Falling Angel (18 page)

At the restaurant, David took her arm in a proprietary manner as the maitre d’ led them to their seats. They sat at a small table, placed prominently before the plate glass windows that looked out onto 4th Avenue.

“That’s one thing I like about going out to eat on a Monday,” David said. “The restaurant is usually half empty and the service is good.”

“And you get the best seating!” Cara exclaimed. “I love people-watching.”

David looked at her. “There are some people I enjoy watching more than others.”

Cara blushed.

“You cleaned up nicely. I like the way you dress, very modest. Not like most women these days.”

“I guess I’m kind of old-fashioned in my tastes,” Cara said. “For myself at least,” she amended. “I don’t mind what other people wear.”

“Apparently not, or you wouldn’t be sharing an apartment with Ann. Was that a kilt she had on tonight, or a plaid blanket?”

In spite of herself, Cara giggled.

“And those piercings!” David snorted and rolled his eyes. “That girl must set off every metal detector in town.”

“Ann has her own sense of style. She likes to be provocative, get a rise out of people.”

“How do you mean?”

Cara took a sip of her water. “Ann thrives on drama. Some people are like that.”

“Not you, though.”

“You’d be surprised,” Cara said. “I think perhaps because I’m not like that, I’m drawn to people who are. I find them . . . interesting.”

The waiter appeared, and David ordered two martinis and crab cakes as an appetizer.

Cara’s stomach turned. She hadn’t had a martini since an unfortunate night in college, which had ended with her puking her guts out in a bush. “I don’t really drink hard liquor,” she said. The waiter hovered uncertainly, but David waved him away.

“Tonight we’re celebrating,” he said. “I met with my boss today, and he confirmed what I’d been hoping for. As soon as I graduate from the MBA program, I’m getting promoted to branch manager.”

“Congratulations! What good news.”

The drinks arrived, and he held up his glass. “Cheers.”

“To your promotion.”

They toasted, and Cara forced herself to take a sip of her drink.

Putting down his glass, David smiled broadly. He leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “Seriously, though, it’s amazing how everything in my life seems to be falling into place.”

Cara smiled. David was a cocky guy, but he could be sweet, too.

She excused herself before the main course arrived to reapply her lip gloss and wash her hands.

As she resumed her seat, a young woman came over to their table.

“Excuse me. I think you left this in the bathroom.” She held out Cara’s turquoise ring.

“Oh my gosh!” said Cara. “I took it off to wash my hands and totally forgot about it. Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done if it had been lost.”

“No problem. I’m glad I could help.” The girl gave them a little wave and returned to her table.

“Let me see,” said David, holding out his hand. She passed the ring to him.  He turned it over and read the engraving on the inside of the band. “Angel Face? Is that you?”

Cara laughed at the look of consternation on his face. “Don’t worry; it’s not from some old boyfriend. It was a gift from my dad. One of the few things I have from him.”

“Give me your hand.” Cara held it out self-consciously as he slipped the ring back onto her finger. “It’s beautiful. Maybe one day I’ll be able to buy you jewelry.”

“David, please.” Cara looked down, embarrassed. “We don’t even know each other that well.”

“That’s something I hope to change,” he said. “I’m a good judge of character. Even though we’ve only gone out a couple of times, I feel like I know you pretty well already.”

The main course arrived, a steak with mashed potatoes for David and shrimp skewers with stir-fried vegetables and rice for Cara.

David dug into his meal with relish, but Cara had little appetite.

What would David think of her if he knew that this time yesterday she had been kissing and cuddling another man on the beach? Or that only hours before their dinner, she had eaten lunch with a certain handsome artist? What would that visual do to his perception of Cara as a sweet, old-fashioned, innocent girl?

She picked at her meal as David ordered another round of martinis. Cara protested, but he waved her arguments away.

“Live a little,” he said. “I know they’re not covered by the gift certificate, but don’t worry, it’s all on me.”

Cara decided that David was right. She needed to loosen up.

To entertain him, she started to tell the story of her experiences at work that day, the lead singer with no voice and the confiscated wedding veil material. “This bride is a total fruitcake,” she said, embellishing the story a little for David’s amusement. “She practically accused me of hijacking the container ship myself. I’m just waiting for the caterer to drop the cake en route to the table, or the groom to run off at the last minute. It’s gearing up to be that kind of a wedding. And of course it will probably pour with rain the whole time. At least we’ve ordered canopies and tents as a backup. Not to mention 75 oversize umbrellas, in white.”

David finished a mouthful of steak and put down his knife. “Crazy,” he agreed, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, how’d you like to go out on the Sound with me this weekend? One of my friends is taking his yacht out Sunday morning. We’ll sail to Blake Island and spend the day there. There’s swimming and fishing, even a latte stand. No cars, it’s very peaceful. I’m giving up my golf game for the day. I’m sure he won’t mind if I bring you along.”

Cara’s mind raced. She had planned to spend her only day off this weekend with Ben, although no formal plans had been made. “I’m going to be wiped out Sunday, after the wedding. I don’t think I’ll be up to it.”

“A pity. I was looking forward to showing you off to my friends. What about Saturday night, after the wedding? We could grab dinner, or dessert?”

Cara didn’t know how to turn him down again without sounding rude. “Maybe,” she said at last. “Though I don’t think I’ll be much fun.”

David looked past her, out the window. “That was weird.”

She put down her fork and leaned forward inquiringly. “What was?”

“That guy, outside the window.”

Cara turned to look, but the street was empty.

“He was staring at you with this intense look on his face.”

“What kind of a look?”

“I don’t know. Angry.”

“Great.” Cara attempted a laugh, even as a chill ran down her spine. “Now I’ve got some psycho stalking me.”

“There are a lot of crazy people out there,” David said. “That’s why you should never go out alone at night downtown. Speaking of which, whatever happened with your car last week?”

“Oh, I took care of it,” Cara replied breezily. “A friend drove me down and we got it jump-started.” She felt a pang of guilt at not mentioning Ben’s name, or the fact that he was significantly more than a friend.

“I wanted to apologize for not coming back and helping you out,” David said. “I should have.”

“That’s okay. I know how addicted you are to your financial show.”

“You’re more important than a stupid TV program.” He finished his steak and sighed with satisfaction. “That was great. Are you up for dessert?”

“Sure.” Cara pasted a smile on her face. “You pick.” As David looked over the menu, Cara glanced sideways out the window, half-expecting a wild-haired man to be staring in at her with dark malevolent eyes. She’d thought that sitting by the huge glass window would give her a great view of what was happening outside. Instead, she now felt vulnerable and exposed, as though she were a rabbit in the middle of a meadow with a wolf lurking nearby, under cover of the trees.

.     .     . 

It was almost nine by the time they left the restaurant. As they drove up Madison Street, the broad expanse of Lake Washington came into view, its placid waters mirroring the dark sky.

To Cara’s surprise, David drove a couple of blocks past her apartment to where the street ended abruptly at the edge of the lake. A small wooden pier jutted out into the water. To the right, beyond a grove of evergreens, an expanse of grass sloped down to a crescent of sandy beach. It was a popular spot for sunbathing and fishing in the summertime.

David parked the car to face the water and turned expectantly toward Cara.

His arms went awkwardly around her as his mouth sought hers. Cara turned in her seat and allowed him to kiss her, but pulled away after a moment, brushing her hair back from her face and adjusting her earring with a trembling hand.

“I’m sorry, David. I’ve had a tiring day. Do you mind taking me home?”

David released her. “I’m not going to push you,” he said in a level voice. “But I want you to know that I really like you, Cara. I hope you feel the same way about me.”

Tell him! Cara’s internal voice urged her. Tell him that you’re seeing someone else. That although he’s a perfectly nice guy, he doesn’t thrill you to the core the way that Ben does.

“I like you too,” she said instead.
Coward
, the voice hissed.

David smiled, oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm. He dropped her off outside her apartment with promises to call about Saturday evening.

The night was cool and foggy and a fine mist settled on Cara’s arms like dew as she stood by her front door. An elderly couple emerged from the Red Radish, the man carrying a plastic bag of groceries. The woman was hunched over almost double. She walked with a cane and held on to the man’s arm for support as they gingerly made their way across the street toward the retirement high-rise a couple of blocks away. Cara heard the low murmur of their voices, and the woman’s sudden laugh, ringing out in the night air, sounding surprisingly young and joyful.

As the elderly couple continued their slow walk home, a lump rose in Cara’s throat. Despite the woman’s age and her diminished physical ability, Cara wished, just for a moment, that they could trade places.

As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, Cara stumbled and realized she was tipsier than she’d thought. In her room, she flung her bag onto her dresser with a sigh. There was a crash as a heavy object fell to the ground with a crash.

Cara swore out loud and bent down to assess the damage. On the floor lay the statue of the flying girl Ben had created for her. The
Falling Angel
had fallen, all right. The girl’s foot where it connected with the base had broken at the ankle, and one of the wings had cracked off.

Carefully she gathered up the broken pieces and placed them in an old shoe box, which she pushed under the bed. She felt sick to her stomach for breaking the beautiful sculpture. Why was she always so careless? Tomorrow I’ll go to the hardware store and find some super-adhesive to try and piece it back together, she promised herself. Hot tears came to her eyes and she dashed them angrily away. Even if she did manage to repair it, she knew it would never be the same.