One Fine Day

by Erica Abbott

  Good thing you’re not in love with her anymore, she said to herself in a mocking tone.

  Caroline had left her, with hardly a thought, without a word of remorse. Whether or not you love her isn’t the point, she reminded herself. Caroline clearly doesn’t love you anymore, so it doesn’t matter.

  “Ah, there you are,” she heard Walter behind her. He came up and took her arm. “You look lovely tonight, Jill.”

  He sounded a little surprised. Jill wondered if he’d expected her to show up in a flannel shirt, cargo shorts, and Birkenstocks. He himself was resplendent in his black tie, sporting an old-fashioned wing collar.

  “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself. Where’s Marjorie?”

  He vaguely waved the hand clutching his champagne flute. “Somewhere making nice with the deputy mayor, I think,” he said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of the board members.”

  He led her toward the group Caroline was in, of course, and Jill sighed. How many more people were going to try to introduce her to the woman she’d lived with for almost seven years?

  The man standing next to Caroline turned to them as they breached the circle of people surrounding her. “Ah, my favorite lawyer,” he said to Walter in a friendly tone, “Good to see you.”

  “Jack.” Walter released Jill’s arm to shake his hand warmly. “How have you been? How is Linda?”

  “She’s fine, Walter. She’s here somewhere, probably checking out the hors d’oeuvres or chatting with the caterer or something. My wife, the food fanatic.”

  Walter gave a friendly laugh. “Yes, but she does have the best cuisine at her soirées in the Rocky Mountains.”

  Oh, come now, Walter,Jill thought. Soirées? What was it about talking to clients that caused lawyers to lapse into client-speak, some language they thought clients expected their attorneys to use? She wondered if Walter would break out Latin legalese next, perhaps introduce res ipsa loquitur into the conversation.

  “Compliments like that will get you an invitation to her next party,” Jack said. He switched his attention to Jill. “And who is this lovely lady? Marjorie isn’t letting you date, is she?”

  There was general laughter among the group. Jill had managed to avoid looking at Caroline until this moment, but her self-control broke. She met Caroline’s gaze.

  As Jill had known they would be, Caroline’s eyes were bright, sparkling, a deep violet-blue. She wore stunning diamond drop earrings, and a beautiful platinum and diamond necklace that was perfectly nestled in the valley of her décolletage. Without willing it, Jill dropped her eyes to the smooth expanse of creamy skin, then forced herself to look away again.

  The memories of being with Caroline, memories that had both comforted and tormented her over the years, were threatening to rip apart her composure. How was she supposed to act like a professional, network with clients, when all she was thinking about was the way Caroline felt in her arms? Jill suddenly realized that she had clenched one fist on her thigh against the memory of filling her hands with Caroline’s breasts, kissing them…

  Heat flared through her body. She met Caroline’s look again, briefly and unwillingly, and saw that Caroline was remembering, too. Jill’s heart lurched against her breastbone. She left you, she left you, Jill reminded herself again.

  Walter had her elbow again, and the touch brought her back. “Jack, I want you to meet one of our finest young partners. This is Jill Allen. Jill, this is Jack Parsons, chair of the Opera board.”

  Jill gave him her best professional handshake, smiling at him, pretending that Caroline Prince was a thousand miles away. “I’m very happy to meet you, Mr. Parsons,” she said. “Walter has spoken very highly of you over the years.”

  Jack Parsons reeked of money, from the custom tailoring of his tuxedo to his nicely maintained tan to his professionally cut hair. He was going thin on top, but his stylist had avoided any suggestion of either a comb-over or a Donald Trump bouffant and cut it short. It flattered his chiseled face, and Jill thought he would look completely at home in a Roman toga.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Allen,” he returned, lifting an eyebrow at Walter in an unspoken question. “Are you an opera fan?”

  “Very much so,” Jill answered truthfully. “My aunt was a voice and piano teacher, and she introduced me to the music.”

  “Ah.” He seemed genuinely pleased. “In that case, I’m sure you will be delighted to meet the new artistic director of the Rocky Mountain Opera. The world-famous soprano, Caroline Prince.”

  Jill turned back to Caroline, and began with, “Yes, I know…” and held out her hand.

  Caroline leaned into her and said, “Jill. It’s so wonderful to see you again.” Then she put both arms around Jill and kissed her cheek.

  Jill’s arms went around Caroline, a movement as natural to her as breathing. She held Caroline for an instant, her body remembering every touch, every embrace. The feel of Caroline’s lips against her skin, even for that brief instant, was like coming home.

  She released Caroline and stepped away from her, trying to clear her senses of Caroline’s scent, the touch of her skin. “Caroline,” she managed.

  Jack Parsons said, with a touch of amused surprise, “Well, you two obviously know each other.”

  Caroline said brightly, “Jill and I are old friends. Her aunt was my voice teacher when I was a teenager. In fact, Jill was my first accompanist.”

  Jill could hear a ripple of surprise among the group.

  “How delightful,” Walter said.

  “You’re a musician as well?” Jack Parsons remarked to Jill.

  Caroline, her voice almost unnaturally cheerful, interjected, “She’s really quite a good pianist. The music world lost a talent when she decided to pursue law.”

  Jill shot her a look. That was over the top, even for Caroline. “Hardly,” she murmured.

  “Well,” Walter continued in a slightly forced tone of heartiness, “we’re fortunate that she chose the legal profession. She’s our best, and that’s why I invited her tonight. Jack, I wanted to tell you that I’m going into, well, semi-retirement.”

  “I’m surprised,” Jack said, and looked it.

  “Yes, Marjorie has convinced me that I owe her some time visiting grandchildren and taking her on luxurious cruises to exotic places. So I’ve asked Jill to assume representation of the Rocky Mountain Opera, with the board’s permission. Of course, you all may want to interview her first.”

  Jack turned his attention back to Jill. “Oh, I’m not concerned,” he said. “If you recommend her, Walter, I’m sure we’ll be happy. Besides which, you found us a real opera fan.” He gave Jill a friendly smile.

  “I’m delighted for the opportunity,” Jill said sincerely. “I want to assure you that the RMO’s legal affairs will continue to receive the priority and attention you’ve received from Walter and the firm in the past. My specialties are real estate and contract work, but whatever the Opera needs, Worthington & Steele can handle, from labor issues to litigation. Of course, my job will be to advise you so we can avoid problems that might land us in court.”

  Jack laughed and said, “That’s quite a marketing talk, Ms. Allen.”

  She gave a self-deprecating smile. “Call me Jill, please. We’ll be working together.” She could see Walter was beaming at her like a proud father.

  Jack turned good-naturedly to Caroline and asked, “Are you able to recommend Ms. Allen here as a lawyer as well as an accompanist?”

  Caroline’s stare bored into Jill, but she answered lightly, “I’m afraid not. We, ah, lost touch just before Jill graduated from law school. But I can certainly tell you no one combined intellect and hard work better than Jill. She was a fine student, and a dedicated one.”

  Walter sipped his champagne. “That’s all true. You must have known Jill well.”

  Jill suppressed a bitter little laugh. Yes, she wanted to say. She knew me pretty well. She knew that I loved Chinese food and film noir and red wine and C
hopin. And she knew how to arouse me with just a look from across the room, exactly how to kiss me, how to make me dissolve under just one touch of her hands.

  “Yes,” Caroline answered Walter calmly, her timbre dropping into a husky, deeper register. “We knew each other very well. Once upon a time.”

  The longing and regret in her voice was palpable, and Jill wondered that everyone around them didn’t hear it.

  She and Walter said their goodbyes to the group, and Walter introduced her to the other board members as they worked the room. Barbara Forrester she’d met before at some charity events, and Forrester seemed gratified that Jill remembered her. Richard Loomis was a member of the Denver City Council, the epitome, in Jill’s opinion, of why people hated politicians. He seemed to change his opinion with the position of the last person he’d talked to, and Jill had to work to conceal her dislike of him.

  There were other board members, and major contributors to the Opera, including Mrs. Appelbaum, the surviving matriarch of one of the wealthiest families in the state. Jill was appropriately obsequious, or polite, or witty as the situation demanded.

  But as if she could feel the heat from Caroline’s gaze, she knew she was being watched. Every time she glanced in Caroline’s direction, Jill could see the indigo eyes on her, as if asking a silent question.

  What did Caroline want from her? Did she really just want be friends, as she’d said at the restaurant? Or, as her look seemed to suggest, did she want something much more?

  * * *

  Caroline saw Jill move around the ballroom, watching her even as she was introduced to the seemingly endless stream of people Jack kept bringing to her attention. Some of them were assessing her, trying to figure out if she was really the artistic director, or just some famous name put in place as a figurehead. A few men were polite to her and then talked only to Jack, and a host of others, men and women, seemed overcome with just being in her dazzling presence. She chatted, or flirted, or made her points in conversation as appropriate, but she always searched to see where Jill was in the room.

  Their meeting at the restaurant last week had been so brief, and so uncomfortable, that Caroline hadn’t really been able to focus on anything but the feeling of being in Jill’s presence again. Tonight, observing her in professional mode, seeing her as a fully functioning attorney talking to clients, Caroline was overwhelmed by how proud she was of Jill, and everything she had accomplished. Jill’s parents had been good people, but solidly working-class, without either college educations or great ambitions. Their aspirations had been concentrated only on Jill, and she had succeeded spectacularly.

  Caroline had always known how hard Jill worked for her education, in high school, college, and law school, every step a challenge that she was determined to conquer. Jill worked as hard at her studies as Caroline had worked at her music, and their work ethic was one of the attributes they had always had in common. Jill always encouraged Caroline to continue her training, and had never once urged her to give up her ambition because it seemed too difficult to accomplish. Whenever Caroline had felt frustrated or discouraged, Jill had always been there, supportive and sympathetic. Caroline realized, with a small start, that without Jill she might not be who she was today.

  She hoped, she believed, that she had supported Jill just as fully. She took almost as much pride in Jill’s accomplishments as she did in her own. She wondered if Jill felt the same way, that Caroline’s success was in some small way due to Jill’s unfailing championship of her talent.

  How had it gone so wrong? Caroline asked herself the question, but she already knew the answer. She had been so excited, so intoxicated at having her dream finally in her grasp, that she had let Jill slip out of it. And Jill, for her part, had let go so easily, so quickly that Caroline had wondered if what they had together was as real as she’d always thought.

  Perhaps they had just shared some kind of puppy love, immature and selfish. Perhaps their relationship had always been destined to end, when the demands of adulthood, of real work and careers intervened.

  Perhaps. But no matter how many years had passed, she was determined not to let go again unless what had been between them was truly, irrevocably gone. And Caroline was far from convinced of that.

  She watched Jill slip out one of the side doors onto the outside balcony that ran the width of the ballroom. Interrupting Jack in almost mid-sentence, she murmured, “Will you please excuse me? I’m going to the powder room. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  A little startled, Jack graciously excused her, and she made her excuses to whichever donor she’d been mindlessly chatting with as her thoughts were busy elsewhere. She wove her way through the ballroom, nodding and smiling at a few people without stopping, then found the same exit Jill had just used and stepped outside.

  There were a handful of other people outside. The air was a little chilly, but felt good after the overheated atmosphere of the crowed ballroom. A small group was gathered at the near end of the balcony, clearly discussing business, and a couple was leaning into each other nearby. She spotted Jill at the far end, alone, watching the pedestrians going up and down the Sixteenth Street Mall.

  Jill was leaning on the railing, an almost empty champagne flute in her fingers. Caroline watched her a moment, the tall lean figure backlit by the light pouring from the ballroom. What was it about that Jill that made her heart stutter? She’d never known. The mystery of sexual attraction was just as baffling to her as it had been when she was a teenager. At least she had long ago given up trying to deny its power. Whatever the magic was, Jill held it over her, the magnet that drew her irrevocably.

  The figure turned slowly, and Caroline could see that Jill knew she was there without seeing her. “Caroline,” Jill said softly.

  “I’m glad you came tonight,” Caroline began carefully.

  “I had no choice, really. It was business, after all.”

  “Business, yes.” Caroline took a step closer and Jill turned a little more toward her, so that Caroline could see her face. A beautiful face, strong lines, and those dark, deep eyes, in Caroline’s memory always the color of bittersweet chocolate. “Jill, I don’t want to talk about business.”

  Jill set the champagne flute carefully on the railing. “What do you want to talk about, Caroline?” Her voice was cool and wary.

  Caroline clasped her hands together to keep from reaching for Jill. “Jill, it’s been a long time. But we have so much history together.”

  Jill gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “History so ancient I doubt even an archeologist could find it. Let it go, Caroline.”

  “I want to know you again, Jill,” Caroline said with sudden intensity. “I want you to know me. A lot has happened to both of us, I know that. But if we could spend a little time together—Jill, we were friends, too, before. I think we can be friends again.”

  She wasn’t lying. It wasn’t all she wanted from Jill, but she wanted Jill’s friendship as well.

  Jill was looking at her, her dark gaze fiercely shining in the light. “Do you even think that’s possible? We weren’t just friends, Caroline. I loved you with my whole heart. And you shattered my life. You broke my heart.”

  Her voice was low, but Caroline could hear the pain in it, as raw as if their final conversation had been the day before. She unleashed her own pain. “You broke my heart, too, Jill,” she said harshly. “I loved you too, you knew that. And you let me go.”

  “I didn’t send you away, Caroline. You left me, remember?”

  “No,” Caroline said angrily. “That is not what happened. I asked you to come with me. I begged you to come with me. ”

  Jill made an harsh, chopping gesture with one hand. “You wanted me to walk away from everything I had worked so hard for,” she responded in quiet fury. “I was weeks from graduation, and you wanted me to leave, fly to Paris, follow you around the world and wait in your dressing rooms while you amazed the world with your voice.”

  “My God, Jill. You said you wan
ted that for me! Were you lying?”

  “Don’t make me more angry than I already am! I never lied to you. Of course I wanted you to win the competition, to become an opera singer. I just didn’t expect you to discard me once you got there!”

  A few heads were turning, the people on the balcony edging away from the two women speaking in low anger in the darkness.

  “Discard you?” Caroline cried. “I wanted you with me. Was that so terrible? We could have waited for you to finish school, I told you that.”

  “Caroline, we had this argument eighteen years ago. I had to stay, study for the bar exam. You don’t get a license until you pass it. I wanted to be a lawyer, practice my profession. Why would you expect me to give up my dream when you had just achieved yours?”

  Caroline stared at her. How could they have reproduced this old argument so exactly, note for note? Sighing, she answered, “I didn’t want you to give up anything. Especially me. What did you think was going to happen after Paris?”

  Jill was silent a moment. “I thought you would come home to me,” she finally answered softly. “I knew you’d have to travel, I was prepared for that. I just never thought you wouldn’t come home again. You stayed away a very long time, Caroline.”

  “I did come back for you,” Caroline said, so quietly the words were scarcely audible. “As soon as I could leave Europe. It was a few weeks later.”

  “You did no such thing,” Jill said, her anger edging back into her voice.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You know how I feel about that.”

  “I’m not lying, Jill. I came back, but you had already found someone else, apparently. So I left again.”

  Jill stared at her. “Found someone else? You’re not serious,” she said finally. “After…after you called me from Paris, I didn’t even go out on a date for almost two years.”