Mourning Becomes Cassandra (36 page)

Phyl clapped her hands gleefully. “Oh, Cass, you look lovely! I wish we could do this every day!”

“This is ridiculous,” I complained. “I don’t even want to go to this thing, and I don’t know why I let you guys do me up. Not that it doesn’t look nice,” I tacked on hastily, seeing their hurt faces. Still grumbling, I let them stuff me into Phyl’s burgundy satin dress, lent for the occasion. It really did fit me perfectly, and while the keyhole cut-outs in the neckline showed more skin than I was used to, it was otherwise modestly cut and not overly clingy. Joanie’s strappy gold sandals complimented it nicely, but I didn’t know how long I could last in those spiky heels.

“I need more tea,” I declared, cutting short their fussing. “And I want to be downstairs before Daniel is ready—otherwise it’ll be like he’s picking me up for prom.”

I didn’t have to wait long for him, but in that short space of time I downed as many cups of Soothing Chamomile as I could, trying to ignore the mounting feeling of dread. Why on earth had I agreed to this?

When Daniel finally did pop in the back door, we stared at each other, stunned, for a minute. He was absolutely beautiful in a tuxedo. Dashing. Stunning. Good heavens.

“Good heavens,” said Daniel, echoing my thoughts.

I looked at him warily. “Is it okay? I let Joanie and Phyl have their way with me.”

“You look…lovely,” he said finally. “That color really brings out your eyes and the lights in your hair—”

“Okay, okay,” I cut him off, blushing. “Let’s get going before I change my mind.” I reached for Phyl’s cashmere wrap, but Daniel plucked it from my fingers and laid it across my shoulders.

I had never ridden in his precious vintage Corvette before, and I hastened to open the passenger door before he could make any motion to—the prom feelings were getting a little overpowering.

“I’d like to see that yearbook. You look a lot like your mom, you know.” I made a noncommittal sound, not being in the mood for small talk, but he seemed unfazed, and for the entirety of our drive to the W Hotel in Seattle he kept up a running series of questions worthy of a Camden School mentor. When did my parents marry? Where did I grow up? What did Perry and I like to do as kids? What had our holidays been like, growing up? And so on.

Too soon we were pulling into the hotel garage. When I stumbled getting out of the low car, Daniel hauled me up by the elbow and didn’t release me until the elevator doors were closing.

Someone from his office had knocked herself out decorating. The Great Room was alight with candles and Christmas trees, balloons and glittering centerpieces. The buffet table featured an ice-sculpted sled amidst platters and platters of food, and there were waiters everywhere, carrying trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. One side of the room by the windows had been carved out for a dance floor, and the DJ was already on the job. Must have been a good year for the firm.

Daniel drew my arm through his as we made our way in, and I obediently left it there, unsure of what to do with myself. He introduced me to someone who apparently made video animations for them as trial exhibits, and that man and I made dogged conversation about his work and the animation I saw Lewis doing at Free Universe while Daniel was engaged in greeting his boss and one of the chief clients. Eventually our talk petered out, and the man took himself off, leaving me free to look around once more. Call me paranoid, but it seemed like more than one woman was looking daggers at me.

All those cups of Soothing tea caught up with me then, and after bouncing from foot to foot for a couple minutes, waiting for a natural point at which to excuse myself, I finally hissed in Daniel’s ear, “Gotta go to the bathroom—be right back” and took off.

Dancing around in the stall, I tried to hike every inch of Phyl’s precious burgundy gown into the clear before I sat down. Because of my heels I was almost three inches taller, which I forgot to account for, and nearly tumbled down onto the seat. One day somebody will have to explain to me how drinking three cups of tea turns into a gallon of pee because I felt like I was at it for several minutes. Long enough to hear the clacking heels of several other women entering the bathroom.

“Did you see that girl Daniel was with?” asked the first voice.

“Oh my God, yes,” replied the second. Only one of them went into a stall, so I imagined the rest were freshening up at the mirrored sinks. “His standards are slipping.”

My mouth fell open in indignation. I wanted to press my eye to the door crack, but I feared if I got up from the toilet, the auto-flush would go off, and then the women would wonder why I didn’t come out. Nor was I the type of woman who could sweep out of the stall, pin the gossipers with a steely eye and leave them shaking in their stilettos. Leave that to women who looked like Joanie.

“Her dress is nice,” piped up a third, in a sweeter voice. I instantly pictured her as the Melanie Wilkes of the bunch and could almost hear her companions’ eyes rolling. At least Phyl would be happy to hear her dress passed muster. “And her hair.” Ditto Joanie’s hairstyling skills.

“Yeah, but since when has Daniel been a dress and hair guy?” scoffed the second.

There was some muffled laughter, and then still a fourth voice said, “Exactly—women around him don’t spend much time with any kind of clothes on. At least, I didn’t.” Fiona? Was that Fiona? I tried to scoot to the edge of the toilet, but no luck seeing out.

“You’re awfully quiet, Kelly,” prodded the first woman. “You’re the only other woman here who’s been with our Casanova. What do you think of his latest?”

Kelly was silent for a moment, and I knew her mind was returning to that same November afternoon in the Lean-To that mine was.

“She’s always wanted him,” she answered at last, provoking an affronted gasp out of me that I tried to play off by making lots of noise with the toilet paper dispenser. “I mean, I could tell from the times I was over at his place. She was always really flirty with him and kind of stalker-like. You know, he says she’s a housemate, but she’s actually more of the housekeeper.”

That catty, rumor-mongering, fake redhead! What had I done to her? All these months I never spoke of what I saw that afternoon to anyone but Daniel, and she had the nerve to paint me as some kind of desperate scullery maid? I could feel my face, scarlet with anger and mortification. Really, it was another strike against Daniel’s character that he would even sleep with women like this, but I suppose, with him, big breasts covered a multitude of sins.

“You know,” came Melanie Wilkes’ peacemaking voice again, over the snapping-shut of compacts and handbags, “I was surprised he brought a date tonight because I haven’t seen him with anyone for weeks and weeks. And he’s been different around the office, somehow. I used to always feel like he was secretly thinking of dirty jokes every time he talked to me.” Despite my anger, I felt a twinge of amusement. I rather liked this girl—that was exactly the way I used to feel when Daniel talked to me.

“He has been less of a flirt,” the second voice conceded. She sounded slightly disappointed. “I kind of miss it. It made me think one day I’d get my chance with him.”

“You probably will,” the first woman replied dryly. “If he’s relaxed his criteria enough to go out with his stalker-housekeeper, I’ll bet in another couple weeks an Accounts Payable rep fifteen years his senior won’t be unthinkable.”

“I’ll be waiting!” sang the Accounts Payable rep, and I heard the clacking of heels again as the crew made their way back out.

I stumbled out of the stall, with the loud auto-flush drowning out the rushing of blood in my ears. Phyl’s dress looked rather rumpled from its long stint scrunched up around my waist, and I tried to smooth it out before dabbing my face with cold water. Crap, I forgot I had mascara on. It took another three minutes to repair my make-up, then one more to gather my courage and slap on a calm face before emerging from the bathroom.

Daniel was at the bar, some woman awfully close to him, but when he spotted me, he excused himself and made his way to my side. “Good heavens—I thought I was going to have to send in the Marines,” he teased, handing me a glass of some kind of white wine.

“Too much tea,” I muttered, downing the wine. Better to let him think I had the bladder of a horse than to go into what really delayed me.

He raised an eyebrow as he watched me guzzle my wine but only said lightly, “I thought for a minute you might be meeting some other man here. You look pretty irresistible.”

Thunking my empty glass down on a passing waiter’s tray, I glared at him. “No, Daniel, that would be some of the other girls you’ve dated. And don’t talk to me like that—I don’t like it.”

“Don’t talk to you like what?” he demanded, knocking my hand down when I tried to reach for another glass of wine floating by.

“Like—like—” Melanie Wilkes’ words popped into my head. “Like you’re secretly thinking of dirty jokes. I’m here as a favor to you, so—”

“Thinking of dirty jokes?” he repeated, a low note of anger in his voice. “Actually, Cass, I was trying to pay you a compliment. You are the damned bristliest woman I’ve ever known.”

“Well, I don’t want your compliments,” I snapped. I blinked at him, suddenly feeling the effects of chugging wine on an empty stomach. “I think I want food.”

“I’ll say you do, you little fool,” he said. “Drinking a glass of wine that fast. If I hadn’t stopped you from taking another, I imagine I could say or do anything I felt like with you in another ten minutes.” Grasping my elbow tightly, he led me over to the buffet table, ignoring my tugs to rip it away.

Thankfully, some of Daniel’s colleagues were also hovering around the food, and I was spared further conversation with him. Not further discomfiture, however. When he presented me to one of the senior partners, Daniel said, “Don, this is my friend Cass. Cass, this is Don Fields, the man who hired me.”

“‘Friend,’ huh?” bellowed Don, winking at Daniel. “I’ve met a lot of your friends over the years, young man.” Nodding at me, he added, “We had no idea when we hired him that he was going to cause so much turnover in our female staff, hey, Daniel? Had to ask him to lay off the paralegals, since they can be hard to replace, heh heh.”

“Was that ‘lay’ the paralegals, or ‘lay off’ the paralegals?” I asked innocently. Don roared with laughter, beyond what my quip deserved, and I surmised I wasn’t the only who had already had too much wine. Daniel, on the other hand, looked displeased and quickly changed the subject.

It was interesting to watch him in this environment, and I had plenty of opportunity, since no one seemed to expect much from me beyond nods and smiles when I was introduced. The male colleagues and clients were jocular but spoke to him with underlying respect and deference. Funny to me, since I had unconsciously adopted Joanie’s sisterly forthrightness with him. I realized again that Daniel really was a smart, well-read man who could converse intelligently on any number of topics, something I hadn’t dwelt on much, since my few serious conversations with him had been overshadowed by the many more about sex, drugs, and such. Or else I was too distracted by his dirty-joke tone to appreciate the actual content of our discussions.

The women’s responses I could have predicted. When they saw I made no move to engage Daniel or keep him to myself, and as the evening wore on and more liquor got into them, some of them took to hanging about, flirting outrageously. At one point I was sitting at a bar table, resting my tortured feet and trying to give Daniel a little space to do whatever he liked. When he went to get a refill on his drink, two women scurried in his wake to try their luck.

“So, you’re just a friend of Daniel’s?” It was an older gentleman. I think he’d been introduced as another of the senior partners, but I couldn’t remember.

I smiled politely. “Actually, I’m really good friends with Daniel’s sister. I just…rent a room from Daniel.”

“Then he probably wouldn’t mind if I asked you to dance,” he continued. “My third wife recently left me, and these holidays have been kind of lonely. Dancing with you would be a real treat for me.” Ugh! Too much information, and when he got closer his breath smelt like vodka.

“No, thank you,” I said firmly. “I borrowed my friend’s shoes, and my feet are pretty sore. Good thing there are so many other lovely ladies here for you to dance with.”

“Oh, come now, young lady,” he pressed. “There are other ladies here, but I imagined you’d welcome it. It’s always hard to be Daniel’s date, the neglected wallflower.”

“Ah, but she’s not neglected, Jack,” came Daniel’s voice, and before I could react, his arm brushed across my bare shoulders, and he pressed his lips fleetingly to my temple. I turned the bright red of a cooked lobster and stared at him speakingly, keeping my mouth clamped shut until Jack shrugged and walked away.

“Just what was that about?” I demanded through clenched teeth.

“I was rescuing you from Jack,” he replied calmly.

“For one thing, I didn’t need rescuing, and for another, would you mind keeping your hands to yourself?” I could just hear the bathroom gossip that move of his would lead to, and my temple still felt warm where he had kissed it.

“You have a certain appeal to you, beyond your looks,” he went on, ignoring my narrowed eyes. “It’s an air of vulnerability—makes some men want to try their luck, like idiot Tom in the pantry or poor Jack here, and makes other men feel protective of you…”

He trailed off, but I had no intention of continuing this subject. “Don’t worry about me,” I said dismissively. “You go and do your thing. I’m perfectly capable of sitting here and driving off any other knights errant.” When he didn’t move, I gave him a little shove. “Go on. Line yourself up some activity. You’ve been too long without any dates.”

He hesitated. “I’m not interested in any of them.”

I’d forgotten about his New Year’s resolution to give up relationship dumpster diving. “Ha!” I scoffed. “That never stopped you before. You’re getting picky in your old age. Let me see…how about her—over there by the chocolate fountain. Chocolate is said to be an aphrodisiac.”