Where Dreams Are Born (Angelo's Hearth) (24 page)

She stopped. In the silence he could imagine her, sitting in some high-rise condo, all perfectly manicured. Terry cloth bathrobe and hair done up in a towering twist of towel. If she had a cat, it would certainly never be the constant mess like Nutcase. Probably an elegant Siamese with a meow that could shatter glass or a little Pekinese yapping at her heels.

Her voice was soft when she resumed. “Remember what you said about porcupines.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I apologize. I too become all bristly when I’m talking to you and I don’t know why.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

Russell slapped his hand against his forehead. “No, I mean that I know why I do around you.”

“Willing to share?”

Not really, but what the hell, this conversation was already nothing like he’d imagined anyway.

“You remind me too much of my past and not enough of my future.”

“Is your past so vile and your future so clear?”

Nutcase clambered up onto his chest and he mussed her hair with his free hand. The silly thing purred madly.

“No. And…” Well, he had to be honest here, though for the life of him he didn’t know why. “Not as much as I’d like. It’s more that you are right out of my New York past.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” It was a tease. Though he couldn’t easily imagine Cassidy Knowles teasing. He’d flirted with hundreds of women, every model who came through and every waitress he came across for starters. But picturing a taunting, unfelt tease coming from Cassidy simply didn’t fit. Maybe it was a statement of fact.

“A part of me isn’t interested in knowing more.” Great! Insult her again. “But, uh, that sounded lousy, a part of me does.” It did. “Very much.” Now that he’d said it, it was true.

Nutcase head-butted his chin hard enough that he bit his tongue.

“What would you like to know?” Her voice was cautious.

“Ever been on a sailboat?”

“No.”

“Would you like to? I mean, my parents are coming to town and they’d like you more than they like me and I could really use your help with them. It would pay back anything I do for Perrin a hundred times over, I’ll even find a different model if you insist though you’d be great. My parents like Angelo well enough, but they have a, um, different relationship.” Angelo might be best friends with their son and they might have helped to raise him and send him to college, but he was still the son of their
cook.

“And the others in the marina, well, they’re just like me. And my parents are, they’re, well, you know…” He petered out. That was it. He
’d hit a new low in charm.

“Look, I understand. Stupid idea. I’ll just crawl back into my hole again. Thanks. Sorry to bother—”

“When?”

The word hung on the wires between them.

“Tuesday?” his voice squeaked. It hadn’t done that before. It sounded terribly desperate.

“Day after tomorrow?”

“Ten a.m. ‘D’ dock at Shilshole Marina?”

There was a long pause during which he couldn’t hear a sound except Nutcase’s buzzing as she kneaded his chest with her prickly little claws.

“Sure.” The word was so small for something so momentous.

“You’re kidding? Really?”

“Trying to talk me back out of it?”

“No. Uh-uh. No way. You’re committed now.” Russell could
n’t believe it.

“I said I was. Are they so scary?”

“Only to me.”

Then she laughed. It was the most miraculous sound he’d ever heard. He’d never heard her laugh. It rang from her like a thousand bells on a Christmas tree. He felt as if he’d just lost a hundred pounds, the weight he’d gained the moment his mother had called to announce their pending visit and then some more.

“What can I bring?”

“Just yourself. I’ll bring lunch fixings. Just dress in layers, it can be warm or cool on the water depending on the wind. You don’t mind visiting another lighthouse, do you?”

“Oh, is Tuesday the first? I didn’t realize.”

“What was that?”

She cleared her throat in one of those delicate, feminine ways that indicated a subject change that could never be turned around.

“Tuesday. Ten a.m. ‘D’ dock. Shilshole.”

“Right.”

“See you then.”

Then he was listening to a dial tone. But what had he said to make her angry? Only she hadn’t been. He’d swear she hung up just a moment before laughing aloud.

She was the damnedest woman he’d ever met.

Mukilteo

First lit: 1907

Automated: 1979

47.94871
    -122.30453

Mukilteo, in the local Native American language, means, “good place for camping.” In 1792 Captain George Vancouver came ashore there and named it Rose Point for all the wild roses that bloomed there.

Later renamed Point Elliot, it became the site of the signing of the Treaty of Point Elliot. This treaty of 1855 ended the Indian wars, established the Tulalip Indian Reservation, and truly opened the area up for significant white settlement.

The picturesque lighthouse has hosted hundreds and hundreds of weddings. Not a single one of the first hundred was rained on.

Russell was ten minutes early when he headed for the security gate at the head of the dock. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to be there for Cassidy
, it was that he needed a breather from his parents. Breakfast at the Palisades had been very civilized and polite. Perfectly friendly to all appearances, and the waitress in constant attendance with a pitcher of mimosas had certainly helped keep his nerves in line. If he’d had half a brain, he’d have invited Cassidy to breakfast as well. Though that might be too high a price, helping Perrin was being more fun than he’d expected.

Cassidy was waiting there when he reached the head of the dock. He opened the steel gate and stood back to appreciate her as she came through. Brown Docksiders on her feet that had clearly never seen the outside of a shoebox before today. Blue slacks with a crease up the front that was so perfect they must be as new as her unblemished shoes. Her blouse was a pale-blue, fitted, button-up shirt that looked immensely feminine on her shapely frame. Her smile was radiant, her hair back in a neat pony tail.

And over her arm was a red coat. A huge coat, totally inappropriate for the heat of the day. A red parka.

“Turn around.” It was barely a croak as it escaped his throat.

She obliged, doing a slow three-sixty. The runner’s ponytail. The auburn hair the same length as… And then her smile came around again, beyond radiant. Mischievous.

If it hadn’t been for the railing behind him, he’d have fallen backward into the ocean.

“You!?” He clenched the steel, real and solid beneath his shaking fingers.

She nodded.

“When? How? It can’t be.”

She slid a hand through the crook of his arm and guided him down the ramp toward the boats.

“It can be. I figured it out at New Dungeness, saw you through my binoculars.” She was just as amiable as if they were old friends chatting on a sunny afternoon about the model sailboats on the Pond in Central Park. As if his brain wasn’t misfiring on a grand scale already.

“And then sprinted off into the fog so fast I thought you were a mirage.”

“And then sprinted off into the fog. I didn’t think, I just ran. It was a bit of a shock.”

“I’m noticing that myself.” It was hard to believe that he was able to form whole words. That they were in sentences made it one of the modern miracles. He should probably send a note to some bishop or cardinal if he ever recovered.

She looked from side-to-side inspecting the various boats they passed. Fishing craft, fifty-foot power boats, and a lot of big sailboats. Most deserted and quiet except for the occasional weekend visit, but ‘D’ dock had a nice share of live-aboards as well. She was being a little obvious about not looking up at him.

“Why didn’t you…? Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

“You mean other than the week you spent camped out in front of my condo?”

“So, that was you. You live near there?” The runner
with the ponytail. He’d been right, it had been his lady of the lights. He looked down at her.

“My friends wanted me to call the cops on you. It was getting a little creepy.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was just trying to find…”

“Someone else.”

He sighed. What could he do?

“Yes. Someone else.” She was right, there was a lot more to her than he’d first suspected.

“Right after New Dungeness, I, uh, had to go to California, and that trip lasted a bit longer than I anticipated. I was going to tell you at Angelo’s, but you left too fast. As to the rest, let’s go meet your parents. I think they’ll enjoy the story as well.”

He considered throwing himself on the dock to scream and rant until he felt better. Some traitorous part of him wanted to dance a happy jig. Another part was seriously considering tossing her off the dock. Now there was a tempting image.

As if she’d been reading his mind, she slipped her hand from his arm and took a couple steps ahead.

Just as it had out at Cape Flattery, and the other night at Angelo’s, her touch made him feel calm, strong, and protective. The breaking of that touch left its memory. No one, not even Melanie had ever made him feel this way.

Lady of the Lights. Cassidy Knowles. A prettied-up, city girl. A runner. An outdoors woman. He couldn’t reconcile it all in his brain. How much he didn’t know about her was mind-numbing.

She stopped unerringly by the bow of his boat. Of course she did. She’d seen it five times over the last six months. Christ, he’d walked to Tatoosh Island with her hand on his arm, and refused her invitation to Destruction Island light. The world was whacked.

Cassidy reached out a hand toward the bow of his boat. Nutcase was perched on the very end of the bowsprit that rode just a foot or so from the dock. The cat sniffed her extended hand for a second and then launched herself across the water into Cassidy’s arms. Rather than withdrawing as Melanie had or simply dodging the scruffy beast, Cassidy caught her and let her snuggle right into her arms and rub her head under Cassidy’s chin.

Well, she’d certainly passed the cat test. His father came down the finger pier between his boat and the next to meet the visitor.

But would she survive the parent test?

# # #

Russell aimed the bow into the wind and set the engine to idle. With the ease of a half year of practice he raised the main and cleated off the sheet. He still hadn’t run the jib halyard back to the cockpit and he hurried forward to haul it up before the boat slipped off the wind. The big foresail unfurled with a loud snap.

The breeze was fresh without being strong or cool
, a near perfect sailing day.

Tying off the line, he hung the loose tail in a quick coil and trotted back to the cockpit. He killed the engine and kicked the tiller over with his knee.

In one smooth sweep the
Lady
slid from the world of loud vibrations and diesel fumes into the solid, silent pull of the world’s winds. She heeled over and surged forward. It was a tug deep in his gut that made him feel everything would be okay. He’d come a long way from his first scary solo out to Lime Kiln and back.

His father watched him closely. He’d always been tall and patrician. He would look completely in place as an English lord advising a Queen. The hair was grayer, the lines deeper, but it was still a commanding face.

His mother was in her usual Liz Taylor mode. Blue jeans that cost more than most evening gowns and a cashmere sweater showed off the success of her personal trainer’s perseverance on a body nearing sixty. A silk kerchief of royal blue kept her thick, brown hair under perfect control. Large, round-eyed sunglasses were pushed up on her forehead as she eyed Cassidy who was the only one at ease on the whole boat. Other than Nutcase.

The fur beast had checked in with him on her way to her perch on the boom. In moments the ball of calico lay curled up in the foot of the sail atop the boom. Far enough out that nothing lay below except ocean waves. Did she enjoy the danger? Or not see it? They’d tried a kitty life preserver, an unsuccessful and painful experiment. The scratches
on his arms had taken a week to heal.

Cassidy sat across from his parents on the low side of the cockpit
, a plastic tumbler of iced tea held easily in one hand. A tiny fleck of sunscreen remained on the edge of one ear that he longed to rub in, but he didn’t dare. They didn’t have that kind of a relationship.

Stupid. They didn’t have a relationship
, other than knowing and despising each other for six months. Without even knowing they knew each other. But they did know… Angelo was gonna shit. And he was also going to kill himself for not taking the day off to join them.

Unless Angelo already knew, but hadn’t told him. Maybe he’d begged off so he wouldn’t be swimming ashore right about now.

“I didn’t know you were a model, though I should have guessed.”

At Cassidy’s words, he dropped the tiller and had to grab for it again as the boat slewed into the wind. Nutcase popped her head up and stared at him. She slowly resettled as he didn’t call “helms a’lee.”

“You were a model?” he blurted it out.

His mother blushed a moment.

“Miss Puerto Rico,” Cassidy informed him.

His dad nodded in agreement and threw an arm around his wife’s shoulders giving her a quick hug. That was new as well. They were always so formal
and separate. Cold to each other as they were to him. Maybe cold wasn’t quite right. Perhaps always on show was more accurate.

“Yes. I took the prize money and moved to New York. Worked the catalog pages and runways to put myself through NYU. Close your mouth, dear. You look foolish.”

He clamped his mouth shut and clipped the end of his tongue.

“You didn’t know?” Cassidy gave him a puzzled expression. How was he supposed to know everything about his parent’s past? She probably knew every detail about her own from the moment she exited the womb until… now. He didn’t even know if her parents were still alive.

He shook his head.

She opened her mouth. This was it. He was about to be torpedoed. He really didn’t need a lecture from the person who was supposed to be his buffer.

Cassidy turned back to his parents.

“So, John, how did you two meet?”

Russell had to blink. Not only had she slipped in a perfectly natural subject change, but she hadn’t sold his soul either. Some day he’d stop underestimating her.

“The opera,” his mother answered. There were times he wondered if his father could even speak. She always ran every social occasion, with immaculate finesse and warmth. One he’d always thought a bit artificial.

The look she turned on her husband was electric. They actually held hands. There was another one Angelo would never believe. Russell certainly didn’t.

“Well,” his father’s voice was gruff from lack of use. “I was at a fundraiser for the Met.”

“I was in marketing.”

“Damn prettiest thing I’d ever seen came walking up to me at the hors d’oeuvres table.”

“I had no idea who he was,” his mother said off-handedly. “I’d just finessed a million-dollar donation from a usual hundred-thousander and decided to take the rest of the evening for me.”

“Walked right up to me.”

“I was headed for the bar.”

“Walked right by me.”

Their sentences were overlapping, their voices soft. Russell glanced at Cassidy who was enraptured by the story. Her body shifting easily as the boat slid over the waves as if she’d spent her life afloat. The sun discovered the hint of red in her hair and made it warm and alive.

“Then she looked back over her shoulder at me.”

She smiled up at him. “You were staring.”

“She never got her drink.”

“He forgot he was holding a piece of shrimp until I stole it from him.”

Cassidy’s hand shifted over her heart as if she were about to melt.

He ducked to peek under the sail. They were off Edmonds already, this lighthouse was so close. They’d be there in no time. Another hour to the lighthouse if the wind held off the beam. They might go the whole way up the coast on a single tack, Nutcase would appreciate the long nap without the boom swinging about. And it was far too deep off the lighthouse to throw out an anchor. Lunch aboard would get them most of the way back to dock. He might survive the day yet.

“Did you really?” Cassidy was busy looking amazed. What had he missed?

“What else was I supposed to do with him? He had talked my ear off until the hotel kicked us out into the lobby. It was three in the morning. They’d already cleaned everything in the room except the two chairs we were sitting on.”

He looked at his father who noticed his scrutiny. He shrugged and nodded with a silly smile on his face.

They’d slept together on their first date. People didn’t… well, he had often enough. But parents didn’t… His couldn’t… had.

“Where did you find a place?”

It was a friggin’ hotel, Cassidy. Lots of beds there. His own mother. Some little social climber, and she’d climbed right into his father’s lap and his fortune.

His mother reached out and touched Cassidy’s hand like a best friend emphasizing a point.

“It’s New York. There’s always someplace to dance.”

Dance?

“We found the seediest little dive.” John tapped his feet on the cockpit floor. “Smoking dark jazz.”

“We slow danced past sunrise.”

He was so glad that Cassidy was doing the speaking. He’d have screwed up the conversation eight different ways already. Maybe he could understand some of his father’s silences. Julia Morgan had clearly charmed Cassidy Knowles and he suspected that wasn’t as easy as his mother made it look. Maybe his mother really was that charming and it hadn’t been the act he’d assumed all these years.

When had he decided that anyway?
Anne? No, Kristi. His mother had been ever so kind to a coed named Kristi he was about to break up with later that night. His mother totally screwed that up and he’d been so pissed. Had been stuck with her for another three months before he figured out how to let her down easy. By then he’d totally missed his chance with... Was he really that shallow?