Cassidy Lane

by Murnane, Maria

  “Are you going to see him when you go home for Halloween?”

  “Yep. He’s taking me to dinner.”

  “Nice, a dinner date. Another throwback to the olden days.”

  Cassidy lowered her voice. “I really like him, Danielle. Is that bad?”

  “Why would it be bad?”

  “Well, for one thing, he lives in California.”

  “So?”

  “And he has two kids.”

  “So? You like kids. Plus it’s not like you’re marrying the guy. I think it’s great that there’s a new man in your life. Anyone who will get you over Dean has my vote.”

  Cassidy gave her a look. “Hey now, I’m over Dean.”

  “You’re over him, but you’re not over the damage your relationship with him did to your self-esteem. Am I right? I think I’m right.”

  Cassidy sighed. “OK, you’re right.”

  Danielle pointed a fork at her. “As I always am.”

  “As you always are.”

  “Just want to be clear about that.”

  Cassidy laughed. “We’re clear.”

  Danielle held up her coffee mug for a toast. “Well, whatever it is that’s going on with you and high-school guy, I’m all for it, and I think you should just enjoy it. I’m happy for you, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy smiled and clinked her mug against Danielle’s mug. “Thanks. I’m happy for me too.”

  After brunch Cassidy hugged Danielle good-bye, then stopped at the grocery store on the way back to her building. As she browsed the vegetable aisle, she heard her phone chime. She smiled when she saw the text message on the screen:

  I just bought a rake. I told you your life is more exciting than mine.

  Depends on what you’re planning to do with the rake.

  This is true. How is your Saturday going so far?

  So far, so good. The police still don’t know it was me last night, but it’s probably only a matter of time.

  Someone is a little feisty today.

  Ha. I think I drank too much coffee at brunch.

  Did you get pancakes? You talk about pancakes a lot.

  Veggie scramble today. My friend Danielle just told me she slept with a married man from her office.

  Oh boy.

  I know. She feels terrible.

  I see that all the time.

  Life isn’t always so black and white, is it?

  Definitely not.

  Cassidy spent the entire afternoon and most of Sunday working on her novel, which was barely inching along thanks to her recent lack of focus. Her trip home was less than two weeks away now, and while she loved the daily interaction with Brandon, she was becoming anxious about seeing him in person. It had been a long time since she’d been caught up in the swirl of romance, and while she was thoroughly enjoying the feelings stirring inside her, she was a bit concerned by just how disruptive those feelings were proving to be. The evidence was staring her in the face on her computer monitor. There was no denying that if Brandon hadn’t entered the picture, she’d have written significantly more by now.

  Plus she was running the risk of getting hurt again. It had taken her a long time to get over her breakup with Dean, but she’d finally done it, and she liked feeling independent and strong and happy again. Now she was undeniably smitten, and it was delightful. But truth be told, she felt a bit captive—however willingly—to the next chime of her phone. She knew from experience that one day those chimes could stop, though for some reason she didn’t think that was going to happen this time. Or was that just wishful thinking?

  Late Sunday afternoon she stretched her arms over her head and decided to go for a run before it got dark outside. Her novel could wait, but the lovely fall sunset would not.

  After doing a five-mile loop, Cassidy walked slowly back to her building, enjoying the bright colors of the leaves now covering the trees and occasionally swirling in the air. As she entered her building, she ran into Harper, who was also dressed in workout gear, in the lobby.

  “Hey, Harper, haven’t seen you in a while. How are the application essays going?”

  He scratched the back of his head as they stepped into the elevator. “Not as well as I’d hoped, although I should have known better. I’m quite the procrastinator. I just took a Zumba class, Cassidy. A Zumba class. I was the only guy in there.”

  “Have you even started?”

  “Not a word. This is exactly how I was in college. I practically majored in pulling all-nighters.”

  Cassidy laughed. “No wonder you can handle the pressure of banking. Need some help getting started? I could ask some questions to get the creative juices flowing.”

  Harper pressed his palms together and grinned. “Would you really? I’ll buy dinner.”

  “You mean tonight?”

  “Are you free?”

  “But it’s still the weekend. Are you sure you don’t want to go enjoy the rest of Sunday Funday playing flip cup at a bar or something?”

  He gave her a look. “I hate to break it to you, Cassidy, but you know you’re getting old when you associate being thirty with the shenanigans of a college student. I have a job, you know. I even have a few people who work for me.”

  “Oh my God, you’re right. I sound like an old lady.”

  “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. So will tonight work then? I really need a kick in the pants or I’m going to run smack into the deadlines and screw myself.”

  She nodded as the elevator opened to her floor. “Just let me take a quick shower and finish a few things first. Meet you at your place in about an hour?”

  “Deal. Thai sound good?”

  She stepped out into the hall and waved good-bye. “Perfect. See you soon.”

  Before she jumped into the shower, Cassidy checked her phone in hopes of seeing a new text message from Brandon.

  She wasn’t disappointed.

  I’m at Toys “R” Us now with the boys, picking out gifts for a classmate’s birthday party. Toys “R” Us on a Sunday afternoon. Kill. Me. Now.

  After they’d spent two straight hours brainstorming and jotting down notes for his essays, Harper stood up and put his hands on his head. “I’m fried. Want a glass of wine and some dark chocolate?” He picked up the empty Thai food cartons and walked into the kitchen. Cassidy held up a thumb. “Sounds delicious. I think you may be the only guy I know who likes chocolate.”

  “Dark chocolate. It must be dark chocolate or it’s not worth it.” He opened up the cupboard and pulled down two large goblets.

  “That is such a girly thing to say. You know, now that I think about it, you may also be the most metrosexual guy I know,” she called into the kitchen. “Your taste in clothes, your immaculate apartment, your perfectly coiffed hair. It’s all textbook.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he called back.

  Cassidy left the couch and took a seat on a bar stool at the island separating the living room from the kitchen. “Trust me, it’s a compliment. So whatever happened with Vanessa? Are you still seeing her? You haven’t mentioned her all night.”

  He shrugged and opened a bottle of wine. “We’ve been hanging out.”

  “Is it serious?”

  He began pouring. “Not really.”

  “She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

  He handed Cassidy a glass. “And that would be…?”

  She looked across the spacious living room and gazed out the window. Harper lived in a two-bedroom on the twenty-eighth floor, so his apartment was not only nearly twice the size of Cassidy’s but also had a spectacular view. “I don’t know. Despite your fancy job, I just picture you with someone a little less…flashy.”

  “Is that a writer’s way of saying you don’t like the way she dresses?”

  Cassidy laugh
ed and took a sip of her wine, then stood up and walked back into the living room. “Perhaps. How old is she? Twenty-five?”

  Harper followed her. “Twenty-six.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a nanny for a family here on the Upper West Side.”

  Cassidy sipped her wine slowly. “Let me guess. She wants to be an actress.”

  Harper laughed. “It’s possible. What’s with the third degree?”

  “I’m sorry, just being a little protective of you. There are a lot of gold diggers out there, looking for eligible bankers like you to take care of them.”

  “Vanessa’s not like that. At least I don’t think she is.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Then good. Let’s forget I brought it up. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  They sat down on his matching large black leather couches, and Harper propped his feet up on the coffee table. “What about you, are you seeing anyone these days?”

  Cassidy tipped her glass toward him. “Now that, my friend, is a good question.”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “Now that would be…a true one.”

  He looked at her sideways. “Are you OK? You’re acting weird.”

  She set down her wine and leaned back against the couch. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just a little…anxious.” She stared at the ceiling.

  “Anxious about what?”

  “Remember that time you asked if I’d been on a date…and I said I wasn’t sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think I was.”

  “Nice. So what’s the scoop?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Are you really asking me that? Of course I do.”

  She took a deep breath. “So I went to my high-school reunion…”

  “Damn, Cassidy.” Harper picked up the bottle and topped off her wine after she was done telling him about Brandon. “Two thousand text messages?”

  She gave him a sheepish look. “Am I crazy? Is he crazy? I feel sort of silly for getting so wrapped up in this, but I can’t help myself.”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy at all. I love that story. It’s very romantic. And modern, when you think about it.”

  She nibbled on her thumbnail. “You sure it’s not weird? I don’t want to turn into one of those freaks who have horrible social skills because all their interactions with other people are online.”

  “Shut up, you know you’re great with people. I can’t wait to hear what happens when you see him in person.”

  “I’m almost afraid of that, to be honest. Part of me thinks he might be too good to be true.”

  Harper patted his chest. “Don’t say that. I’m not too good to be true, am I?”

  “Definitely not. If you weren’t set on marrying a Jewish girl, I might throw my hat in the ring—despite my advanced age.”

  “See? Good guys exist, at least for Jewish girls. And from what you’ve told me, Brandon sounds like a stand-up guy too.”

  Cassidy twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. “I think he is too. I think he’s the real deal.”

  “And he’d be lucky to have you. Remember that when you’re in California, OK? Promise?”

  “You sound like Danielle.”

  “Well, Danielle is clearly one smart woman. I know that douche bag Dean really messed with your head.”

  “He wasn’t exactly a douche bag. He just wasn’t…in love with me.” She frowned.

  “Well, regardless, he didn’t treat you very well in the end, and there’s no excuse for that.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you sure you’re only thirty years old? You sound like my dad right now.”

  “I know we always joke about it, but thirty isn’t that young, Cassidy. Maybe in New York City it is, but not in the rest of the world.”

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right. I remember when I was in junior high school, thirty might as well have been fifty it seemed so old to me.”

  “Well, I may be a few years younger than he is, but this guy Brandon had better treat you right. Otherwise he’ll have to answer to me.” He patted his chest.

  She smiled and sipped her wine. “Thanks, Harper. And I hope Vanessa’s as nice as you say she is, because if not, she’s going to have to answer to me.”

  Chapter Nine

  HER TRIP TO California was finally here.

  Almost.

  The day before her flight, Darlene took Cassidy by the arm and gently led her to a manicure table. “Welcome back, love. Can I get you some tea?”

  “That would be nice, thanks.” Cassidy took a seat, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The salon once again smelled of cinnamon.

  Darlene returned with the tea and a heated wrap, then sat down across from Cassidy after she’d secured it around her neck. She reached for her hands. “Have you been nibbling since I last saw you?”

  Cassidy bit her lip. “A little, but I’m trying, I promise.”

  “No need to make me any promises, love. Sometimes trying is all we can do.”

  Cassidy thought the comment was a bit odd and wondered what Darlene meant by it. She noticed that the woman looked tired today, with small dark circles under her eyes. She wanted to ask if anything was wrong but remained silent, unsure whether that was an appropriate question.

  A few minutes into the manicure, she decided to speak up.

  “Are you OK?” she asked quietly.

  Darlene nodded without looking up. “Don’t worry about me, love. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She kept her eyes focused on Cassidy’s hands. “Yes, love. Now please, let’s not talk about me. Are you having a nice day?”

  Cassidy hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I am, actually. I’m off to California in the morning, for a week.” Cassidy said it casually, but the truth was she’d been thinking of practically nothing else and felt as if tomorrow would never come.

  “Is that so? You going for work?”

  “A little work, a little pleasure, I guess.”

  “Sounds nice, love. I’ve never been.”

  Cassidy wondered how much traveling Darlene had done in her life. She remembered how she’d played the character game after first meeting her. That day she’d painted a vivid picture of who Darlene was, a depiction that still held true in her mind, incorrect though it must be. Loving wife, mother, and grandmother, talented singer and cook. Was any of it real? All she knew for sure was that Darlene had a warm, gentle way about her that immediately put her at ease. Darlene was also clearly a private person, so Cassidy didn’t want to pry with questions about her personal life. At least not today. Right now she was content to enjoy the moment, simply letting her mind wander to what lay ahead.

  She reached for the teacup with her free hand as Darlene worked on her nails, humming softly as she filed.

  As Cassidy sipped the tea, she felt her lips curl into a shy smile.

  That night she could barely sleep, but as she finally drifted into slumber, her thoughts were consumed by a single thought.

  Brandon Forrester is going to kiss me tomorrow.

  “Do you live in San Francisco?” The young woman seated next to Cassidy asked over the din of the flight attendant’s announcements before takeoff.

  Cassidy adjusted the buckle of her seat belt. “I’m from there, but I live here now. What about you?”

  The woman pointed to the floor of the plane. “Born and raised in Westchester, live in the West Village now.”

  “Are you going out there for work?”

  The woman shook her head as the plane slowly rolled toward the runway. “A wedding. Although I’m a bridesmaid, so I guess technically that means I’ll be working too.”

  “That should be fun. I haven’t been to a wed
ding in quite a while.”

  “To be honest, I’m really getting sick of them. This is the tenth one I’ve gone to this year, and the third time I’ve been in one. I’m going broke!”

  Cassidy smiled. “I remember those days. Let me guess: are you in your late twenties?”

  “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “The year I was twenty-seven, I went to thirteen weddings.”

  The woman’s eyes got big. “No way.”

  “Yep. Two of them were even at the same church and reception hall, on back-to-back weekends. I even wore the same dress. It was totally different crowds, so I figured why not? I called them the Groundhog Day weddings.”

  The woman laughed. “I like your attitude. Are you married now?”

  Cassidy tensed a bit as she realized she was a full decade older than the woman. “No, still haven’t met the right guy yet.” She wondered what she must be thinking. Does she find it sad that I’m not married? Or do I seem independent and cool? Cassidy hoped it was the latter, but she knew if their roles were reversed, she’d probably be thinking the former. When Cassidy was twenty-eight, it hadn’t occurred to her that she’d still be sitting at the singles table ten years later. At least there weren’t any weddings to attend in her near future.

  “What about you? Are you going to the Bay Area to visit your family?” the young woman asked.

  “More or less. A little bit of work, but I hope not too much.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m an author.”

  “For real? I’ve never met an author before.”

  Cassidy smiled and half shook her head. “Meeting me is not that exciting, trust me.”

  “What do you write?”

  “I guess you could call it women’s fiction, with a hint of romance. But definitely not like those romance novels that have heaving bosoms on the cover. And definitely no corsets.”

  The woman reached for her purse. “What’s your name? I’m totally going to read your books.”

  “Cassidy Lane.”

  “Molly Benson. It’s so nice to meet you.” She jotted down Cassidy’s name on a piece of scrap paper and tucked it into her wallet.