A Summer in Sonoma (36 page)

“This is all wrong,” he said. “This wasn't supposed to happen like this. I knew you worried about things like that, but then I thought you'd be relieved to know that I'm not…”

“Not what, Walt? Not honest?”

“Honey… Cassie, I never meant for this to hurt you. I wanted it to make you feel better about things. It made me feel so proud that you couldn't stop from loving me even when you thought I didn't have a pot to piss in. It wasn't to keep you from falling in love with the money—I don't care about that. It was more about not changing who I am to try to fit some idea of what you'd find most acceptable. It's the same as not shaving so your friends would like me better.”

“Sure,” she said quietly. “Listen, you're tied up. Go back to your meeting. We'll connect later, okay?” She smiled tremulously. “I should've called ahead. I just didn't realize…who you were.”

“Cassie, come on. It wasn't a game. It just wasn't the most important part about us. Don't hold this against me. I didn't want to sidetrack you with…stuff. What we have—”

“I'm going to go, Walt. I might need to think about this a little bit. I'll talk to you later. Get back to your…board.”

She turned away from him and made fast tracks past Clarice, past the salesman and to her car, where she put
her hands over her eyes and cried. It was only seconds before her cell phone rang. She plucked it out of her purse and there he was, on the caller ID. Well, she just couldn't deal with him now—she had to think. She turned off the phone.

Cassie drove to the river where she liked to walk Steve. She parked and cried. He knew, she thought. The whole time he knew I was trying not to get involved with him, that he just wasn't the kind of guy I saw myself with. It wasn't as though he had to guess—eventually she
told
him! And the truth really stung. If she'd found out five months ago he was a millionaire, it might've changed her whole perspective. There's a great deal of difference between an eccentric and a loser. She'd had trouble seeing he was neither; it had taken her months! For a girl who'd been searching for that forever man, that perfect partner, he might have been too much to resist if she'd known the truth about him. Of course it didn't hurt that he was also wonderful, but wonderful or not, she'd been held back by a tattoo and a ponytail for a real long time.

Julie had said so.
What if he shaved, cut his hair and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck? Would you worry about us meeting him then?
Of course she wouldn't! This biker dude's presentation was weird and extreme, at least in the circles she moved in. She remembered her absolute surprise to find he was delightful and that almost everyone seemed to like him.

She wasn't sure what was harder—the thought that he'd found her resistance funny, knowing he could snag
her quickly with the bottom line. Or was it the fact that poor, simple, penny-pinching Cassie worried about his spending on her, giving her things she'd never be able to afford to give herself? Or maybe it amused him just observing her—the way she slowly had to come to terms with her feelings, lowering her standards to accept an undereducated, low-paid bike mechanic.

She felt humiliated. And then something occurred to her as she drove home. Of course, the message light was flashing wildly; he was going to try to make this little mistake of not revealing himself sooner just go away. She ignored it, not listening to the messages. Instead, she got on the computer, researching Richard Arneson. And, oh, my Lord—of course it wasn't just Walt who'd made good. It was first his father. The Arnesons were wealthy; they gave money to more charities than she knew existed.

He knew—they probably all knew—in the back of her mind she was thinking he wasn't good enough for her when it was she—the poor girl who'd been on her own since the age of fourteen—who probably wasn't good enough for him.

The phone rang and she looked at the caller ID before picking up. It was Jules. She answered tearfully.

“Thank God—I've been looking for you! You haven't answered any phones!”

“I had a little…problem….”

“Well, your problem can wait. We're at Beth's. She collapsed at work. I brought her home and Marty came over. She's bad, Cassie. I don't know what's wrong.”

She sniffed back tears. “I'm on my way.”

 

Cassie tapped quietly at Beth's front door and Julie let her in, a finger to her lips. “She's sleeping. On the couch.”

“What happened?” Cassie said, coming inside.

“I'm not sure,” Julie said. “She collapsed at the clinic and didn't come to right away, but she wouldn't be admitted. She called me to come and pick her up. Cassie, she couldn't walk to the car! I had to take her in a wheelchair. I called Jerod. He's on his way over from the Bay Area. He's called twice from the car to see if she's all right.”

“Let me see her,” Cassie said, shedding her jacket and handing it to Julie. She went immediately to the small living room where Beth lay pale and still on the sofa. She knelt beside her, touched her brow, took her pulse, which was weak and kind of thready.

Beth turned her head, looked at Cassie and said, “I'm just weak from chemo,” she said. “I just need to rest. Nothing to get excited about.”

“You shouldn't be this weak,” Cassie said.

“I just wanted some attention,” Beth said with a small smile.

“Oh, you'll get plenty—Julie called Jerod and he's on his way.”

“Oh, God, she shouldn't have done that. He has patients. He's two hours away.”

“Be still—you know he'd expect to be called. Do you have any pain? Anywhere?”

“No. I'm just bone tired, that's all. And light-headed. The fatigue can be unbelievable.”

“Your breathing is okay?”

“It's not an embolism,” Beth said. “Just fatigue and weakness.”

“Close your eyes. Rest. We'll be right in the kitchen.”

Cassie rose and herded Marty and Julie out of the room. “Let's let her sleep. How long before Jerod gets here?”

Julie looked at her watch. “Within a half hour, I would think.”

“Come on. We'll leave her alone and I'll check on her every five minutes.”

They went to the adjacent kitchen where Marty had brewed a pot of coffee. She got herself a refill and went to the table where Julie sat behind her own cup. “When did this happen?” Cassie asked, going to the cupboard for a cup.

“A couple of hours ago, I guess. She's not…you know…”

“What?” Cassie asked.

“She's not…” Julie mouthed the word
dying
.

“Dying?” Cassie whispered. “Oh, God, no! I mean, she's gotten real thin and her pulse is kind of weak, but she's been sleeping.” Cassie joined them at the table. “Jerod will know what to do. I bet he puts her right in the hospital….”

“Where
were
you?” Julie whispered furiously. “I couldn't find you! I was scared to death. I didn't know what to do with her!”

“Sorry,” she said. “I turned off my phone. Walt's been calling and calling.”

“Why didn't you answer? Are you fighting or something?”

“No. Yes. I don't know…” She put her forehead in her hand. “It's a mess. I found out he's been lying to me. I was pretty upset, till you trumped him with Beth.”

“Lying to you?” Marty whispered, scooting forward a little. “About what?”

“He's not a bike mechanic… He let me think that. For months! The whole time he was trying to win me over, just ever so patiently, giving me all the time in the world to fall for a complete fraud.”

“Oh, God,” Marty said, sitting back. “He's a Hells Angel!”

“Shh,” Cassie shushed. “He's not a Hells Angel! He's a millionaire.”

Complete silence answered her. Finally Julie said, “Well. Bummer.”

“Wait a minute—he's a millionaire? Pretending to be a
biker?
”

“No, he's a biker. Sort of. I mean, he doesn't just work at the bike shop. He owns it. He owns four of them and is in the middle of buying a fifth one. He let me think he was this dirt-poor grease monkey. He teased me about being afraid of how my friends would take to someone like him—he looks like such a hood.”

Again, there was silence. “Um, Cass, you're not happy to find out he's not just a biker? What's up with that?”

“Don't you get it? He was holding out on me, probably to be sure I wouldn't fall for the money, the title…”

“What title?”

“Chairman of the Board. CEO. President. All of them, I guess.”

“Well, I mean, that's very nice,” Julie said, “but isn't it a small company? Are you sure he's a millionaire?”

“Oh, yeah, I asked. He admitted it. I don't know how big his company is, but I went home and researched his family. His parents—they're richer than God, invested in everything. Arneson Limited. Arneson family holdings. Arneson this, Arneson that. And here I was, afraid of sweating in the leather jacket he let me use on rides. He can probably afford to wipe his butt with leather jackets. He must have been laughing behind his fist the whole time.”

“But he finally told you the truth?”

“No, I
caught
him! I went by the store to entice him out to lunch. I was going to get out of him what he'd like for Christmas.” She laughed a little and her eyes welled up with tears. “I thought I'd go crazy, spend a hundred dollars on him. Maybe two hundred. I found him in a shirt and tie, in the middle of a board meeting. A shirt and tie? Jesus.”

“What did he say?”

She sighed and a big tear rolled out. “He said that he thought I'd take it as good news.”

“Why can't something like that ever happen to me?” Julie asked wearily. “I'd be a much better sport about it.”

“Don't you get it?” Cassie said. “I've been holding back for months! I liked him right off, but I didn't want to get hooked up with some loser biker who'd never make anything of himself! The whole time I was
thinking he wasn't quite good enough for me, he was making sure I was good enough for him!”

There was sound from the living room and all three women jumped up and hurried there. Beth had propped herself up on the couch pillows a little bit and was laughing softly, weakly. “You're better than vitamin B-12. Bring that gossip in here.”

“You should be resting,” Cassie said, sitting on the end of the sofa.

“Through this?” she said, amused. “He's a millionaire? Did I hear that right?”

“Man, do you have good ears. We were whispering.”

“I have cancer, I'm not deaf. Besides, I'm more likely to strain to hear whispering.”

Cassie sighed. “How's your stomach? Any nausea?”

“Not anymore. I'm past that and on to fatigue. I'm sorry for all the trouble.”

“You're less trouble than some people,” Cassie said. “I'm getting you a glass of orange juice.” When she came back from the kitchen with a full glass in her hand, Julie was helping Beth sit up a little more.

Beth took a sip and said, “Really, you're the only person I know who'd be upset to find out her boyfriend is stinking rich. Don't you ever get tired of being so screwed up?”

“I was just thinking, I could probably learn to live with that,” Marty said. “Is he tidy? Clean?”

“Very,” Cassie said. “He looks like he should be a wreck, but he's not. He even gets manicures to keep his nails and hands nice after working on bikes. Apparently he really does work on bikes. But he lied to me.”

“God, a chairman of the board who actually works on the bikes. I like him better all the time,” Marty said.

“But I feel like a fool,” Cassie said. “It's humiliating.”

“Now why would you feel that way? It's not your fault he didn't tell you!”

“Because. He was right. I had to be strung along like that. I'm always looking for the wrong things in men—that's why I never find the real good ones. I look at the car and not the driver, which is how I find these jerks who look like they have potential, but they're worthless. I think he knew that about me. I think I
told
him that about me! So, to be sure I was seeing the man without seeing the fat wallet, he just let me believe he was a big nobody.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose. “He's not a loser, though, and I don't mean the money. I mean, as a man, he's an exceptional man.”

“Well, there's the real bottom line,” Julie said.

“Lucky you,” Beth said. “No more jerks and losers. If you can just find a way to suffer under the strain of having money for a change, you should be able to soldier on.”

The doorbell rang and Julie jumped up. Jarod hurried into the room carrying his medical bag, closely followed by a uniformed messenger. He knelt beside Beth, kissed her forehead and opened his bag, pulling out a stethoscope. “Miss me?” he asked.

“I'm sorry about this,” she said. “It was an overreaction. It's completely unnecessary.”

“I doubt that,” he said, listening to her heart. He sat her up and listened to her back. “Deep breath. Nice.
Once more.” Then he let her lie back down. “I'm going to get some blood work. I'm having it delivered to the lab by messenger with a stat order.”

“I don't think I have any to spare,” she said. “This is probably just normal. Though I don't remember fatigue and weakness this intense the last time.”

“The treatment this time is more aggressive,” he said, getting out his blood-draw supplies. He slipped a full tube into an envelope, handed it to the messenger, then pulled out an IV setup.

“Oh, you're going way overboard….”

“Are you milking this cow?” he asked. “I thought I was the doctor and you were the patient.” He got the IV started. “You should be in the hospital…”