“Well, you hear about it,” said Piper, “but I never really knew anyone who met and decided to get married that quickly.” She couldn’t help but think to herself, I hope you’re doing the right thing.
“I know,” said Glenna. “How lucky am I?”
“And you said you’d never get married again.”
“I lied.” Glenna smirked.
“So how will you do the show?” asked Piper. “Are you going to commute or is Casey going to give up his job and move out to L.A. with you?”
“Neither,” said Glenna.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m leaving the show.”
“No!” exclaimed Piper. “Really?”
Glenna nodded. “I’m ready, Piper. I want to stay here in New York. I don’t want to uproot Susannah, and flying back and forth between coasts all the time is no way to start a marriage. I want to get it right this time.”
It was hard for Piper to imagine anyone giving up a starring role like Glenna’s.
“How’s everyone taking it?” asked Piper.
“Everyone’s been great about it, except Quent, of course. He wasn’t exactly thrilled.” Glenna frowned. “I guess I understand. When I suggested that my leaving would shake things up and be a good thing for the show, he growled that he was worried enough about shooting with a new crew in L.A., and didn’t need to be dealing with a new star as well.”
“How ’bout Susannah? What does she think?”
“She’s conflicted. She likes Casey well enough, but her loyalty is to her father.”
“Are you inviting Phillip to the wedding?” Piper asked.
“I doubt it, unless Susannah insists,” Glenna answered. “As far as I’m concerned, it would be absolutely fine if I never saw Phillip again. When I think about the crap I put up with from him . . .” Glenna let out a deep sigh. “Calling me at work twenty times a day to make sure I was there, drilling me with questions about who I was spending my time with. So suspicious and jealous. It’s a wonder the marriage lasted as long as it did. I was a fool to hang on so long.”
“Don’t dwell on that, Glenna. This time will be different.”
“I hope so.” Glenna traced the rim of her wineglass and grew quiet.
“What’s wrong?” asked Piper.
“It’s probably nothing,” said Glenna.
“What?”
“Well, maybe it’s somebody’s idea of a joke, but I received an anonymous letter in the mail. It said terrible things about Casey. It made it seem like I would be making a big mistake by marrying him.”
“That’s weird. Who would send something like that?” asked Piper.
Glenna shook her head. “I have no idea, but I have the letter with me. Want to see it?”
“Give it here,” said Piper.
Glenna fished through her oversize Chanel bag, pulled the letter out, and handed it across the table.
Piper examined the letter and its envelope.
It was unsigned. And the text was printed in capital letters.
NOT ALL LOVERS ARE TRIED AND TRUE
AND THE ONE YOU’VE FOUND
IS WORSE THAN MOST. A CLUE:
WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND.
SO WATCH YOURSELF—HE’S SUCH A RAT.
STAY CLEAR WHEN IT’S CASEY AT THE BAT.
“Why would someone send something like that, Piper?”
“Beats me.” Piper shrugged. “Do you want me to show it to my FBI friend?” she offered. “I don’t know what he’ll say, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Would you?” asked Glenna, looking relieved. “That would be great, Piper. I don’t really want to go to the police with it. That would end up being such a hassle.”
“Sure,” said Piper. “I’m having dinner with Jack tonight.”
“Thanks. I so appreciate it,” said Glenna. “And on a happier note, I have another favor to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“Remember how you used to bring in those cupcakes from your mother’s bakery to the set?”
Piper nodded.
“I loved those things. Everybody did. They were so beautifully decorated and absolutely delicious.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I was wondering if your mother would make my wedding cake. It’s my second marriage and we’re definitely keeping it low-key. It will be a relatively small and intimate reception and having the wedding cake come from your family’s bakery would mean a lot to me.”
“Of course she will. Anything for the bride,” said Piper as the waiter arrived with their food. Her mother’s remark about turning down wedding cake orders crossed Piper’s mind, but she was confident her mother wouldn’t say no to Glenna. “But what about your party planner? Won’t she want to take care of the cake?”
“I’ve already told her I have a sentimental reason for having the cake made by your mother’s bakery,” said Glenna. “She didn’t fight me on it.”
“Let me,” said Glenna, reaching for the check at the end of the meal.
“I should be treating you to celebrate your happy news,” protested Piper.
“Knowing your mother will do the cake is a big enough treat,” said Glenna, taking her credit card out of her wallet. “But you know what else you could do for me?”
“Name it.”
“There’s a charity auction next Thursday at Susannah’s school. I’m on the organizing committee and Casey is the faculty adviser. Why don’t you come and see the space where we’ll be having our reception? And some of the Little Rain cast and crew will be there, too. It’ll be good for them to see your face again. You never know . . .”
Chapter 5
The taxi drove through Central Park. Casey Walden sat in the backseat, looking out the window at the leafless trees. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was set in a deep frown.
How was he going to be able to hold his own financially in his relationship with Glenna?
Their romance had been a wonderful, unexpected gift. The past few months had brought him more pleasure than he had ever thought possible. He loved Glenna, loved everything about her.
She was nothing at all like the image he’d had about beautiful-but-difficult actresses. As they spent a fabulous autumn together, Casey had learned that Glenna preferred a picnic in the park in jeans over a formal dinner—though they had gone to several of those, charity events where Glenna lent her name and donated her time to make sure the evenings were successful.
He knew that Glenna was self-made, having been brought up in a family where money was tight. She had moved to New York all alone and put herself through acting school. There had been some very lean years, living with three other young women in a one-bedroom apartment, subsisting on whatever was on sale in the grocery store, scraping together enough to continue her acting classes.
To look at Glenna now, no one would think she had ever had a bad day. But she had. Bad days and bad years. Even as her career blossomed, she was in a horrible marriage.
Casey had met Phillip Brooks. He was a large man with broad shoulders and big, powerful hands. The rage in his dark eyes was palpable.
When Casey pressed Glenna for information on why the marriage had ended, she didn’t offer details. She said Phillip’s jealousy and possessiveness bothered her as much as his dishonesty. She had wanted to divorce Phillip in the years before he was sent to prison, but didn’t, out of concern for Susannah and fear of how Phillip would react.
When Phillip was incarcerated, Glenna realized how peaceful the apartment was without him and how truly destructive it had been living with tension and being barraged with anger all the time. She came to the conclusion that Susannah would really be better off growing up in a tranquil home. Glenna also knew she herself didn’t want to go back to the old situation when P
hillip was released. She instituted divorce proceedings.
Glenna had confided that she thought she would never marry again. She had her daughter, she had her career, and she had more money than she had ever imagined having. She didn’t want to rock the boat. But somehow—miraculously, as far as Casey was concerned—Glenna had fallen deeply in love with him and was willing to take the chance.
But now that they were actually going to be married, Casey was feeling uncomfortable.
He brought his finger to his mouth and gnawed at the nail. He didn’t want Glenna to ever regret her decision. He wanted to take care of her and he didn’t want to feel like a kept man. Intellectually, Casey knew it shouldn’t matter which spouse brought in more money. Husband and wife were a team. But the idea of contributing his pathetically small private-school salary while Glenna supplied the big bucks grated on him.
There was a solution. There was a way for Casey to have a greater income. It was perfectly legal and his right to take more money from the family business.
But his brother was standing in the way.
Chapter 6
Terri divided the fluffy contents of a large bowl into three smaller ones. She added red concentrated icing gel to one of the containers. But as she mixed the dye into the white frosting, the resulting pink shade appeared much lighter than she knew it should have. Terri’s first urge was to add more red, but she held back.
“Cathy,” she called. “When you get a minute, come over here, will you?”
Terri waited while her dear friend and assistant finished ringing up a customer’s order and then came over to the window.
“My feet are killing me.” Cathy winced. “What’s up?”
“I want your opinion. What do you think of this pink?”
“For what?”
“Roses for the Cunningham baby’s christening.”
“I thought they had a boy.”
“No, a girl this time.”
Cathy peered into the bowl of icing. “Perfect,” she said.
“Not too pale?” asked Terri.
“Uh-uh.” Cathy looked at Terri. “You know, I don’t get it. You’ve been asking me a lot lately what I think of your colors. You’ve been coming up with just the right shades for years and you sure don’t need my advice. What’s going on?”
Before Terri could answer, customers came into the bakery. While Cathy waited on them, Terri got the time she needed to collect her thoughts. It had gotten to the point where she wasn’t going to be able to hide it anymore.
Normally, she and Cathy shared pretty much everything of any importance. Terri had been feeling uncomfortable because she’d been holding back on something so major in her life, but she just hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She had needed to get used to the idea first.
Terri had kept the secret during all the stages she’d worked through. First, she had denied that she even had a problem, and she waited for it to pass. After she knew for certain it wasn’t going to go away, the fear set in—and then the anger.
Why is this happening to me?
Finally, Terri had come to accept it and knew that if she wanted her beloved business to survive, she was going to have to make some changes. She had a game plan and Cathy was going to have to play a very important role in carrying it out. The time had come to share what was happening.
When the customers had gone, Terri walked behind the counter, pulled Cathy to the side, and began to speak in a low voice.
“My pinpoint vision is failing. So is my depth perception, not to mention that colors are fading for me.”
Cathy listened, slack-jawed, as Terri explained.
“It’s macular degeneration.”
“You’re going blind?” Cathy blurted out.
“No, at least I sure hope not. It’s very rare that it will cause total blindness. But it really affects quality of life, because it causes blurring right in the middle of my vision. It’s like there’s this blockage in the center of everything I look at. I can see around the edges though.”
“How long has this been happening?”
“Actually, it hit one eye over a year ago, but the good eye let me function pretty much normally. Now, it’s in both eyes.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Cathy. “You’ve been doing everything you’ve always done, baking, mixing icing, decorating. How can you do that if you can’t see well?”
Terri shrugged. “As far as the baking goes, I know that part pretty much by heart. I don’t have to be able to see to know how much flour or how many eggs go into a cake. I’ve adapted some things I do, like dipping into the flour and sugar with my measuring cup instead of pouring from the bag, because I can’t judge the distance and I miss most of the time. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are raised marks now on the oven dials that let me know what temperature I’m setting.”
“I did,” said Cathy, “but I thought it was just a convenience thing so you wouldn’t have to pay attention when you set it.”
Terri looked down at the bowl of pink icing. “But it’s the decorating that’s really giving me problems. Colors have become much less bright and intense. In fact, that’s one of the first things I noticed. I found myself putting more and more coloring in the frosting to bring it up to the shade I wanted. It wasn’t until longtime customers commented that I was taking a new, more vibrant direction in my color schemes, when I thought things looked the same as usual, that I realized something was really wrong. And, as for the decorating, I’ve been trying to compensate by tilting my head so I can see with my peripheral vision. But that’s not cutting it anymore. It’s getting harder and harder to make the flowers and borders and anything else that requires detail work. It’s getting impossible to do my job.”
The enormity of what Terri was telling her washed over Cathy. Decorating cakes wasn’t just Terri’s profession, it was her passion. Tears welled up in Cathy’s eyes.
“Oh, Terri, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Hey, none of that,” said Terri. “I need you to help me, not feel sorry for me.”
“How did Vin take it when you told him?” asked Cathy, as she wiped at the corner of her eye.
“Not well, at first. You know him, such a worrywart. He’s always afraid the sky is falling.”
“Well, it is this time,” said Cathy.
“Only if I let it.”
“And Piper? Have you told her?” asked Cathy.
“No. She’s had enough on her plate and I don’t want her to feel trapped.”
“What do you mean?” asked Cathy.
“It’s enough of a trauma for Piper that she’s moving home. I don’t want her feeling that she has to adapt her life to help me,” said Terri. “I’m going to keep it from her as long as I can. But I’m afraid she is starting to suspect something. You know Piper: she notices everything.”
Chapter 7
“You want to see if the spaghetti’s done?”
Piper snared a single strand from the boiling water and dangled it carefully into her mouth. “It needs another minute or two,” she said. “We want it al dente, but this is still hard in the center.”
Jack concentrated on the frying pan in front of him, moving the bits of pancetta around, making sure that each tiny cube of pork got browned. “It’s not too late, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, I do,” said Piper, as she began breaking eggs into a small bowl, whisking them into a nice froth. “Giving up my apartment is really the least of it. I can find another place—”
“Or move in with a friend for a while,” Jack interrupted. “I’ve told you before, that couch in the living room opens up. I’d even sleep on it and you could have my bed.”
Piper set the the bowl of beaten eggs on the counter and took two wineglasses out o
f the cupboard above the sink. She walked over to the bistro table just outside the kitchen, arranging the glasses at their places as she considered Jack’s offer. For several reasons, she doubted the arrangement would work for very long.
“No, it’s done,” she said, raising her voice so Jack could hear her from the kitchen. “My parents are practically foaming at the mouth, they’re so excited about it. I’d ruin their Christmas if I didn’t come home.”
“Who says you can’t still be with them for Christmas?” Jack called back. “Not good enough, Pipe.”
Pouring some Pinot Grigio into their glasses, Piper took a swallow and nodded. “I know. You’re right. It’s sad. It’s like Little Women. I’m going back to Orchard House after the city’s had its way with me. Except there’s no dying sister waiting. It’s the coward’s way out.”
“Wow. That’s exactly how I would have described it.”
She could hear the smirk in Jack’s voice.
Piper returned to the kitchen, grabbed the pot holders, and lifted the heavy pot of pasta, being careful to keep her face away from the scalding steam as she emptied the spaghetti and boiling water into the colander she’d settled into the sink.
“I’m not the first one to go home for a while, Jack.”
“Yeah, but you’re the last one I’d have expected to do it.”
“Me, too. But what can I say? It just is what it is right now. Let’s drop it, all right?”
“Fine,” Jack said coolly.
The two of them had made spaghetti alla carbonara so often, their movements were like a carefully choreographed ballet. Jack stood at the stove and Piper brought the colander over, dumping its contents into the frying pan. As Jack mixed the pancetta and pasta together, Piper poured the beaten eggs into the mound of spaghetti. They both watched the eggs turn into a smooth cream, warmed by the hot pasta. Jack continued to mix as Piper grabbed the mill and cracked black pepper into the mixture. Finally, she poured a small bowl of freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano over the top.
After transferring the pasta into a large serving bowl, Jack carried their dinner to the table and, for a few minutes, they sat silently enjoying their meal.
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