by JoAnn Durgin
“Yes, it’s the sculpture that belonged to your grandfather.”
He looked up at her. “Cassie, this is incredible. Did you have something to do with getting it back?” Had she scoured pawn shops for his birthday gift? Not that he cared, but he couldn’t envision her doing such a thing.
“A little, yes. Amy took me shopping this morning, and we stopped at the library. When we were leaving, she saw. . .Arielle Carson behind the reference desk.”
He cringed. “So, Amy knows it’s been missing?”
“She does now. Sorry, Mitch, but I had to seize the moment and she happened to be there.”
“Perfectly understandable,” he said quickly to reassure her, “but I might need you to protect me next time we see her.”
“Won’t that be on Sunday morning? In church?”
“Good point. Maybe that’ll save me, in a manner of speaking. I’d mentioned to Amy that Arielle had taken some things, but I never explained how I knew that. Come to think of it, I’m surprised her journalistic instincts didn’t kick in with that one. But I never told Amy she’d stolen something of value to our family.”
“A priceless heirloom, you mean.”
“Exactly, and trust me, I am forever indebted to you. This is an early Lawrie piece before his style evolved into Beaux-Arts Classicism and then Art Deco. Grandpa got to know him in his later years and Lew gifted him with this sculpture. It’s insured, but I figured Arielle had probably pawned it.”
“Why didn’t you report it to the police?”
“Because I knew Arielle wasn’t a bad person. She was pretty mad when I broke it off with her. I figured I’d eventually get it back. . .one way or another.” He shrugged and placed the sculpture on the bookcase. “Did you happen to go by Rockefeller Center when you were out with Amy earlier today?”
She raised a brow. “No, but Louie—the greatest taxi driver in all of New York—took the scenic route on the way here yesterday, and he pointed it out to me. Tell me why you’re asking and then I’ve got to get back in the kitchen if you don’t want peanut butter for dinner.”
“There’s a big statue of Atlas in Rockefeller Center, opposite St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”
“You mean the big bronze guy holding something that looks like the world?”
“The same. That’s probably Lee Lawrie’s best known work.”
Cassie’s face blanched. “Oh no! Not again!”
He was almost afraid to follow her into the kitchen. If he did, he’d probably pull her into his arms and kiss the rest of the night away. Maybe he should stand firm, but he’d reward her later for recovering the Lawrie. He still couldn’t get over it. What an inventive, amazing woman. He’d definitely need to hear that story later. It was bound to be a good one. Beneath her sweet exterior, Cassie could be pretty tough. Independent and stronger than even she realized. He loved those qualities about her.
A minute later, she pushed open the door, panting, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t burn it. This is a personal victory. For once in my life, I didn’t burn the bread!”
Cassie might not have burned their bread, but inside, Mitch melted.
~~**~~
Feeling a bit nervous, Cassie couldn’t eat much of her dinner. Knowing how much Mitch enjoyed it was gratifying. She wondered about the remainder of the evening, not sure what to expect. He’d dimmed the lights and they dined by candlelight, the smooth sounds of Miles Davis’s trumpet serenading them.
Her thoughts went back to that first day he’d arrived in Houston and how awkward she’d felt sitting with him on the patio. Tonight she felt every bit as young and inexperienced. Was it appropriate for her to be in a man’s townhouse? How silly was it that at age twenty-six she didn’t know the boundaries? They’d shared so much in Houston, they’d flirted and had such fun with emails and phone calls, but now—sitting across from the man—she felt tongue-tied. She trusted Mitch, and she knew right from wrong, but she hoped they’d both be able to withstand and resist temptation.
Throughout the meal, Mitch complimented her so much she finally stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth to stifle him. “It’s your birthday, not mine,” she told him. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
“Tell me the story of how you got the Lew Lawrie sculpture back,” he said, swirling linguini on his fork. He listened with great interest when she told him the story of confronting Arielle, then gave her a sweet kiss and told her how he loved her for what she’d done for his family. “Besides your being here, this is the best birthday gift you could have ever given me.”
“I think it’s wonderful how you appreciate and value your family’s heritage,” Cassie said. “From the classic furnishings, the vintage record player and albums, books and sculptures. . .so many things. Too many things today are flyaway.”
“Right,” he said. “There’s not pride in workmanship like in years past. Take Kevin and that one-of-a-kind gazebo he built for Rebekah. Or that yellow cottage he designed and built for Hannah and Leah. You might think I’m crazy, but I love all the crackles, hisses and popping sounds in that Miles Davis album. It gives it unique character. Today’s technology is so smooth. It’s almost too perfect. But life’s not smooth, it’s not perfect.”
“You sound like an old soul.” Leaning her elbow on the table, Cassie rested her chin on her propped hand. “Tell me more.”
Mitch’s smile reached his eyes. “I know I completely understood Grandpa Carlisle’s desire to return to the live theater. Hollywood was mostly gloss and glamour, but it wasn’t real in the same way as the Broadway stage. He used to tell me that when he was on the stage, the character would take over. He’d fully inhabit the role and—for a couple of hours each night—it’s like he became another person.”
“I wish I could have known him,” Cassie said. “Sometimes I think people play roles in real life. We all do, to some extent. We say what others want to hear. Do things the way we believe others expect. That’s sad because it’s not honest and keeps us from becoming the unique person we’re meant to be.” She shook her head and smiled. “Something like that.”
The lines around Mitch’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, making him even more impossibly attractive. In some ways, she found it difficult to believe he could be interested in her when he could have his pick of any woman he wanted.
“You’re the most transparent woman I’ve ever met, and I mean that in the best possible way.” He took her hand and skimmed his thumb over it, focusing his gaze on their joined hands. “There’s not a dishonest bone in your body.”
He’d mentioned that once before, but considering the timing now, she had to wonder if he thought of Arielle.
Cassie smiled as he finished the last spoonful of his chocolate mousse a few minutes later and licked his lips with satisfaction. “Hands down, this was the best birthday dinner of my life. Just don’t tell my mom I said that, please.” He reached for her hand again. “Thank you, Cassie.”
She slowly withdrew her hand and rose from the table. “I’d better go wash up our dishes.”
“I’ll help you.”
They laughed and teased as they worked side-by-side in the kitchen. Mitch stole light kisses on her neck, especially when she was vulnerable with her hands in the dishwater. From his favorite corner of the kitchen, Sammie watched their antics, his head resting on his crossed paws.
“Sammie want a treat? Watch this,” Mitch said. Holding up the chew bone, he waved it at the dog. “Let’s show Cassie what you can do. Come on, boy.”
Sitting upright at attention, Sammie began to make noises unlike anything she’d ever heard. Kind of like a low howl combined with a humming sound. Cassie pulled the stopper from the sink and dried her hands. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Mitch’s lovable mutt was trying to sing. “Is he. . .exactly what is he doing?”
“Singing, of course. Sammie doesn’t take requests, but he’s got ‘Jingle Bells’ down. I can’t sing, as you know, but maybe if you start singing, then he’ll jump right in.�
�� The expression on Mitch’s face was too cute to ignore.
“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,” Cassie began and Sammie started his accompaniment. She didn’t get far into the song before she dissolved in laughter. “That’s the weirdest but cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
After drying the last of the dishes she’d washed, Mitch tossed the towel on the counter and wrapped his arms around her from behind, rocking her back and forth. “I’m weird and you’re awfully cute, so I think we make a very good team,” he said. “What do you think?”
Turning around in his arms, she gave him a very special birthday kiss. “Does that answer your question?”
“Uh, yeah.” He looked dazed and goofy. Cassie recognized that look on a man’s face, but she’d never been the reason before. She liked being the reason for Mitch.
“I can finish putting the things away,” she said. “I think you have some cards on the hall table you haven’t opened yet.” He’d brought them in when he’d arrived home earlier.
“Go on,” she said, nodding toward the door. “I’ll be out shortly.”
“Okay.” He gave her a light peck on the cheek. “Only because you insist and you’re so beautiful.”
When Cassie walked into the living room a few minutes later, Mitch sat on the sofa. His face had drained of color, and the look on his face was one of shock. “Mitch, is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“What do you mean?” Her pulse skipped with a beat of foreboding as he gestured to the envelope and unfolded piece of paper on his lap. It wasn’t a card but looked more like plain white ruled paper. “Did you receive a letter for your birthday?”
“In a manner of speaking.” His voice was tight and oddly quiet. “It’s from Brad.”
Chapter 35
Saturday Morning
April 24, 2004
“It’s more massive than I could have imagined.” Cassie’s eyes filled with tears as she surveyed the site where the majestic Twin Towers once stood. Words could never explain the overwhelming sense of loss and grief. She was glad she’d been with Mitch right after he’d opened the letter from Brad. His widow, Felicity, had sent a note saying she’d found it in a box in the back of their bedroom closet.
Although Brad had written Dear Mitch at the top of the page, it wasn’t so much a letter to him as it was Brad’s personal musings of the good times they’d shared. From what Cassie heard her married friends say, a lot of guys thought it wasn’t manly to show emotion much less shed actual tears. Mitch was as strong of a man as she’d ever met, but she’d held him as he’d cried, wrapping him in her arms and crying with him, their tears mingling together. Sharing that moment with him—as sad as it was—had been precious and one she’d never forget. He’d done the same for her when she’d told him about Tagg. Nothing could bring their loved ones back, but sharing their loss helped ease the heavy burdens in their hearts.
“God knew, Cassie.” Mitch had rested his head on a pillow positioned on her lap and he’d stretched out on the sofa. “He knew I needed this closure, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. In spite of his love of comic books—abbreviated literature, he called it—Brad was a great writer. I’m glad Felicity sent this to me.” Even though Mitch had already read the letter twice, he’d listened as she’d read it to him a third time. When he closed his eyes, it was almost as though a wave of serenity washed over his features, bathing them in a peaceful calm.
Now, standing behind her at the site, Mitch wrapped her in his arms. He must need the connection and she needed it, too. The loss of humanity, the loss of dreams represented by the gaping pit, humbled Cassie in a way nothing else had ever done before.
Finally easing out of his embrace, Cassie dropped to her knees and lowered her head, clasping her hands together. Beside her, Mitch did the same. After a few minutes, he reached for her hand and they prayed together. Afterwards, they sat on the ground and talked more about his memories of Brad.
“He worked in the South Tower, the second one hit.” Mitch’s voice was thick with sadness. “He worked on one of the floors near where the plane tore through the building.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that, hundreds of people are gone. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Never again will I hear Brad’s crazy, from-the-gut laugh. See that wild red hair of his. He used to tug on it when a trade was tanking and then it’d stick straight out from his head. The little boy in him collected comic books and he loved superhero movies. Devoured spicy Thai food like candy and played practical jokes on me almost every week.” Mitch fell silent for a long moment and when he raised his head, a single tear rolled down his cheek.
“He’d probably say his last joke was on me. I find it ironic how he said in the letter, ‘No matter where you go in life, don’t forget me, buddy.’ And now ‘Never Forget’ has become a catch phrase and a slogan for 9/11.” He shook his head and heaved a huge sigh. “I can’t begin to imagine the terror of those people trying to evacuate, not knowing what was happening. Wondering if they’d ever see their families again. Sending frantic messages, leaving reminders that might never be found.”
Raising his knees, Mitch rested his elbows on them. “Here we are, a few years later, and yet they’re still finding things to return to loved ones. A watch, a ring, or some other small memento. Beauty for ashes, right? I know Brad wouldn’t want me to be sad for him, though.” A hint of his grin emerged. “Well, maybe a little. He loved life, loved people. He also knew the Lord, but he wasn’t a practicing Christian, I guess you could say. That’s one of my biggest regrets because I wasn’t much of a good influence on him the last few years. But I have no doubt he’s in Heaven harassing someone. Brad would want me to remember the good times, take away what I learned, and then get on with the process of living.” Leaning close, Mitch kissed her cheek. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“How’s Felicity doing now?”
His eyes narrowed as Mitch surveyed the site. “She’s engaged to a man named Stephen. Stockbroker at another firm. I only know him by reputation, but he seems like one of the good guys. I’m happy for her, and I know Brad would approve and be glad Felicity moved on. They wanted kids, and now she’ll have that opportunity.”
“Do you want children?” Cassie’s heart raced. After all they’d shared, she didn’t think it was too personal to ask. “Chloe and Joe are always asking me about you. They talk about how Mr. Mitch would do this or say that. You made quite an impression in a very short time.”
“They’re great, and I feel the same way about them. Without question, I want kids. Speaking of which, I have somewhere else to take you. Somewhere not so sad.” Rising to his feet, he dusted off his jeans and she did the same.
“It was important to come, and I’m glad we did.”
“Have you heard anything about the teenage girl in Texas that Amy befriended?” Mitch said as they sat together in the back of a taxi bound for Queens. “Her name is Tamara, but she goes by Tam.”
“I think Winnie mentioned something about her once or twice, but I don’t know much of the story.”
“Amy met Tam during that infamous road trip with Landon from Louisiana to Houston after Beck and Kevin’s wedding,” he said. “They stopped in a restaurant somewhere in Texas and Tam was their waitress. Then some guys were hassling her outside the restaurant as they were leaving. Long story short, Amy gave her a business card and then got a call from Tam a couple of days before Christmas. She was pregnant and thinking of terminating her pregnancy.”
Cassie drew in a quick breath. “I’m glad she called Amy. I know how active Amy’s always been in the pro-life movement. That must have broken her heart. What happened?”
“Landon flew Amy back down to Texas in his plane. She spent that night and the next morning with Tam, counseling and talking with her about the Lord’s plan for her life, telling her every single thing she could think of to try and convince her not to have the abortion.”
&nb
sp; Almost afraid to hear what was coming next, Cassie braced herself for the rest of the story.
The little smile lines around Mitch’s eyes surfaced. How she’d grown to appreciate them. Love them. “Then Amy’s favorite cowboy showed up with Winnie and Chloe.”
“Winnie was a single mom for more than four years, and it goes without saying how adorable Chloe is.” Cassie leaned her head on Mitch’s shoulder.
“Amy accompanied Tam into the clinic,” he said. “She told me she about lost it when they called Tam’s name and she went behind those closed doors. But within a few minutes, she came back out again and told Amy she couldn’t go through with it.”
“Oh, thank the Lord.” Cassie moved one hand over her abdomen. “So, everything turned out all right for Tam and her baby?”
“You’re about to find out.” The taxi stopped in front of a three-story, red brick home. “Here we are. Look,” he said, pointing out the side window.
Cassie looked out the window where he indicated. In the front yard stood a large sign: Tam’s Place.
Chapter 36
“Come on. Let me show you around.”
Mitch jumped across a newly poured concrete sidewalk and assisted her. Together, they bounded up the wide front steps, hand-in-hand. Opening the heavy wooden door, he ushered her inside. When he closed the door behind them, a bell jingled, reminding Cassie of the bell at Richardson’s.
The older home smelled slightly musty, but glancing around the large front hall and adjoining rooms, Cassie admired the rich woods and neutral colors. The furniture and bright decorative accents made it warm and welcoming. Walking further into the home, Cassie spied a number of potted plants and paintings with pretty landscapes adorned the walls. A few young women were talking together in the living room and gave them curious glances. One of them waved to Mitch and he raised his hand and nodded.
