was going to give him when Caitlin grabbed Brigid's hand.
"Listen," she hissed into Brigid's ears, "you won't believe what I am about to tell you."
"What?" Brigid looked at her curiously.
"These paintings tell a story." Caitlin was talking rapidly now, in feverish excitement.
"Look at that one; there is a woman around an easel. You see it?"
"Yes, it is nice," Brigid said. "Why are you acting so weird? You are making me nervous and you are clutching my hand too tightly."
"Look at that one." Caitlin ignored her and pointed. "You see, it looks like a giant man with an ax."
"Yup, I like it. It's almost menacing," Brigid murmured. "Look at the thunderclouds above his head. The trees around him are like serpents. That's pretty cool. The guy looks a bit like Michael Clarke Duncan in the movie The Green Mile, big and muscular. Do you think it's him?"
Caitlin sighed. Brigid wasn't getting it.
Nick turned toward them with a painting in his hand. He held it up for them to see. It was of a burned-out tree that was charred to the stumps but it had a single green bud growing on its side.
Contrasts. Helen was heavily into contrasts, Caitlin observed. And every single one of her pictures had a message or told a story.
"That's awesome." Caitlin indicated Nick's painting and then she looked at Helen. "Can we arrange the paintings here?"
Helen smiled and shook her head. And then she seemed as if she changed her mind. "Ask Nicky."
Her Mistaken Dream Page 6
