“You’re probably wondering why I’ve been so uptight lately.”
Well, she could answer that in one of two ways. She could be honest and say that yes, she had noticed, and it had concerned her to the point of questioning his judgment, or she could lie and say that she hadn’t noticed. But that would make her look unobservant, and like she didn’t care about her boss.
Deciding that the truth was always the best answer, she said, “I’ve noticed, sir.”
Mr. Marchbanks nodded. “I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings. Well, Cara, here’s the thing. I made some investments a few years back that at the time, seemed very wise. In fact, I increased my portfolio quite a bit and made a decent profit. But then things took a turn for the worse, and I lost it all. To sum up this pathetic story, the store was part of my collateral for one of my loans, and I’m in danger of losing it if I can’t come up with some money.”
Cara leaned forward in her chair a little, completely floored. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, sir.”
“It’s only fair that I give you a heads up that you might not have a job for much longer.” He held up a hand. “I’m not saying you should run out and look for a new position. I’m saying that perhaps, down the road, there might be a need for that. But let’s take this a day at a time, shall we?”
Cara had been with Marchbanks and Sons for five years, and she really didn’t know what else she was qualified to do. Even worse, though, was the despair she saw on Mr. Marchbanks’ face. Sure, she’d have to find a new job and that was tough, but he was about to lose everything he’d worked so hard for. That had to be a daunting blow.
“What would you like me to do in the meantime, sir?”
“Now that’s one thing I really like about you, Cara. You’re always willing to get done what needs to be done. What I need is for you to sell jewelry. Invite every friend, every enemy, every family member you have to come on down and make a purchase. I’m not to the point of starting up a bake sale, but if they indicate that a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls would induce them to come in, that’s what we’ll do. My boat may be sinking, but I’m going to bail water as long and as hard as I can.”
Cara nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“I appreciate that.” Mr. Marchbanks gave a nod, as if that took care of everything. “See you in the morning.”
* * *
Cara was disappointed when her dad didn’t call at seven o’clock. True, she’d asked him to call any time after seven, so that didn’t mean he had to pick up the phone at seven on the dot, but she’d hoped he’d be a little more punctual. This was an important conversation, and she didn’t want to put it off any longer.
By seven thirty, she decided to stop waiting and warmed herself a bowl of chicken noodle soup. She was sitting on the couch eating it, mindlessly flipping through channels, when she heard a knock on the door.
“Dad!” she said in surprise when she saw who was on the other side.
“I know you said to call, but some things require face-to-face conversations,” he said.
“Please, come in.” Gerald, Cara’s father, had not been to see her since she moved into this apartment. Both her parents had shown up to take a tour of her new digs, nodded once or twice, her dad handed her an envelope with a hundred dollars in house-warming money, and they hadn’t been back. And while it was one thing from her mother to drive here from their retirement villa in Denver, it was quite another for her father to come. This wasn’t like him at all.
Gerald settled against the couch cushions, but looked far from comfortable. “So, I understand you gave a concert here in town the other night.”
“Sort of. Our local music store has an open mike night, and it’s kind of the off season for participation right now so they let us take forty-five minutes instead of the usual routine. It was a lot of fun.”
“Who are you talking about when you say ‘us’?”
Cara was surprised that her mother hadn’t told him about Max. “A good friend of mine asked me if I’d help him out with his demo, and we decided to give this performing live thing a try. We took turns with different songs, and we did our duet. He’s a really nice guy.”
“Any romantic interest there?”
She should have known her father would ask. “No. He’s really kind and he’s got a lot going for him, but he’s just not what I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
Cara shook her head. “I don’t have a list, Dad. I just know that Max isn’t him. I’m hardly an old maid—I’ve got time to make decisions like this.” It was the same old conversation—it rarely changed.
“Your mother and I were just hoping to see you settled down.”
Cara held up her hands. “I’m pretty settled. I have a home, I have a job, I have friends. I’m happy. The other stuff will come when it’s time.” There was no need to mention her precarious job situation. It wouldn’t help prove her point to her dad.
Gerald looked down. “You might have time, but I don’t. And I’d like to see my grandchildren.”
“What do you mean? You’re not that old, Dad.” Cara chuckled, but stopped when her father raised his eyes to meet hers. They were filled with something new, a vulnerability she’d never seen there before. “Dad? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got leukemia, Cara, and they’re telling me there’s nothing more they can do.”
Cara couldn’t move. She couldn’t even blink for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“I was diagnosed six months ago, and they’ve run every test they can think of. It’s too far advanced for a bone marrow transplant to do much good—that, and the fact that I’m older and that I’ve never healed quickly.”
Her breaths were shallow and rapid. “So that’s when you get a second opinion.”
“I’ve had a second and a third and a fourth.”
“Go talk to Alana Spencer. She runs the herb shop here in town. She might know of something.”
Gerald shook his head. “Cara, I’ve been to holistic doctors and acupuncturists and I’ve even been hypnotized. I’ve not been idle in any way these last six months. While some of the remedies have been helpful in alleviating pain or giving me more energy, none of them have done anything to halt the actual disease.”
Cara didn’t feel the tears streaming down her face until they began to tickle her jawline. She wiped them away with angry hands. “So, that’s it, then?”
“I’ll keep researching and seeing what I can come up with. I’m not giving up, not by any stretch of the imagination. But you need to understand that my prognosis isn’t too hopeful.”
“Why did you wait until now to tell me? Why not six months ago, when you first found out?”
“I didn’t want you to worry. And I thought I could find a way to beat it so that when I told you, it would be after the fact.”
Cara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So you could say, ‘Guess what—I had leukemia, but now it’s gone’?”
Gerald smiled with a rueful look on his face. “It sounds silly, now that you mention it. I’m sorry, Cara—I really am. If I had a way to make this better for you, I would.”
“I don’t suppose you can make something like leukemia better.” Cara tucked her hands between her knees. They had started shaking, and she couldn’t think of any other way to still them.
Gerald reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “No more secrets. I promise. I was just trying to reduce the pain—for all of us.”
“So, Dad, tell me something.” Cara leaned forward and looked into his eyes. “You used to play the guitar, but Mom asked you to quit. Do you regret giving it up?”
His gaze didn’t even flicker. “The family needed me more. It wasn’t a hard choice.”
“But that doesn’t really answer my question.”
Gerald sighed. “Did I miss the music? Yes. But real life was more important. That’s why your mother has been so insistent that you focus on a career or other aspects of your fut
ure.”
“See, that’s what I don’t get. Why isn’t music real life? Why is a career more real? Is that just because it makes money? There’s so much more to life than money, Dad, and plenty of people support themselves with music anyway.”
“Money is necessary for life. You can do without the arts—those are a luxury—but you must have money to survive.”
Cara leaned back and shook her head. “That’s only if you’re talking about basic physical survival. You can’t live, really live, without art, Dad. Art feeds your soul. And if you’re not feeding your soul, what good does it do to survive physically?” Too late, she realized how that must have sounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that dying was no big deal.”
“Don’t worry. That’s not how I took it.” Gerald smiled again. “Do you know what feeds my soul, Cara? You. When I look at you, you’re all the art I need.”
Tears sprang to Cara’s eyes. “Thanks, Dad.” She leaned over and gave him a hug, noticing for the first time that he’d lost weight. His shoulders didn’t seem as broad as they once had. His jacket hid the difference well.
“Now, what about Mom? Why hasn’t she answered my texts?”
Gerald pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. “That, I don’t know,” he said. “You’ll need to talk that over with her. But go easy on her, Cara. Your mother hasn’t had the simplest life.”
Cara didn’t know what he meant by that. She wanted to ask, but he abruptly announced that he had a doctor’s appointment and needed to go. She gave him another hug, closed the door after him, and then stared at the back of the door in stunned silence. In a short conversation, her entire world had been turned upside down. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would help her make sense of it all. None of her roommates were home, but it was Brennan she really wanted to see. She pulled out her cell phone, ready to call, but then she remembered that he was out playing mountain man with Jesse. With all those avenues exhausted, she turned to the one friend who was always there, no matter what—her guitar. She played until she could barely move her fingers, until she was ready to crawl into bed and fall into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter Seven
Cara was on the treadmill when her cell phone chimed, indicating a text. She usually left it in her locker when she worked out, but she was still waiting to her from her mother and didn’t want to miss a call. She stepped off the machine and checked the display. Not her mother. It was Max.
I got a call from Julia at Harpstrings. They’d like us to do a whole concert in two weeks. What do you say?
Wow. Cara texted back. Cool. I’m in.
What—no arguments about how you’re not worthy?
No, I’m done with that.
Good. It’s time to show the world what you’re made of. I’ll call her back.
Cara grinned as she returned to the treadmill. She liked this new side of herself—bold, daring, taking chances. Okay, so Harpstrings wasn’t the wild jungles of Africa, but she still felt like an intrepid explorer hacking her way through the tall grass with a machete. She might even be brave enough to face a lion—maybe. She’d have to think about that.
But why hadn’t her mom called her back?
* * *
Laurie and Logan were in the kitchen when Cara got home, dipping Oreos into melted fudge. Several were already done and laid out on wax paper on the counter. “Help yourself,” Logan invited when Cara passed through.
She picked one up and took a bite. The fudge was still warm—heavenly. “Thanks,” she said after swallowing. “Have you heard our news?”
“You have news?” Laurie set down the cookie she was dipping and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands. “Spill it.”
“Are Regan and Morgan home?”
“Oh, this is that kind of news. Regan’s in her room—reading, like that’s a surprise—but Morgan’s out with Rory. Again, like that’s a surprise.”
Cara stuck her head in Regan’s room and asked her to come out, and then she told them. “Max and I are doing a concert at Harpstrings on the twenty-third.”
“A whole concert? That’s awesome!” Laurie gave her a big hug.
“And it’s about time,” Regan added. “Can we get front-row seats? The other night, I was all squished in the back, and it was very uncomfortable. I think that as roommates of the star, we should get special treatment.”
“Good seats, and maybe even a limo,” Laurie said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cara promised. “About the seats. Not the limo. You’re totally on your own for that.” She hesitated. “And, um, there’s one more thing.”
The others must have caught on to her serious tone of voice because they instantly became serious too. “What’s up?” Regan asked.
“My dad came by to see me yesterday.” She fisted her hands and squeezed tight. “It turns out that he has leukemia.”
“Oh, no.” Two sets of arms instantly surrounded her.
Logan shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Cara. What are they doing to treat it?”
She ran down the list, including all the alternative remedies. “So he could live a really long time or he could be gone any day,” she concluded.
Again, Laurie and Regan hugged her. “Are you okay?” Laurie asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Cara answered truthfully. “I don’t think I’ve had time to process it, but then again, I haven’t seen him sick. He looked a little thinner than he did when I was there for Easter, but besides that, he seemed pretty normal. It’s hard to wrap my brain around it.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” Laurie said.
“Yeah, if I come up with anything you can do. That’s the tricky part right there.” If friendship could save lives, Cara was in good hands, but there were some things that no one could control.
* * *
Cara was so excited to see Brennan when she got into work the next morning, she almost leaped into his arms to hug him. “Is this how you felt when I was gone last week? Don’t ever leave me again!”
He chuckled and returned her hug. “Okay, I won’t. Until, you know, my next day off.”
She slugged his arm. “Meany. But tell me all about the tent.”
“The tent? I didn’t think you cared about tents.”
“I don’t. But you’re dying to tell me, so let’s get it over with.”
“With an invitation like that, I can hardly say no.”
They sat on the stools behind the display cases and faced each other. Cara didn’t know why she’d missed him so much this time—he went camping at least every other month, and she’d never felt this way before. Whatever the cause, it was so good to be sitting across from him again.
“The tent was amazing. It set up in ten minutes, and that included pounding the stakes and everything. And it folded really easily when we took it down, too. This style has extra insulation, which acts against cold and also heat, so no matter what weather you encounter . . .”
He went on for a while, talking about rainproof material and high-quality zippers and so forth, and Cara nodded at all the appropriate times. Sometimes this was what friendship was all about—listening when she really didn’t care about what was being discussed, but because she cared about the person doing the talking.
“So, what did I miss while I was gone?” he asked, turning the floor over to her.
She was excited to tell him about the concert, and he was equally excited for her. He asked her what songs they were planning to sing, and she grabbed a sheet of paper and jotted down ideas for songs she’d like to polish up for the event. It was so much fun to concentrate on this part of her week, the good part, the joyful part, and forget about all the rest. But something must have shown, either on her face or in her voice, because after several minutes, Brennan put his hand on hers.
“And what else?”
“Hmm?”
“What else happened that you aren’t telling me?”
There was something about the way h
e asked and the warmth of his hand that unlocked the vault where Cara’s emotions were stowed away. She’d thought she had it all under control and tried to give a glib answer, but she couldn’t—not with Brennan. As she told him about her dad’s visit, the tears began to flow.
Brennan wrapped his arms around her and just held her tight. Even though they were both seated, he was still taller than she was, and her head rested perfectly in the hollow where his chest and shoulder met. For a moment, she didn’t even care if a customer walked in. She needed this interlude of comfort and safety.
“I’m sorry—I’m just being silly,” she said after several minutes, sitting up and wiping her eyes. “He could stick around for a long time yet.”
“You’re not being silly.” Brennan reached under the display case and brought out a box of tissues. It was usually kept there for quick touch-ups on the glass, but there was nothing wrong with using it for what it was intended. Cara blew her nose and then reached out to grab the mirror they kept on hand for ladies who wanted to see how a necklace or pair of earrings looked on them.
“Um, I’d just go into the restroom,” Brennan said, gently removing the mirror from her hand.
“That bad, huh?”
“Well, let’s just say, if Rocky the Raccoon were to stroll by, he’d fall madly in love.”
Cara smiled. He was trying to be nice. She grabbed her purse and stepped into the bathroom at the back of the store, grimacing when she caught sight of herself. It was much worse than Brennan had let on. He really was trying to be nice. She washed her face and decided that finishing out her work day with no makeup on at all was better than trying to salvage what she still wore. She ran a brush through her hair and put on some lip gloss, wishing she carried a little more makeup with her on a regular basis and then realizing how silly that would be. She’d never use it, and it would just weigh her purse down even more. That reminded her—she still hadn’t cleaned it out.
Five Golden Rings (Main Street Merchants Book 3) Page 8