“What did he say?” I asked curiously.
“He liked you, Cass. You did a good job today,” he answered. I suspected he wasn’t telling me all but got distracted when he added, “Do you have time for lunch, or do I need to get you back?”
I glanced at my watch. “I don’t need to be anywhere until I meet Nadina at 2:45, but do you want to go somewhere else? Lunch here might be a little pricey for me.”
“My treat,” he said easily, throwing a bill down on the table. “Let’s move to that booth over there.”
“No way,” I hissed, trotting after him. “You just did me the hugest favor. We should go dutch.”
Daniel slid into the booth, signaling the waiter, who hastened over with menus. “Since I’ve known you, you’ve cooked me at least a hundred meals—I think I can handle this one.”
“You pay me for those meals,” I reminded him, “by reducing my rent, so we’ll split this.”
“Would it really be so difficult for you, Cass, just for once to say, ‘Yes, Daniel’ and leave it at that? I did just do you the hugest favor, as you pointed out, so the least you could do is not exasperate me.”
Chastened, I nodded, though his logic sat ill with me. Maybe he decided to become a lawyer after he took some high school vo-ed test and scored high on Manipulating Others.
Having won his point, Daniel seemed satisfied and slipped into the easygoing, brotherly mode I remembered from the New Year’s Eve party, telling me anecdotes about Ray’s studio and some of the famous bands that recorded there in the past twenty-five years. He wanted to know more about Mike and Nadina, too, and I ended up filling him in on most of what had gone on up to that point, including Mike stealing from Nadina at the skating rink and how Mark Henneman and I engineered her visit to Sylvia in Cleveland.
The time seemed to fly by, and I was just pushing away my empty soup bowl, from which I swabbed up every last drop of butternut squash bisque with the bread, when I caught sight of the waiter leading a couple toward our area of the restaurant, and my mouth fell open in horror. One tall, rangy man with salt-and-pepper hair and a swing in his walk, and one petite, black-haired woman with an oversized handbag. “Oh, no!” Startled by my change in expression, Daniel threw a glance over his shoulder. When he turned back, I was scrunched low, trying to keep out of the couple’s line of sight.
“Who the hell are they?” he demanded in a low voice.
Too late. “Cass? Is it you, Cass?” came Raquel’s amazed voice. “Max, look—Cass is here!”
How could this be happening to me? I had the worst luck imaginable. Of all places and times, to run into my former in-laws when I was alone at a restaurant with Daniel! Sure enough, when the Ewans stopped in front of our table, Raquel blinked at him in astonishment. Even mild-mannered Max straightened his glasses and took a long gander. I hadn’t known Raquel for going on fourteen years without getting pretty skilled in reading her expressions. This time, her face plainly said: “Ah ha! So she’s gone from my son to a man like this? Probably Cass is glad Troy died when he did, so he wouldn’t get in her way.” Absolutely mortifying. My face was glowing like a sunset.
“Raquel, Max,” I said in a wobbly voice that I tried to make sound perky. “Umm, Daniel, this is Raquel and Max Ewan, my mother- and father-in-law. That is, Troy’s parents. And Raquel and Max, this is—this is Daniel Martin. He’s my—my—my landlord.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I realized how ridiculous they sounded. Which was sketchier—for me to be having lunch with some overly-handsome strange man, or for me to be having lunch with my landlord? “This is a business lunch,” I added lamely.
“Cass apparently has issues with her wiring,” said Daniel with a straight face. There was another note in his voice I couldn’t identify, but I was too stressed out to worry about it. “How nice to meet you,” he continued. “Won’t you join us?”
Had he not been wearing his gazillion dollar Ferragamo shoes, I would have smashed his foot under the table. “Oh!” I shrilled, instead. “That would have been so fun, except that we’ve already finished eating and I need to get going. I was just going to run to the ladies’ room before I left.” Scooching along the bench, I stood up and gave them each a hug and a little shove to move them along after their waiter.
I managed to herd Max into their booth, but Raquel said, “I need to visit the ladies’ room, too. I’ll go with you, Cass.” Sigh. Here goes.
No sooner was the door of the restroom shut behind us than Raquel said innocently, “My, what a handsome landlord you have. If I had one like that, I’d always be inventing repairs and urgent projects.”
“Yes, well, he is certainly very handsome, but there’s none of that going on. He’s my best friend Joanie’s brother, and he owns the house we all live in, remember? Except he lives off in the mother-in-law in the backyard, so it’s not even like he lives with us.” Definitely rambling now, and rambling with a defensive note. Not good.
“Oh, my dear,” Raquel soothed, “you know we wish you all the best. And it would be absolutely natural for you to start dating again, but really—don’t you think he looks a little…not your type? He looks like he must be quite the ladies’ man.”
“Yes,” I agreed through gritted teeth. “Daniel is quite the ladies’ man, which is only one of the million reasons why I would never date him, and why lunch today is not a date.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, and I knew the only way I could convince her would be to show my hand, something I’d had no intention of doing for months, if I could help it. “Actually, Raquel, I am seeing someone. Not Daniel. Just a nice guy from church.”
Her dark eyes got very round, and I had a flitting memory of Min, the time I caught her stuffing the toilet bowl full of every roll of toilet paper she could find in the vanity. Min had her grandmother’s eyes. “Oh, I see,” Raquel murmured, the wind gone out of her. “Of course, Cass. It’s been over a year and a half.”
I felt the ominous tightening in my throat. “Don’t say that, Raquel! I know what you’re thinking—how could I possibly forget them so soon, but I haven’t forgotten them! Not a day goes by—you don’t think in a heartbeat I wouldn’t rather have Troy and Min back?” I could feel heat behind my eyes, and her own were looking wet. Crap. Crap crap crap. “But they’re not coming back,” I pointed out needlessly. “I’m not trying to forget them—I’m just trying to get on with my life, what’s left of it.”
“Of course, of course,” she repeated, her voice breaking. The next thing I knew, we were clinging to each other, crying all over the stinking place. At least the Café was upscale; they had complimentary Kleenex. Having gotten each other worked up, who knows how long we would have gone on, if another woman hadn’t mercifully come in and interrupted our sobfest. Breaking apart, we laughed ruefully.
I splashed water on my face and dabbed it with a paper towel. “I’ve got to go, Raquel. Let’s have lunch another time, okay? Love you guys.” Not trusting her voice yet, she nodded and gave me a powerful squeeze before disappearing into one of the stalls.
• • •
Daniel was waiting at the entrance. Feeling flustered and wishing I could just take the bus home, I blew past him out the door. How far would it be to walk? Two, three miles? I’d probably be late for meeting Nadina, in that case. Besides, in these crazy shoes of Joanie’s I’d almost certainly twist my ankle and have to crawl home on my hands and knees. I rubbed my temples, feeling the post-crying headache building.
“Cass?”
I’m sure he thought I was behaving like a maniac and couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Forcing myself to stop, I turned around slowly. “Sorry, Daniel. You must need to get back to the office. Do you still have time to drop me off? If not, I think the 231 goes down Lake Washington Boulevard.”
“Get in the car.”
Both relieved and reluctant, I obeyed. After buckling up, I waited for him to start the engine, but to my surprise, he put his key in the ignition and then just sat there. Peeking at him uncertainly, I s
aw he was looking straight out the windshield at the wall of the parking garage. “Are you okay?” I asked, finally.
“Am I okay?” he repeated in a tight voice. “Cass, what the hell was that about?”
What on God’s green earth did he have to be angry about? I was the one who just got done crying her guts out in the ladies’ room. “You mean me abandoning you at the table?” I demanded. “I had to go be cornered in the restroom by Raquel so we could have a good cry over our dead loved ones. Sorry if that bothered you.”
He took a deep breath, as if praying for patience. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “That must have been a lousy ten minutes.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I was asking you why you freaked out in the first place. Freaked out and introduced me as your damned ‘landlord,’ for God’s sake.”
“Oh!” I breathed, suddenly fighting an urge to giggle. Probably residual hysteria. “That was idiotic of me. I’m sorry. But I was afraid Max and Raquel would think we were there on a date, which is what Raquel ended up thinking anyhow, because I was so weird about it.”
He was silent a moment, while I fiddled nervously with the strap of Joanie’s shoe. “What would you have called James, if it had been James sitting there with you?”
Bewildered, I floundered around. “Good grief, I don’t know. My co-worker, maybe, or church friend or something. I would have demoted him too, if that’s what you’re irritated about. I knew Raquel would get upset if I were dating already—especially if she thought I were dating you!”
“Why especially me?” He was still staring straight ahead, and it was starting to give me the willies.
“Because—because you’re you!” I answered inanely. “You’re not the kind of guy a good, ordinary girl like me goes out with. You hardly said one word to her, and Raquel already had you pegged for a ladies’ man,” I said, unable finally to repress the giggle.
“Why am I not the type a girl like you would go out with?” he pressed. This was reminding me of our strange, middle-of-the-night conversation that time after I banged my head. He was in the same federal prosecutor mode, putting me on the defensive.
The straight answer was that, after my misadventure with Clive at Oxford, I no longer had interest in being with someone who didn’t share any of my foundational beliefs. When a believer and a non-believer got together, it was always the believer who gave ground. Added to his atheism, Daniel really left Clive in the dust when it came to being out of the question. All the women he slept with! My high school health teacher once said that, when you slept with someone, you effectively slept with everyone that person had ever slept with. Meaning, everyone who slept with Daniel was hooking up with most of North America. Ick.
Of course, none of this could be said to Daniel. I tried to give it a positive spin, as if his ego ever needed bolstering: “You’re just way too handsome for me. You’re out of my league.” No need to go into Troy’s theory of the Tiers.
“And that’s all?” He brushed some lint off his pants. “Just my looks. If I were stricken with smallpox and disfigured, you’d be all over me?” Obviously he wasn’t buying it.
“That’s not how it works, Daniel,” I objected. “You are who you are because you have been beautiful all your life. People have treated you differently your whole life long because of how you look. Getting smallpox at this late date would be a rude shock for you—you might have some trouble getting dates—but you’ve already become who you are.” Hmm…not so good. I seemed to be implying that his character was the obstacle, and that it was beyond redemption. I resorted to whining. “Why are you doing this to me? I already apologized for calling you my landlord. Who cares what kind of guys girls like me date? You just stick to your kind—”
“My kind being…” he interrupted swiftly.
I exhaled sharply in aggravation. “Your kind being…beautiful and—and easygoing. Are you going to take me home or not?”
Without another word, he started the engine and backed out. It was a silent drive home, with both of us irritated with the other, though it seemed to me I had cause to be upset and he was just being ornery. When he pulled up at the Palace, I was already opening the door to get away, but no sooner was I out of the car than I turned and leaned in to look at him. “Daniel—thank you for lunch anyhow. And thank you so, so much for introducing me to Ray and making this opportunity for Mike. I am grateful, despite calling you my landlord and getting in another argument with you. You’re a good guy—I’m glad I know you, George Bailey. Okay?”
His expression softened, even in profile. “‘How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.’” If he was quoting Shakespeare, he couldn’t be too upset. Sure enough, throwing a wave at me, he half-smiled and called as he pulled away, “Have a good time telling Nadina.”
Chapter 32: Bumps in the Road
“What would you say to a little road trip?”
I had dropped in at Free Universe to get Riley’s comments and suggestions—the truffle-hunting pigs material was finally going in a direction he liked—and to record a few enthusiastic “Oinkrekas!” for Murray to play with. When I emerged from Lockdown, James came skidding into the hallway on his Aeron chair and beckoned. Although he didn’t mix business with pleasure, most of the office was on to us by now. Nadina wasn’t the only one to notice us looking at each other a certain way.
“Road trip where?” I asked, squishing into his cube. Like Riley’s, James’ cube was wall-to-wall paraphernalia, but unlike Riley’s, James’ tended more toward freebies accumulated from several years’ worth of game expos: mousepads, laser pointers, flash drives in a rainbow of colors, game controllers, posters, mugs, even a plastic Viking helmet and Lord of the Rings knockoff sword. Sweeping game-packaging mock-ups off the work surface to clear me a seat, James beamed at me.
“Richland. It’s my grandparents’ 50th anniversary Presidents’ Day Weekend, and I thought we could make a Valentine’s getaway of it. You get to meet the whole family; they get to meet you. We could do a little wine-tasting to unwind afterward.”
Wine-tasting indeed. I might need to suck it directly out of the barrel at that point. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “Do you think it’s really appropriate for me to meet your family already?” Or ever?
James looked at me measuringly. “Well, we’ve been going out almost three months and known each other over five. Why not?”
“Well, why?” I countered. “Why don’t you just go? I don’t think you ought to subject girlfriends to family gatherings unless you’ve been going out at least six months.”
James shot a quick glance out of his cube in both directions to see if the coast was clear before he stood up and pulled me to him. “I can see you’re going to be difficult about this,” he murmured. “I have no idea what your problem is. Trying to plan a romantic weekend here—”
“Ha!” I scoffed in an undertone. “It’s not the least bit romantic to be trotted out for all the relatives, especially when I know all the relatives want you to be with cutesy Jen. No way. Go wine-taste by yourself. I’m fine with a card for Valentine’s Day.”
“Come on, Cass,” he coaxed, dropping little kisses along my jaw up to my ear.
I could feel my resistance wavering, but I protested feebly, “Not only do I think it’s inappropriate, but I’ll be out of town the weekend after to go see Perry’s musical.”
“Then you really have to because it’s too much time apart,” he said softly, pressing his mouth to mine.
“Oinkreka! Yuck! So unprofessional!” came Riley’s voice, followed by a wad of paper bouncing off James’ head. We looked up to see Riley’s own pony-tailed head and t-shirted torso over the cube walls, his hands planted squarely on his plump hips and an expression of fascinated distaste on his face.
“What the hell are you standing on, Riley?” James demanded, annoyed. “If you’re on your flipping work surface, you’re going to bust it off, and we’re not pay
ing for another one.” On cue, we heard an ominous cracking sound, and Riley abruptly disappeared, to reappear seconds later standing outside James’ cube.
“Just how am I supposed to get anything done, when I have to listen to you two lovebirds cooing at each other?” Riley complained. “I’m telling you, Kittredge, the working conditions are really slipping here. I knew we shouldn’t hire any women. I let you get away with Jeri because she’s on the fence, gender-wise, but—”
To cut off James’ irked retort, I said, “You’re right, Riley. I don’t blame you. James and I can continue this conversation later and somewhere else.”
“Like the Motel 6,” said Riley, looking satisfied and ambling away.
• • •
Two weeks later, James and I were on the road, headed for the Tri-Cities.
Joanie and Phyl, the only two I told about it, had their concerns. “Cass, he has got to be thinking marriage,” said Joanie. “What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know if he thinks that way,” I objected. “He’s only 27, after all.”
“Are you kidding me?” she fired back. “He’s 27, and he’s not getting any sex till he gets married, so I’m thinking he’s thinking marriage.”
“I’m with Joanie,” said Phyl.
Having expected Phyl to be more low-key, I went on the offensive. “What about Wayne, then, Phyl? He’s pushing 30 and not getting any sex.”
“That’s why he asks me to marry him every couple weeks,” she replied imperturbably. “Don’t freak out, Cass. We just think you may want to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what? You don’t think he’s going to propose this weekend, do you?” They exchanged glances which answered my question. Sitting down on the couch with a thump, I thought aloud. “We’ve only known each other a few months and we’ve been dating less than that, and Troy’s only been dead for twenty months—he can’t possibly ask me. He knows I’d say no.”
“Does he?” said Phyl.
Mourning Becomes Cassandra Page 32