“Actually, I know Patricia. At least you won’t starve.” Sherry chuckled.
The two women headed toward the baggage carousel. Sheila had checked two large bags with a bright yellow ribbon tied to each of them. Cassidy’s name and Anchorage address was written on cards and hidden inside instead of attached to the handles. She’d hoped to prevent the luggage handlers from questioning a discrepancy in names between luggage tags and ticket holder.
“Your parents won’t know if you’re alive or dead?” asked Sherry.
“I wrote Dad a long letter explaining my reasons for leaving, and I requested he respect my wishes and not search for me.”
“If my daughter disappeared, I’d be frantic.” Sherry shook her head.
They each grabbed a luggage cart and wheeled them toward the unmoving carousel. Cassidy’s cart squealed with each step, and the noise reverberated throughout the silent, sleeping concourse. She glanced at her watch; the time was three fifteen in the morning.
“You have a daughter?” inquired Cassidy.
“She’s living with her granny right now in Portland while I’m saving money to finish college, teacher training.”
“Do you have a picture?” asked Cassidy, as they stopped beside the carousel.
“You bet I do.” Sherry dug her wallet out of her purse, flipped it open and handed it over.
Cassidy studied the photo of a blue-eyed girl with long blonde curls and an impish grin displaying two missing front teeth. “She’s adorable, Sherry!”
“Thank you. I’m so proud of my baby.”
“How old is she?”
“Catherine just turned seven.” Sherry’s proud smile turned into a grimace. “Going on thirteen.”
“And you love every minute of it.” Cassidy chuckled. Laughing felt wonderful, after so many days surrounded by doom and gloom, tears and hurt feelings, preoccupied with schemes and secrets and sadness.
“Now how did you guess that?” Sherry laughed heartily and then looked around. “Would you like a Starbucks coffee? They’re upstairs, and I believe they’re open twenty-four hours.”
“Not this late, but thanks for asking.” Cassidy sighed. After such a long day, she felt exhausted. But strong coffee would jolt her awake and delay sleep until tomorrow afternoon. She looked forward to a soft bed and a minimum of twelve hours sleep once she got settled into Patricia’s home.
“You’re probably wise. I won’t bother either.” Sherry sighed.
“Where’s Catherine’s dad? Or are you a single mother?” Cassidy touched Sherry’s arm. “You don’t have to answer that if you’d rather not.”
“I’m a widow. Gary was killed in Iraq.” Sherry’s eyes welled, and she dragged her luggage cart closer and parked one foot on the bottom rung. “Let’s change the subject. So there’s no hope for you and Jonathan?”
“None at all! Jonathan is insincere and arrogant. And frankly, Riley’s a better kisser.”
Chapter 3
Sherry stared, confused. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who is this Riley fellow?”
“Sheila’s cocker spaniel puppy: long silky ears, big brown eyes, and a cute stubby tail.” Cassidy grinned, impishly. At least the one thing she hadn’t lost was her sense of humor, she thought. Lord knows, she’d lost everything else that mattered.
Sherry just shook her head.
“Jonathan Ward is a loser. Mark my words… someday Dad will regret awarding him that partnership.”
Sherry placed her hand on Cassidy’s arm. “Moving to a new city, no friends, no job. Once you’re settled in, I could initiate a few inquiries about openings for a talented corporate lawyer.”
“Good heavens, no thank you. What easier way for Dad to track me down? I’m finished with Theodore Donahue.” A tsunami of emotions—anger, regret, disappointment, determination—surged through Cassidy. “If Dad discovers where I’m living, I’ll simply hide somewhere else. Maybe I’ll choose somewhere tropical with sun-drenched beaches.”
“Then how can I help you?”
“Well, I’m definitely not the type to sit at home watching daytime soaps.” Cassidy laughed. “A job would enrich my life. But I require something as far removed from law as possible.”
“Ever worked as a cocktail waitress?” Sherry raised one eyebrow.
Cassidy’s mood brightened. “As a matter of fact, in college I worked at the campus watering hole. Dad bestowed upon me an allowance he believed would cover my expenses. His concept of ‘cover’ contradicted my concept of ‘cover’. To overcome the shortfall in spending money, I secretly waited tables. God bless the guy who invented tips.”
“Amen.” Sherry playfully glanced heavenward. “Those tips move me closer to college enrollment every week.”
“You’re a cocktail waitress?” blurted Cassidy, and then felt her face redden. “Not that there’s anything wrong with working as a cocktail waitress.”
“No offence taken. People aren’t always what they seem. I could mention you to the head waitress in charge of hiring.”
“I wouldn’t mind resurrecting my cocktail waitress career. But don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
“No trouble at all, Cassidy.” Sherry smiled, slyly bobbed her eyebrows. “Since I’m the head waitress in charge of hiring, and I know for a fact there’s a position coming available in a week or so.”
Cassidy chuckled. “Sherry, fate could turn this chance meeting into a lifelong friendship.”
Suddenly, the carousel rumbled into motion circling like a giant metal serpent. A variety of luggage—suitcases, backpacks and duffle bags—tumbled onto its surface in intermittent intervals.
“I haven’t hired you yet. I require a resume, two character references, work references, a police check for criminal record, and….” Sherry rubbed her arm where her potential new employee playfully punched her.
And then Cassidy’s mood turned serious. “Goodness, Sherry, talk about not what you seem—a defense attorney turned cocktail waitress? Could Dad track me down, working in a bar in Anchorage?”
Sherry grabbed a large floral-patterned suitcase and a black duffle bag off the carousel, and Cassidy hauled her two ribbon-bedecked Louis Vuitton suitcases off a minute later. Both women hefted their bags onto their carts and then headed toward the front entrance.
“How successful your disappearance is, depends on how industrious your father’s search is. You’re not renting a car?” asked Sherry.
“Patricia emailed me the instructions, but it is pitch-black outside. And I’m so tired I’m not certain I could read street signs anyway.” Cassidy shoved the luggage cart through the glass sliding double doors.
“My car’s in the shop, so I’m forced to hire a taxi.” Sherry stepped up to the edge of the curb and waved enthusiastically toward the one cab waiting for customers at this late hour. “I live close by. You could drop me off and then continue on.”
“Sharing a cab sounds good to me since I have no idea where I’m going.” Cassidy smiled, but inwardly, she grimaced at her choice of words. She had no idea where Patricia lived, but more importantly, she had no inkling as to where life would take her. But she was certain of one thing. In whatever direction fate steered her, from this moment on, she vowed she would remain firmly and solely at the helm. All future life decisions would be hers alone.
One question remained: would those decisions prove right or wrong, good or bad?
The Checker Cab pulled up beside them a few seconds after Sherry waved from the curb outside the South Terminal. At the same moment, a shiny black Porsche pulled up behind the taxi. Someone tapped the horn and waved to Sherry from inside.
“Is that a man in there?” asked Cassidy, grinning. She couldn’t clearly distinguish his features beneath the substantial Stetson.
“My boss...we’re just good friends,” answered Sherry. “Nothing more.”
Sherry and Cassidy promised to keep in touch, hugged warmly, and then parted ways.
The cab driver loaded Cassidy’s bags into the trunk
, assisted her into the backseat, and closed the door. He rounded the vehicle, hopped in, and then twisted sideways in the front seat. “My name’s Bill. Where to, Miss?” he asked, meeting his passenger’s eyes.
Cassidy handed the cabbie a crumpled slip of paper. “That’s the address, Bill. My friend mentioned taking International and then south on Minnesota to Diamond or Demon or something. It sounded all too complicated so I didn’t rent a car. But my friend assured me it’s only a short drive from the airport. Don’t take the long way to pad your fare.”
A mischievous smile creased the driver’s face. “But it’s such a lovely evening for a nice long drive,” he drawled.
Cassidy tossed him an exaggerated smile. “Lovely evening? It’s almost morning.”
The cabbie flipped on the meter and pulled away from the curb. “The correct street name is Dimond. I’ll have you there in no time.”
Cassidy rolled her shoulders to loosen the tension that had settled in during the flight. It seemed a lifetime ago since she fled her apartment in Chicago and departed for O’Hare Airport. Cassidy hoped some pleasant conversation would counteract the exhaustion threatening to overtake her. After all, falling asleep in the backseat of a cab in a strange city seemed totally out of the question. She glanced out the side window.
“I suppose Anchorage is a lovely city if one could actually see it. Why would Alaska Air land passengers anywhere at three o’clock in the morning?” She yawned loudly.
“Beats me, Miss.” Bill peered back at Cassidy through the rearview mirror, smiling broadly. “The airlines never consult with the taxi companies on such matters. Just expect us cabbies to fetch passengers at any hour of the day or night.”
“Terribly inconsiderate of them.” Cassidy warmed to the cheerful driver who obviously enjoyed his work. She sighed deeply, leaned on the door’s armrest, and peered out the window again. Soon the taxi turned off the more brightly lit main thoroughfares and headed down dimly-lit residential streets.
“First visit to Anchorage?” inquired Bill.
Cassidy met the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Sherry had asked the same question. What’s the big deal about visiting Anchorage? she wondered. Or was asking the question a habit of cocktail waitresses and taxi drivers?
“Yes, first visit,” she admitted. “From the air, the city appeared quite the metropolis, certainly not the meagerly populated northern outpost I had imagined.” And then she silently mouthed the words she’d guessed were coming next.
“You’ll either love the north or hate it.” The cabbie shook his head. “But I wouldn’t live anywhere else on earth.”
“I’ll reserve my opinion for later, when I experience the city in daylight.” Cassidy smiled. One thing satisfied her to no end. Anchorage was the last place on earth her father would think to look for her.
A few minutes later, Bill pulled into the driveway of a sprawling bungalow, lit up like it was Christmas. Cassidy dragged herself out of the taxi and headed for the front door. The brick house had a red front door, and the lawn and flowerbeds appeared well-manicured.
“Someone is up at this ungodly hour,” observed the cabbie, as he opened the trunk and extracted her three suitcases.
Patricia Graham threw open the door after the doorbell’s first ring. The pretty blonde, blue-eyed chef greeted Cassidy with a huge smile. Her slim-bodied housemate wore raspberry-toned silk lounging pajamas, and she cuddled a cute ginger-colored cat in her arms. “How was your flight?”
“Pleasant conversation with a friendly seatmate helped the trip pass quickly.” Cassidy stepped into a tastefully-decorated foyer, and Bill set her bags inside the door. She thanked him, tipped him generously, and then closed the door behind him. She turned and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Cassidy Donahue.”
“I know. I’ve seen pictures from your college days, and I recognized you right off.” Patricia set the cat on an upholstered bench, ignored Cassidy’s outstretched hand, and flung her arms around her in an exuberant hug. “Your hair is shorter, and I approve of the auburn. But you haven’t changed at bit.”
“I look my usual self? So much for my attempt at a disguise, and I’m out two hundred dollars for nothing.” Cassidy laughed and shook her head.
“Just the truth, and nothing but the truth.” Patricia grinned, holding up one hand while swearing the oath.
“So you remembered I pursued a law degree.” Cassidy shucked off her coat, and Patricia hung the garment in the hall closet.
“Senility and forgetfulness are years away, I hope.” Patricia stood, hands on hips.
“Touché. Who is this four-footed friend of yours?” Cassidy bent down and scooped the cat into her arms.
“Her name is Ginger, and she’s the best cat in the world. Just so you know.” Patricia grinned, resembling a proud mother.
“Hello Ginger. I just love kitty cats, and we’ll get along famously. You’ll see.” Cassidy buried her face in the cat’s soft fur. “Is your mommy always this perky at four o’clock in the morning?”
“I locked the restaurant doors at two a.m., and I drank three cups of coffee while closing up. But I bet you’re exhausted from that long flight. Follow me.” Patricia grabbed the largest suitcase, yanked out the handle, and headed down the wide hallway. Cassidy set her carry-on bag atop the other smaller suitcase and followed.
Cassidy stepped into the large bedroom decorated in an inviting combination of pale lilac and blue tones which oozed femininity. Canary yellow and cream accessories complemented the tasteful palette. Cassidy parked her suitcases beside the cherry wood king-sized bed.
“I shipped two trunks yesterday. I doubt they’ve arrived yet.” Cassidy stretched, rubbing her lower back. She spotted a set of sliding glass doors leading to a small patio.
“Not yet. Perhaps in another day or two. The ensuite is through there.” Patricia pointed toward the bathroom. “And there’s an enormous walk-in closet behind this door as well as this armoire.”
The second Cassidy entered the bathroom a delicious lavender scent enveloped her. Pale lilac walls and a beautiful glassed-in shower caught her eye. Decorative soaps, powders and potions lined the sunken jet tub and fluffy white cotton towels hung from decorative rods. Cassidy slipped out of the room before a hot bath tempted her. Totally exhausted, she wouldn’t risk nodding off and drowning on her first night of freedom.
“Why would you assign the master suite to a guest, Patricia?”
“My room across the hallway is identical. Two master suites, wonderful selling feature. I use the third smaller bedroom for an office. Let me show you the rest of the house.”
Patricia linked arms with Cassidy and swept her out of the bedroom and down the hall to the spacious living room where every inch was utilized to the best advantage.
From floor to ceiling, exquisite, pale-toned rock fronted a gas fireplace which burned brightly and provided a mesmerizing glow to the room. A wonderful focal point. Cassidy moved close to the fireplace, chilled from exhaustion.
A minute later, she turned in a circle, admiring the decor. “This room is so welcoming.”
“Thank you. You wouldn’t believe its condition when I moved in.” Patricia shook her head.
A built-in cherry wood entertainment center housed a forty-inch flat screen TV, DVD player, several gaming units, and a surround sound system. Twin white leather love seats faced each other, flanked by several easy chairs upholstered in gray suede. Punches of red from toss cushions, picture frames and vases brightened the otherwise neutral decor. An enormous built-in, fully-stocked bar occupied a corner alcove.
“These pieces are exquisite.” Cassidy trailed her hand along the edge of the largest of three valuable antique accent tables. Her mother loved antiques, and Cassidy recognized quality when she saw it.
“Executive chef pays well. But not as well as Grandma Helen’s trust fund.” Patricia grinned.
The living room led to the dining area, featuring a magnificent antique oak table and ten matching high
-backed chairs anchored by an oriental rug. An impressive antique glass-fronted breakfront cabinet housed a huge collection of fine bone china and Baccarat crystal. Tasteful artwork hung on every wall.
“Like most chefs, you obviously love entertaining.” Cassidy admired a landscape painting. “If this chef thing doesn’t work out, you should consider interior design.”
“Not on your life. I love my work. Interior design is nothing more than a hobby.”
They wandered into the kitchen.
A commercial gas range dominated the main wall, and a large island occupied the center of the room. A trio of leather upholstered barstools hid beneath the island’s marble countertop, and Cassidy imagined the cupboards contained every pot, pan, utensil and ingredient a chef desired.
“I’m visualizing myself seated here watching you cook, while we sip a nice Chardonnay.” Cassidy laughed. “Should I fear for my waistline while I’m living here?”
“Not if you’re just watching. However, if you eat anything all bets are off. Would you like a nightcap?” asked Patricia, smiling. “Maybe a glass of white wine?”
“I’d love one, thanks. But I’ll change out of these clothes first.”
Patricia padded toward the living room on bare feet, and Cassidy headed back to her assigned room. Ten minutes later, Cassidy strolled into the living room dressed in Disney patterned pajama bottoms and a cap-sleeved white cotton t-shirt.
“What would you prefer? A Chardonnay or a Sauvignon? I have both open.”
“Chardonnay, please.”
“Coming right up.”
Cassidy felt fortunate to live in such luxurious and comfortable surroundings. The apartment she’d shared in Chicago with Jeannie lacked any sense of style, since neither Jeannie nor she had been bitten by the decorating bug. When you lived at work and slipped home only long enough to shower and sleep, interior design wasn’t a priority in your life.
Patricia handed her a glass of wine and offered a toast. “Welcome to your new home.”
“Thank you. I’m going to love it here.” Cassidy clinked glasses with her new housemate, and then made a mental note to purchase fresh flowers tomorrow to thank Patricia for extending such a warm welcome.
Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy) Page 3