“Cass? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this,” I say. “I…have to go to bed.”
Without waiting for a response, I run upstairs. I push my bedroom door shut and lean against it. I sit there for a long time. The stress is starting to grate on me.
Across my room, the sheer white curtain on my window rustles, caught in a gust of evening wind. I can smell the ocean. The beach. My jaw sets.
Snapping into action, I lock my door and scramble to turn on some soft music on my radio. The old row-of-pillows-under-the-blanket-that’s-supposed-to-look-like-my-body trick seems a bit middle school, but I’m not above that. I tug a black sweater over my shirt and slide into black pants. Apparently I’m not above looking like a pathetic ninja either.
The great thing about living in a huge house is that it’s fairly easy to sneak around. There’s only one close call as I slide past the study, where Frank is on a late video conference with Beijing. I don’t know where Brandon went, and I don’t care. Mom’s probably going to yell at me. Also don’t care. As I break through the bushes to the beach, it’s all worth it.
Lawrence waits in our usual spot. He turns, but instead of rushing toward me, he just studies me. I tug at my shirt, self-conscious.
“I look dumb, I know, but I had to sneak out.”
“You’re a vision, Cassandra.”
Now, he comes toward me. The feel of his kiss is even better than in my daydreams. We spend the first half hour or so reminding each other of that fact. Every second in that library, every tense word with Mom was worth it if it buys me more moments like this.
The thought of the library reminds me: we have important things to discuss.
“We need to talk about Cooper Enterprises,” I say as Lawrence moves his lips down the line of my throat.
“Do we have to?” he asks between kisses.
My eyelids flutter with pleasure. “Mm-hmm.” I sit back a little. “I mean, yes. We have to talk. No more kissing.”
“Well, that’s no fun.”
“We can have fun later. Right now, we need to discuss what I researched today.”
“Or…” Lawrence pulls me close again. “We could kiss now and talk later.”
I resist his embrace. “This is serious, Lawrence.”
He sighs. “You’re right. So, did you find out something about Cooper Enterprises?”
“Yes. They’re trouble,” I begin. “This article I found is from nineteen twenty-seven. It talks about how almost all the top guys at Cooper are arrested.”
“For?”
“Crime. Mostly business related, I think, but the article didn’t really go into much detail.”
Lawrence frowns, deep in thought. “I could have guessed this. I thought I smelled a rat.”
“It seems really serious.”
He nods. “I’ll do a little digging tomorrow.”
I grab his arm. “Be careful. Don’t go seeking out trouble just to impress me. I’ll make out with you regardless.”
Lawrence nods. “Very good to know.” Then his smile fades. “But maybe I’m bringing trouble just by knowing this information.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I say, cringing.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be morbid.”
“This is useful information,” I say. “And if we’re cautious and thorough, it could be what saves your life.”
He presses his hand over mine. “I want to believe that.”
“I won’t give up on you, Lawrence. I really believe this is my destiny. And maybe…”
My voice drops off, and he frowns a little. “Maybe what?”
“I don’t know,” I say hesitantly, looking down at my feet.
“No, tell me.”
“It’s just… I can’t help but think…” The right words seem lost to me. “If fate is preventing us from seeing each other anywhere but on this beach, then maybe after I save you, we can see each other beyond this beach.”
I almost don’t dare look up at him. When I do, he watches me as if trying to understand. “You mean, you think we’d be able to travel into each other’s times?”
My face warms. “It’s a stupid thought.”
Lawrence’s voice is gentle. “No, it isn’t.”
“It is. Time travel is impossible.”
“And yet, here we are, a hundred years apart and in each other’s arms.”
A thrill of energy passes through me, and our eyes meet.
“What if you’re right?” he says. “Do you know what it would mean?”
“It means that you and I could be…”
“Together,” he says softly, lifting my hand to interlock it with his own. “Truly together. With nothing keeping us apart.”
Chapter 20
Lawrence
If I could, I’d spend every one of my five days left—every spare minute—on that beach with Cassandra. She’s like a tonic to me, healing all of my fears. I want to sit with her, basking in her warmth and beauty. But life, unfortunately, moves on. And I have to present the appearance of normalcy to the people around me, one of them being Charles.
I agreed forever ago to meet him at the club today. I’d back out if not for the sobering thought that this might be the last time I see him. So, somewhat grudgingly, I dress for the day and head out to the sunny acres of Crest Harbor’s most exclusive country club.
Charles is waiting for me at the bar when I arrive. Naturally. Sharp in a white linen suit, he sips a Bloody Mary and eyes a nearby table of well-heeled club girls. They peer up from under the brims of their cloche hats and giggle to each other.
“Too pretty for you,” I say to Charles as I grab the bar stool next to him.
“Quiet,” he mutters. “I think I almost have them fooled.”
But just then, the girls rise conspicuously from their table and glide out to the veranda. A moment before they go, the tall, dark-eyed girl, the beauty of the group, glances over her shoulder with a challenging look directed at me, raising her eyebrow with a smirk. Then they breeze out.
Charles punches me in the arm. “What’s the big idea, Lon? Isn’t one dame enough for you?”
“Don’t blame me, Charlie boy. My mama gave me these good looks. I didn’t ask for them.”
He harrumphs and then taps the bar. “Another of these,” he says to the bartender. “And make it a double.”
“A little early to get bent, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m carpe-ing the diem.”
I put my arm around his shoulder and pull him away from the bar. “Sounds good, only I need you to help me carpe it in another way.”
“Whad’ya have in mind?”
“How does a little Grade A spying sound to you?”
A grin pricks at Charles’s mouth. “Why, Lonnie, you old rascal. What are you up to?”
“You’ll see.”
We drive along the coast, Charles gabbing my ear off about the latest girl he’s going to woo. I try my best to be myself, but my hands are clammy on the steering wheel. I can see my act isn’t working well. And as I pull into the grummier part of town, Charles’s suspicions seem fully stoked.
“Say, where are we?”
I try to appear casual. “Cape Row.”
Charles turns a sharp look to me. “Cape Row? What do you have in mind, Lon? Getting us killed for sport?”
“I already told you what I have in mind,” I say. “A little spying.”
“Spying on whom?”
“No one you know. Just some fella who works with my uncle.”
Charles frowns. “Sounds dull. Don’t tell me we’re on some business errand for Ned.”
“Not exactly.”
I almost drive past the old warehouse, but then I recognize the strange design on the rusted side wall and slam on the brakes. It’s the same design I saw on those re
d-stamped letters from Cooper Enterprises. My insides are flipping around like a fish out of water.
“This is it.” Hands shaking, I pull my car behind a large pile of weathered crates and park. Charles eyes me quietly for a moment and then folds his arms across his chest with a grimace.
“All right. You gotta tell me what’s going. For cryin’ out loud, Lon, you look like you’ve seen the Grim Reaper.”
He has no idea how accurate he is. “You could say that.”
His expression is serious. “Tell me.”
I take a slow breath. I know I can’t tell him everything, but I suppose it would be nice to share this burden with at least one other person.
“It’s hard to explain. I think my uncle might be mixing with the wrong sort of people. And I think it could cause trouble. Serious trouble. Danger, even.”
Charles scratches the back of his neck. “Jeepers.”
I nod grimly. “Come on. I want to investigate this place.”
“You sure it’s safe?” Charles asks, eyeing the ominous-looking warehouse.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s reassuring, Lon. Thanks.”
I climb out of the car and he follows, sticking close behind me.
The warehouse to Cooper Enterprises isn’t empty. At the far end of the building, workers are unloading a flatbed truck stacked with wide barrels. The foreman leans against the wall, smoking a cigar as he watches his men work. I grab Charles’s sleeve, and we duck behind the warehouse.
“What are you thinking you’ll find here?” Charles asks as we creep along in the shadows.
“I don’t know. I guess I just want to get a feel for the place.”
“I think we can safely write it off as dodgy.”
We reach the back of the warehouse. With my stomach pressed to the wall, I peer around the corner. As shoddy as the front of the building looked, the back is worse. Piles of junk sit festering all over the crumbled asphalt. A large puddle of stagnant water reflects the silver clouds above, shivering slightly in the wind. And an old jalopy rots in a crown of yellow weeds.
Wait…
That jalopy. I recognize it. It was the one parked outside Uncle Ned’s house in the middle of the night. The realization grabs my throat, pinching off any breath.
“What is it?” Charles asks.
I press my finger to my lips to shush him. Only now do I see that I’ve brought him into a very dangerous situation.
“We have to split,” I whisper. “Right now.”
The sharp tones of men’s voices cut through the air, freezing Charles and me in place. Someone steps outside. A jolt of nerves rushes through me. It’s the man I spoke with in the library. The drunk one who told me about Cape Row in the first place. What was his name?
Hank.
He looks so different now. It’s more than the crisp, white suit or slicked hair. It’s the way he carries himself—it’s clear he’s ruthless and in charge. Was his drunkard persona all an act? An act to deceive Ned and me?
A muffled cry heralds the arrival of others. Two big, burly types step out dragging a third man between them. This one’s hands are bound behind his back. A burlap bag has been tied around his neck, covering his head. Charles and I exchange a look. Charles’s face is ghost white.
The burly men throw their captive to the ground in front of them. His head hits the puddle of stagnant water with a dull splash. He groans and rolls onto his back.
“Lon,” Charles whispers, his voice trembling. “This is bad.”
I shush him and turn back to the sight before us. A cold, deep sense of dread settles over me. But I can’t look away.
The man with the bag over his head is sobbing, saying something, but I can’t make out the words. Hank smooths his slicked hair and gives a muffled order to the two bigger men. One of them pulls something from his coat. Before I can even see for certain what it is, there’s a fierce bang, and the man on the ground goes limp.
“Holy Toledo,” Charles whispers.
I can’t take my eyes off the man on the ground. A circle of red expands from the bag over his head. So is this what Hank meant by “under-the-table stuff.” Cassandra was right. Cooper Enterprises is dangerous. More so than I ever imagined.
“Holy Toledo,” Charles repeats, his eyes the size of saucers.
My whole body feels like lead, but I know we need to get out of here, and we need to go fast.
“Holy—”
I grab Charles by the arm. “Run,” I say.
We dash back to the car. But what if those thugs saw my car? Other men could be waiting for us. Waiting to see who’s spying on them. Or someone could be watching from inside the warehouse. The foreman with the cigar.
I grab for Charles again. “Wait!”
He’s panting. “We gotta get out of here, Lon!”
“We have to make sure it’s safe first.”
We creep to a pile of crates near the edge of the building. Trembling, I lift my face just over the top of the stack.
The car sits where I parked it. Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Hank strolls out of the warehouse, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. The two thugs follow close behind. If they walk another twenty feet, my car will be in their line of sight.
We have a minute. Maybe less.
“Now, Charles!” I say. “Run!”
I leap out from behind the pile of crates with such force that I nearly tumble headfirst into the asphalt. But then my feet hit the ground and I lurch ahead. Just behind me Charles is panting.
Shouts fly like bullets through the air. The men have spotted us. And if Hank has his wits about him, he’ll know exactly who I am.
Chapter 21
Cassandra
I thought the first day at the library was bad. Today is torture. Maybe it’s because I know what Lawrence is up to today. He wouldn’t tell me any specifics, but I can guess. It has something to do with Cooper Enterprises, and right now, he should be staying as far away from them as humanly possible.
He promised me he’d be careful. And I promised him I wouldn’t worry. I’m trying with every fiber of my frayed, somewhat damaged sanity to do so, but this is a difficult oath to keep.
Maybe impossible.
I just need to see him. I want to feel his warm pulse. I want to lie against his chest as it expands and contracts with air. I need to keep him alive. A prickly, chilling thought pushes into the back of my mind. What if we’ve already messed with the time-space continuum? Has Lawrence being aware of me and of his own potential death changed his actions, which have, in turn, changed the course of the future?
I waited for him for a solid hour at the beach this morning. Only the gulls and the gray waves broke the cloudy stillness. And I know, I know, he has to do what he has to do. But couldn’t he at least come say a quick hello?
The ever-present knot in my stomach tightens. I’m not sure how much more anxiety I can take. All I can do is dive deeper into my research and pray for another breakthrough.
I’m lost in the glowing projection of microfilm when the scrape of a chair pulling out startles me to attention. Mom sits down at the desk next to mine.
“Well, well,” she says. “You really are at the library.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “Did you seriously come all the way down here to see if I was lying?”
“Oh, come on, Cass. You didn’t expect me to buy your story wholesale. It seems a little hard to believe that you’re spending your gorgeous summer days in the library.”
“Well, I am. As you can clearly see. I suppose you can give me a little credit now.”
She shrugs. “I guess I have to. What are you doing here anyway?” She examines an empty microfilm box labeled “December 1, 1928–February 1, 1929.”
My hands tense on the edge of the table. It takes al
l my restraint not to snatch the box away from her. Must appear calm. Must not arouse suspicion.
“Oh nothing, really.”
Mom’s eyebrow raises, and I know I won’t get away with that answer. My mind races. Think, Cass. There has to be something plausible I can tell her. In desperation, I scan the secluded lower level of the library for ideas. Think. Think!
All at once, it comes to me.
“It’s something for Jade,” I say with a shrug. “She’s studying the surrealists in the nineteen twenties. I guess she thinks we could collaborate on a senior project for AP Art History when she gets back.”
Mom frowns slightly, looking back at the box. I hold my breath.
“Well…it seems pretty unfair of her to ask you to spend your summer holed up in the library while she flits around Paris.”
I swallow a sigh of relief. “It’s fine. She’s doing research in Paris. Granted, it’s more entertaining, but c’est la vie.”
Mom looks into my eyes. It’s that “I’m trusting you to be honest with me” gaze that has leveled me many times before. And sure enough, guilt surges through me. I hate lying to her. I avoid it at all costs. But this is different. I could never explain this to her. At best, she’d think I was crazy and worry even more. At worst, she’d ban me from the beach. So I give her a smile and pat her arm.
“I’ll be fine, Mom. You can go knowing you’ve done your motherly duties and checked up on me.”
Her eyes narrow. “Okay, but I want you home for dinner. Five thirty. Not one minute late, you understand? And we’re spending time together as a family after that. It seems like between this research business and your newfound love of running, I barely see you.”
I bite my lip. Dinner is doable. Spending a night with the family is out of the question. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“Sure, Mom. I’ll be there.”
She gives me a kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t you study too hard, okay? School is great, but during the summer, you need to be out enjoying the world.”
“Okay, Mom.”
• • •
When dinnertime rolls around, I’m not ready to leave the library. But time keeps moving, no matter how much you want it to wait. I’d never before realized how precious a minute could be. An hour. A day. They pass by so fast, and you can’t do anything to stop them.
Until We Meet Again Page 15