Falling Angel (10 page)

“How awful!”

“He didn’t even have the decency to pretend he was interested in anything else.”

“I hope you told him to get lost.”

“That’s just it,” Ann said, starting to cry again. “I didn’t.”

“You mean, you went along with it?”

Ann cried harder.

Cara led Ann to the couch, handed her a box of tissues, and made cups of chamomile tea for them both. By the time the tea had brewed, Ann was calm. She cradled her cup in her hands and inhaled the warm steam.

“I’m ok now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“That’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I have a cigarette?”

“Go ahead.”

Ann pulled her pack from the coffee table. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. She sat with her knees pulled up under her T-shirt, the blanket draped over her thin shoulders, and pulled feverishly on her cigarette. “So how was
your
evening?”

“It was interesting,” Cara hedged, debating whether to mention running into Ben again. Part of her wanted to hold back, but she felt guilty keeping a secret from Ann, who was, after all, her best friend in Seattle. “By weird coincidence, I ran into Ben again.”

“That guy from the Art Walk?”

“Yeah.”

Ann mustered up a weak semblance of her usual smirk. “What happened?”

“We talked. He seems very nice,” she said, feeling like a traitor. “But of course, he’s not my type.”

“Right,” Ann said. “Are you going to see him again?”

“I might.”

“Did your new resolutions go out the window already? Or have you discovered that he’s actually a multi-millionaire?”

“Even if he were, that wouldn’t change the fact that he’s not looking for the same things I am,” Cara said, bristling. “Obviously, we’re completely unsuited to each other. But he’s fun to talk to. We might get together this weekend. But we’re just friends.”

“Sure you are.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

Ann looked at her. “I can tell by the way you look,” she said. “You’ve got the glow.”

“What glow?”

“That love glow. I can spot it a mile away.”

“You’re drunk,” Cara said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I may be drunk, but I still know the love glow.” Ann got up and walked into the kitchen to extinguish her cigarette under the kitchen faucet. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for listening to my sob story.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“At least one of us had a good time tonight.” Ann said as she headed down the hallway. “You, as usual,” she added under her breath, so that Cara barely heard the words.

Cara stared after her as the bedroom door closed softly. The bitterness in Ann’s tone was unmistakable. Was Ann actually mad at her for having a good time?

It must have been the whisky talking, she told herself. gathering up their empty tea cups and Ann’s gin glass and rinsing them out in the sink. Ann’s not mad; she’s just tired and upset. Don’t go making up problems where none exist.

All the same, when she lay in bed and began to drift into sleep, the image of Ann’s pinched and angry face appeared before her like a warning.

If she were being totally honest, Cara would have to admit that she spent the better part of her free time the next week waiting for Ben to call.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Not that she had that much free time. Great Expectations had been hired to plan a high-profile wedding for the daughter of a colleague of Ingrid’s husband, and an honorary banquet for a retiring University of Washington professor. Both events were scheduled within a week of each other, and Cara had to put in several ten- and twelve-hour days to stay on top of the sheer number of small details involved.

As soon as she got home, she would hit the answering machine button. On Tuesday her mother called and left a message.

“Hello dear, it’s me. I wanted to find out how the party was. Also thought you’d like to know that Jemma’s test results came back and she’s fine. The bump on her hind leg was just a reaction to the rabies vaccine, not cancer.”

On Wednesday, David called.

“Cara, this is David Kendall. I hope you had fun at your party last weekend. If you get a chance, give me a call.”

 On Thursday after work, there were no messages.

Cara paced the tiny living room, chewing on her lip. Ben had promised her he’d call to set up a date for Saturday. Was he going to wait until Saturday morning to call? Desperate to take her mind off things, she knocked on the door to Ann’s room. “Ann, are you in there?”

A muffled sound came from inside the room. Ann came to the door, looking disheveled.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I just wondered if you’d like to go out for a walk.”

Ann shook her head. “I’ve got a splitting headache. I’m gonna take some aspirin and go to bed.”

Since her outburst, Ann had been strangely distant. When Cara got home in the evenings she was either out, or closeted in her room with the music on loud and the door closed. She responded monosyllabically to Cara’s attempts to engage her in conversation, and most mornings was already at work by the time Cara got up.

Resigned to staying in for the evening, Cara boiled spaghetti and warmed up a jar of marinara sauce. She sat alone at the kitchen table, nibbling despondently at her meal. She couldn’t help remembering the delicious, simple pasta dish Ben had prepared for her two weeks earlier.

Seattle
is a big city, she thought. It was strange that she had Ben had run into each other twice in the space of ten days. What were the odds of that? Certainly, they were high enough to make seem like more than chance.

She put a hand to her mouth, remembering the feel of Ben’s lips on hers. The way he had whispered to her not to forget him. How could she forget a man who made her feel so cherished? Who caused the whole world to fall away like so much dust the moment he stepped into the room?

He had seemed so sincere when he promised to call to set up their ‘date.’ Had something caused him to have second thoughts? Had her ambivalence turned him off?

She knew that if he called her tonight, even if he called tomorrow, she would still go out with him on Saturday. She longed to see him again. But the fact that he hadn’t was starting to fill her with doubt.

Was he yet another flaky and unreliable artist? Maybe after kissing her he realized that he wasn’t that interested in her. It had been a game for him, to see how easily he could overcome her doubts and charm her into submission.

She pushed her bowl away, her appetite gone.

The phone rang and she lunged for it, only to hear it stop mid-ring. A moment later, Ann’s door opened. “It’s for you,” she yelled down the hall.

Heart pounding, Cara picked it up.

“Cara, it’s me.”

Cara sat back down at the table with a sigh. “Hi David.”

“Did you get my message?”

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to call.”

They chit-chatted about work for a minute, and then there was a pause, as though he were summoning his courage. She was not surprised when he asked her to see a movie with him on Saturday night.

“Saturday? Let me see what’s going on,” she stalled. “Just a minute.” She placed the phone on the table, her mind racing.

Ben had said he wanted to take her out on Saturday. But he hadn’t said when, he hadn’t called, and it was already Thursday night. It wasn’t as though they had any sort of commitment to each other. She barely knew him. And if his current silence were any indication, he wanted to keep things casual, if indeed he even wanted to see her again. Did she have to keep her entire day open on the off-chance that he still wanted to see her? Cara’s sense of wounded pride won out, and she picked up the receiver.

“That works,” she said. “What time?”

They arranged to meet at the Meridian movie theater downtown at seven. They would see an early show, a comedy about which she had heard good things, and then go out for coffee or dessert afterward.

She replaced the phone and started to clear away the dinner dishes. If Ben called, she could still see him on Saturday during the day, or even on Sunday. He would just have to work around her schedule.

 It would be good to spend more time with David, get to know him a little better. He was a nice guy, exactly the kind of person she’d been hoping to meet. What’s more, he was reliable. He called when he said he would. So what if Ben had kissed her on the balcony at a party? It didn’t mean anything. It was just his way of going with the flow, as he put it. No doubt the flow had since moved him in a different direction. So why did stomach clench painfully as she walked past the silent phone to her room?

Chapter Nine

Cara woke on Saturday morning to the delicious smell of bacon wafting down the hallway. Bleary-eyed, she padded into the kitchen to see Ann in an uncharacteristically domestic mode, frying up bacon and eggs on the small, two-burner stove top. Coffee percolated in the machine, and the table was set for two. The cozy scene was only slightly marred by the graphic image on Ann’s nightshirt.

“Are you expecting company?” Cara asked. She had gone to bed early, and had no idea what time Ann had come home, or with whom.

“No, this is for us,” Ann said. She slathered a slice of toast with butter and plunked it onto a plate. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled is fine.” Cara slid into a chair. “What a treat.”

She was pleased that Ann’s black mood had lifted.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Ann asked.

“Well, I am going out tonight. On a date,” Cara added, hoping this confidence would further thaw Ann’s chill.

Ann stiffened. She gave Cara a sideways look.

“Is that so bizarre?” Cara asked lightly.

Ann set down her spatula and brought a steaming plate of bacon and eggs to the table. “Where are you going?” she asked in a neutral voice, sitting down across the table.

“I’m meeting David downtown to see a movie.”

Ann’s entire expression changed. She relaxed and smiled, spearing a strip of bacon off the plate and lifting it hungrily to her mouth. “That’s great! Why don’t you take my car? One of the guys from work is having a party down the street from here, so I won’t be needing it.”