Where Dreams Books 1-3

by M. L. Buchman

  Then she’d told the man with two first names that she was breaking it off. It was her, not him, she just wasn’t meant to be in a relationship. He hadn’t argued. He hadn’t asked for a second chance, not even if there was another man.

  “We had a good run, didn’t we, Cassidy?” He was about as deep as a puddle; one that had dried up three days before.

  Yeoman Natalie excused herself, “I need to get at some of the files in back. Do you need anything?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” And she was. She didn’t miss Jack James, not even in that moment when he kissed her cheek and they went in separate directions on the sidewalk. She’d gone around a corner and spied on him; he never looked back.

  The paper crackled as she opened the letter.

  Dearest Ice Sweet,

  We lied to you.

  Yeah, about being legitimate. But they’d married right away, and stayed together until the day Mama died. She’d forgiven them before she’d even finished the last letter. So why was the back of her neck prickling?

  Your birth wasn’t easy. It wasn’t idyllic. Your mother went to the doctor one day, I was too busy in the fields to go with her. She came back in the doctor’s car. Enforced bedrest. She was allowed to get up only twice a day. I had to hire Dale’s wife to feed her and take care of the house. She lay there for two-and-a-half months to make sure you came out okay.

  And colicky. Did you know they still don’t know what causes that? I just asked the nurse.

  In that moment she was back in the hospital room. Her father lying there, tubes running in and out of him, discussing his colicky daughter with some nurse she’d probably never met. She was far colder than she’d been minutes before standing out in the chill wind.

  Twelve weeks to the day you howled like there was a knife in you. I’d walk you for hours up and down the vineyards at night just to give your mama some rest. You’d howl like there was no tomorrow. And then week thirteen you just stopped. Like hiccups suddenly gone.

  How could he hide that from her? She’d always believed they had the Hallmark family. The happy child, the close couple. That’s what her father always told her. That was the dream she wrapped around herself at night.

  Don’t get me wrong. We couldn’t have loved you more. But as one part of my life made more sense, the other parts made less. The winery was growing well, but getting water for the vines was becoming harder and harder. New regulations forbade pumping from the river. I was about to dig a second well, the first wasn’t nearly enough, when one of the big boys in the area drove through a new regulation, no drilling new wells unless you had a creek on your land. I didn’t. Close, but not on.

  The vineyard wasn’t lost all at once, rather a piece at a time. I and many others lost water rights due to that one man’s maneuvers. I lost hired hands to some millionaire who outbid me for my best people. Soon even my mid-level people were going.

  What I learned, was that when one part of your life closes, another one opens. Your mother, our Adrianne, was the only sanity in my life at that time. When you find that person, hold on for all you’re worth. And if they have half a brain, they will do their damnedest to hold onto you.

  You’re great, Ice Sweet, and don’t forget that.

  Ever!

  Vic

  “Are you okay?”

  Cassidy nodded and wiped at her stinging eyes. Then she took a sip of the still warm cocoa to assure Yeoman Natalie that she was fine.

  Just fine.

  # # #

  “You’ve got to get me out of this, Angelo.” Russell wrapped both hands around his beer bottle.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This blind date. I’m not coming.” He scratched a fingernail on a small drip of paint that had fallen onto the settee table and hardened. It broke free and flew across the table landing on the piece of Brie in Angelo’s hand. He debated mentioning it, but decided against it when he saw the look on his friend’s face.

  “But you are.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “Why the hell not? You fall in love in the last six days? You going back to Melanie if she’s stupid enough to take you?”

  Russell hands ached with how hard they were clenched.

  “No.” Not really. He glanced over at the laptop tucked safely on the shelf above the table.

  “Can you give me a good reason?”

  He wanted to, but he didn’t have one. Well, he did have one, but it was too stupid to call good.

  He shook his head.

  Angelo pegged the piece of Brie at his face. He ducked, but not enough. It hit him in the forehead. Against all chance, the paint chip dropped into his beer bottle. He pushed it aside.

  “This is important, man. Not just for you. It is important to me. I need someone who can be a half-human dinner companion. I promised to introduce her to someone who was decent.”

  “Find someone else.”

  “By tomorrow night? What the hell, Russell? This isn’t like you. She beautiful. Funny. What more do you want? It was your idea anyway.”

  “My idea?”

  “Look, Russell, if I explained it, where would be the surprise. It’s a blind date. That means you go in blind. Unfair to give you an advantage. She doesn’t know you either.”

  “You’re not going to back off of this one, are you?”

  “Not without a good reason.” Angelo cut himself another piece of Brie, completely free of paint chips, and chomped down on it as if he were trying to hack through a tough steak rather than a soft cheese.

  “Okay. There is someone.”

  “Since when did that stop you from having dinner with another woman? Dinner, man. That’s all. I’d bet that not even you could get a kiss on the first date from this one, even if you tried.”

  “Frigid?”

  “Lady. Real one. Outside your realm of experience. Don’t change the subject. What’s your lover’s name?”

  Russell grabbed his beer and slugged back a big swallow. The paint chip slid down his throat before he could stop it.

  He slammed the bottle back on the table. He hit it hard enough that it foamed out over his hand and dripped all over the cheese and the table. He mopped at it with a rag that he’d been using that morning to clean up the new tank under the pilot berth. It still smelled of the sharp tang of diesel. Long streaks of muddy black appeared across the white rind of the cheese. He threw the cloth over the whole mess and took another pull on his beer which was now much flatter than it had been.

  “Name?”

  “Go to hell, Angelo.”

  His friend narrowed his eyes for a long moment and then he burst out laughing.

  “You don’t know her name. Oh, this is too rich. What’s she like?”

  “She likes the outdoors. Long dark hair.”

  “Wow. Great description, man. Thanks. I can really picture her now. Clear as mud.”

  “Asshole.”

  Angelo just grinned.

  Nutcase appeared from somewhere and started sniffing at the mess on the table.

  Angelo grabbed the cloth with the cheese in it and mopped up the worst of the beer puddle.

  Russell ducked again, but Angelo turned and dropped it into the garbage bag full of sawdust that was drooping in the companionway. Nutcase dropped down to floor, inspected the bag carefully and then wandered back to whatever she’d been doing before.

  “Tell me more.”

  Russell couldn’t relax his fists even when he tried.

  “You can’t?” Angelo was getting far too much fun at Russell’s expense.

  Russell grabbed the laptop and dropped it onto the table with a crash. He turned it so that they could both see it.

  “West Point lighthouse.” He pointed her out squatting among the rocks.

  “February at Alki.” He pulled up the next
picture. “March at Lime Kiln. Didn’t even know she was in these photos until I looked at them a few weeks ago.”

  “She’s following the same calendar I gave you.”

  “Duh. Figured that one out on my own, Sherlock. So, for April, I took my big telephoto with me. But the weather was really lousy. I could barely control the boat, much less make it ashore to meet her.” He toggled to the last spread of photos. Six of them. Long zoom close-ups. Snapped in rapid-fire succession when the stern of the Lady had ridden high up in the air to give him a clear view.

  Heavy hiking boots. Slender legs. Body form hidden by the trademark bulky red parka. A flag of chestnut hair streaming in the wind just begging to have fingers run through it. Coat zipped up far enough to hide the neck. Nice chin, slender without being angular. And where her face should be, two delicate hands holding a small point-and-shoot camera—aimed right at him. Almost clear enough to read the stupid brand name.

  “Nice. When’s the wedding?”

  “Give me a goddamn break.”

  Angelo waved a hand at the screen. “She’s not real. She a phantom who appears only on the first of each month.”

  “You couldn’t prove otherwise by me, but she feels real. More real than…” He should never have opened his mouth.

  Angelo rested a strong hand on Russell’s forearm.

  “Melanie was real. Is real. She just isn’t headed in the same direction you are. And the girl on this screen probably has a voice like a harpy and a husband and seven kids at home. I’m offering you dinner with a flesh-and-blood lady. Nice one. Single too, though you try to touch her and I’ll kill you, right at the table, and serve you your own guts over a nice bed of pasta. Eating dinner and making nice conversation isn’t cheating on some lighthouse babe that you’ve never met.”

  Russell nodded, as much to stop Angelo’s pestering him as anything else. He glanced sideways at the screen, studying how her hair appeared to move in the wind in the series of frozen moments of the photograph.

  Angelo had missed two details. She was alone in every photo.

  And the hands that held the little camera had no rings on them.

  # # #

  “How do I do this?” Cassidy knew she was losing it. Could feel her voice rising and tight. She perched on the impossibly uncomfortable green leather and stainless-steel bar stool in Perrin’s Gallery.

  The whole shop was done in retro-1950s diner. Instead of tables in the booths, there were mannequins wearing the latest designs. Instead of those music players, there were racks of clothes and accessories that would go with what the seated mannequins were wearing. Instead of a front counter, there were racks of other clothes. Instead of a diner cashier with gum and candy and pies of towering meringue in a display case, the glass cases held handbags, gloves, belts. Through the swinging doors there was no cook line. Rather there was a haven of shoes, boots, coats, and from the ceiling hung an unbelievable selection of umbrellas guaranteed to stand out in any crowd.

  “When was the last time you had a blind date?” Jo had her lawyer voice on, the one designed to lull the obstinate into a sense of security, the upset into a pool of calm. Cassidy felt it working on her, and fought it.

  “I dunno. Freshman year. And that was plenty.”

  Jo glanced over at Perrin who shrugged. “How was I supposed to know Richie would take acid to get up his nerve?”

  Apparently he’d been telling Perrin that he was really interested in her red-haired friend. Cassidy’d finally agreed to meet him. There’d been something strange about his eyes, a glassiness she hadn’t understood at the time. As a naïve, sixteen-year old freshman from an island in the Pacific Northwest, she’d been totally flattered that an upperclassman had even noticed her. They’d had a nice meal at The Atrium, her favorite campus hangout. He was bright, interesting, and definitely enamored. But the way he kept staring at her was somewhere on the line between incredibly flattering and a totally creepy.

  She’d finally had to ask.

  “How do I look to you?” She’d put a great deal of effort into selecting nice colors that blended well together and shapes that showed off her figure. Perrin had even done her hair and nails for her.

  Richie Packer had gazed at her for a moment long enough to warm her cheeks before replying, “The body of a goddess. A neck like a great snake. Your face would scare the hounds of Hell with its slavering jaw, massive fangs. No nose. Eyes of ice and hair of a mighty, writhing inferno.”

  He’d tried to apologize for weeks afterward, swearing he’d never take drugs again, especially not hallucinogens. She told him it was okay, she’d sworn off ever being in his presence again.

  She’d also sworn off blind dates, so how had Angelo talked her into this one? With a promise of great food and a charming man. She’d had enough of charming with Jack James. What she needed was someone with some heart and a little connection to his own emotions.

  “You need more confidence. Think of it like your wine-tasting. I’ve seen you do that with style and panache.” Perrin tossed back her head making her lime-green perm swirl about her head like a whirlpool. Impossibly ugly, except on Perrin it was so cute that it made every man under forty turn and go silent whenever she entered a room. Okay, every man of any age who still had a pulse.

  “I’m not going to a man-tasting. I’m going on a blind date and I don’t know what to do. You’re my friends, you’re supposed to be helping me.”

  “Send Jo. She’ll wow him.”

  Cassidy buried her face in her hands. “I can’t. I promised Angelo I’d review his restaurant this time. He’s probably been preparing for a week.”

  “I thought they weren’t supposed to do that.”

  “They aren’t. They all do. But they’ve learned that I’m not above begging tastes from nearby tables. So if I get an exceptional meal, so does everyone around me.”

  “There,” Perrin aimed the one finger not covered by her elbow-long, green gloves. “That’s the attitude. Remember that feeling, right there. Use that and you’ll be invulnerable. And the man will melt and die at your feet unless he’s a complete jerk.”

  “Clothes, Perrin.” Jo spoke quietly. “She needs power-dating clothes.”

  “Black.” Cassidy called out as Perrin started wandering around about the shop. “And no dresses.”

  Perrin held out a black top that had cleavage down to the navel and a swirly, pleated mini-skirt.

  “So not.”

  Perrin laughed.

  By the fifth rejection Perrin had stopped laughing.

  “You’re tricky.” She inspected Cassidy carefully. Turned back to her racks and then once more to face Cassidy. She disappeared through the swinging stainless-steel doors into the back room.

  Jo met Cassidy’s gaze and arched an eyebrow on her rounded face. Neither of them were willing to guess what Perrin would come up with next.

  She reappeared with something definitely not black. “Put this on.”

  Cassidy rubbed her fingers over the lush, red and orange fabric. “Cashmere. I love cashmere.”

  “Don’t we all, honey. Now put it on.”

  Cassidy headed for the dressing room, but Perrin called her back.

  “Nope. You look incredible in that black turtleneck, just pull this on over it.”

  She unzipped the front of the sweater and slipped it on. She zipped it partway up and moved to the triple mirror. The waist and the ends of the arms were such a dark red that they were as black as her pants. The sweater lightened upward from red, to dusky orange, and finally a dark gold the color of the inside of a pot of honey as it reached her neckline and the open zipper.

  Perrin moved up behind her and looked at her in the mirror over her shoulder. She reached around and tugged the zipper a bit lower.

  “I feel more naked than just the turtleneck.” The fading colors and low zipper gave her a plunging
cleavage, without any exposed skin.

  “It works. You’re fully covered, and he’ll be spending the whole time trying not to look at your breasts. It’s perfect. And I’ll bet you another bottle of that amazing champagne we had that he won’t be able to look away. Besides, you have the nicest set of the three of us; it’s time you flaunted them a bit.”

  “I do?” She looked down, but they were just your average breasts in your average bra wrapped in a black silk turtleneck and cashmere.

  “Mine are too flat, and Jo’s are a bit too much, though they suit her. Yours, with your figure, they’re just great. He’ll die. Trust me.”

  She glanced at Jo over her shoulder. Again the raised eyebrow, with a tilt of the head that indicated there was probably truth there.

  Cassidy looked at herself again in the mirror. She did look good.

  “On a much later date, the one you want to have sex after,” Perrin pulled the zipper up halfway to her throat, “and lose the black turtleneck. He’ll remember the undressed look of the first date and spend the whole second date dreaming of pulling that zipper back down.”

  “How did you learn this stuff?” The instant the words were out of her mouth Cassidy wanted to bite her tongue and kick herself. She met Perrin’s eyes in the mirror, suddenly wide and vulnerable like a little girl. She turned and wrapped her arms around Perrin’s stiff body.

  “Screw them. Screw them both. They can’t touch you anymore. Ever.” She could feel her friend nod at last and Cassidy held her more tightly until she felt her relax a bit.

  They stood back from each other but Cassidy held onto Perrin’s thin arms. She felt the anger that came over her whenever she thought about her friend’s parents.

  “I love you just as you are, Perrin. I think you’re incredible. I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

  “Really?” She wiped at her eyes.

  “Really. This sweater is perfect. I couldn’t get through this without you.”

  Perrin finally nodded again.

  Cassidy kissed her on the cheek and then clapped her hands together.