Stronger

by Janet Nissenson

  “I know,” acknowledged Cara wearily. “But I’m just not sure I’m strong enough.”

  “Of course you are,” argued Mirai. “Cara, you’re the strongest person I know. Now prove it, and tell your dad you aren’t going to Florida this Christmas. Use the money you would have spent on airfare and gifts on yourself. You deserve it way more than he does.”

  Cara exhaled deeply. “You make it sound so easy. And I totally get what you’re saying, understand the rationale. But accepting something and actually finding the courage to make it happen are two different things.”

  Mirai raised her wine glass in a little toast. “Well, if anyone has enough courage to do something like that it’s you. Give me a call when you realize that for yourself.”

  Cara’s finger hovered over the speed dial button on her phone, wondering for the fifth time in as many minutes if she really had the nerve to make this call. Ever since Mirai had dropped her off an hour ago, she had been struggling with what the right thing to do really was. It was a certainty that the man she was thinking of calling wouldn’t appreciate being contacted, but at the same time she desperately needed to get a few things cleared up. She had to know, needed to hear stark truths if need be, so that she could finally move on. So that she could find the courage to become stronger, and never again let herself be used or taken for granted by the men in her life.

  “Here goes nothing,” she muttered, pressing the call button. “Though there’s only a fifty percent chance at best that he’ll even answer.”

  The phone rang a total of five times, with Cara fully expecting it to go to voice mail as it so often did, when an impatient male voice finally answered.

  “Cara. This really isn’t a good time.”

  She sighed, also having anticipated this sort of greeting. “Hi, Dad. And sorry to bother you as usual, but this will only take a few minutes. And it’s really important. Please.”

  Mark Bregante huffed in irritation. “It would be much easier for me if I could call you back. We have a houseful of people here right now for Hunter’s birthday.”

  Hunter was Cara’s little half-brother, and his third birthday was in a few days. Cara had already mailed him a present, one she had been ill able to afford, but it was important to her to try and maintain some semblance of a relationship with her half-siblings.

  “Isn’t it a little early for his party?” inquired Cara. “His birthday isn’t until Friday.”

  Mark sighed, clearly not happy that she was still on the line. “Today’s party is just for the family. We’re having another, bigger party next Saturday for all of the kids. Look, I really need to get back, Cara. Holly wants me to get the barbeque going.”

  “Of course she does,” muttered Cara under her breath. She thought back briefly to the small, simple birthday parties her mother had given her as a child, and was hard-pressed to recall even one time when Mark had been present, much less actually helping out.

  It was that recollection, not to mention the remembrances of all the other times he had let her down or disappointed her or simply not been there for her, that strengthened Cara’s resolve now.

  “No, Dad,” she told him firmly. “I need to ask you something right now. I won’t keep you more than five minutes, I swear.”

  “It would be a lot better if I could just call you back,” argued Mark. “What if I call you tonight after the kids are in bed and everyone’s gone home?”

  Cara had fallen for that particular trick too many times to count, and wasn’t going to cave in this time. She knew from bitter experience that the promised call back would never materialize.

  “That’s the same thing you told me two weeks ago,” she reminded him, uncaring for once that she wasn’t bothering to disguise the snarkiness in her tone. “I’m still waiting for that call back. Just like I’m waiting for a reply to the email I sent ten days ago. Oh, and what about the text I sent you on Thursday just wanting a simple yes or no answer to see if Hunter’s present had arrived?”

  Mark was silent for several seconds before grumbling, “Sorry. It’s been a busy couple of weeks. What exactly did you need, Cara?”

  She wanted desperately to tell him exactly what she needed - financial assistance so that she could buy a new laptop and not have to struggle so much to make ends meet; his fatherly support and sympathy for the heartache she was still suffering after Dante had broken up with her; for him to answer her calls and emails on a more timely basis, and maybe even initiate contact between them every so often; for him to occasionally remember that he had another child, and to maybe just pretend that he gave a damn about her.

  Instead, she merely asked him the question that had been weighing on her mind since Mirai had brought it up last night. “Dad, if - if I decided not to come out there for Christmas this year, would you - well, would that upset you?”

  Mark sighed again. He seemed to do a lot of that, Cara realized, as though having to spare a lousy five minutes to speak to his daughter was an imposition of epic proportions.

  “Cara,” he replied irritably, “I really don’t have time to talk about this sort of thing right now. I have people waiting for me, depending on me.”

  “What about me?” she cried. “Don’t I get to depend on you anymore? Or would it make you happier if I just forgot I had a father. Just like you’ve obviously forgotten you have a third child.”

  Mark muttered something under his breath, and she just guessed it wasn’t anything pleasant. “Jesus Christ, you’re really turning into a little drama queen, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Just like your mother.”

  Cara recoiled, her father’s unkind words as painful as a slap across the face. “How dare you say something like that about Mom,” she hissed. “After all the bullshit she took from you, how she supported you for years, looked the other way every time you broke her heart. But let’s not go there right now, okay? Neither of us have anywhere near that much time. Just answer the question, Dad. About Christmas. How would you feel if I didn’t make the trip to Florida this year?”

  Mark blew out a harsh breath. “You’re a grown woman, Cara, so you can do whatever you want.”

  “Yes or no answer, Dad,” she insisted. “Would you be upset if we didn’t spend Christmas together?”

  “No,” answered Mark bluntly. “No, it won’t make any difference to me, so if you have other plans feel free. Actually, if you didn’t come out this year that would solve a little problem that came up recently. Holly’s aunt and uncle want to fly in from Houston for the holiday but nobody has room for them, so they were starting to look into motels. But if you aren’t going to come we can just put them in the guest room you would have used. Holly will be thrilled.”

  Cara held the phone away from her ear, staring at it in disbelief, unwilling to admit that her own father had really said those callous, impersonal things to her. But, in a way, what he had just told her made the decision she was about to make that much easier.

  “All right then. It’s settled,” she replied, feeling oddly calm. “I won’t plan on coming to Florida for Christmas this year. Oh, and since I’m really strapped for cash between tuition and rent increases I’ll have to skip sending out gifts this year, too. Tell Holly she can re-gift her crappy presents to someone else this year, maybe to her aunt from Houston.”

  “Cara,” began Mark in a warning tone, but for once she ignored his obvious irritation.

  “And since we’re on a roll here, might as well keep going,” she announced breezily. “You know, since you’re such a busy guy these days, Dad, too busy to return my calls or even send a lousy one word reply to my texts, I’ve decided to put the ball in your court from here on out. After today I’m not going to call you. Or email you. Or text you. When you can squeeze out a few minutes from your busy schedule, or remember that Hunter and Bayleigh aren’t your only kids, well - you’ve got my number. Oh, and if I don’t answer my phone just leave a voice mail, and I’ll get back to you. Eventually. You know, j
ust like you do, Dad. You’d better get back to your party now.”

  She ended the call before her father could reply, taking several deep, fortifying breaths, as though she’d just sprinted a lap around the track. Cara watched her phone warily for a few minutes, half-expecting her father to call her back after she’d fired off such a bombshell just now. But, unsurprisingly, no call came, and it was with mingled relief and disappointment that she placed another call.

  “Mir? It’s me. Well, I’ve been thinking all day about what you proposed last night. You know, about the makeover and how looking good is the best revenge and stuff. And about how I could come up with some extra cash to make it happen. I just added up what I would save between not paying for airfare to Florida and cab rides to and from the airport plus Christmas presents, and I think I can scrounge up around seven hundred dollars. So I guess,” Cara paused to take a deep breath before confirming, “I’m in.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mid-October

  Dante cursed beneath his breath as he waited impatiently for someone to answer Nick’s office phone. He sure as hell didn’t need this sort of aggravation right now, on top of what he’d already had to deal with today. This week in New York was supposed to have been something of a vacation, despite the finance conference that was his main reason in being here. But there had been several issues that had cropped up with clients and pending deals, and he’d spent far too much time thus far fielding phone calls, sending emails, and arguing long distance with Howie. And that didn’t include the regular texts from his sister and brother-in-law and mother with updates on his new niece, and the almost constant influx of cute baby pictures.

  The panicked phone call he’d just received a few minutes ago from Katie had been both ill-timed and aggravating as hell. He had an enormous limit on his credit card, since it was linked to the multi-million dollar brokerage account he had entrusted to Nick, and thus had zero idea why said card would now be blocked. Katie was waiting with ill-concealed impatience for a return call that would hopefully resolve this problem, clutching an armful of clothing she’d been in the process of buying at Barneys when the transaction had been denied.

  Fortunately he had two other credit cards with him, but had no easy way to get one of those over to Katie right now. He’d tried to give the sales clerk one of those card numbers over the phone, but due to the sizeable amount of the transaction the store was requiring an in-person authorization. He’d urged Katie to stay put and be patient while he called Nick to unblock the card she was clutching in her hand at this moment. Patience, however, wasn’t always one of her better traits, so he was desperate to get this issue resolved as quickly as possible.

  Dante had fully expected Nick’s humorless but efficient assistant Deepak to pick up the call, or perhaps one of his associates Tyler or Leah. What he had definitely not planned on, however, was to hear Cara’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “Nick Manning’s office, this is Cara speaking. How can I help you?” she inquired, her voice polite but also sounding more than a little stressed out.

  Dante hesitated, for this was the first time he’d had any contact whatsoever with Cara since their break-up, and he had zero idea what sort of reception he’d receive. “Uh, hi. It’s, uh, me. Dante. How - how have you been?”

  He was greeted with silence for long seconds, and he was half-afraid she’d hung up on him. But she finally answered, although her reply wasn’t particularly cheerful.

  “Fine, thank you,” she said primly. “And yourself?”

  It was if they were merely strangers now, instead of ex-lovers. And rather than Cara’s usual bubbly chatter, he was being greeted with terse, stilted responses.

  “I’m good. Officially an uncle now,” he offered, trying desperately to get past this awkwardness. “My sister had her baby about three weeks ago. A little girl - Ariella. I’ve got something like a hundred pictures of her so far.”

  There was another awkward pause before Cara replied, again in that emotionless, almost hollow voice. “Congratulations. I’m sure your family must be very happy.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat before asking, “Is Nick around? Actually, Deepak would probably be better since this is an operational problem.”

  “Deepak is on vacation this week,” Cara informed him coolly. “And Nick, Leah, and Tyler are all making a presentation to a potential client at their office. Angela is at an appointment, so I’m holding down the fort. Is there something I could help you with?”

  Dante hesitated again, for the very last thing he wanted to do was ask for Cara’s help to unblock the credit card that was currently in Katie’s clutches. It would be, to say the least, something of a proverbial slap in the face.

  “Um, I don’t want to bother you with something like this, I’m sure you must be busy since you’re the only one there. I probably just need to get a phone number from you so I can deal with it myself.”

  He paused, aware that for once he was the one who was babbling.

  “What exactly is the problem?” asked Cara calmly. “And what sort of phone number do you need?”

  “My credit card just got declined,” he explained. “And I know there’s plenty of cash available to cover any charges. The vendor isn’t being especially helpful, so I – ”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  She put him on hold mid-sentence, leaving him to wonder whether he should wimp out and hang up before she could pick up again. But Cara was back on the line within moments, not giving him the opportunity to ponder what he should say next.

  “Mr. Sabattini, I have Phil from our Card Services Unit on the line with us,” announced Cara in her most professional sounding voice, even resorting to addressing him formally. “He’s already identified the issue with your card, and just has a few brief questions for you.”

  Unlike Cara, Phil from Card Services was nearly gushing in his all-out efforts to be helpful. The Customer Service Representative had undoubtedly noticed the net worth of Dante’s account, and was anxious to treat him like the VIP that he was.

  “I’m so very sorry for the inconvenience this little problem has caused you, sir,” offered Phil. “But in actuality the temporary block on your card was placed there for your protection. When our security systems notice a lot of card activity in a very short amount of time, in particular for the large amounts that have been charged, it puts out all sorts of red flags. That sort of credit card activity, especially when it’s not customary for the card holder, is often a surefire sign of fraud.”

  Dante sighed irritably, well aware of what the CSR was patiently explaining to him. “Got it. In future I’ll try to curtail the number of transactions at once. Or give you guys a call first to alert you. Right now, what can you do to get the block lifted?”

  “I can take care of that for you right away, Mr. Sabattini,” Phil replied soothingly. His voice was quickly beginning to irritate the hell out of Dante, and he almost wished he was dealing with the impersonal Cara instead.

  Phil asked him a few questions to determine that this was really him - the same security questions he recalled now that he’d had to initially answer when setting up the account with Nick.

  “All right, sir. Those all check out just fine. Now, one last quick thing and then we’ll be able to unblock the card. I see that the unusual activity started about forty-eight hours ago. I’m going to need to run through all of those charges with you to make sure they’re valid.”

  Dante’s spine stiffened. “Is that absolutely necessary?” he snapped. “Can’t I just give you a blanket approval or something like that?”

  “I’m very sorry, Mr. Sabattini,” apologized Phil profusely. “But that is our policy. It’s for your protection, sir. And it will just take a minute or two.”

  “It is standard policy,” offered Cara, the first time she’d spoken in several minutes. “Phil needs to do this for security reasons.”

  Dante cringed at the thought of Cara ha
ving to hear first hand the amount of money he’d already lavished on Katie, and the posh restaurants they had dined at thus far. He was just about to urge her to disconnect and get back to her work, assure her that he could easily handle it from here, but then Phil quickly launched into reciting the list of charges before he could protest.

  “All right, Mr. Sabattini,” chirped Phil. “Just let me know if any of these charges don’t belong to you. They’ll be in order from oldest to most recent, beginning with the first charge in New York two days ago. Here we go. Four hundred seventeen dollars at Tavern On The Green. One hundred and forty five dollars at Bar Sixty Five. Two thousand six hundred and sixty two dollars at Versace.”

  Phil admittedly read through each of the charges briskly, but Dante visibly cringed to hear each entry, shuddering to imagine poor Cara’s reaction while listening to the same. He was a little shell shocked himself to realize just how much Katie had dropped this morning during her shopping spree. In just the space of four hours, she’d already hit up Bergdorf’s, Bloomingdales, Saks, and was even now waiting at Barney’s for that contested charge to go through. In all, between meals, clothes, accessories, and spa treatments, the total came to well over twenty grand - not counting the first class airline tickets, the limo ride from the airport, and the suite at the Waldorf Astoria. And their week in New York wasn’t even at the halfway point.

  In the past, Dante wouldn’t have given a second thought to spending that sort of money in such a brief period of time. He’d worked damned hard for his success, and liked reaping the benefits, like pampering himself. But he was extremely, uncomfortably aware that Cara was still on the line, and was having to listen to all of this. And all he could picture at this moment was that tiny, miserable little hovel she called home, the bare bones wardrobe that she somehow made do with and had never once complained about, and her ancient, falling apart at the seams laptop. God, why did she have to be so damned stubborn, he thought wildly. Why couldn’t she have swallowed that immense pride of hers for once and accepted that check he’d given her? The money could have helped her in so many ways, could have made her life so much better than it was.