Dancing in the Dark (11 page)

“Well,” Rod said, “no problem. I’m heading to Vermont for a while—somebody told me about a couple of killer ski runs up there—but I’ll call you when I get back. We’ll get together then.”

“Okay. Fine.” The two men walked to the door. Rod shut off the lights and they stepped out onto the porch. The sun had set and the darkness was almost complete.

Seth looked into the sky and turned up his collar. “Snow before morning.”

“That’s what the weatherman says.”

“Well, for once he’s gonna be right. If it’s okay with you, I’ll touch base with Bob Ziller, ask him to take a look at that furnace and the heating system. There’s usually trouble when it’s been turned completely off for a while.”

“You’re the man in charge. You think something needs doing, do it.”

“Great. Well, see you later.”

“Right.”

They trotted down the steps, booted feet crunching noisily on the packed snow. Seth headed for his truck, Rod for his SUV. At the last second, Rod turned around.

“Seth?”

Seth swung toward him. “Yeah?”

“You think I’m some rich kid who slid through college and med school on my butt?”

“I don’t think about it at all,” Seth replied honestly. He grinned. “Disappointed?”

“Not a bit.” Rod grinned back. “But it’s true. I
was
a rich kid.”

Seth laughed. The doctor was okay. “There’s a point to this, right?”

“I didn’t have to work my way through school, but when I was an undergrad, I wrote a column on finance for the campus newspaper.”

“Great,” Seth said dryly. “I’m very impressed.”

“One day, a girl who did one of the other columns got herself tossed out of school.”

“The trials and tribulations of the rich.”

“We were desperate, so I said, okay, I’d fill in for her. I ended up doing her damned column for a month, until they finally got somebody else.”

“Pommier, I’m sure this is all fascinating stuff, but I’m freezing my tail off. Plus, I have to go home and get ready to—”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got a date. You already told me. The thing is, you’ve got a date with the wrong girl.”

“What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re talking about.”

“The column I wrote for the girl who left school? It was called ‘Aunt Agatha’s Advice.’ Ever hear of it?”

“Mercifully, no.”

Rod opened the door to his truck, got inside and put down the window. Seth did the same.

“I’m just giving you my credentials so you’ll know the truth of what I’m about to tell you.”

“And that is...?”

“You’re not over this girl, Castleman. This Wendy Monroe.”

“Ten minutes ago you were an orthopedist, not a shrink.”

“I’m still an orthopedist.” Rod flashed a smile. “I’m also a former Aunt Agatha, and I’m telling you, you have a thing for Wendy.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m right. One hundred percent.”

Seth searched for a clever comeback, but all he could come up with was the memory of Wendy, sitting on that bench at Jiminy Peak the day he’d first set eyes on her.

“You’re wrong,” he said again, but so softly that he knew Pommier couldn’t hear him. He turned the key to fire the ignition, and drove off into the rapidly encroaching night.

CHAPTER SIX

G
INA
M
ONROE
WAS
WORRIED
.

She was ecstatic to have her daughter back home, but she could see that Wendy was unhappy. The lunch with Alison hadn’t improved things. If anything, Wendy had come home looking even more depressed.

“Hi, honey,” Gina said when Wendy came in the door. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes.”

That had been Wendy’s entire answer. Just “yes,” and Gina hadn’t believed it, not for a minute. Her daughter had looked emotionally drained. Gina had wanted to follow her to her room, take her in her arms and ask her what was wrong, but instinct had warned her not to. When Wendy reappeared a couple of hours later, she’d still looked upset. Her mouth had been turned down, her eyes had been shiny with...what? Tears? All Gina knew for certain was that her little girl was unhappy, but about what? Surely not about Seth. Wendy had shown nothing but anger when she’d dealt with him that morning.

After a couple of days, Wendy seemed better, but she was still quieter than usual. Gina knew better than to ask questions. Instead, she whispered her concerns to Howard as they sat reading in bed one night.

“I’m worried, Howard,” she said softly. “Wendy’s unhappy. She says she’s fine, but she’s not.”

“Well, of course she’s not happy, honey. Her leg—”

“It’s more than that.”

“She’s impatient, that’s all. She wants to meet Dr. Pommier. I’m doing everything I can to get five minutes alone with him, but—”

The last thing Gina wanted to discuss was Dr. Pommier. She and Howard were on completely opposite sides of that issue.

“I’m sure you’re doing your best,” she said carefully.

“Oh, I am. We just never seem to be in the same place at the same time.” Howard sighed. “He’s driven up to Vermont to ski a couple of times, and now that he bought a house here—”

“What house?”

“Not a house, exactly. The old Sullivan place, up on Dragon Mountain. Seems like he’s up in Pittsfield, checking out kitchen appliances and such, more than he’s in Cooper’s Corner.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I bumped into Clint at the hardware store before I came home. He mentioned it.” Howard’s voice took on an edge. “Would you believe Pommier’s turned the whole job over to Seth Castleman?”

“Yes. I would. Seth’s talented, Howard. And he’s a good organizer. Just look how he’s built up that business of his.”

“I suppose.”

Gina closed her book and put it on the nightstand. Howard had always been polite to Seth when he was dating Wendy, and Seth had been respectful to him, but she’d sensed the tension between them.

“Wendy’s too young to tie herself down,” Howard would say, and Gina would remind him that she’d been exactly their daughter’s age when she’d started dating him. But she’d known he wasn’t really talking about Wendy being too young. He was talking about her burgeoning success as a skier, and its inevitable end if she married Seth.

There was no reason to get into that discussion anymore. Wendy’s career was over, and so was her relationship with Seth.

Howard put his book aside. “I’m going to try to talk to Pommier at Twin Oaks.”

Gina frowned at the change of subject. She didn’t want to get into this discussion, either, but there wasn’t much choice, not with both her husband and her daughter so determined to buttonhole the doctor.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll find a pretext to stop by there one of these evenings. Maybe I’ll get lucky and the doctor will be sitting in the gathering room.”

“I don’t know what you expect to accomplish. Dr. Pommier’s already told Wendy no.”

“He read a letter she sent him. That’s a lot different from actually talking to her.”

“I just want to go on record that I still think this is a bad idea,” Gina said stiffly.

Howard reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It’s what our girl wants, honey.”

“That doesn’t make it right. There are a dozen things she could do with her life besides ski.” Gina tugged her hand free and looked at him. “She’s got a quick mind. And she’s creative. Remember those pictures she used to draw? Those stories she used to write?”

Howard sighed. “Wendy could do a lot of things. She will, someday. But first she wants to—”

“I
know
what she wants, Howard. What if it turns out it’s not possible?”

“Then she’ll have to accept the inevitable. She’ll need our support either way,” he said gently. “Isn’t that right?” The springs creaked as Howard settled under the covers. “I’d never let our girl do anything that would be bad for her. The doctor will tell us if he thinks the operation is right or wrong for Wendy.” He ran his hand up and down Gina’s arm in slow, comforting strokes. “Don’t you think I’m worried about the risks, too?”

Gina looked at him. “I know you love her as much as I do. That’s why I can’t understand—”

“It’s because we come at this differently. I can put myself in Wendy’s place. I remember what it’s like to have a shot at big-time skiing, and I never even got as close as she did. I never made the nationals, but Wendy—”

“Big-time skiing isn’t everything.”

“You’re right. It isn’t. It’s doing whatever you can to reach for a dream that’s everything. And if getting back on skis is our daughter’s dream, I’m going to do my very best to help her achieve it.”

“No matter what the cost?” Gina said bitterly. It was the first time she’d let the full extent of her anger show. She saw the shock on her husband’s face and didn’t know who she’d shocked the most, him or herself.

“Gina, how can you say that? Didn’t I just tell you I’m worried, too? My God, do you really think I’d encourage her to go ahead with an operation if the doctor says he’s not one hundred percent sure it’s safe?”

Nothing in life was safe. Hadn’t Wendy’s fall proved that? Gina almost said as much to Howard, but she knew she’d already hurt him enough, that he was torn between wanting to protect Wendy and wanting her to be happy. She sighed, put her arms around him and held him until he fell asleep. Then she rose quietly, slipped on her robe and went down the hall to Wendy’s room. She stared at the closed door, then leaned her forehead against the cool wood.

Howard was right. Wendy was upset because of her impatience to meet the doctor—and yet there was more to her withdrawal. Gina was sure of it. Something else was worrying their daughter.

The next evening, Howard said he was going out for a while. To Twin Oaks, Gina suspected, though he didn’t say it. She made some popcorn, put the bowl between Wendy and her on the sofa in the family room and clicked on the TV. She surfed the channels until she found a news show. After a while, she hit the mute button, put her feet up on the coffee table and looked at Wendy.

She’d planned how to approach this. Subtly. Carefully. She wouldn’t say anything to put her daughter on the defensive.

“Wendy? What’s troubling you, baby?” So much for subtlety. Still, she was glad she’d finally asked the question.

Wendy looked at her, then back at the silent picture on the TV screen.

“Nothing. I mean, nothing but what’s been troubling me all along. I wonder if Daddy’s ever going to find a way to talk to Dr. Pommier.”

In for a penny, in for a pound,
Gina thought. “I know about that. But I think something else is upsetting you. Something more personal.”

Wendy lifted her eyebrows. “What could be more personal than my leg?”

Gina ignored that. It had been offered as a diversion and she wasn’t going to be diverted. Not tonight.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since you had lunch with Alison.” She paused. “I thought seeing her would do you a world of good, but you came home sort of down, and you’re still down.”

“I’m probably just tired. The flight home—”

“That was a week ago.”

“Well, the change, you know? From one place to another—”

“Did you and Alison talk about Seth?” More subtlety, Gina thought unhappily. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out, but the idea had popped into her head without warning. One look at her daughter’s face and she knew she’d hit the mark.

“Why on earth would we talk about Seth?”

“Well, you’d just had that...that little blowup with him, so I just thought... I wondered...”

“No need to wonder. We didn’t talk about him. End of story.”

“I’m not prying, sweetie. I’m just worried about you.”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. Seth is history. I’m over him. He’s over me. He’s involved with someone, and that’s fine. Oh, don’t look so stricken, Mother.” Wendy rose to her feet and limped across the room. She grabbed a magazine from the small wooden rack, limped back and sat down again. “People in this town know what you eat for breakfast. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about Seth’s girlfriend?”

“Oh, baby. That explains why you’re upset.”

“I am not upset. Why would I be?” Wendy snapped open the magazine. “I don’t want to talk about Seth. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Mother and daughter remained locked in silence, Gina pretending to watch TV, Wendy pretending to read, until Howard returned an hour later. Wendy looked up, her face alive with expectancy, and Gina knew her daughter figured he’d gone to find the doctor.

But Pommier hadn’t been at the bed-and-breakfast, not in the public rooms at any rate. And Gina, though consumed with guilt, kept thinking,
Please, please, let the doctor go back to New York.

There was no such thing as risk-free surgery. Besides, despite what Wendy said, Gina wasn’t at all sure that not being able to ski was the heart of the problem. Something more was troubling her daughter, something that wasn’t as visible as her limp but was every bit as disturbing.

Maybe what she and Wendy needed was the chance to spend some time together. Alone. Sort of a girls’ night out, the way they used to when Wendy was in high school. They hadn’t managed to have them often—not anywhere near often enough—because of Wendy’s grueling schedule. But every now and then they’d taken off together, just the two of them, for dinner somewhere special, and they’d talk and laugh and have fun.

A girls’ night out. Definitely. Gina picked up the phone and made reservations. She wasn’t going to give Wendy the chance to say no.

* * *

G
INA
HAD
CHOSEN
the restaurant with care. The food at the Purple Panda was delicious, the place itself was charming and it took more than forty minutes to drive there.

She wanted to have lots of time to chat with Wendy. There was something about riding through the night on dark country roads that tended to loosen a person’s tongue.

Wrong,
she thought as they sped along the dark roads. Wendy hadn’t said more than half a dozen words during the entire trip. Gina kept up a one-sided conversation, babbling away about nothing in particular and getting back mostly “uh-huh” and “um-hmm” in response.

It was a relief when they finally reached Stockbridge and drove past the big, stately homes that lined both sides of the wide street, which narrowed as it approached the town green.

“Well,” Gina said brightly, “here we are.” She slipped the Volvo into a parking space. “I’m really looking forward to dinner tonight. You’ll love this place, and we can just sit back and relax. Everything’s been so, um, so rushed lately....”

“I can just imagine. Exams are coming up soon, right?”

A complete sentence, at last. But Gina had to stop and think. “Exams?” she said as they got out of the car. “Oh. Oh, you mean at school. Math quizzes and English essays. Right. My kids are all excited.”

Wendy made a face. “They’re terrified, Mom, not excited.”

“Of what? They’ll all do fine. If anybody’s terrified, it should be me.” She took Wendy’s arm as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Careful. The street’s probably slippery.” The night was cold, the air crisp; a thin skim of frosty snow crackled under their boots. “When I think of the endless hours I’ll have to put in, marking all those tests...”

“I could help you with them.”

“Yes, you could.” Gina laughed. “You don’t really expect me to be polite and turn down such an offer, do you?”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about some kind of job.”

“A job? But—”
You won’t be here long enough to hold down a job,
Gina thought. Or was her luck turning? Had Wendy changed her mind about what she wanted?

“I know what you’re thinking. I won’t be here very long.” The Purple Panda was just ahead. The door was trimmed with tiny bells that tinkled merrily when Wendy pulled it open. “But Daddy mentioned that the people who own Twin Oaks—”

“Clint and Maureen,” Gina said as the door swung shut behind them.

“That’s it. He said they were thinking about finding someone to help out evenings.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, nothing very complicated.” Wendy peeled off her gloves and put them in her pockets. “Answer the phone, hang around the gathering room to serve coffee or tea or wine. They just got their liquor permit.”

“Well,” Gina said cautiously, “you might enjoy it. You know, getting out, meeting some people from out of town—”

“Meeting Rod Pommier, if I’m lucky.”

“Oh, Wendy.”

“Oh, Mother,” Wendy teased. “Come on, get that look off your face. Mmm, this place is handsome. When did it open?”

Gina knew when she was being taken on a detour. “Last summer,” she said, and sighed.

“And what’s that luscious smell?”

“Cloves. Maybe allspice.”

“Allspice. Isn’t that what you used to put into that incredible beef and beer thingy?”

Detoured and derailed,
Gina thought, but that was okay if it meant getting Wendy to think about something other than whatever was making her look so glum.

“It’s known as
boeuf carbonade,
if you please, my darling daughter.” Gina took Wendy’s hand as they eased through a knot of people toward the hostess. “After all these years of eating French cooking, you should know there’s a difference between a ‘beef thingy’ and something
française.
And no, that’s not allspice in
carbonade,
it’s thyme.”