Elissa Ambrose – Journey Of The Heart (страница 9)

Cassie instantly picked up on Laura’s frame of mind. “Did you see him bow?” she said, lowering her head as Michel had done, trying to make her friend laugh. “Give me a break! How pretentious can one get? Let me tell you, the man is as French as an English muffin.”

Leave it to Cassie. That woman could probably cheer up a turkey the week before Thanksgiving. “Tell me, is your regular still a gin-vermouth martini, straight up with an olive?” Laura asked, smiling in spite of her mood. “No, make that two olives. Not very French, either, I must say.”

“As if there’s anything French at all about this restaurant. Michel Dubois, my foot! His real name is Mike Dunbar and he’s from New Jersey.”

“Shhh! What if he hears you?”

Cassie waved her hand dismissively. “As if his day could be worse than mine. Last night, after I left your house, I got an offer on an estate for a smooth ten million, and this morning I found out that the mortgage company won’t finance. The whole deal fell through. That commission would have put a guest house, gazebo and pool in my backyard.”

“But you don’t own a house,” Laura said, laughing out loud at her friend’s outrageous fabrication.

“So I’ll buy one. I’ll buy your house”

“My backyard’s not that large, and you hate yard work.”

Eventually the joking settled down. Cassie sat back in her chair, her legs crossed at the knees, while Laura leaned forward, her elbows on the table.

“So tell me,” Cassie said. “How was the meeting with John this morning? Any surprises?” She stared across the table. “Laura?”

“What? Oh, John Collins. The lawyer. It went just as I suspected. No surprises. The money’s all gone. Every red cent.”

A server arrived with the martini, and Cassie took a healthy swig. “If it’s just as you expected,” she said after he left, “what’s got you so down?”

“It’s like you said. My aunt got a free ride, living in the house. I can’t believe she spent all the money from my parents’ insurance! The will stipulated that the money was to be used for expenses, which to me includes the upkeep of the house. It’s obvious she never made any repairs. What did she do with it all?”

“You already knew there was nothing left. John only confirmed it.” Cassie reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “What’s really going on here? This is me you’re talking to.”

Two doves flew into the courtyard and landed near the next table. “I’ve decided to keep the house,” Laura said, watching the birds as they pecked at crumbs. “I know it’s a mess right now, and it’s dark and gloomy. But it’s not hopeless. I could make it into a kind of retreat. I could spend my spare time there, painting, gardening, relaxing…”

Cassie nodded her approval. “I was hoping you’d sell so I could make a big fat commission, but hey, this is much better. I’d love to have you back again, but what does Steady Eddy say? He doesn’t strike me as a small-town kind of guy.”

“It’s not like I’d be asking him to commute. We wouldn’t actually be living here. And if we change our minds, we can always sell.”

“You mean you haven’t consulted him?” Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Exactly when did you make this decision?”

“When you threatened to buy it,” Laura kidded. In truth, although she’d been mulling over the idea, only now had it crystallized into something tangible, something attainable. It had something to do with the sound of the cicadas in the yard, and the smell of the night air when the temperature dropped. She belonged in Middlewood, where she had grown up, and if she couldn’t move back permanently—Edward was a New Yorker through and through—at least she could visit. And she would paint, on weekends, over the holidays, on her vacations.

“Actually, I just decided now,” she said. “So tell me, what do you think?”

Cassie smiled broadly. “I think it’s a wonderful idea! So why the blues?”

“Repairs aren’t cheap. And don’t forget the property taxes.”

Cassie let out a derisive laugh. “You can’t be serious. Steady Eddy would lend you the money in a heartbeat. He’d even give it to you, no strings attached. What kind of marriage are you entering into? Don’t tell me he’s making you sign a prenup!”

“I suggested it, but he wouldn’t hear of it. One thing about Edward, he’s very generous. But the house is my responsibility, not his.”

“He’s going to be your husband. Why not let him help? You said it yourself, repairs aren’t cheap. You’ll need to completely revamp the plumbing, not to mention the roof. And I imagine you’ll want to paint and redecorate.”

“I don’t want Edward’s money,” Laura said firmly. “Besides, I’m not helpless.” Ideas were forming in her head faster than she could speak. “I could do a lot of the work myself. Like painting the rooms and tiling the kitchen floor. I could do it over time. As for the immediate problems, like the plumbing and the roof, I could take out a loan. It’s not as if I have a mortgage to pay. Aunt Tess’s room is the largest, so I’ll use that as my studio, once I figure out how to bring in more light. I wonder how much it would cost to double—no, triple—the size of the window. You’re in the business, Cass. You could probably refer me to someone who would cut me a good deal.”

“Oh.” Cassie’s eyes went cold. “You don’t need me to cut you a deal with him.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I have no intention of going to Jake for help. But even if I did, it would be strictly business.”

“Right. Strictly business. I should have known. Your glum mood has nothing to do with Michel’s wife being pregnant, and it has nothing to do with money.”

“Don’t give me that look,” Laura warned. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Cassie raised her hand defensively. “I know you don’t want to hear my opinions about Jake, but I have to tell you, I’m worried. You finally have your life in order, and there’s a great guy waiting for you in New York. I’d hate to see you screw it up.”

“If you think Edward is so great,” Laura said testily, “why do you always refer to him as Steady Eddy?”

“You know I’m only teasing. I think Edward’s perfect for you. You’re both so…organized. It’s a match made in spic-and-span heaven. And you’re always saying he has your best interest at heart, which is something Jake never did.” Cassie studied her friend’s face. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No, of course not. Edward and I are fine. Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I know I’m being ornery. It’s just that coming back here has revived old feelings as well as old hurts. But don’t worry, it’s just a momentary lapse into the past. Call it a momentary lapse of sanity, if you want. Forget I ever mentioned Jake. I’ll bring in a team from New York to work on the house.”

“Can you?”

Laughter suddenly erupted from the table next to theirs. “Can I what?” Laura asked, studying the man seated there. With his classically handsome profile and short-cropped dark hair, he bore a striking resemblance to Edward.

“Can you forget you ever mentioned him?”

Laura’s gaze left the scene at the next table and fell back on the two doves. They were now less than a foot away, squabbling over a crust of bread.

She didn’t answer.

Laura knew what Cassie had been thinking.

She picked up another carton. She was planning to spend the afternoon going through the boxes in the pantry, keeping the good memories, discarding the rest.

Her thoughts returned to the conversation at lunch. Cassie was wrong. Laura had no intention of jeopardizing her relationship with Edward.

Steady Eddy, Cassie called him.

So what if he liked things just so? So what if he was…fastidious? So was Laura. They were completely compatible. There were no ups and downs, no roller coasters in this relationship.

And no surprises, either. She sat down on the faded linoleum floor, imagining what the meticulous doctor would say about the way she was dressed now. She knew exactly what he would say—in a breezy but disapproving tone—about her old gray sweats and bunny rabbit slippers.

She debated calling him. She wanted to talk to him about keeping the house, certain he’d agree it was a good idea. A home in Connecticut would make a wonderful place for entertaining. A wonderful place to schmooze with the bigwigs who worked at the hospital—as long as he didn’t have to mingle with neighbors.

She decided she would call him later.

She sliced open the top of the box with a knife. Inside was a bundle of envelopes bound together with a stretched-out rubber band. With a start she realized that these were the letters Cynthia had given to her for safekeeping. Letters written to Cynthia by a man whose existence Jake had never suspected. Letters given to me so that Jake wouldn’t find them, Laura recalled with hostility. She’d always felt like an accomplice in her friend’s deception, and had resented Cynthia for involving her.

After the accident, there had been no reason for Laura to keep the letters, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to dispose of them. They were a part of Cynthia, and Laura hadn’t been ready to relinquish any part of her friend, as if preserving a memory, even a shameful one, could somehow bring her back.

No, that wasn’t it at all. She had kept them because she was angry. Angry with Cynthia for deceiving Jake. As long as I held on to my anger, Laura rationalized, I could justify loving my best friend’s husband. I kept them to remind me of her guilt, hoping to dispel my own. I would not have married Jake if Cynthia had lived.