Falling Angel (6 page)

Fortunately, David didn’t notice. “A lot of people don’t know this, but golf is one of the most difficult sports in the world.” He grabbed another onion ring and waved it in the air as he spoke. “It requires a high degree of hand-eye coordination, natural athleticism, creativity, and a Zen-like ability to focus and stay balanced, both mentally and physically. I‘ve always found it the perfect antidote to a stressful day at the bank.”

Cara sipped her beer and nodded. “It’s great that you’ve found such a good way to blow off steam.”

David poured them a second round of drinks and launched into a mini-lecture on the finer points of the game. By the end of it, Cara had learned that in addition to aspiring to become the next Rockefeller, David was also convinced he was gaining quickly on Tiger Woods. Clearly, he was a bit of a show-off. But perhaps that was because he had a lot to be proud of. Cara thought of her own life and accomplishments. She’d never been ambitious in the way David was. But now, her priorities were shifting. It was time to start setting goals, both personal and career-wise, and work toward reaching them. Her job at Great Expectations was a step in the right direction. As was this date with David. She found it relaxing to sit and listen to him, relieved there was no pressure on her to be a sparkling conversationalist.

David poured the last of the lager into his glass. “Want another round?” Cara shook her head, glancing at the clock behind the bar. “I really should be going. I have to work tomorrow.”

“That makes two of us. I have my class.” David drained his glass. He took her hand, and she was struck by the difference between his grip and Ben’s. Where Ben’s hand was strong and roughened from his daily work with clay, paint and wood, David’s was soft and smooth, his fingernails perfectly manicured into polished ovals.

Holding her hand lightly, David fixed her with an earnest look. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you. I’ve always felt like we had a rapport at the bank, and this evening really confirmed it for me.”

Flattered, Cara smiled back. “Thanks. I had fun too.”

The bill came.

“Want to go halves?” David said.

Cara nodded. “Sure.” Even though you ate all but one of the onion rings, she thought, before reprimanding herself for being so petty.

As they walked out into the brisk evening air, David took her arm. “You live near here, don’t you?”

“Just up the street.”

“Let me walk you home.” They strolled the two blocks to her apartment, parting under the neon glow of the Red Radish.

“Will I see you soon?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. You know I’m in and out of the bank every week.”

David looked somewhat crestfallen at her oblique response. “What I mean is, can I call you? Could we meet again? Outside of work?”

Cara gave a high-pitched giggle. “Sure.”

David’s features relaxed. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She could smell his aftershave, a clean citrus scent.

“Enjoy your party this weekend.”

“Thanks. I will.” She turned and climbed the steps to the apartment doorway, aware of David watching as she fumbled for her key. Once in, she ran up the first flight of steps and looked out the tiny, barred window on the landing.

David stood on the sidewalk, looking small and lost. For all his talk about his MBA, his job and his hobbies, she sensed a loneliness at his core, and her heart went out to him. She knew the feeling only too well.

Chapter Five

Cara opened the door to the apartment and was hit with the smell of cigarette smoke. Ann sat wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, watching a sitcom rerun, a packet of Mike & Ike’s candy at her side. As soon as she saw Cara, she stubbed out her cigarette furtively, fanning the smoke haze away with her hands.

“You’re back,” she said. “I thought you’d be out ‘til late.”

Cara pulled open the kitchen window, letting in a stream of cold air.

“Sorry,” Ann said. “I would’ve aired the place out if I’d known you were coming.”

Mollified by Ann’s contrite tone, Cara plopped down on the couch and reached out her hand for a Mike & Ike. “I didn’t expect to find you here, either.”

“So, how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date. I went out for a drink with a friend.”

“Male or female? Don’t tell me, I can guess from that secretive look on your face. So, who is he?”

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“Darling, you can’t hide anything from anyone,” Ann drawled. She pressed the remote to turn down the volume on the canned laughter. “So come on, out with it. Not that artist guy from the other night?”

“No!” Even to her own ears, Cara’s voice sounded strident. “Why on earth would it be him?”

Ann shrugged. “Just a wild guess.”

“Actually, I wanted to call him. To apologize for running off. But I can’t find his number. I swear I had his card in my pocket. But it’s gone now.”

Ann picked lint pills off the blanket with black-painted fingernails. “Well, that’s not surprising, Cara. You know how spacey you can be. Didn’t you leave your umbrella on the bus just last week?”

“Well, yes.”

“And how many pairs of gloves have you been through this winter?”

“Only two.” Cara slapped her head. “Shoot, that reminds me. I left my scarf at his house! It was my favorite scarf, too.”

“I rest my case,” Ann said triumphantly. “At least I know what to get you for your birthday now.” She reached reflexively for her cigarette pack, then pulled her hand away and took another candy instead. “Quit holding out on me, Cara. Who is your mystery man?”

“All right, all right. It was David, a guy from the bank. We’ve chatted a few times, and he suggested we meet up for a drink after work.”

“A banker?” Ann laughed. “Well, that sounds more up your alley, anyway.”

“I told, you, we’re
friends
.”

“Honestly, Cara, there’s no need to be so defensive. I think it’s wonderful that you’re dating a banker. I hope the two of you will be very happy together, with your 1.5 children, house in the ‘burbs, white picket fence and Volvo station wagon.” She frowned. “I only hope his investments in crude oil and pork barrels pay off so you can keep going on your annual vacation to the time share in Maui.”

“What a relief to know that someone has it all figured out for me,” Cara said dryly. It didn’t help to argue with Ann when she was in her teasing mode. Any sign of indignation or protest would just inspire her to greater heights. Better just to humor her.

Ann yawned and flipped off the TV. “I’m gonna check out the new Tim Cross movie at 9:30. Wanna come?”

“No thanks, I’ve got to work tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself. Are we still on for Sunday?”

“Definitely.” Cara had asked Ann to help her pick out a dress for the Fineman party. They planned an afternoon shopping spree to check out the spring sale at Nordstrom.

Ann gave her a thumbs-up, then rose and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

Cara turned off the TV and started to fold the blanket Ann had left crumpled on the couch. She wished Ann weren’t quite so gleeful about her dating a banker. It made her whole plan seem so contrived and petty, as though she were following some mechanical model rather than her own desires. Truth be told, the Old Cara wouldn’t have given someone like David a second glance. She’d always been drawn to more flamboyant, less conventional men. Now, however, she was determined to change her ways. Following her heart rather than her head had gotten her into so much trouble in the past. It was time to replace emotion with reason, the hippie garb for the three-piece suit.

Cara picked up the empty soda can Ann had been using as an ashtray. Wrinkling her nose, she carried it to the kitchen and threw it in the garbage.

Perhaps David wasn’t the most dynamic or exciting guy she’d ever met. But he was solid, smart and upwardly mobile. And that, Cara told herself firmly, was what really mattered.

.   .   .

The changing room at Nordstrom was more than large enough to hold Cara, Ann and the slew of dresses that lay on the bench, piled on top of one another like sheets of gaudy wrapping paper.

Cara posed before the mirror in a strapless ivory cocktail dress with a full A-line skirt, fitted bodice and embroidered overlay. “That one looks great on you,” Ann said from the bench, where she sat cross-legged. “But then, everything does,” she added, loudly cracking her gum. In marked contrast to Cara’s glamorous outfit, Ann was dressed in a pair of ripped black jeans, black combat boots, and a grey hooded sweatshirt.

“That’s not true,” Cara protested. “What about that hideous little black dress? More like a two-foot tube!”

Ann giggled. “Ok, I have to admit that one was pretty bad.”

Cara made a face. “I’m sure it would have been a big hit at the party. Only people would think I’d forgotten to put on my skirt.”

She was glad Ann was laughing again, rather than making remarks about her looks. It made Cara feel uncomfortable, and guilty, as though she were responsible for Ann’s feelings of inferiority.

Her relief was short-lived, as Ann caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror next to Cara’s reflection and sighed deeply. “No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a kid.” she said. “My mother was always too wiped out to even notice or care whether I had a bath or even changed out of my PJs in the morning. My brothers’ favorite name for me was frog face, among others. And of course, my dad wasn’t even around.”

Through the mirror, Cara glanced at Ann’s pinched and sullen expression, and had to press her lips together to avoid coming out with something prudish and parental, like  ‘You’d look so much better if you lost the nose ring and smiled more often.’

“Hey, look, why don’t you come to the party with me?” she said instead. “I’m sure Ingrid wouldn’t mind. We could use some help with the set-up, and after that you and I could have fun.”

“Sounds a little too fancy for me,” Ann looked glum. “I’d probably do something inappropriate, like get drunk and fall over on the dance floor, or start making out with some socialite’s husband. Those kind of scenes always bring out the rebel in me. Anyway, I’m supposed to be going out with Joseph.”

“The guy from the Art Walk? I thought he lived in Yakima?”

Ann grinned. “He does. He’s driving out to visit.”

“Must be love.”

“More like lust,” Ann replied.

“Well, nothing here is calling my name,” said Cara, slipping back into her jeans. “Let’s take a break.”

They bought smoothies at a stand inside the mall and sat side by side at a counter, looking out over the homogenized crowd of Sunday shoppers.

“Did your dad ever try to contact you, after he left for good?” asked Cara.

“Are you kidding? And risk being hit up for child support?” They sat in silence for a moment.

“Why did he leave?” Cara asked.

“He was a third-generation logger. Back in the ‘70s and ‘80s, he was on a roll. This whole area was nothing but forest. He took us wherever the work was, up and down the coast.” Ann sipped her smoothie and pushed her black bangs out of her eyes. “Then the hippies and the tree-huggers came in and started kicking up a fuss and the whole lumber industry went into a tailspin. The mill he worked at shut down when I was ten. That’s when the good times ended.”