Mourning Becomes Cassandra (40 page)

“Little rough,” said Ray. He had a rather raspy voice like Kyle, only about forty years older. “Seems like fewer and fewer bands want to shell out for a top-of-the-line recording studio anymore, even one with kick-ass acoustics like ours. More people would rather just record in someone’s garage and mix it up on their laptop. But, hey, we still have our connections in the industry, which no software program can buy you. And we’ve got our expertise.”

“And your proprietary technologies,” said Daniel.

“Oh, yeah,” agreed Ray, “those proprietary technologies that we pay your ass to protect.”

“Bet it’s worth every penny,” interjected the waitress, sliding Daniel his pilsner and winking at him. Turning my head to look out the window at Lake Washington, I indulged myself in an eye roll. Really, didn’t it get old for him?

To my embarrassment, Ray apparently noticed my theatrics and grinned at me. “So, Cass,” he began. “Dan tells me you have a business proposition for me.”

It would have been nice for Daniel to clue me in on this, but oh well. In my nervousness I dumped the whole sugar packet into my tea and had to fish out the paper. “Umm, yes, sort of. That is, Daniel tells me you got your start at your studio cleaning their toilets, so I thought you might have a heart for another kid who loves music and is looking to find some work—any work, I think.”

“How old is this kid?”

“Twenty—so maybe not such a
kid
kid,” I amended. “I’d better begin at the beginning, since I don’t know what Daniel’s told you—” (this, with a reproachful look at said Daniel).

Starting with Camden School, I explained who they were, how the mentorship program worked, my own relationship with Nadina, and finally her relationship to Mike. “Mike got busted before Christmas for marijuana possession and had to spend a week in jail, but in the weeks since, he’s sworn to go straight. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to be doing, and now he just needs to find a little work to repay his debt to society. Apparently, what Mike loves best in the world is music. He spent most of his time trolling all the parties and clubs in Seattle, listening to different local bands. Nadina swears he’s got a gift for it. It could be the best or the worst decision you ever make, Ray, but if you need a toilet cleaner and general grunt at the studio, I think Mike would be up for it.”

It took me some time to get through my entire, impromptu spiel, with Daniel not opening his mouth once, and both of them had made significant headway with their beverages by the time I finished up. As James had pointed out, I couldn’t in all honesty give Mike anything approaching a ringing endorsement, but I wanted Ray to be able to decide with all the facts before him.

Taking off his crazy glasses and laying them on the bar table, Ray rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. “Dan, you picked your man, didn’t you?” When I looked puzzled, he went on to explain. “Martin knows that I did some pretty stupid things when I was younger. Done some time for drug possession myself.” Looking out absently at the water, he seemed to settle something with himself and, after a minute, replaced his glasses. “Fine. Hell. What the hell. Kid’ll probably burn the place down and steal all the technology I’ve been paying through the nose to protect. Have him call me. We can give him fifteen hours a week cleaning toilets and being the basic studio slave—minimum wage. One month probation. Take it or leave it.” Ray threw his business card on the table and downed the last sip of his seven-and-seven.

Picking up his card, I held it as if it were a winning lottery ticket. “Thank you, Ray!” I breathed. “I’m sure you’ll be sorry you did this, but thank you so much for being willing. I hope and hope Mike doesn’t screw this up—”

Ray waved me off, laughing. “Whoa, Cass. You’re gonna make me change my mind, after that great sales job you did. Better just leave it at thank you.”

“Join us for lunch, Ray?” Daniel asked, looking rather smug.

“Not today, man. Got a paying customer coming in this afternoon. Gotta support my new charity work.” Ray stood up, pulling on his leather jacket, and I popped up to shake his hand gratefully. He and Daniel slapped each other on the back, and as Ray left, he stopped to mutter something in Daniel’s ear. Daniel only nodded, and Ray was gone.

“What did he say?” I asked curiously.

“He liked you, Cass. You did a good job today,” he answered. I suspected he wasn’t telling me all but got distracted when he added, “Do you have time for lunch, or do I need to get you back?”

I glanced at my watch. “I don’t need to be anywhere until I meet Nadina at 2:45, but do you want to go somewhere else? Lunch here might be a little pricey for me.”

“My treat,” he said easily, throwing a bill down on the table. “Let’s move to that booth over there.”

“No way,” I hissed, trotting after him. “You just did me the hugest favor. We should go dutch.”

Daniel slid into the booth, signaling the waiter, who hastened over with menus. “Since I’ve known you, you’ve cooked me at least a hundred meals—I think I can handle this one.”

“You pay me for those meals,” I reminded him, “by reducing my rent, so we’ll split this.”

“Would it really be so difficult for you, Cass, just for once to say, ‘Yes, Daniel’ and leave it at that? I did just do you the hugest favor, as you pointed out, so the least you could do is not exasperate me.”

Chastened, I nodded, though his logic sat ill with me. Maybe he decided to become a lawyer after he took some high school vo-ed test and scored high on Manipulating Others.

Having won his point, Daniel seemed satisfied and slipped into the easygoing, brotherly mode I remembered from the New Year’s Eve party, telling me anecdotes about Ray’s studio and some of the famous bands that recorded there in the past twenty-five years. He wanted to know more about Mike and Nadina, too, and I ended up filling him in on most of what had gone on up to that point, including Mike stealing from Nadina at the skating rink and how Mark Henneman and I engineered her visit to Sylvia in Cleveland.

The time seemed to fly by, and I was just pushing away my empty soup bowl, from which I swabbed up every last drop of butternut squash bisque with the bread, when I caught sight of the waiter leading a couple toward our area of the restaurant, and my mouth fell open in horror. One tall, rangy man with salt-and-pepper hair and a swing in his walk, and one petite, black-haired woman with an oversized handbag. “Oh, no!” Startled by my change in expression, Daniel threw a glance over his shoulder. When he turned back, I was scrunched low, trying to keep out of the couple’s line of sight.

“Who the hell are they?” he demanded in a low voice.

Too late. “Cass? Is it you, Cass?” came Raquel’s amazed voice. “Max, look—Cass is here!”

How could this be happening to me? I had the worst luck imaginable. Of all places and times, to run into my former in-laws when I was alone at a restaurant with Daniel! Sure enough, when the Ewans stopped in front of our table, Raquel blinked at him in astonishment. Even mild-mannered Max straightened his glasses and took a long gander. I hadn’t known Raquel for going on fourteen years without getting pretty skilled in reading her expressions. This time, her face plainly said: “Ah ha! So she’s gone from my son to a man like this? Probably Cass is glad Troy died when he did, so he wouldn’t get in her way.” Absolutely mortifying. My face was glowing like a sunset.

“Raquel, Max,” I said in a wobbly voice that I tried to make sound perky. “Umm, Daniel, this is Raquel and Max Ewan, my mother- and father-in-law. That is, Troy’s parents. And Raquel and Max, this is—this is Daniel Martin. He’s my—my—my landlord.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I realized how ridiculous they sounded. Which was sketchier—for me to be having lunch with some overly-handsome strange man, or for me to be having lunch with my landlord? “This is a business lunch,” I added lamely.

“Cass apparently has issues with her wiring,” said Daniel with a straight face. There was another note in his voice I couldn’t identify, but I was too stressed out to worry about it. “How nice to meet you,” he continued. “Won’t you join us?”

Had he not been wearing his gazillion dollar Ferragamo shoes, I would have smashed his foot under the table. “Oh!” I shrilled, instead. “That would have been so fun, except that we’ve already finished eating and I need to get going. I was just going to run to the ladies’ room before I left.” Scooching along the bench, I stood up and gave them each a hug and a little shove to move them along after their waiter.

I managed to herd Max into their booth, but Raquel said, “I need to visit the ladies’ room, too. I’ll go with you, Cass.” Sigh. Here goes.

No sooner was the door of the restroom shut behind us than Raquel said innocently, “My, what a handsome landlord you have. If I had one like that, I’d always be inventing repairs and urgent projects.”

“Yes, well, he is certainly very handsome, but there’s none of that going on. He’s my best friend Joanie’s brother, and he owns the house we all live in, remember? Except he lives off in the mother-in-law in the backyard, so it’s not even like he lives with us.” Definitely rambling now, and rambling with a defensive note. Not good.

“Oh, my dear,” Raquel soothed, “you know we wish you all the best. And it would be absolutely natural for you to start dating again, but really—don’t you think he looks a little…not your type? He looks like he must be quite the ladies’ man.”

“Yes,” I agreed through gritted teeth. “Daniel is quite the ladies’ man, which is only one of the million reasons why I would never date him, and why lunch today is not a date.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, and I knew the only way I could convince her would be to show my hand, something I’d had no intention of doing for months, if I could help it. “Actually, Raquel, I am seeing someone. Not Daniel. Just a nice guy from church.”

Her dark eyes got very round, and I had a flitting memory of Min, the time I caught her stuffing the toilet bowl full of every roll of toilet paper she could find in the vanity. Min had her grandmother’s eyes. “Oh, I see,” Raquel murmured, the wind gone out of her. “Of course, Cass. It’s been over a year and a half.”

I felt the ominous tightening in my throat. “Don’t say that, Raquel! I know what you’re thinking—how could I possibly forget them so soon, but I haven’t forgotten them! Not a day goes by—you don’t think in a heartbeat I wouldn’t rather have Troy and Min back?” I could feel heat behind my eyes, and her own were looking wet. Crap. Crap crap crap. “But they’re not coming back,” I pointed out needlessly. “I’m not trying to forget them—I’m just trying to get on with my life, what’s left of it.”

“Of course, of course,” she repeated, her voice breaking. The next thing I knew, we were clinging to each other, crying all over the stinking place. At least the Café was upscale; they had complimentary Kleenex. Having gotten each other worked up, who knows how long we would have gone on, if another woman hadn’t mercifully come in and interrupted our sobfest. Breaking apart, we laughed ruefully.

I splashed water on my face and dabbed it with a paper towel. “I’ve got to go, Raquel. Let’s have lunch another time, okay? Love you guys.” Not trusting her voice yet, she nodded and gave me a powerful squeeze before disappearing into one of the stalls.

Daniel was waiting at the entrance. Feeling flustered and wishing I could just take the bus home, I blew past him out the door. How far would it be to walk? Two, three miles? I’d probably be late for meeting Nadina, in that case. Besides, in these crazy shoes of Joanie’s I’d almost certainly twist my ankle and have to crawl home on my hands and knees. I rubbed my temples, feeling the post-crying headache building.

“Cass?”

I’m sure he thought I was behaving like a maniac and couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Forcing myself to stop, I turned around slowly. “Sorry, Daniel. You must need to get back to the office. Do you still have time to drop me off? If not, I think the 231 goes down Lake Washington Boulevard.”

“Get in the car.”

Both relieved and reluctant, I obeyed. After buckling up, I waited for him to start the engine, but to my surprise, he put his key in the ignition and then just sat there. Peeking at him uncertainly, I saw he was looking straight out the windshield at the wall of the parking garage. “Are you okay?” I asked, finally.

“Am
I
okay?” he repeated in a tight voice. “Cass, what the hell was that about?”

What on God’s green earth did he have to be angry about? I was the one who just got done crying her guts out in the ladies’ room. “You mean me abandoning you at the table?” I demanded. “I had to go be cornered in the restroom by Raquel so we could have a good cry over our dead loved ones. Sorry if that bothered you.”

He took a deep breath, as if praying for patience. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “That must have been a lousy ten minutes.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I was asking you why you freaked out in the first place. Freaked out and introduced me as your damned ‘landlord,’ for God’s sake.”

“Oh!” I breathed, suddenly fighting an urge to giggle. Probably residual hysteria. “That was idiotic of me. I’m sorry. But I was afraid Max and Raquel would think we were there on a date, which is what Raquel ended up thinking anyhow, because I was so weird about it.”

He was silent a moment, while I fiddled nervously with the strap of Joanie’s shoe. “What would you have called James, if it had been James sitting there with you?”

Bewildered, I floundered around. “Good grief, I don’t know. My co-worker, maybe, or church friend or something. I would have demoted him too, if that’s what you’re irritated about. I knew Raquel would get upset if I were dating already—especially if she thought I were dating you!”

“Why especially me?” He was still staring straight ahead, and it was starting to give me the willies.

“Because—because you’re you!” I answered inanely. “You’re not the kind of guy a good, ordinary girl like me goes out with. You hardly said one word to her, and Raquel already had you pegged for a ladies’ man,” I said, unable finally to repress the giggle.

“Why am I not the type a girl like you would go out with?” he pressed. This was reminding me of our strange, middle-of-the-night conversation that time after I banged my head. He was in the same federal prosecutor mode, putting me on the defensive.