Falling Angel (28 page)

“I only ever wanted to protect you from getting hurt. I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

“But we’re very different people, mom. Did it ever occur to you that the things that would make you miserable in a relationship may be exactly the things that I’m looking for?”

“Your father was an obstinate dreamer. He was unable to function properly in the real world.”

“Unable to function in your world, you mean.”

“Look, Cara, this is ancient history now. It’s all in the past.”

“It isn’t for me,” Cara said quietly. “This is what’s defined me. For far too long.”

“You’re grown up now. Free to interpret the past however you like, and to make whatever choices you want in the present. I can’t stop you. I don’t want to stop you.” Louise sighed heavily. “I always wanted what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cara felt frustrated when she hung up the phone. Why couldn’t her mother see the way she had warped her vision? Why couldn’t she at least acknowledge that Cara’s feelings were as valid as her own?

Then she smiled ruefully to herself. It was pointless to try and get her mother to change or to become more self-aware. The only person Cara was capable of changing was herself.

Moving to her purse, she took out the special ceramic glue she had purchased at the hardware store. She pulled open her dresser drawer and carefully retrieved the broken statue pieces. It was time to try and put the pieces back together.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Alicia smiled serenely as she glided into the gallery on the arm of Ben Kilpatrick.

It had taken a long time for her to convince him to trust her again, after the way she had unceremoniously dumped him last year. She still bitterly regretted that she hadn’t held on to him a little longer before writing him off. But how was she to know that his star would rise so quickly in the local and international art world; that he would go from struggling artist to commercial success practically overnight? Now, he routinely brought in six-figure commissions for his larger works on canvas, and his smaller sculptural pieces were in great demand in private collections across the nation. Alicia could scream with frustration that she’d ever told him that he couldn’t afford her. Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?

Well, it’s all turning around again now, she told herself. She squeezed his arm.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Wonderful,” she said, flashing her brightest smile.

Ever since the reception at the Fineman’s house last week, Ben had been much friendlier to her, and Alicia harbored a secret hope that they would soon pick up again where they had left off. Too bad he was taking off to Paris for the summer. Although, come to think of it, a summer vacation in the most romantic city in the world wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Even though Ben was leaving in a few days, he had agreed to accompany her to the Art Walk. She, Alicia, and not that hysterical blonde waif he’d been so hung up on a couple of weeks ago.

Despite her attempts to engage him in conversation, he’d seemed distracted all evening, but Alicia chalked it up to his imminent departure. There’d be plenty of time for them to get reacquainted on his return.

As they stood at the entrance to the gallery, a skinny, black-haired girl dressed in a red kilt with a garish red bow in her hair tapped Ben on the shoulder. “Excuse me. It’s Ben, right?”

Ben turned, and Alicia tightened her grip on his arm. She watched as his lip curled at the sight of the strange girl. “Hello, Ann,” he said, and turned away again.

Ann tugged insistently at his sleeve. “Please, would you hear me out?” She glanced at Alicia, as though wishing she would go away. Alicia glared back at her.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for messing things up between you and Cara,” Ann said.

“How did you mess anything up?”

“By telling you she was out with David.”

“Hey, you did me a favor. Knowing her, she never would have told me she was engaged to someone else.”

Ann frowned. “Engaged?”

“Excuse me.” Alicia cut in smoothly. “I’d like to see the show now.”

“Go ahead,” said Ben. “I’ll be right there.”

Alicia didn’t move. She had no intention of missing this conversation. Ann looked at her appraisingly before turning to Ben again.

“Cara was really upset about what happened. She really liked you. And she’s definitely not engaged to David.”

“Really.” Ben’s face was inscrutable.

“In fact,” Ann said slowly, “I may have exaggerated her relationship with him a little. I don’t know for sure if anything was going on between them. She was furious at me for telling you about it.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ben said. “I’m leaving town on Saturday for Paris. I’ll be there for six weeks, maybe longer. Tell her it’s all water under the bridge.”

“I would, but she’s moved out. I don’t even know where she went.”

Ben leaned closer so she could hear him in the noisy room. Alicia had to strain to hear his words. “If you see her, tell her I said goodbye. Tell her I hope she finds what she’s looking for.”

Alicia shot Ann a cool glance as she and Ben moved further into the gallery.

“What was that all about?” she asked him lightly, accepting a champagne flute from a passing tray.

“Nothing,” said Ben. “Let’s look at the art.”

But as they moved through the gallery, pausing to look at the paintings and installations, Alicia knew she had lost him. His eyes were fixed, seeing nothing, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. She felt a stab of anger. Even though she clearly was out of the picture, Cara might as well have been right there in the room with them. She would have to find a way to take Ben’s mind off his unhappy love affair. Alicia smiled grimly. If there was anyone who could, it was her. She was nothing if not resourceful.

.     .     .

Relieved to find her old key still worked, Cara opened the door to the apartment. Ann looked up from the couch across the room. Even though Cara no longer had any say in the matter, she stubbed out her cigarette with a guilty expression.

“I thought you worked Fridays,” Cara said, dismayed to find her there.

“They changed my schedule.” Ann pointed. “Your box is on the table.”

“Thanks.” Cara hefted the oversized cardboard box in her arms, keeping the door open with one foot as she attempted to exit the apartment.

“I ran into Ben last night,” Ann said.

Cara froze in the doorway.

“At the Art Walk. He asked me to tell you something if I saw you . . . “ Ann crinkled her nose, trying to remember. “That he hopes you get what you need, or something like that. He’s leaving town this weekend.”

Cara dropped the box, which landed squarely on her foot. The top flew open, and books, clothes and toiletries spilled out onto the floor. “Damn!” Cara cried, and kneeled down to gather everything up again. Ann came over to help.

“He’s leaving?”

“Yeah. He’s going to Paris for the summer.”

“It must be for his art show.”

“Maybe. Anyway, I told him I was sorry about everything. Did you know he thought you were engaged to David?”

Cara bit her lip and her eyes filled with tears. She nodded, unable to speak.

Their eyes met. Cara was surprised to see Ann’s sympathetic expression. “Were you engaged?” Ann asked.

“Of course not! It was a huge misunderstanding.”

“That’s what I told him.”

Cara’s tears spilled over and she wiped them away with the back of her sleeve.

Ann placed the last of the fallen items into the box and closed up the lid. “I’m sorry I brought it up. Do you want to sit down? Have a drink, or some tea?”

“No. Thank you, though.” Cara got slowly to her feet and Ann placed the box in her hands. “I have to go. The cab’s waiting for me downstairs.” Giving Ann a little wave, Cara maneuvered her way out the door.

Ben was leaving. It was already Friday, which meant tomorrow, or Sunday, he would be gone. How could she possibly let him go without saying goodbye?

Chapter Twenty Nine

The formal dining room at the Gustavson-Vennemeyer’s house was used only when they were entertaining. Tonight, with Paul out of town and only Ingrid and Cara for dinner, they ate at the counter in the kitchen.

The cook had prepared one of Ingrid’s favorite indulgences from the “Old Country”; Swedish meatballs, gravy and boiled potatoes, smothered with butter, accompanied by tender baby carrots and a generous dollop of lingonberry jam.

Ingrid dug into her meal with relish. “It’s nice to have company at dinner. Paul has been away so much this year.”

Cara cut her meatballs into small pieces, watching the gravy congeal on her plate. “Thanks again for putting me up. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Stay as long as you like. This house is too big to be so empty.”

Cara smiled and bit her lip. Ingrid was so generous and kind it made her want to burst out crying.

Ingrid patted her hand. “You’re a strong woman, Cara. You’ll land on your feet. This is nothing but a little bump in the road.”

“I found out that Ben’s leaving town,” Cara blurted out. “I’m afraid I’ll never see him again.”

“Couldn’t you try and talk to him before he goes?”

“You’re the second person to suggest that. But I can’t. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Better to swallow your pride than to lose someone you care about because of it. I’m sure Ben won’t think worse of you for trying to resolve your problems.”

“You’re right.” Cara looked beyond Ingrid to where the floor-to-ceiling picture windows framed the dramatic vista of Lake Washington. The days were lengthening with the promise of summer.

“I never had a daughter of my own,” Ingrid said. “When you were born, in some ways I felt like you were mine also. I want you to be happy.”

Cara smiled at her, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Take the car,” said Ingrid. “Go.”

Cara pushed back her chair and stood up. She kissed Ingrid on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. Leaving her plate untouched, she half-ran from the room.

.   .   .

Ingrid listened to the sound of Cara’s feet clattering down the stairs, headed for the garage.

She sighed and pushed her plate away. Much as she hated to malign the character of her old friend Louise, she couldn’t stand to see Cara so affected by her parents’ failed relationship. It was painful to watch as Cara edged closer to making exactly the same mistakes her own mother had made, allowing her doubts, insecurities, and unrealistic expectations to freeze out the one man who brought her happiness.