Silver Serenade

by Gerry O'Hara

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Margo had insisted they come to the house for an early brunch. Hal was wearing a Winnie the Pooh apron when he answered the door.

  “What’s the getup for?” Cash pointed at Pooh’s chubby tummy.

  “A shower gift. Margo said I should get used to wearing it, that taking care of a baby isn’t just gal stuff. Hey, I don’t mind, as long as no one takes my picture and sends it to the Times.”

  “Maybe we can buy you a Tigger apron when we get back to the city,” Christie said. “It would be a bit more masculine than Pooh.”

  “You’re not going to get on my case, too, are you?”

  “Heavens, no, I think your apron is the height of fashion.”

  “All right, enough of this. Come on in. Elliot and Margo are on the patio. I could say that I’ve been slaving over a hot stove, but I’m afraid that the sacks from the rosticceria give me away.”

  “Good try, old buddy.” Cash slapped Hal on the back, and they followed him out to the garden.

  Margo stood to greet them, giving each a hug. She held Christie a moment longer, seemingly not wanting to break the tie.

  “This is the first morning in a year that I haven’t started the day with a prayer for my father’s return. I can’t thank you enough, Christie.” Her voice was unsteady and her mouth quivered.

  Elliot bowed his head slightly, momentarily avoiding eye contact. He obviously recognized the turmoil he had brought down on this family. There was no doubt that he regretted his actions. Then he looked up, smiled, and reached out to clasp Christie’s hand.

  “I thought I said it all yesterday—thanks and gratitude, and all that. But I’m still overwhelmed that you would go the extra mile to find me. To bring me back to my daughter.” His eyes were damp. He released Christie’s hand and brushed at his face with his knuckles. “I’d like to give you something to show my appreciation.”

  “Oh, Elliot, that isn’t necessary, I’m happy I could help.”

  He waved away her protest. “Margo told me that you enjoyed painting at Big Sur, and when I spoke to Cash on the phone I asked him about it. He said you had an instant affinity for the place. I feel the same way. That’s why I spend so much time camping and painting in those forests and along the coastline. The changing moods of the mist-shrouded beaches and cliffs fascinate me. I’d like you to have one of my paintings. A token, a remembrance of the happiness you brought our family.”

  “Elliot, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “You’ll have to pick it up at the gallery. I called and told Allingham to give you the pick of the litter, so to speak. That means another trip. Maybe you can talk this guy into going with you.” He jabbed a fist toward Cash. “Make a day of it. Or a weekend.” Elliot winked.

  “You old codger, are you trying to play Cupid?”

  “I’m hoping you can figure that out for yourself, son.”

  Margo seemed to glow in the presence of her family and friends and the happy banter that passed between them. Hal appeared relaxed for the first time since Christie met him. There had been so much concern for Margo’s and the baby’s well-being, and now they seemed like an ordinary expectant couple, counting the days or weeks until their child was born. Elliot’s return had turned anxiety into joyful anticipation.

  Hal filled their glasses with orange juice. He raised his glass and spoke softly. “To the baby. And to the five of us.” They clinked their glasses.

  “Hal and I want the two of you to be our baby’s godparents.” A tear trickled down Margo’s cheek. “It would make us very happy.”

  “I’d be delighted; I’ve never been a godmother,” Christie said. “But it’s such a big responsibility, and you hardly know me. Are you sure? I don’t want you to make a decision borne of the moment and then regret it.”

  “We know you well enough to realize that our son or daughter could not have a better role model.”

  Hal turned to Cash. “What do you say, buddy?”

  Cash gave Hal a gentle punch in the arm. “It’s a done deal. I’m honored.”

  When they returned to Cash’s hacienda, he told Christie he had a surprise outing for her, and suggested she change into a bathing suit. When she asked where they were going, he told her to be patient, and she would soon find out.

  The mystery trip was a drive through Oak Creek Canyon. Cash told her that it was nicknamed the Little Grand Canyon. After they drove along saguaro cactus–dotted terrain, the new vista was magnificent. The road was framed by lush greenery and yellow bowers, backlit by red-rock enclaves.

  They came around a bend, and Cash said, “Here we are: Slide Rock.”

  He pulled the car onto a parking area next to three other vehicles. “You should see this place in the summer. There wouldn’t be an inch to maneuver the SUV into. Most popular spot around.”

  Crystal-clear water tumbled over a tall, sloping rock formation. Years of water movement had smoothed the stone into a sleek, natural waterslide.

  “Well?” he said. “Are you game?”

  “You bet!” Christie jumped out of the car, leaned against the door, and began yanking at her shorts and pullover. She kept her shoes on, sensing that the climb could be slippery.

  Cash pulled his shirt off and walked to her side of the car. He took her hand and they began the hike to the top of the slide.

  “Scared?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she said as apprehension assailed her. She could get hurt, she thought. It was a steep, rocky climb to the top. A few times, loose rock scattered beneath her steps, making her arms flail out to regain balance. She didn’t fall, but she stumbled, and lost confidence in the trek. When she reached the pinnacle, her feet did not want to move onto the wet rock plateau. Cash squeezed her hand, but that did not reassure her. Screams pierced the air. Christie whirled and almost lost her footing. Two girls were speeding down the incline, arms in the air, screaming for all they were worth. She watched them reach the bottom. The girls stumbled to their feet. They looked up at Christie and Cash.

  “Come on,” one of them shouted. “It’s a blast!”

  A blast? It looked dangerous, and they called that fun? Christie thought as she picked her way closer to the slide.

  “We’ll go down together,” Cash said. He sat on the rock and beckoned to her. She gingerly hunkered down in front of him. His legs braced hers, and his arms went around her waist. Her feet seemed to be rooted in a crevice, holding firm.

  “Ready?”

  “I guess…” she answered.

  He pushed off and they plummeted down the steep incline. It was a roller coaster ride without the car, she thought, trying unsuccessfully to repress the scream that burst from her throat.

  At the bottom they splashed into a natural pool. Christie had to admit, the ride had been exhilarating. And as far as she could tell, she had no broken bones or bruises. Cash stood and leaned to put his hands under her arms to help her up.

  “Think I’m a baby, do you?” She shrugged free of his grip, independence flaring. “Let’s do it again.”

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  Later they spread a blanket under a leafy bower of sycamore and unwrapped their picnic lunch. The air had warmed considerably and she was glad for the damp bathing suit—the coolness was welcome against her skin.

  Cash reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and removed her sunglasses. His touch lingered. Her breath caught in her throat. A raven soaring overhead cast a shadow over them, then passed. She inhaled the fragrance of unidentified blossoms. She was caught in a time warp, too wary to move forward, unable to retreat.

  He hooked his hand around her neck and drew her face to his. She watched, like a deer caught in headlights, as his mouth dipped to touch hers. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed, as she drank in the sensation. The kiss began soft and undemanding, like two people comfortable with each other might share.

  “Christie.” He spoke her name against her mouth. The kiss deepe
ned, and his arm encircled her waist, drawing her body against his. Prickles of desire brushed her skin raw.

  “Hey, man, go for it!”

  Startled, Christie pulled back. A trio of teens was watching them from the top of the slide. One of the boys waved. Cash waved back; Christie turned away. She ran her fingers through her hair, self-conscious and embarrassed. And disappointed.

  “Hey, don’t take it seriously.” Cash touched her arm. “We were only kissing. I don’t think we shocked anybody.”

  She shook herself away from him. “We were acting like teenagers ourselves! What got into us, making a public display?”

  “Come on, don’t take yourself so seriously. We actually have a rather private spot here. Just our luck to have nosy kids barge in on us.” He shrugged. “You have to admit, it was good while it lasted.”

  She picked up her napkin and threw it at him. “You are a cad of the first degree.” Cash was right, it had been good. Perhaps that was too mild a word; great might be more accurate. The sensations his kiss evoked definitely were in the superlative category.

  When they returned to the hacienda, Maria and a handsome young man were in the front garden.

  “Marco!” Cash said. “How good to see you. Why aren’t you up at the university? They didn’t throw you out already, did they?”

  The two men laughed and shook hands.

  “Christie, this is Maria’s nephew, Marco. He’s in his second year at the University of Arizona.”

  “Thanks to Señor Cash,” Maria said.

  “I’d be sweeping floors at the market if it wasn’t for Cash,” Marco said.

  “You underestimate yourself. I’m sure that you would have won a scholarship once you put your mind to it.”

  “Nothing fuels determination like a helping hand,” Marco said. “I won’t let you down, Cash. My grade point average is still three-point-eight.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  “Of course, to maintain grades, I’ve had to give up my social life completely.”

  “Let’s not pour it on too thick. Maria told me about the sweet gal you’re dating.”

  “No family secrets, are there, Auntie?”

  Maria looked like she was going to scold her nephew, but she realized he was teasing and her face broke into a smile. It was obvious that she doted on the young man.

  “We have a three-day weekend, and I promised Auntie a visit. She told me that you were in town. Couldn’t go back to school without saying hello.”

  “You did a good job with this boy,” Cash said.

  “Gracias, señor, and so did you. We have much to thank you for.” Maria turned toward Christie. “My sister and her husband were killed in an auto accident when Marco was twelve.” She made the sign of the cross before continuing. “Marco came to live with us. He was a sad boy. Who wouldn’t be, after losing their parents? My sister and her husband had great hopes for Marco; he was going to be our family’s first college student. But fate seemed to take that dream away.”

  “Until Cash brought it back,” Marco interjected.

  “Yes. When Marco was a junior in high school, Señor Cash told us that he had established an education fund for him.”

  “I wouldn’t be at the university if it hadn’t been for Cash.”

  “Whoa, you guys are making me out to be a saint!” Cash turned to Christie. “Marco did odd jobs for me over the years. I was impressed with his industriousness. He said he wanted to become a vet someday, and I gave him a boot up.”

  “That’s not the whole story,” Maria said. “Señor Cash was like a big brother. He gave Marco more than odd jobs; he gave him friendship. Marco looked up to him. When other boys his age were getting into trouble, my nephew studied so that he would not disappoint Señor Cash.”

  Cash put an arm around Marco. “I was smart to invest in this big guy. He’s going to become the best veterinarian in all of Arizona. At least he’s not going to become a lawyer. Goodness knows, we have enough of them.” The remark lightened the mood.

  “I left a basket of fruit and rolls to take on the flight back to San Francisco, Señor Cash.”

  “Thanks, Maria. You’d make a great flight attendant.”

  “We have to be on our way,” Marco said. “I have to pick up my roommate for the drive back to school. It was great seeing you, Cash. Nice meeting you, Christie.” He clasped Cash’s hand again, then he and his aunt left.

  “You are a many-faceted man,” Christie said.

  “Stick around and you’ll find out all kinds of things about me.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Right now, we’d better get our gear and head out to the airport.”

  “It’s been a full day. And full of surprises,” Christie said.

  “Yes,” Cash agreed. “And you never know what’s next.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The flight back to San Francisco was smooth. The sky was cloudless as daylight eased into dusk. Golden streaks stretched across the horizon, leftovers from sunset. As the Beechcraft made its final approach, the plane’s nose dipped and began the descent. Christie did not have to be reminded to buckle her seat belt—it had been fastened since she boarded.

  So much had transpired in a relatively small stretch of time. Finding Elliot Parker, and confirming that Dani was indeed Danielle, had brought joy into each family’s lives, and had filled Christie with a deep satisfaction. How could she slip into the mundane after such significant accomplishments?

  And there was the matter of Cash. Her feelings for him had to be addressed sooner or later. She recognized the intensity of the attraction, of her connection to him. The question was, What was she going to do about it? She had to decide if she was ready to risk a more permanent relationship. Not just a romantic fling. He had hinted at commitment last night. Could we possibly have a future together? she wondered. It was hard to be optimistic where love was concerned. A broken heart in college had only resulted in messing up a couple of exams. The stakes were higher now.

  The propellers changed pitch, jogging Christie out of her reverie. She realized that her doubts about Cash might be part of the letdown that often comes after the euphoria of successfully concluding a case. Especially one of the Farleys’ magnitude.

  “You’re very quiet,” Cash said.

  “I don’t want to distract you during your instrument check,” she fudged. “I’m counting on reaching San Francisco in one piece.”

  Cash smiled, and shook his head. When the Beechcraft touched down and rushed across the runway, her eyes were on Cash, not the ground. He made the necessary adjustments and the Beechcraft slowed until it was smoothly rolling toward the corridor that led off the tarmac. Christie breathed a sigh of relief. Would this ever become routine to her?

  They deplaned at a private hangar and Cash fastened the wheels to the chocks. Christie hefted her lightweight duffel and headed to the SUV. On the way to her apartment, they discussed the weekend and the surprise at being invited to be godparents. At the door Cash lingered but did not ask to come in. It had been a long day for both of them, and Christie looked forward to pajamas and a hot chocolate before hitting the bed. Not a romantic thought, but realistic. She was beat.

  “I’ll pick you up in the morning and we can get your car.”

  Christie nodded, too tired to hold a conversation. Cash put his hand under her chin and he slowly leaned forward until his mouth claimed hers. No amount of fatigue could override the sparks his kiss ignited. She clung to him, her fingers twisting into his rough cotton collar.

  “Um,” he murmured before they broke the embrace. He chucked her under the chin, and once again told her he’d see her tomorrow.

  Christie had no recriminations about skipping work the following day. She had accomplished enough to fill a week, she mused. At nine a.m. Cash was at her door with a Starbucks cup in his hand. “For you,” he said.

  “You think of everything. Thanks. I don’t think I could face the day without a latte.” She grabbed a swea
ter and her purse, and they were out the door and on their way.

  The drive was pleasant. The stretch of freeway was flush with trees and rolling hills. In the distance she could see horses and other livestock grazing.

  As they neared Watsonville, Cash suggested that they first go to Big Sur and pick up the painting Elliot had promised her. They could retrieve her car on the way back.

  The gallery owner appeared pleased to see them. He told Christie to take her time choosing a painting, and tagged along, making comments on each of Elliot’s pictures. Elliot would be generous, not only with her, but with Allingham, she was sure. He would undoubtedly receive a commission just as though he had sold the painting. That was probably his motive in trying to influence her to choose one of the larger canvases.

  Cash was impressed by Elliot’s paintings, too. “All the years Elliot was CEO of his electronics company, he was organized and results-oriented. Hal said that he had a mathematical mind, a true engineer. These paintings show a side of Elliot that none of us knew existed. When I look at these scenes, I don’t see a man who lived a regimented life. I’ve known Elliot since I was a kid, and I never would have guessed that an artist was hiding in the shadows of his psyche. In spite of all the turmoil his leaving Arizona caused, perhaps in the end it was the best thing that could have happened.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “It freed Elliot, loosened him up for a whole new stage of life. One that he needs now that his beloved Emily is gone. You see, she was his alter ego, his bright, free spirit. As much as he loves Margo and Hal, a part of him was missing after Emily died. Perhaps in discovering art, he filled a bit of that empty space.”

  Christie touched his arm. “Your insight surprises me. You’re right, Elliot’s paintings reflect his soul. That’s what I’ll feel every time I look at this one.” She pointed to a misty, moody rendition of Big Sur’s cliffs and surf. A silvery splash of sunlight glittered off the waves as they brushed the sand. A circle of gulls, wings spread wide, soared on an updraft. Elliot’s palette knife had created deep-gray, three-dimensional rocky spires.