Catch of the Year (12 page)

“Well, good for you,” she said sincerely, trying to quash the fluttering inside her.

Suzy sent Jade a glowing smile and tucked into her chicken tagliatelle. Jade poked her fork into her pasta, her mind absorbing and processing the surprising development. She'd always imagined Suzy to be quite the dedicated career woman, and here she was, happy to give it all up and be a stay-at-home mom. Well.

“You're not quitting just yet, are you?”

“No, I'll work as long as the doc says it's okay. But if things get too stressful I might revisit that.”

“I can't imagine the agency without you. Apart from losing my only friend, I won't have anyone to keep me up to date on what's going on in your department.”

“We'll still be friends. That won't change.” Suzy dabbed at the sides of her mouth with her napkin, then smoothed it across her lap. “But as for keeping you up to date … .” For a few seconds, she looked down. When she lifted her head again, her expression was serious. “Steve was muttering about the menace of pink slips the other day. Have you heard anything more about cutbacks?”

Suzy's words reminded her of the rumors.

“Nothing official as yet.”

The horror of the threat was, if she lost that ultra-conservative client account, she'd be one of those let go.

“It's unsettling,” Suzy said, “but I'm sure you don't have to worry.”

Jade's stomach roiled. Her job wasn't as secure as Suzy thought. “Still, I hate the idea, especially as I'd probably have to do the dirty deed if the rumors are true.”

Suzy looked around for the waiter. It was time to return to work.

“Let's hope they're not.”

But if they were … . If they were, that was even more reason for her to stay far away from Paul.

• • •

At nine-thirty that night, Jade trudged wearily up the concrete pathway that led to the small, block building that housed her basement apartment. Too often over the last weeks, she'd returned home after the sun had set. Tonight the dusk hadn't yet turned to complete darkness, but somehow even the spruce tree on the small patch of front lawn looked forlorn. Beyond that, the narrow oblongs of her living room windows were blank and dark. She should put a lamp on a timer switch so at least she had some glimmer of welcome to return to.

Once inside, she dumped her purse-type briefcase on the battered antique trunk by the closet, shed her jacket and high-heeled shoes, and headed for the kitchen. Her stomach ached from hunger, but she was far too tired to think of cooking, even though she normally enjoyed it. Which meant she'd have to go for cold comfort yet again.

Yanking open the freezer, she reached into its icy depths and took out a low-calorie frozen dinner. Pressing her lips together, she removed it from the packaging and placed the solid lump in the microwave. How distressed her mother would be if she could see her. Marigold hated what she termed nuked food. She muttered on about cell changes and the destruction of the vital life force.

Minutes later Jade stood leaning against the stove, eating her food while idle thoughts wandered through her mind. Yesterday she'd arranged for Paul's sculpting tools to be couriered up to him, so he'd have them by now. She wondered if he was busy, chisel in hand, working at the wood, struggling to free the invisible, mysterious shape he saw entrapped there. The Spirit of the Lake. What a shame she'd never see the finished piece.

No use regretting things, although telling Suzy had brought the events of the time with Paul back to her in graphic detail. Now she had to deal with frustration as well as a wayward imagination, not to mention a recalcitrant conscience.

She put down the plate, reminding herself she'd made her choice and it was for the best. For herself, for her parents, for Adrian. For the agency. Whatever happened, the memories of the weekend would be hers forever.

There was no reason to feel so low.

Back in the living room she switched on her sound system and chose a CD. The Gypsy Kings. Always guaranteed to cheer her up.

• • •

On Steve's lakeside property, enough light shone in through the wide doors and one single window for the shed to serve as a studio. Wearing only his shorts, Paul worked at the wood. He carved steadily, so absorbed in his task that he was deaf to the sound of the blue jay's screech, the chattering complaint of the squirrel. He'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to be engaged in creating a sculpture, to be lifted into that realm where the muse seemed to whisper to him, “Take away a small piece here, mold that area more sharply.”

In his mind, he held the image of Serendipity, her slender waist, her curves, her shape, silvered in the moonlight. Thinking of her, his hands found the way to fashion the woman trapped inside the wavy log.

An hour later, he stepped away and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. Whew! Why had he left sculpting for so long when nothing else gave him quite the same sense of rightness, the feeling that this was what he'd been born to do? Somehow he'd gotten caught up in the chaotic energy of the advertising world and found himself putting in long hours, rewarding himself with a fancy car. But this kind of creativity let him focus on something larger, something beyond the brief he'd been given, or the purchase of his next toy.

He really didn't want to go back to work.

The thought gave him pause. He laid down his hammer and chisel and wandered over to the doorway where he stood looking out at the silvery lake. At last, he shrugged. All this beauty and peace was wonderful, but it wasn't part of the real world. In any case, his vacation wasn't over yet. He still had a couple of days plus the weekend to indulge himself, to do whatever he wanted. Which, at the moment, was sculpt.

He went back and walked slowly around the upright log, considering. Yes, it was still very rough, but he could see the potential. He'd uncover the essence of the Spirit of the Lake. And of Serendipity, although she was still mysterious to him in some ways.

He smiled to himself. What a difference finding her had made. Ever since the weekend, he'd felt restored and yet also renewed, as if he'd taken a step forward, grown closer to what he was meant to be.

Sure, this had a lot to do with the tranquility of his surroundings, here at the lake, with having the time and space to simply exist. Please himself. But it was also connected with Serendipity. Being with her, having fun, making love, had shifted something within him, opening him to a larger, different future. Over the last months he'd become so focused on the various advertising accounts he'd been working on, conjuring up new ideas, suitable images, that his world had narrowed to a kind of prison. Maybe he needed to reassess his career, decide whether or not he wanted to continue in the advertising business.

Serendipity. He'd like to take things further with her. Sometime before he went back to the city, he'd ride around to the other side of the lake, visit her home, and find out how to get in touch.

He picked up the hammer and chisel again. Slivers of newly shorn wood fell to the floor and permeated the shed with the sweet smell of maple.

• • •

The rest of the week proved difficult for Jade. At work, she found herself unable to give 120 percent of herself, as she'd done before. Little scenes from the weekend kept stealing into her mind — sexy scenes, peaceful scenes, teasing scenes seasoned with laughter.

Then her computer decided to throw a hissy fit. Once that was sorted out, she discovered her email was playing tricks and she couldn't access her messages. Hours were wasted and all she got was a promise her account would be back to normal by Monday. Added to that, she couldn't ignore the atmosphere of unsettled uneasiness that pervaded the office as rumors of cutbacks spread. The undercurrents echoed in her and she suffered from an unusual moodiness.

By Friday she was completely exasperated. To make things worse, Serendipity had refused to be banished. Setting aside the experiences she'd led Jade into, the bewitchment she'd conjured up made Jade feel needy and mushy and dreamy — and brought an intense sexual frustration. Paul R.G. kept popping up in her mind, her dreams, her thoughts. She was about ready to strangle him with his own guitar strings.

Man, the guy had sexy buns. And next week he'd be back with them, right here in the agency. Dealing with him then would be the ultimate test of her determined path in life. No, it would be fine. Definitely. She'd close the book on their fling. Get over it.

Back on her computer, she realized she'd made yet another silly mistake, had allocated the travel budget to the radio-advertising cost column. Damn it. This was what it felt like to be discombobulated, a state of mind she simply could not afford.

But before many minutes passed she drifted off into another daydream. A sneaky error crept into the promo budget for the new ad campaign. With a mutter of disgust, she pulled her hands back from the keyboard, scooted her chair away from the desk, and twirled herself around, once, twice. She came to a stop facing the window. Feeling a little dizzy, she gazed out at the summer sky, hazy with the city's pollution. At Lake Lauzon the day would surely be crystal clear … . And there she went again, about to fly into the air on another fantasy trip.

She touched her feet to the carpet and twirled back to her desk. Her hormones were obviously out to get revenge for these past couple of years of celibacy. Enough already. She got the message, thank you very much. It was time to take action.

She turned to her computer and found what she was looking for. Usually she didn't make personal calls at work, but this time she was going to break her own rule.

Picking up her office phone, she dialed the number of the one man who could take her to the clouds.

“Fred, it's me.”

“Who?”

No wonder the float plane pilot hadn't recognized her voice. They didn't speak on the phone very often, keeping to their regular fortnightly arrangement unless the weather interfered. It had better keep its nose out of her business this weekend.

“Serendipity. I'd like a ride this weekend.”

“No can do, I'm afraid. I'm full up, right to the wings. Got a bunch of fishermen to ferry.”

“Oh no,” she wailed. “I'm so disappointed. Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Desolate and disappointed, she hung up. So much for karma. Looked like that was that.

Half an hour later, she felt a headache coming on. Figured. She rummaged inside her purse for her medication, and then made a trip to the water cooler. Steve hailed her as she walked back toward her office.

“Hey Jade!” He got up from his desk and moved to cut her off. “You've been holding out on us.”

She paused. Steve could be nosey. Knowing he and Paul were best buds made her uneasy. “I have?”

“Yup. A moment ago I fielded a personal phone call of yours.”

Her heart rate picked up. She pretended indifference.

“Really?”

“The guy rang the wrong extension. Transposed the numbers, I suppose.”

“What did he say?” And who could it have been?

“Of course, he knew straightaway I wasn't Ms. Jellicoe.” Steve twirled a pen between his fingers. “I saw you head down the passage, so I asked if I could take a message because you weren't in your office.”

Jade frowned. Steve was rather too observant for her liking. “And did you?”

“Yeah. He said to tell you, ‘Fred says right.'”

Uh-oh, depending on what more Fred had said, this could mean trouble.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Not much.”

Jade made a move to continue on, but Steve blocked her way.

“Just one question,” he began, holding up the pen like a warning finger. “This guy's flying you up to Lake Lauzon, right? I heard you were there last weekend.” His eyes, very blue under dark brows, probed into hers. “Paul's up in that vicinity, staying at our family cabin … . Did you happen to bump into him by any chance?”

A shiver moved through her. Bumping into Paul. Oh yes, that sounded like a very good idea. But why hadn't her mother taught her to be a better liar instead of insisting she tell the truth? Marigold said even white lies would cause bad karma in the next life. At this particular moment, the immediate present was more important to Jade.

“Paul?” she tried to make it sound as if the name hardly registered with her, instead of setting off all kinds of twanging vibrations. “No, I didn't. Excuse me.”

She moved around Steve, went into her office, and leaned her back against the closed door. Whew, that was close. How lucky Fred hadn't asked for Serendipity. Bad enough that he'd mentioned Lake Lauzon. In the future she'd better watch herself. She'd seen Steve in meetings and knew he could be as tenacious as a bulldog.

Still, the news was good. Feeling the need for confirmation, she picked up her phone and redialed.

“You're sure that's okay, Fred?”

“Of course I'm sure. I made a mistake. What can I say?”

“That you'll take me with you tonight?”

“Sure thing, kid. Meet you at Buttonville airport.”

• • •

Jade looked out of the window of the small plane, hardly believing what she was about to do. Below her the trees showed full summer, abundant green, while the fields were already golden. The wheat was ripe. Same as she was.

A mixture of anticipation and doubt had her wishing she'd taken up chewing her nails as a child. That would give her some way of venting her nervousness.

What if she got to the cabin and found Paul entertaining Another Woman? The answer was simple. She'd grab the interloper by the neck and send her flying out the door. Then she'd glom on to the guy and kiss him stupid. She grinned and shifted in the ergonomic seat. Nothing was going to stand in the way of her ardor. She wanted Paul and she was going to have him. All weekend. As often as possible. Any way he or she could come up with or imagine. Lordy, and here she'd always thought of herself as not particularly interested in sex. All it had taken to turn her into an insatiable, lustful, female was the right, perfect male. Oh yes.