Falling Angel (11 page)

“Thanks,” Cara said, surprised. It wasn’t like Ann to volunteer the use of her car. She had a cute, albeit somewhat unreliable, green VW bug, one of the few remaining originals on the road. The windshield was cracked and the vinyl seats torn, but driving the old relic was a novelty, and it beat the bus, which could be a little sketchy through the Central District at night.

Ann grinned. “You’ll be traveling in style.”

It was hard getting through the day, with no work to take her mind off the phone call that never came.

To occupy herself, Cara spent the afternoon creating an herb garden. She purchased a long wooden container, seeds, soil and a tiny watering can at the Madison Park hardware store and borrowed a cart to lug the supplies home. In preparation, she covered her bedroom floor with newspaper, donned pink and green gardening gloves and tied her hair back under a scarf. Kneeling, she poured potting mix into the container and planted seeds of thyme, mint, rosemary, and oregano, adding some white allysum for a decorative touch.

Grunting with the effort, she hung the rectangular container from a rail outside her bedroom window. Over the next few weeks she would be able to savor the swift transformation from seedlings to plants. She looked forward to awakening each morning to the fresh aroma, and to snipping herbs to enhance her favorite recipes.

Gardening never failed to soothe Cara when she felt upset and overwhelmed. During her childhood she had spent many afternoons in the garden, weeding, planting, and watering. Getting down in the dirt was her way of staying grounded, and of staying away from her mother and grandparents, who seemed to be engaged in a constant battle. Later, when her mother married Andrew, it was Cara’s way of retreating to a space that belonged to her alone. Her friends teased her for spending her allowance on gardening tools and potting soil rather than magazines and make-up.

Cara allowed herself to dream of the day when she would own her own little house. She already had the landscaping planned in her mind’s-eye, an English cottage garden with raised beds of colorful wildflowers, snapdragons, poppies and marigolds. A row of hollyhocks along the wooden fence, rambling roses of all hues, border hedges entwined with fragrant honeysuckle and humming with bees and butterflies. There would be crabapple and fruit trees, an abundance of herbs by the kitchen door in terra cotta pots, and small paths paved with stepping stones meandering between the flowers and the vegetable beds.

She envisioned birdbaths and feeders, and a stone fountain with a bench beside it under an old tree, where one could laze away a summer afternoon with a good book.

The planter finally in place, Cara pulled off her dirty gloves and placed the newspaper in the recycling container before taking a shower. It was time to get ready for her date.

In keeping with the warmer weather, she chose a pale blue cardigan embroidered with flowers, a pink, sleeveless dress, fitted at the waist, with a full skirt that ended an inch below her knees, and simple wedge heels. She painted her toenails a coral color to match the dress.

“Don’t you look cute?” Ann said as she hurried out the door.

“Thanks again for letting me use the car, Ann.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Just don’t get any parking tickets.”

Cara parked the VW bug in her favorite underground garage at the Pacific Place Mall and took the escalator up to the concourse level. The mall was full of shoppers and gawkers, enjoying the later spring store hours and the riot of colors in the display windows, a welcome change from the somber hues of winter.

Walking briskly, she crossed the concourse floor and walked through the bookstore, taking the escalator up to exit on Pike Street.

Outside, the air was unseasonably balmy. Clusters of teenagers chattered in high-pitched voices as they savored the unfamiliar freedom of an unsupervised evening out in the big city. Cara turned left and hurried the few blocks to the Meridian, observing the well-dressed couples en route to the 5
^th
Avenue Musical Theatre, where a revival of the Broadway hit
Chicago
was playing. Absorbing some of the excitement from the passersby, Cara found herself humming softly under her breath as she walked.

David was standing outside the theater when she arrived. He checked his watch. “You’re right on time,” he observed approvingly.

He was dressed in his usual preppy style, a tan polo shirt and khaki pants, his brown hair neatly combed.

He held out her ticket and they went into the theater.

“You get us some seats, and I’ll get the popcorn,” David said. Cara found two seats in the back of the theater, where she preferred to sit. The opening credits were rolling as David found her in the darkened room.

“Wasn’t there anything closer up?” he asked, sotto voce.

“There was. I just like sitting in the back. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine. I just have to put on my glasses, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.” Cara felt guilty.

“Really, it’s fine.”

The movie was light and entertaining, and Cara found herself laughing at the inane jokes.

Halfway through the movie, she became aware of David’s hand hovering above her knee. Finally, it descended. The gentle pressure wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but Cara’s unselfconscious pleasure in the movie was ruined. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about David, and here he was with a proprietary hand on her leg.

David seemed blithely unaware of her discomfort, as he scooped popcorn into his mouth and laughed along with the rest of the audience. As the lights went up, he turned to her with a smile.

“Wasn’t that great?”

“Very funny.”

“I told you I’d pick a good one. I know the ideal spot for dessert, too. Right around the corner.”

“Lead the way.”

David helped her into her coat, and took her arm as they left the theater. He was almost exactly the same height as she. Cara enjoyed the feeling of walking down the street as part of a couple. It had been a long time since she’d dated. Too long, she thought. She’d been in Seattle for over six months and this was really her first official date.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she said, smiling at David.

The café was full of people enjoying a nightcap after the movie or theatre. Cara and David sat in wrought iron chairs at a little round table. David ordered for them both, port and chocolate cake, rich as fudge and topped with raspberries, followed by a shot of decaf espresso.

“So how are your MBA studies going?” Cara asked.

“It’s a pretty intensive course, but I’m doing fine so far. The final exams are in June.”

“That’s only two months away.”

“I know it. I feel pretty confident about it. Only problem is that some of my co-workers aren’t so thrilled. They think I’m getting some kind of special treatment from management because I’ve basically been guaranteed a promotion after I graduate.”

“Well, maybe it’s because you deserve special treatment,” Cara said.

“Exactly.” David drained his espresso. “People can be so petty. Rather than valuing my skills or being impressed by my ambition and dedication, they resent me for it. Once I’m the manager, at least I’ll have the authority to make changes and get some respect. No one will be able to ignore me then.”

“You can fire the bunch of them and start fresh,” Cara said.

David laughed. “That may not be such a bad idea.”

“I don’t know whether I’d like working for you,” Cara teased. “You sound like quite the taskmaster.”

“You’d do great,” David assured her. He took her hand across the table. “You’re so sweet. I’m sure I’d have no trouble with you.”

Cara was not sure whether to be flattered or offended by this remark. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to event planning,” she said.

“How long have you worked for Great Expectations?”

“Only six months. But I love it. I think I’ve found my niche, at least work-wise.”

“Me too. David squeezed her hand. “Hopefully, other parts of my life will start falling into place pretty soon too. You know, I’m turning thirty two this year.”

Cara looked blank. “Is that bad?”

“Only if I haven’t met my goals by then,” David said. “I like to set goals and objectives for the year, both personal and professional. Getting my MBA and promotion are obviously my work goals this year, and I’m well on the way to achieving both. But I also plan to buy a house and start putting down some serious roots in this community. How about you? Are you planning to stay in Seattle?”

“Oh yes,” Cara said. “I love it here. I also want to put down roots.”

David gave her hand another squeeze. “You and I are a lot alike.”

As the waiter arrived with the bill, David produced his wallet with a flourish. “This one’s on me,” he said magnanimously. “I hope you’re not one of those feminist types who insists on paying her own way all the time.”

“No. No, I’m not.”

As they exited the restaurant, David glanced at his watch and winced. “I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, but Fox TV’s nightly financial report comes on at 11. I’d hate to miss it.”

“Of course not.” Cara suppressed a yawn. It had been a long day, and she wouldn’t mind getting an early night herself. “You better go. Thanks for a lovely time.”

“Thank
you
,” he said. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her quickly. “I’d like to see you again soon. I like spending time with you.”

Cara smiled and nodded. “That would be great.”

“I won a $50 gift certificate for dinner at Dirk’s Seafood in an office raffle. It’s for Monday through Thursday use only. Would you like to go there with me this week?”

Cara scuffed the ground with the toe of her shoe.
It’s not as though a stream of eligible bachelors are beating a path to your door, honey,
she thought.
Why play hard to get?
”Sure,” she said.

“Great. How about I pick you up after work on Monday?”

“Sounds good.”

Cara watched David stride down the street and disappear round the corner.

She was grateful that he hadn’t walked her to her car. She could use some time alone for quiet contemplation. It wasn’t often she had a car at her disposal, and she decided on impulse to drive to West Seattle and cruise along Alki Beach before going home.

As Cara neared the car, she noticed the headlights emitting a weak light into the darkened garage. Her heart sank. She was so used to driving the fully automated Highlander at work that she had forgotten to turn the lights off. Cara said a quick prayer as she slid in and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered and wheezed but did not engage. She tried a few more times and gave up with a groan. Clearly, that quiet moment of contemplation was a lot further away than she’d thought.

Chapter Ten

Except for a group of three teenage boys on the opposite side of the garage the underground parking lot was empty. They looked a little scary, with their black hooded sweatshirts and loud voices, and Cara had no intention of asking them for help, or giving them any indication that she was stranded. She searched her bag for her cell phone and realized with dismay that she had left it charging on top of her dresser at home. Cursing, she took the elevator back to the concourse level, where she remembered seeing a public pay phone.