“Eric is still a problem?” Pierre puffed out his chest. “He and his mother are wonderful patrons, but his behaviour has gone too far. Want moi to sort him out?”
Katherine pulled a face. “Sure, I can just see you having a tussle with Eric. He’d cry foul or do something equally stupid and sue you. I don’t want family or friends to get involved in this mess.”
“But that’s what family does—look out for each other,” Pierre frowned.
“Yes, and we do. But I think the best approach is to ignore Eric. He’ll get bored and find someone who’ll fawn all over him.” She sniffed the boutonnière of apricot roses and, thanks to the sweet musky scent, her temper vanished. “I’ll keep these. They make me smile.” She lay them on the dressing table, dug her fingers into a pot of cleanser and slapped a glob onto her cheeks. She smeared it over her face, effectively putting an end to conversation about quitting ballet, parents and an obsessed, irrational fool.
Pierre put his arm around her shoulder, and kissed the top of her head. “I’d better go talk to the press.” He straightened and slowly turned. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous. How can anyone resist such a handsome man?”
Pierre waved his hand theatrically and minced. “Well, you do have to wonder,” he said with wry humour. “But love still eludes me.”
“You’re such a drama queen, Uncle,” she laughed.
He gave her a wink, smiled and left the room.
Katherine wiped away the layers of stage make-up with a handful of tissues. Her thoughts turned to her last performance at the Spruce Valley town hall and the very end of her career. She longed for it, yet the thought of leaving was scary. Her ballet routine of practice, rehearsals and proper diet had been her life. At least she didn’t feel utterly adrift; she had plans. Passing her physiotherapist’s and care for the elderly exams had made it possible.
Five flights of stairs to her loft apartment in Calgary had never been an issue for Katherine until tonight. Hand on the newel post she looked up, and the Calgary Tower came to mind. After a long night celebrating Christmas holidays, she believed the best way to tackle these stairs was to think of something else and go for it. She hurried up the first flight, daydreaming about sex with a passing stranger on a hot beach. Stranger? No way. Sex with Gerard Butler on a hot beach, in the surf and under a tropical downpour. She giggled quietly. Daydreaming was safe and, she decided, a delicious pastime.
Okay, she smiled to herself, I didn’t collapse of exhaustion and I’m on the landing.
A strip of light glowed from under the door. That was odd. She never forgot to turn off her lights. Once inside, she hung her hat and coat on a brass hook in the entry hall, and kicked off her shoes. Clutching the boutonnière and her purse, she padded across the parquetry floor to her living room.
“Hello, Katarina.” An arrogant voice shattered her tropical daydreams.
“Eric!” Katherine exclaimed angrily. “What the hell are you doing in here? And how the hell did you get in?! Are you insane? Get out! Right now!” She thrust her arm out, pointing at the door.
“That’s not very civil,” Eric smirked, head to one side, lounging on her leather sofa as if he owned it—owned her. The thought made her shudder. The lamp on a side table nearest him was on. Its warm glow cast sharp shadows across his angular features. His deep-set, weasel eyes glinted with bravado, but this display was a sham. Surely others saw that too.
His whiney voice grated on her nerves as he said, “Mother is so pleased I’m seeing a principal ballet dancer. I’ve told our friends all about our plans. Gosh, they were so surprised—why hadn’t you told them about us, Katarina?”
“Don’t be an idiot. Stop stalking me. There is no us—and don’t call me that!”
Eric downed the last of his drink and raised his glass. “Join me.”
Katherine ignored him. “The caretaker would not have let you in. Get—the—hell—out!” She enunciated clearly so the twit wouldn’t misinterpret.
His attempt at a suave grin merely made him look a sloppy fool. Katherine dumped her purse and boutonnière on the coffee table, wanting her hands free just in case she needed to slap him.
Eric’s sleazy grin churned her stomach. With an index finger, he raised a chain dangling with keys to the downstairs security door, and her front door.
“Where did you get those keys?” she hissed.
“You gave them to me. They’re mine—remember?” His eyes darted to the table. “Hey! Where are the yellow roses I bought you?” He pouted like a petulant child.
“I thought they were so lovely I had to share them with everyone.” Her tone was sarcastic.
Eric swiped the bourbon bottle from the side table. With effort, he pushed himself off the sofa. Katherine squared her shoulders, daring him to get close enough so she could smack him around a little.
“We have plans—big plans, remember?” He crossed the room, but stopped just beyond arm’s length. Pity, thought Katherine.
The stench of bourbon was repulsive. “You stink! Where on earth do you get the notion that I’m the least bit interested? Just because you come backstage, unannounced, with a token,” she took a step closer and thumped his shoulder hard. “Just because we’ve had coffee, twice.” She thumped him again. “I barely know you.” Another thump and Eric’s expression changed to one of disbelief. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. In a flash, his arrogance returned. Katherine pressed on. “As for your plans—tell someone who cares, because I don’t!” She turned her back on him and, with a creepy feeling up her spine, strode to the front door, opened it and waited with her hand out. “I never gave you a set of keys. Give them to me and get the hell out of my apartment.”
Eric grinned. “I have your attention now, don’t I?” He leaned in for a kiss.
“Touch me and you die,” Katherine threatened, her voice deep, her eyes narrow, menacing. “And here’s another thought. If I scream fire! doors will open across the landing and all the way down to the ground floor. You don’t want that, do you?” His eyes became wary and his laugh had lost its arrogant edge. “I didn’t think so.”
“You need me. You’ll come around and I’ll keep these for when you do.” He tossed her keys in the air.
Katherine made a grab—and caught them. Eric hadn’t anticipated her swift reaction. His lips twitched.
“No one else will want you. I’ll make sure of it,” he said.
“Do not threaten me, you ignorant jerk.” Katherine shoved him out and slammed the door. She rammed the safety chain and bolt in place. Tomorrow, she would get the caretaker to change her locks, the sooner the better. Surely he’d have time; Christmas was still two weeks away. She rang the police, who took all the details and asked her to come by in the morning to make a signed statement. The officer suggested it would be wise to stay with a trusted friend. Katherine decided that unless Eric had another set of keys there was no way he could get into her apartment. This was getting scary. Never mind the bad publicity. She would have to get a restraining order out on him. Meanwhile, for her own peace of mind she would leave first thing in the morning. Her stay in the family cabin would start earlier than planned, that was all.
Katherine wedged a chair under the doorknob. The stench of bourbon hung in the air. Feeling violated, she shuddered, headed for the bathroom and stripped quickly, throwing her clothes in the corner. She stepped into the shower and lingered under the relaxing stream. Later, warm and dry, she sank into bed and tried to erase Eric Grundy from her mind. A tough ask. Thoughts bounced from what fool behaves this way to he was a pathetic idiot who had invaded her sanctuary. She couldn’t imagine him ever becoming dangerous, but then …
A pearl-grey dawn light streamed in through the garret window, waking Katherine from a full night’s dreaming of arguments and should’ve-saids. She peered at her bedside clock. Eight-thirty.
“God, four hours is just not enough.” She thumped her pillow, flopped back, closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn’t happ
ening. There wasn’t a hope in hell that she would get any more sleep.
Coffee beckoned. Katherine stretched and flexed her muscles, flung her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the kitchen. She peeked down the hall and checked the front door; the chair and safety chain were still in place. Hopefully, her threats had Eric scared.
“Doubtful,” she groaned.
Mug of coffee in hand, Katherine headed for the ultra-modern, white bathroom, downed a couple of aspirins, showered, dried herself and dressed in her favourite red pullover, olive green pants and boots. She packed her case, gathered her toiletries and placed everything in the hallway. She grabbed her favourite black coat, shrugged it on and gently eased a red knitted hat over her head. Nothing more needed doing. There were no goldfish or plants for the neighbours to look after. But that was about to change. Her parents’ horrific car accident, which had injured her mother and killed her father, made Katherine take a good look at where her life was heading. What was it they said about trauma? Life begins on the other side of despair.
She flexed her fingers into a pair of leather gloves and stopped to look at a couple of poster-size photos on her wall. One was of her crazy friend, ski champion Leandra Paige, wearing a helmet and electric blue ski gear, a red maple leaf on her thigh, her knees at a perfect angle, as she raced down a pure white slope. That photo always made Katherine smile. The other poster was of herself, dancing the principal role of Odette-Odile in Swan Lake. The photographer had said he loved the classic bone structure of her face, the well-defined muscles and the grace of her long limbs.
Grace of my limbs, Katherine thought. How ironic that her body, her hyperflexibility that made her dancing so spectacular, had also caused the injuries that forced her early retirement.
The jangling phone cut through the quiet space. Before answering it, she paused to read the caller’s number, then picked up the receiver.
“Hi, Lea.”
“Oh, you’ve got one of those phones,” Leandra said.
“Yeah, how are you? How was Chamonix?”
“Great, I came third. I kept getting airborne, damn it. Sorry I couldn’t be there for your last performance, I feel awful. I couldn’t get a flight out of Geneva in time.”
“Don’t worry. It’s winter and you’re busy. Can you make it to the charity performance at Spruce? After that, everyone can stop worrying about me. I’ve been on Pierre’s mind for years, poor man.”
“Not me, I never worried about you,” Leandra giggled. “I’m too busy worrying about Mum worrying about me. Just as well she’s in Spain soaking up the sun and worrying with your mum. I haven’t heard anything the last few days. Now I’m worrying about them. And I have to drop by Mum’s sports store to make sure everything’s okay so she won’t worry. God, everyone should just stop worrying. How are they?”
“Mum sounds great. I think your mum is making her laugh a lot.” Katherine smiled. “I half expected you would drop in on them.”
“Not yet—after Lake Louise women’s downhill next week. Are you staying in Calgary until the performance?”
“No. When I came home last night, Eric was sitting on my sofa.”
“Crap! What’s the matter with him? What gives him the idea he can just do that?”
“I don’t know. The police said some stalkers fixate on a stranger; sometimes it’s a person in the public eye. Some believe their attentions will eventually win the love of their victim. Or they may have delusions that their victim already loves them. I think his mother is a big fan and he’s trying to win her affection, using me.”
“Eeywh! That’s sick and scary! You’d better wait ’til I get home before you go anywhere.”
“He won’t find me at the cabin. I’m sure he thinks I haven’t got the nerve, not with the anniversary of Dad’s funeral. It’s hard to imagine it’s nearly twelve months since the accident.”
“I know. Do me a favour and get in touch with the Valley police.”
“I have to drop by the Calgary police and leave a statement. I’ll get them to call Spruce Valley. What a mess,” Katherine sighed. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Okay, I have a plan. After your performance, you and I are going skiing.”
“Skiing?!”
“Yeah, you get two long, thin planks, strap them to your feet and head downhill, fast. Remember how it was? Like anything fun, if you’ve done it once you never forget. Bit like sex really,” Leandra giggled.
“There’s no comparison.” Katherine laughed. “You’re thinking of bikes—once you’ve ridden one, you never forget. And anyway, it’s been ages since I had sex. I daydream, no one leaves and no one gets hurt. Sex is so overrated.”
“Ohh, you poor darling! Get over yourself, you just haven’t met the right guy. They’re out there, you know, and the right one can rock your world.”
Laughter bubbled like a tickle inside Katherine. “No wonder I love you. I can always rely on you to tell me how it is.”
“What are friends for? If you’re not going to socialise and meet guys, you could buy a toy—they do have those, you know. There’s no man attached, you keep them in a drawer and they can’t ever leave. It’s great. And there are these other gadgets that open up like a—”
“Stop it, I’m horrified,” Katherine laughed. “And who said anything about not socialising? I’ve retired from ballet not retired retired.”
“You’re funny,” Leandra giggled. She paused as an announcement echoed through the air terminal calling for passengers. “Hey, gotta go, sweet-cheeks. See you backstage.”
Smiling to herself, Katherine put the receiver down. She gathered her things, locked the door and hauled her suitcase downstairs to the security car park and her bright red Ford Taurus. She made a statement at the police station and drove out of the shadows of Calgary’s tall buildings and into a bright sunny day.
It was a glorious day for a drive. Determined to put the chaos behind her, Katherine turned on her CD player and sang at the top of her lungs with Cold Play. Before she knew it, the great Rocky Mountains loomed on either side of wide valleys and foothills. Bleak winter sun glistened off the icy Bow River and snow-covered township of Spruce Valley. A chill surged through her as she turned her car towards the final crest on Mountain View Road. In the next breath, the family cabin came into view, nestled among the snow-covered firs.
Reaching the top of her driveway, she stopped and peered at the snowdrifts covering the garden and blocking entry into the garage. Sadness filled her at seeing the cabin grounds uncared for. Quickly she turned away, grabbed her bags, hopped out of her car and ploughed through the pristine powder snow.
Facing the heavy timber door, she dropped her luggage and wondered how she would cope in the empty cabin. Her breath condensed in front of her face until the softest puff of wind dispersed it.
“Enough already,” she muttered and worked the key into the frozen lock. A lifetime of happy memories flooded her mind of all the times she’d spent here with her family. She turned the knob on the rustic, carved door, but time and freezing temperatures had made the door swell and stick firmly in the frame.
“Damn it!” Katherine took a step back and thumped her boot against the door several times. The booming sound echoed through the cabin and into the surrounding, snow-covered countryside.
“Hey, what d’ya think ya’re doin’!” a raspy old voice called out from the top of her drive.
Katherine turned to see her short-sighted, bow-legged eighty-year-old neighbour, who she’d known forever. A hand over his brow to cut the glare, nose wrinkled, he squinted down at her.
“George, it’s me, Katherine! For heaven’s sake, put your glasses on!”
George muttered a few expletives and pulled a pair from the inside pocket of his Michelin Man-style parka. He put them on his nose and peered down the slope.
“Ah, Katy! Heard the bangin’ and yellin’. Thought someone was tryin’ ta break in.” He gave a wicked chuckle-wheeze, and scratched his head. “Thieves
wouldn’t be that noisy, would they?”
“No.” She smiled up at him. “It’s just me having an argument with the door. You know how it is—stuck again. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. How’s Francie?”
“She’s good. I’ll tell her you asked. Been married sixty-two years now.” He wheeze-chuckled again. “And she still loves me.”
“You make it sound as if it’s a miracle, George.” Katherine ploughed up the drive using the indentation she’d made earlier. Arms wide, George stepped into her hug. She kissed his cheeks. “One for Francie.”
“Been keepin’ an eye on the place for ya.”
“Thank you very much, I appreciate it. Please go inside before you freeze and Francie starts looking for you.”
“Okay. We’re home if ya need anything.” George waved and shuffled off muttering, “We’re always home, don’t go nowhere no more.”
Back at the door, Katherine braced her feet and shoved with all her might. It creaked open. She stepped over the threshold into the vestibule. Behind her, the snow-filled clouds parted and sunlight filled the entrance. Like a welcoming, its early morning glow shone onto the oval mirror hanging on the wall opposite the doorway. If her mother were here, she’d joke around and say, “Welcome home, dear. Do you like what I did with the clouds?” She could almost hear her dad call out, “Katy’s home!” He would stride across the living room to give her a bear hug; she could almost feel him. A sense of love flowed, warming her from the inside out. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered.
Katherine shoved the door closed, pulled her hat and scarf off, threw them on a hook and smoothed back her hair.
The tarnished mirror had reflected her growth over the years, from standing on a stool to fix her hair or adjust her hat, through the tiptoe stage. A growth spurt during adolescence meant she could easily see herself.
Right now, she would give anything to relive that time again, a time of youthful exuberance. When she could dance until her feet bled and she didn’t care. When nothing hurt.
Finding Elizabeth Page 2
