Cassidy Lane

by Murnane, Maria

  She’d just opened the door when her phone rang. She walked back to her desk and smiled when she saw the name on the display.

  “Brandon, hi.”

  “Hi back. I thought it would be nice to hear your voice for once instead of reading it.” He’d texted her a bit during her marathon writing session, but barely.

  “It’s nice to hear your voice too. How are you?”

  “I’m hanging in there. Sorry to have been out of touch lately. Things have been really rough with my mom.”

  “Is she getting any better?”

  “Unfortunately, no. She’s still completely paralyzed on her left side.”

  “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.”

  “And suddenly Jack is having more trouble at school.”

  “Because of the lisp?”

  “Yes. It’s getting worse, so the teasing is getting worse too. Or maybe the lisp is getting worse because of the teasing. We’re not sure what’s really going on.”

  “Poor little guy. What are you going to do?”

  He sighed. “Juliette and I aren’t quite seeing eye to eye on that. She wants to put him in a special school, but I’d like to give speech therapy more of a chance first before taking such drastic action. I want the boys to be together, if possible.”

  “Sounds complicated. I’m…sure you two will figure something out.” Was that the right response? Or was she supposed to take his side? She was at a loss as to how to react.

  He cleared his throat. “Anyhow, enough about all my problems. How’s the book coming along? I know your deadline is looming.”

  “Pretty well, thanks for asking. I’m going to have to push hard to finish on time, but I think I can do it. I was just about to go for a walk, actually. I’ve been hunkered down in my apartment and need to get outside.”

  “Well, I’ll let you get going then. I just wanted to say hi.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  They said good-bye and she headed out of the door with a smile on her face, wondering why she’d been so insecure about him.

  It wasn’t until she was in the elevator that she realized he hadn’t asked her anything about her nose.

  The next afternoon Cassidy was absorbed in her novel when she was startled by the chime of a text. It was a message from Harper:

  Frozen yogurt tonight? I know it’s cold outside, but I’ve got me a hankering.

  She typed a quick reply.

  Sure. Meet me in the lobby at seven thirty. Trying to write until then. See ya.

  Less than a minute later her phone chimed again, and she silently cursed Harper. Had she not been clear enough that she was working? She picked up the phone and was surprised to see Brandon’s name on the display.

  She caught her breath as she read the message.

  I’ve been looking at that photo you sent me.

  She put her free hand on her cheek, which suddenly felt a bit flushed.

  She read the message again, then looked at the manuscript on the screen in front of her. She knew she should keep writing and wait until later to respond, but it didn’t matter either way. Her focus was shattered, which meant the same for her momentum, reply or no reply.

  The next few hours were dotted with a playful exchange of messages that kept her heart aflutter even as she tried her best to be productive. Brandon was in her head again now, and she was helpless to resist:

  You’ve been looking at my photo again?

  I have

  You’re making me blush.

  Good

  You’re a man of few words today. Very little punctuation too.

  I’m working

  You’re working? It certainly doesn’t seem like it.

  I’m multitasking

  I thought men weren’t good at that.

  I’m not like most men

  I think I’ve figured that out.

  I’m looking at the photo right now, you’re beautiful.

  Cassidy smiled and felt a small tear form in the corner of her eye as she read the text. He really likes me too. I’m not the only one feeling this.

  She chewed on her pencil as she pondered something she’d been thinking about for a while now.

  Should she ask him?

  Was it too early?

  She pushed the thoughts away and worked on her book a bit more, then stood up and stretched her arms over her head before heading into her bedroom to change out of her sweatpants. As she pulled a pair of jeans from the drawer, she began to craft a new text message in her head. From there she moved to the bathroom, where she fixed her hair and applied a bit of makeup and mentally tweaked the message. When she was all dressed and ready to meet Harper for yogurt, she picked up her phone. She read Brandon’s last text again, then began to type:

  I know people’s schedules fill up way ahead of time during the holidays. Would it be wildly inappropriate for me to invite you to something now?

  The response time from both of them had varied all afternoon, but this time he wrote her back right away:

  What day?

  She typed again, practically holding her breath as she did so:

  My family has an annual dinner at a restaurant downtown. It’s my parents and Tyler and Jessica and the girls, plus Jessica’s parents and a few assorted friends and relatives, usually around 20 people including kids. My dad pays for everything, and it’s the only night all year he wears a tie. This year it’s on the Friday before Christmas at the Westin. Do you have the boys that weekend?

  Within a minute he replied:

  I just checked my calendar. No kids that weekend! Dinner sounds fun.

  The corners of her lips turned upward. He said yes!

  She glanced at the clock and typed another message:

  Great. I’ll tell my parents you’re in. They’ll be happy to see you again. So will I.

  Her phone chimed again:

  The feeling is mutual.

  With a huge smile on her face, she tossed the phone into her purse and rushed out the door to meet Harper.

  Her relationship with Brandon had just taken a big step forward.

  “So how’s it going with Vanessa?” Cassidy said, then scooped up a spoonful of peanut butter yogurt.

  Harper shrugged. “The same. She’s still pregnant. How’s it going with that guy in California?”

  “For the record his name is Brandon, and I think it’s going pretty well.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s going pretty well? Talk about hedging your bets.”

  She pointed her spoon at him. “Hey, now. Given the inconvenient geography of the situation, that’s the only answer I can give you, and I think it’s a pretty good one.”

  “If you say so.”

  “That reminds me: I need your help with something.”

  He put a hand on his heart. “You need my help with something? That’s new. I’m not sure I’m comfortable about this.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. You helped me get those prints in my living room to hang straight, remember?”

  “You’re right, I did do that. So what do you need me for now?”

  “I want to give Brandon a Christmas present, but I have no idea what to get him.”

  He dipped his spoon into his cup. “Maybe a new phone? His is probably fried, given the amount of texting going on between you two.”

  “Come on, I’m serious. He actually reminds me of you a little bit, so I thought maybe you would have some good ideas of what he might like.”

  Harper sat up straight. “He reminds you of me how, exactly? Is it that he’s smart, charming, and sexy as all hell?”

  Cassidy smiled. “Well, of course. But I meant more in his aesthetics.”

  He gave her a look. “In his what?”

 
“His aesthetics.”

  “Could you say that in English, please? Not everyone at this table is a professional writer.”

  “He’s…I don’t know…fancy.” She put the word in air quotes.

  Harper leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. “Fancy.”

  “Yes, but I mean that as a compliment. He dresses well, likes nice things, that sort of thing. I guess you could say he’s your classic well-heeled metrosexual. He definitely spends way more on his shoes than I do, for example.” She pointed her spoon at him. “And he wore a lavender button-down when he took me out to dinner.”

  Harper scooped up some more yogurt. “I see, I see. I do like me some lavender.”

  “So you understand what I mean?”

  “I do.”

  “And you’re not offended?”

  He finished his yogurt and shook his head. “I am not.”

  “Good. Do you have any ideas for a gift?”

  “You said he has kids, right?”

  “Yes, two boys. Henry and Jack.”

  He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “You know what I bet he’d love?”

  She set down her cup and held up her palms. “Obviously I don’t.”

  “Get him a set of cuff links.”

  “Cuff links?”

  He tapped a finger to one wrist and then the other. “Sterling silver. Engraved. From Tiffany.”

  “Engraved? You think?”

  “Yes. One initial on each cuff link, for each son’s name.”

  Cassidy raised her eyebrows. “Ooh, I like that.” An H and a J.

  Harper nodded. “Tiffany cuff links are very classy, and an engraving like that makes them special—and a super thoughtful gift. He’ll love them.”

  “I love the idea, but do you think it would be too much? I mean, as you can clearly tell, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.”

  “How many text messages did you say you two have exchanged?”

  Cassidy felt her cheeks turn a bit pink. “I’m not exactly sure what it’s at now, but around…three thousand?” The frequency had dropped off considerably since his mother’s stroke, but it was hard to discount the sheer volume of messages they’d exchanged.

  “Three…thousand…text…messages.” Using his spoon, Harper tapped the side of his yogurt cup as he said each word. “I think that answers your question.”

  She gave him a hopeful smile. “He’s also coming to my family holiday dinner.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. I just asked him today.”

  Harper nodded. “Then he’ll dig the cuff links. Don’t worry.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  DANIELLE WAS STILL out of town that weekend, so Sunday morning Cassidy went for a power walk in Central Park, then planned to get a pedicure. She hoped the mental break of taking the entire day off and spending much of it outside, infused with some much-needed fresh air, sunlight, and pampering, might provide a final burst of inspiration to finish the book. Though she was tempted to try to run, she knew it would set her back in the long haul.

  She played the character game as she plugged along on her walk, first eyeing a diminutive redhead who sped by her in a spandex blur:

  What’s her name? Rebecca Black, but her family calls her Becky, which she hates.

  Where’s she from? South Boston, but she says Boston.

  What does she do? Investment banker.

  What makes her angry? When her cleaning lady doesn’t dust the top of the refrigerator.

  What makes her laugh? Laughing is overrated.

  Favorite food? She says it’s brown rice and vegetables with tofu, but it’s really Nacho Cheese Doritos. You’ll never see her eat them in public, though.

  Biggest life disappointment so far? She’ll say none, but it’s really that she didn’t get into Harvard Business School and had to settle for Wharton.

  Biggest secret? She’s not a real redhead.

  Dream job? She wishes to God she knew. But she’ll tell you it’s investment banker.

  Next up was a thin, pale man who looked about Cassidy’s age, sitting alone on a bench with his hands folded on his lap.

  What’s his name? Buddy Hawthorne.

  Where does he live? Queens.

  What does he do? He was a firefighter.

  Favorite hobby? He played basketball three times a week before he got sick.

  Favorite food? Anything he can keep down.

  Biggest life disappointment so far? Knowing he probably won’t live to marry and have children.

  Cassidy turned back for another look at the man on the bench, wondering why her imagination had taken her down such a dark path. She felt a pang of guilt for the life she’d just imagined for him and hoped he was in fact healthy and happy. Same went for the redhead, who in all likelihood was nothing like the unsympathetic character she’d just depicted in her mind.

  Cassidy blinked a few times and decided to stop playing this game. If she was going to take a break from actual writing today, she should also take a break from thinking like a writer. She let her mind wander to Brandon.

  Of how he’d been looking at her photo.

  Of how much she was looking forward to seeing him again.

  And kissing him again.

  And again.

  After more than an hour in the park, she stretched on a bench for a few minutes, then slowly headed east toward the exit. Once she reached Fifth Avenue she put her hands on her hips and looked in the direction of Central Park South.

  Hmm.

  She stood on the sidewalk, thinking.

  Should I buy them today?

  She began to nibble on her fingernail but quickly stopped, then began walking.

  South.

  Next stop: Tiffany & Co.

  An hour later, as Cassidy strolled back through the park on her way home, she called Patti.

  “What’s shakin’, bacon? Is it freezing out there yet?”

  Cassidy looked up at the clear skies all around and wondered when the first snowfall would be. “It’s not too bad. It’s getting there, though. I can’t believe how fast this year has gone by. Pretty soon there will be holiday decorations in all the shop windows.”

  “Oh God, don’t remind me that Christmas is just around the corner again. Being Santa for three kids is a logistical pain in the hee-haw. Thank God for online shopping. You should see how many boxes get delivered to Roy’s office every year.”

  Cassidy glanced at the shopping bag she was carrying and cleared her throat. “Actually, speaking of Christmas presents, I just bought one for Brandon.”

  “Already? Nice work.”

  “I know it’s a little early, but I couldn’t help myself. Is that bad?”

  “It’s not bad, it’s adorable. What did you end up getting him?”

  “Engraved cuff links. From Tiffany. That’s what Harper suggested.”

  “Tiffany cuff links? How elegant. What did the engraving say? It had to have something to do with texting. Was it LOL? TTYL? Or maybe a smiley face?”

  Cassidy laughed. “OK, I deserve that. But I ordered one cuff link engraved with a J and one with an H, for his sons’ names, Jack and Henry.”

  “I love it! Did Harper suggest that too?”

  “Yep. He’s barely out of his twenties, but sometimes I feel like he’s more mature than I am.”

  “Well, he came up with a great idea, that’s for sure. I’d love to get Roy something classy like that, but he’d probably think they were earrings. He’s not too up on fashion.”

  Cassidy kicked a pebble. “Have you settled on a date for the Jingle Jog yet? My leg should be healed by then.”

  Patti had been on the cross-country team with Cassidy in high school, and while her exercise now mainly
consisted of chasing after her kids, every year she organized a casual holiday run through San Carlos. It ended with a stroll through a decoration-crazed neighborhood that attracted visitors from up and down the Peninsula.

  “No, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. When’s your big family dinner this year?”

  “The Friday before Christmas, so don’t pick that.”

  “Got it.”

  Cassidy cleared her throat again. “I…invited Brandon.”

  “To the Jingle Jog?”

  “No, to the dinner.”

  “Wow. Already?”

  Cassidy kicked another pebble. “I realize it’s early, but you know how fast people’s schedules fill up over the holidays, right? Plus with his kids and everything, I just wanted to—”

  “Stop it. I love that you invited him early. It’s cute. Shows how much you like him.”

  Cassidy smiled into the phone. “You’re such a good friend.”

  “I know I am. Now apparently it’s time to start my holiday shopping, so I’d better run. Talk soon?”

  “Talk soon. Bye.”

  “Your nails are doing better, love.”

  Cassidy peered over her magazine. “They are?”

  Darlene nodded up at her. “I know we’re doing a pedicure today, but I can tell you haven’t been nibbling on those fingers quite as much.”

  “I’ve been trying, but I can’t say I’m succeeding with any regularity. It’s so hard to break the habit.”

  “You’re on your way. I can see a change in you, and not just with your nails, mind you.” She gave Cassidy’s feet a gentle squeeze.

  Cassidy felt her eyes get a little bigger. “You can?”

  “I can.”

  “But what do you—”

  Just then the front door opened and Annabelle Polanski strolled in, her enormous dark sunglasses covering half her petite face, her outsized personality overtaking the limited air space without her having to utter a word. Darlene stiffened and immediately looked down at Cassidy’s feet, filing the nails intently. Cassidy glanced around the room and noticed the other attendants reacting in a similar manner. Her fellow patrons seemed equally startled, and the already subdued volume of the salon dropped to a hush, amplifying the sound of Annabelle’s stiletto heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she strode across the room. When she reached the pedicure chair, she gave Cassidy a polite smile, then quickly disappeared into one of the back rooms.