A Celtic Knot (11 page)

Three months after he’d died they’d chartered a boat with family and friends and headed several miles offshore. Father O’Brien prayed with everyone and blessed Aidan’s ashes before Catherine and her mother tossed them to the sea. That way, her mother believed, he could always be part of the ocean and beach he loved so much.

There’d been so much turmoil and uncertainty in her life over the past several years. Things were just getting back to a sense of normalcy when a woman with beautiful amber eyes stormed into her life like a summer deluge in a tropical rainforest. Catherine deeply appreciated Olivia. She was forthright and grounded. She didn’t take crap from anyone, including Catherine. She was also extremely beautiful. Catherine didn’t appreciate the way her body yearned for Olivia without her permission.

She thought of Alexis, the last woman she’d trusted with her heart, the last woman she’d deeply desired. She never wanted to need or desire a woman like that again. She never wanted to be hurt again. Now she found herself staring at the waves as they washed up on the shore and faded back into the sea. If she opened her heart to Olivia, she would open herself to being hurt. But she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep Olivia just as a friend.

Catherine was jolted from her thoughts as a group of women walked across the patio and filed into the grand Hotel del Coronado. She took a deep breath and followed in behind them, stopping outside the Crown Room. Next to the door was a poster with a beautiful photo of Olivia and the caption
Dr. Olivia Carrington, Current Therapies in the Fight against Breast Cancer.
She couldn’t listen to another lecture on cancer. She would just go for a walk and meet Olivia later as planned.

An older man dressed neatly in a crisp black suit closed one of the doors. “We’re about to begin. Would you like to come in?”

Catherine gripped the strap of her purse. “I hadn’t planned to.”

He pointed to the poster. “I hear she’s a great speaker. My wife died of breast cancer two years ago. I can only pray that this Dr. Olivia Carrington can give the women in there some hope.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Catherine said, surprising herself. She slipped into the huge flamboyant room. Chairs with gold-trimmed backs were arranged in neat rows facing the ornate, curved stage. She took a seat near the front and looked around at the noisy crowd. The room would soon be filled to capacity; Catherine guessed it could hold around two hundred people. She looked up at the carved ceilings and massive crown chandeliers. She felt torn between admiration and discomfort, remembering how, when she was a teenager, she’d felt she would never belong here.

She turned to face the stage and was soothed by the image of Thomas Kinkade’s paintings changing on the huge screen like a screen saver on a computer. Within minutes the organizer of the lecture series stepped up to the microphone. She described Olivia’s career and credentials. Catherine looked off to the side of the stage and saw Olivia standing in the wings, meeting her eyes with a heartwarming smile.

When the introduction ended, Olivia took her place center stage to enthusiastic applause. Catherine found herself relaxing, drawn in by Olivia’s warm personality and ease with the crowd.

Olivia concluded her lecture by discussing places where people could get more information about breast cancer. She clicked from one image to the next and Catherine was stunned to see the title Cocoa Cream and all the contact information for the store.

“This place is one of my new favorite discoveries. I highly recommend that anyone who likes to visit the bookstores in the Hillcrest area stop into Cocoa Cream. It’s a fabulous coffee shop and bookstore. Just ask for the owner, Catherine O’Grady, and she’ll be happy to help you find what you’re looking for.” Catherine felt the heat rise to her face. Had Olivia planned to tell her about this, if she hadn’t attended the lecture?

Olivia closed out her PowerPoint presentation and asked to have the lights turned back on. Midway through the question-and-answer session, she signaled to a woman at the back of the room.

The woman stood. “My mother-in-law has been diagnosed with lobular carcinoma in situ of her right breast,” she said. “We’d like to get a second opinion but we’re afraid of insulting or alienating our present doctor. We’re afraid to talk to him about this and we have no clue how to go about having her seen by another specialist. Have you yourself been in this situation with your patients?”

“That’s an excellent question. Yes, two of my patients over the past four years have asked for a second opinion. I would never take that as a professional insult. I see it as families wanting the best for their loved ones. I guided those two families to another specialist. Within two weeks they’d been seen and were back in my office feeling stronger and more self-assured, confident that we were on the right course of treatment. Both those women are breast-cancer survivors and I enjoy seeing them for their return visits. Now, that’s my perspective on a very difficult situation. Is there anyone in the audience who has gone through that situation with a loved one and can share their personal experience?”

A heavy silence filled the room. Catherine rose and was handed a microphone by a gentleman in the aisle. She took a deep breath. “I’m Catherine O’Grady. I’m the owner of Cocoa Cream and I had no idea that Dr. Carrington was going to advertise my bookstore here today.” She glared at Olivia. “Please don’t visit the store all at once. We’ll run out of coffee cups.” The crowd laughed and Catherine turned to face the woman at the back.

“My mother was diagnosed with infiltrating ductal carcinoma of the right breast five years ago by a colleague of Dr. Carrington’s, Dr. Ruth Ratcliff. We were in shock but we wanted a second opinion before we went ahead with any treatment. We talked to Dr. Ratcliff and decided to take my mother to the Hailey Center in Phoenix. It’s an exceptional cancer center. The doctors there were fabulous with us. They reviewed my mother’s mammograms and concurred with Dr. Ratcliff’s diagnosis and plan of care. We needed that reassurance. It definitely empowered us and made us feel even more confident with Dr. Ratcliff. In the bookstore, I have all the contact information for the Hailey Center and other doctors who could give your mother-in-law a second opinion. Before we leave tonight, I’ll give you my business card so you can contact me at your leisure.”

Tears filled the eyes of the woman at the back of the room as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Olivia answered several more questions and thanked everyone for attending. The audience rose and applauded.

Catherine remained standing as the crowd began to file out. A number of women surrounded Olivia on the stage. Catherine reached for her purse beneath her chair and headed for the woman at the back of the room.

Seventeen

O
LIVIA SEARCHED THE MAIN FOYER
and saw Catherine standing alone on the deck facing the ocean. Her long knit red dress hugged her feminine contours to perfection and sent a rush of heat cascading through Olivia’s chest and belly. No woman had ever affected her on sight the way Catherine did. She filled Olivia with a warmth and need that came from deep within. She was so dynamic and multifaceted. She was challenging, frustrating, and exhilarating. Olivia wanted this woman, but she knew she needed to move slowly. And she knew by the way she was standing that Catherine was humming with barely suppressed anger.

Olivia approached and stood close behind her. “Thank you for coming to the lecture, Catherine. I was really surprised to see you in the audience.”

Catherine continued to stare out at the sailboats dancing with the wind. “And I was really surprised to see Cocoa Cream as part of your presentation. You’re just bent and determined to test me, aren’t you?”

“If that was your idea of a test, you passed with flying colors.”

Catherine slowly turned to face her. “I would’ve liked a little forewarning, Olivia.”

“If you think for one second that I was going to interrupt your dinner with Laura and her family last night to ask your permission to talk about Cocoa Cream, you’re nuts. I’d like to live a long and healthy life.” Olivia touched a strand of Catherine’s hair resting on her shoulder. “Thank you for helping that woman in the audience.”

“I understood what she was going through. It felt right to help her.”

“Do we still have a dinner date—as friends, of course?”

Catherine didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and stared out at the multicolored sails propelling the boats along the choppy waters. She didn’t know what she wanted. She wanted to stay mad, and she wanted to keep her heart open. She wanted to be home, curled on her own comfortable couch, and she wanted to be here with Olivia. She took a deep breath. “Sure. Where would you like to eat?”

“Your choice, since you’re so averse to a nice meal at the Coronado.”

“Do you like Mexican?”

“Absolutely. Any place in mind?”

“Do you know Miguel’s? It’s in the courtyard of the old EI Cordova Hotel.”

“No, but I’ve heard about it. Lead the way.”

Catherine felt herself relaxing as they headed south on Orange Avenue with the rest of the crowd, peeking in boutique windows and browsing the specialty shops. She found herself thinking that she and Olivia could in fact be friends, but only if they stayed away from hospitals and lecture halls.

They found the cobblestone path to Miguel’s and were quickly seated in the bustling colorful courtyard. A waiter placed a basket of chips and a dish of traditional salsa and white cheese dip on their table.

Olivia looked around. “This place is amazing.”

Catherine turned Olivia’s menu over for her. “Look at the list of specialty drinks.”

Olivia scanned the list. “‘Millionaire’ and ‘billionaire’ margaritas? I’m surprised you even let us come here. I would think that could just about tip you over the edge.”

“Lucky for you they’re reasonably priced and delicious. I think we should show some restraint and have the millionaire.”

Olivia laughed. Catherine dipped a nacho chip into the thick cheese dip and bit into it with pleasure. “I know it’s not the Coronado, but believe me, the food here is wonderful.”

“Actually, I hate the Coronado.”

Catherine was startled. “What?”

Olivia shrugged. “I used to love it, but the last time I lectured at the Coronado was one of the worst days of my life. Are you up to hearing a long, sad story?”

“Of course.

“It was two years ago. Jessica and I had been together for four years. She works in cancer research. We met when we were both involved in a project for Memorial-Sloan Kettering in New York. Jessica was an only child. She’d met my family and when I talked to her about moving back to San Diego and living in one house with Zoe and Echo she was excited. She was involved in the plans of the new house and we all moved in four years ago.”

Olivia stared down at her cutlery. “It didn’t take long for me to realize it was all too much for Jessica. She’d had me to herself for four years and she wasn’t very happy about sharing me with my family. She began to resent the time we spent with my dads. She began to get very jealous of my close relationships with Zoe and Echo. I offered to move out and get us a house of our own. She didn’t seem too excited by that, either.

“Two years ago, when I’d committed to the lecture series, I booked us a room at the Coronado. I thought we could spend the weekend together and try to work things out between us. Jessica was supposed to meet me there. I was unpacking before my lecture in a beautiful suite, feeling hopeful. Then I found the letter she’d put in my suitcase, telling me she was very unhappy and was moving on.”

The waiter returned with glasses of water. Catherine placed her hand on her menu. “We would both like a millionaire margarita. We’ll just need a few more minutes to look at the menu.”

“Certainly.”

Catherine turned to Olivia. “Then what happened?”

Olivia stared off through the courtyard. “I tried to call her on her cell but she never answered. When I called home, Echo told me that she must have moved out during the day because all her things were gone.”

Catherine reached for Olivia’s hand. “I’m sorry, Olivia.”

“Me, too. It was hard. I felt like I failed her. I spent a lot of time wondering what I did wrong and what I could have done better. I wondered if I should have put more into our relationship or if it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“What did you do about your lecture?”

“What could I do? I sat in the suite and felt numb. I wanted to get the lecture over with and go home, but I had no desire to go home and find Jessica gone. That’s why I hate the Coronado.”

“Were you ever able to get in touch with Jessica?”

“She called me a week later to let me know she’d moved back to New York. She asked me to forgive her for leaving the way she did. I don’t believe in hanging on to someone who doesn’t want to be there. I wished her well and we’ve never talked again.” She took a breath. “It was so good to see you in the audience tonight, Catherine. It made things so much easier.”

“I’m glad. I had no intention of being in that audience, Olivia. I came early, and you could say I was guided. Now that I’ve heard the whole story, I feel guilty for acting so cold when your lecture was over.”

“I like the way your Catholic guilt keeps you in check.”