Looking Inside

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Looking Inside Page 32

by BETH KERY


  If you won’t call me, then at least look out your window tonight at ten. I want to give you something.

  Trey

  “He stopped by too. Just fifteen minutes ago. He was hoping you’d be home,” Harry said from behind the desk. She glanced up dazedly and saw Harry’s brown eyes on her, his gaze kind. Concerned.

  “He did?” she asked hoarsely. If you won’t call me, then at least look out your window tonight at ten.

  Her heart started to thrum loudly in her ears. Her doorman nodded somberly. “He seemed pretty disappointed when I told him you hadn’t come home from work yet.”

  “Thanks, Harry,” she replied thickly. “I’m kind of loaded up at the moment,” she said, looking down at her heavy briefcase. “Can I come back down to get the big arrangement?”

  “I’ll have Alex bring them up in a few minutes,” Harry assured, referring to their maintenance man.

  —

  The written message kept repeating in her head. I’m not giving up, Eleanor.

  If you won’t call me, then at least look out your window tonight at ten.

  She recalled how she’d written a similar message, inviting him to watch her striptease on that first night in the coffee shop. It seemed like ages ago. The memory made a spike of mixed longing and shame go through her.

  Her motivations had been so mercenary toward him in the beginning. But her longing had only grown exponentially since that time. Her sexual attraction had bloomed into a full-fledged, hopeless love.

  Her reasons for inviting him to look inside her world that first night were single-mindedly sexual and selfish.

  What could Trey’s reasons be for asking her to look into his home?

  Alex delivered the huge, gorgeous arrangement just as she’d finished putting the wildflowers in water. A moment later, she stood back and admired the pair of bouquets on her kitchen counter, a knot forming in her throat. Trey had been right, of course. It was hard to say which arrangement she loved more: the wild and unassuming, or the sophisticated and sensual.

  The beautiful flowers seemed to mock and tempt her nearly as much as the closed guest bedroom door down the hall. Feeling confused and restless, she changed into a pair of yoga pants, a sweatshirt and tennis shoes. A brisk walk would clear her head. Maybe she’d divine the “right” answer as to what precisely she’d be doing at ten o’clock tonight.

  Much to her surprise, she found herself determinedly turning down Oak Street a few minutes later. She entered the lobby of an apartment building and approached the doorman.

  “I’m here to see Sandra Banks?” Eleanor told the doorman. “I’m Eleanor Briggs. She’s not expecting me. I’m not sure if she’ll be home—”

  But the doorman was already dialing Caddy’s best friend’s number. It still stunned her a little, that she was standing here in Sandra’s lobby. She’d been avoiding Sandra’s requests to get together since Caddy died, a fact that pained and embarrassed her as she waited there now.

  The idea had occurred to her out of nowhere as she walked down the inner drive. As her sister, Eleanor had thought she’d known Caddy better than anyone on earth. But Caddy had always taken a big-sister protective attitude toward Eleanor.

  There could be no doubt that a sisterly relationship and a best-friend relationship were two very different things.

  The doorman spoke into the phone. He hung up a moment later.

  “She’s not here at the moment, but she said she’s only a few blocks away, if you’d like to wait?”

  Eleanor nodded thankfully and took a seat in the lobby. Within minutes, Sandra was entering the front doors, laden down with several shopping bags and her briefcase. A grin broke over her face when she saw Eleanor standing up to greet her.

  “Eleanor, how wonderful to see you. What a surprise.” She dumped her bags heedlessly on the carpet and rushed her. They hugged tightly, Eleanor laughing, warmed to the core by the other woman’s exuberance. “We haven’t seen each other since—”

  “The funeral,” Eleanor said, smiling as she stepped back. Sandra looked healthy and prosperous, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold wind off the lake. “How have you been?”

  “Busy. Work, the holiday season. You know how it is,” Sandra said, nodding at the shopping bags on the floor that were filled with gift-wrapped packages. “How are your parents?”

  “Fine.” She made a face. “Actually, there is some news on that front. Maybe I can fill you in over a drink?”

  “That’d be great, I’d love that. Have you moved into Caddy’s place?” Sandra asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought we’d see each other more. I only live a few blocks away. I used to see you more when you lived in Logan Square than I do now, and we’re practically neighbors.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Eleanor shrugged and they exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. They both knew the only reason they used to see each other with regular frequency was their mutual relationship with Caddy.

  “I miss her,” Sandra said quietly after a pause.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Of course you do. You two were so close. I ran into Schraeder’s the other night with a bunch of work associates from out of town. I told them all they had to get a Caddy Green,” she laughed, referring to the specialty martini the bartender at the local hot spot used to make for Caddy. “Did you know they made it official, and added it to the menu?”

  “No,” Eleanor said, shaking her head and smiling. “But it doesn’t—”

  “Surprise you?” Sandra finished, and they both laughed. “You’re right. It’s just the kind of thing that would happen to Caddy.” She started to pick up her shopping bags.

  “Do you have time to grab that drink now?” Eleanor wondered. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Of course,” Sandra said, her quick reply and game smile amplifying Eleanor’s guilt over making excuses whenever Sandra called. She realized now that she’d been afraid seeing Sandra would just emphasize Caddy’s absence.

  “Let’s go over to the Four Seasons,” Sandra suggested. “We missed the parade this year, but we can still do part of the tradition: the holiday drink. Caddy would like that, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Eleanor agreed. “I think she would.”

  —

  Twenty minutes later, they sat in the handsome, posh bar at the Four Seasons Hotel, their drinks in front of them.

  “So, you said you had something you wanted to ask me?” she asked Eleanor once they’d caught up on what’d been happening in their lives for the past few months and Eleanor had told her about her father’s heart attack and recovery.

  “Um . . . yeah,” Eleanor replied, awkwardness swamping her. She’d told herself in the last several minutes that she’d come up with a good way to broach the topic of Caddy and Trey, but had come up empty-handed now that the moment had arrived. “It’s about . . . it’s about Trey Riordan.”

  Sandra paused in the action of lifting her martini, her gaze shooting over to Eleanor.

  “So Caddy told you about him?” she asked in an amazed, hushed tone.

  “Uh—”

  “I’m surprised, to be honest,” Sandra said, setting down her drink and looking reflective. “Caddy could be such a paradox. Bold as brass one second, vulnerable the next.”

  A strange feeling quivered in Eleanor’s belly. “Caddy? Vulnerable?” she asked in amazement.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sandra smiled at her stunned reaction.

  “Sure, Caddy could be vulnerable. About some things. Very few, the truth be told. Not much got Caddy down. Her confidence was no act.” She gave Eleanor an assessing glance. “It doesn’t surprise me that you never saw her as vulnerable. She didn’t want her little sister to see her as anything but in control. Happy. Carefree. She was very protective of you, you know,” Sandra said, fid
dling with the toothpick in her drink. “That’s why I’m a little surprised she told you about Trey Riordan. He was one of her few vulnerabilities.” Sandra seemed to rise out of her memories and focused on her. “Why did you want to ask me about Riordan?”

  “I met him,” Eleanor said impulsively.

  “You did?” Sandra asked, her gaze sparking with interest. “I’ve never had the honor. I’ve seen a few photos of him in the newspaper and magazines. And of course, I saw that infamous photo of him with the Scarpetti twins. Who didn’t, right?” Sandra rolled her eyes and laughed. “And I heard about him from Caddy, naturally. From her description, he’s one hell of an exciting man.”

  Eleanor shook her head, trying to break the surreal feeling that had come over her. “I can’t believe Caddy talked about him to you,” she admitted. “She never said one word about knowing him before she got sick.”

  Sandra shrugged and took a drink. “Like I said, she tended to avoid topics with you that made her feel vulnerable, or susceptible, or anything but the successful, woman-about-town, confident persona she put out there for the world to see.”

  Eleanor froze. “Are you saying she wasn’t those things? That she was a fake?”

  Sandra gave her a concerned look. “Of course Caddy was all those things. She was one of the most successful, warm, dynamic, confident women I’ve ever met . . . I likely ever will meet. She was the best of friends,” Sandra assured feelingly. Emotion seemed to overcome her for a moment. She sniffed and shut her eyes briefly. “Who of us does want to wear our vulnerabilities on our sleeve for everyone to see? That’s all I meant, Eleanor. You must know how much I adored Caddy.”

  Eleanor nodded, swallowing back her anxiety. “And Trey . . . Trey was one of her vulnerabilities, in your opinion?”

  “I’d say so, yeah,” Sandra said. Her brow furrowed as she peered closely at her. “Caddy did tell you about Trey, didn’t she? I didn’t misunderstand that part, did I?”

  “Caddy told me a lot of things, when she was dying. Things she’d never mentioned to me before,” Eleanor sidestepped, worried Sandra would suddenly clam up. She couldn’t have Caddy’s friend suddenly stop imparting valuable information before Eleanor could glean anything crucial. That would be unbearable.

  “I understand,” Eleanor began cautiously, highly aware that she might make a misstep in the conversation at any moment, “that Caddy and Trey formed a pact not to see each other romantically.”

  “Caddy agreed to it, but she’s not the one who came up with the idea. Riordan did that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she didn’t mention it when she told you about him?” Sandra asked, wide-eyed. “That’s what made her feel so vulnerable. Because she did like Riordan. She liked him a lot.”

  “But he suggested—”

  “That they keep things on a strictly professional basis, yeah. It killed Caddy a little. I remember the night when she brought up the topic of him perfectly. I’d never seen her so torn up about a guy. It surprised me a little, at the time. Of course, I couldn’t help but feel for her. Caddy had never once shown regret for playing the field ever since her divorce from Clark. Not that I’d ever seen, anyway. She embraced the idea that she wasn’t the type to settle down. Her independence was her hallmark.

  “But that night, after Riordan told her he wanted to keep things professional between them, she was regretful, all right. Her reputation as a player had clearly preceded her in regard to Riordan. She thought it’d made him wary. It was the only time I’d ever heard her say she wished she’d done things differently when it came to relationships.

  “After that night, she kept her feelings locked up tight. If Riordan’s name ever came up again between us, she was breezy and matter-of-fact. Anyone else who didn’t know better would have assumed that she and Riordan were just work acquaintances who respected each other. If I hadn’t seen how upset she was that one night, I wouldn’t have ever questioned that Riordan was anything but a casual work friend to her.”

  Eleanor took a long draw on her wine, staring blankly at the colored bottles behind the bar. It felt so strange, thinking about Caddy being vulnerable. Of course she had been. It was a little embarrassing, to realize that she—Eleanor—hadn’t allowed for her sister to be flawed.

  Human.

  Then again, maybe it was inevitable. The cancer had robbed both of them of the opportunity to discover those sister secrets about each other that full lives would have eventually afforded.

  “So Riordan actually hurt her,” Eleanor said numbly. That idea confused her almost as much as the idea of him sharing some kind of unique bond with Caddy.

  “Of course he did,” Sandra said. Eleanor glanced over at her blunt tone. “But not deliberately or cruelly. Not in a way that was any different than what we all have to do when we recognize that we just aren’t meant to be with that person in a romantic or sexual way. From what I understood from Caddy’s occasional references, he was always warm and respectful toward her. It sounded like they ended up having a great working relationship.”

  “Yeah. That’s my understanding too. But . . . when she was passing, Caddy said something to me. She said that she didn’t have any regrets as to how she’d lived her life.” She met Sandra’s stare squarely, determined to understand the truth. “Do you think she regretted her feelings for Trey? Do you think she was just being strong, because she knew the end was coming, and she didn’t want me to think of her going with regrets?”

  “No,” Sandra said with quiet certainty. “I think she meant everything she told you. Maybe I’m giving you the wrong impression. Your sister wasn’t the type to crumple if a guy didn’t like her. She was strong. Clearly, by the time she got sick, things were on even footing with her and Riordan. She was in several relationships with other men following her crush on him. Caddy was not the type to pine, as you know,” Sandra said, pulling a face.

  Eleanor couldn’t help but smile in return. Relief swept through her. No, she couldn’t imagine Caddy locked in her condo, wasting away and wetting a photo of Trey with her tears. Maybe she hadn’t been getting the full picture of her big sister’s personality, but that rendering of Caddy was just ridiculous.

  “So that’s what you’d call her feelings for Trey? A crush?” Eleanor asked.

  Sandra reflected for a moment. “I guess. But she was so passionate, even a crush meant something, when it came to Caddy. Do you know what I mean?”

  Eleanor nodded in complete understanding.

  “She was such a vibrant, complicated person.” Sandra sighed. “She used to say you were all that way. Caddy would say it was the Russian in you.”

  “Who was all that way?” Eleanor asked, startled.

  “Your family,” Sandra said with a wistful smile. “Well, at least your mom, her and you. She said your dad was the straight and strong mast that kept you all going in the right direction.”

  For a few seconds, Eleanor just stared at Caddy’s friend. Then a laugh burst out of her throat.

  “Did Caddy really say that?”

  “Oh yeah, several times,” Sandra said, grinning at her burst of laughter.

  Eleanor shook her head, both disbelieving and inordinately pleased. Her faced flushed with warmth.

  “Why are you so surprised?” Sandra asked.

  “Because . . . I would have thought she’d file me on the straight-as-an-arrow, boring side of the family, not the passionate side . . . Thank you for this,” she said in a burst of honesty. “Thanks for meeting with me and for sharing your perspective on Caddy.”

  Sandra waved away her gratitude. “It’s not a big deal. It’s my pleasure.”

  “But it is a big deal,” Eleanor insisted. “I’m sorry about . . . about not getting together with you before this.” She caught Sandra’s stare. “Let’s do it more, okay? Caddy would have wanted us to stay connected. I want it, as well.”


  “Me too.”

  “Stay and talk for a while more, then?” Eleanor asked her hopefully.

  “Absolutely,” Sandra agreed, reaching for her hand and squeezing it warmly.

  —

  A quiet, thick snow started to fall as she walked home that night.

  She paused on the sidewalk in front of Trey’s building, her gaze drawn to the top floors of the high-rise and Trey’s windows. Distant lights were on in his living room and loft, but she couldn’t see his Christmas tree on display in the window. That was strange. She would have thought his maid had put it up by now. Maybe plans had changed for him somehow, and he wasn’t going to be here during the holidays.

  The idea made her feel hollow.

  Part of her—a big part—wanted to just walk inside, ask his doorman to call him and request if she could go up to his penthouse.

  But her stark longing for him was tainted by a lingering uncertainty. It’d been a relief to learn tonight that Trey had been the one to set the limit on her sister’s and his relationship.

  He definitely hadn’t been holding some kind of secret torch for Caddy.

  Thank God. That would have just been too weird, on so many levels.

  Plus, from everything she’d heard and observed, she believed that Caddy was over her crush on Trey by the time she passed. Caddy and Trey’s relationship truly had been special, but it’d never progressed to any territory that Eleanor would consider dangerous.

  She continued down the sidewalk toward her building, her feet making fresh prints in the newly fallen snow. The fact of the matter remained, she’d been far from confident about this thing she’d started with Trey even before she’d discovered that he and her sister’d had a friendship. The realization that Trey and Caddy shared a connection had just been the dose of reality that’d made everything go suddenly clear in her head.

  Her conflict suddenly crystallized in her awareness.

  They’d begun this whole thing with the most basic of motivations: sexual gratification. If she looked out that window tonight, as Trey had requested in his note—which she longed like crazy to do—what if he’d planned something that took them back to that basic place? Something wonderful and primal, but still essentially sexual in nature?

 

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