Finding Isadora (2 page)

I
’d seen the expression on Grace’s face when I’d first shown her the ring. One tiny grimace, that was all. Jimmy Lee didn’t believe in wordless communication, so I’d heard far too many words from my father on the subject of immoral materialism, conspicuous consumption, and what an archaic institution marriage was.

I often disagreed with my parents—as I did strongly about marriage—but when it came to diamonds we were of like mind. Still, I understood Richard
’s viewpoint. We wanted a conventional life, the opposite from that chosen by his left-wing father and my hippie parents. How did you begin a conventional life if not with the tradition of a diamond engagement ring? Even so, I couldn’t wear the ring to work. Not when I spent the day peeling surgical gloves on and off, and scrubbing my hands with antiseptic soap.

When Richard and I set a wedding date, we
’d need to have a serious talk about rings. I wanted a simple band with no stones, something I could put on and never take off. A symbol of our undying love—not, as my unmarried parents believed, a brand that labeled me as a man’s possession.

Of course it didn
’t help that Grace and Jimmy Lee weren’t particularly keen on Richard. Mind you, given how different my priorities were from theirs, if my parents had approved of him I’d have had to question my choice of mate.

I smiled at my reflection. No, I had no doubts about Richard. He was exactly what I wanted, and I loved him dearly. My life plan was firmly in place.

Somehow, I managed to wriggle into pantyhose without snagging them. When I stepped into my evening shoes, my feet and calves promptly reminded me I’d been standing for most of the last ten hours. Some women—like the lawyers in Richard’s office—wore power suits, pantyhose, and heels to work every day. How lucky I was to have a career where I could dress for comfort.

Leaving the bathroom, I checked
my watch. Twelve minutes had passed since I’d spoken to Richard. As I pulled on my coat, I called, “Martin?”

He materialized silently.

“How’s our patient?”

“
Woke up while the little girl was here, then fell into a natural sleep.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “Lookin’ good.”

Even if the cat was in no danger, I still wished I could stay here. At the clinic I was in my element; at the
Fairmont Hotel Vancouver I’d be a plain brown sparrow amid a flock of peacocks. But Richard needed me. And relationships require compromise.

When I opened the clinic door I saw
my fiancé’s pride ‘n joy Lexus, a law school grad present from his mom and stepfather, idling in the loading zone. He hopped out when he saw me, and we reached the passenger door at the same time.

“
Sorry I’m late,” I said, stretching up for a quick kiss.

He
’d had his thick dark hair cut even shorter, and smelled of a fresh application of Calvin Klein cologne. “I had a busy day, too. Barely made it home to change.”

Two years younger than my twenty-seven, he was a corporate lawyer,
called to the Bar last year and now a junior associate at a high-powered firm. I still had to suppress the tiniest shudder when I thought the words
corporate lawyer
, and I knew his work was one of the things my parents held against him. Richard had chosen that area of law because it fascinated him. Go figure. We had nothing in common when it came to our careers except the very most important things: we both loved what we did, and we valued the financial security afforded by a steady job.

As he drove the few blocks to the Hotel Vancouver, I told him about Pussywillow.

“Good for you, Iz. That must have been gratifying.”

“
It was.”

“
I had a good day, too. Got a new client. He’s unhappy with his company’s lawyer, had dinner last night with a client of mine, the client recommended me. The guy e-mailed me at work this morning, then we talked on the phone. Not bad for a Saturday, eh?”

“
That’s terrific.” He’d told me that the associates were competitive, struggling to impress the partners and to set their own feet on the partnership track. Bringing in new clients was an important step. “So we both had a rewarding day. Wish we could relax and celebrate alone.”

“
Sorry, but this is important because—”

“
I know,” I broke in. “I’ll just be glad when it’s over and we can be alone.”

“
Me, too,” he said in a heartfelt tone. He pulled into the valet parking area. “Tonight’s on the firm, and we’re running late.”

At the moment, I was less concerned with
expense and timeliness as with my own anxiety. Fancy social functions were definitely not my forte. Richard was here representing his firm, so I wanted to make a good impression, but I had little confidence in my ability to do that among these high-flyers.

Inside, we strode across slippery marble, then onto dignified c
arpet. From a dimly lit lounge came the sound of piano music and a woman’s smoky contralto singing that she really didn’t know love at all.

I smiled, recognizing
Both Sides Now
. How many times had Grace played the Joni Mitchell version of that song? Too bad Richard and I couldn’t snuggle up in the cozy lounge, sip wine, listen to music, and gloat smugly because we really did know love.

He tugged my hand and speeded up.
“Come on, Iz.”

We stepped onto marble again, my thin soles skidding. I grabbed his arm.
“These shoes aren’t made for running.”

“
Sorry.” He slowed so abruptly that I lost my balance.

As I clung to his arm, he shoved his glasses up his nose, a sure sign of nervousness.
“By the way”—his voice was tight—”I should warn you about a couple of people who might be here.”

“
Like who?” I asked anxiously.

“
Um, well, one’s the senior partner of my firm.”

“
Richard! Why didn’t you tell me before?” My nerves coiled tighter. I knew I’d have to meet his big boss one day, but he could’ve given me more warning. I might even have worn lipstick.

He blinked a couple of times, avoiding my glare.
“Sorry. Guess I didn’t want to make you nervous.”

“
Aagh!” I was tempted to take off one of my uncomfortable shoes and whack him with it. “So, who’s the other person? The CEO of your biggest client?”

He shrugged.
“Well, yeah, he may be here, but—” He broke off. “Let’s just see who shows up. There’s a good chance you won’t even have to meet … anyone.”

Great. Now he was embarrassed to introduce me. But his world of big companies was foreign to me. I had no idea what to say to these people. Not for the first time, I thought Richard should be with a woman who could enhance his career.

But he’d chosen me. Meekly, I followed him into the elevator, feeling as strung out as a baby bird facing its first flight.

A few seconds later, we stepped out at the conference level. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. Remembering that Richard, too, was feeling anxious, I threaded my fingers through his.
“Everything will be okay, sweetheart.”

He squeezed my hand.
“Sure glad you’re here, Iz.”

I could have been at the clinic, keeping company with Martin and Felipe and miscellaneous animals, wearing my comfortable clothes, eating veggie lasagna. But now, for the first time, I was glad to be at the Hotel Van. The man I loved needed me.

The babble of voices guided us. We turned a corner and paused to survey the scene. More than a hundred people stood in clusters, and straggly line-ups pointed the way to two bars.

“
The banquet will be in that ballroom,” Richard said, pointing through an open door. I saw chandeliers, a host of round, white-clothed tables, and a few uniformed busboys fine-tuning the table settings. Next door was a room marked Silent Auction, with a slow stream of people moving in and out of its door.

Everyone was formally dressed, and Richard blended right in with his designer tux
—even though he’d bought it second-hand. When you’re saving for a down payment on your first house, you don’t buy brand new Armani.

Embarrassed to be wearing my old
trench coat, I hurriedly undid the buttons. Richard said, “We’ll check that,” and hooked his hand in the collar. Gratefully, I shrugged out of it. My cocktail dress might have come from a consignment store, but it too bore a designer label.

He shook his head ruefully.
“Seems like I’ve seen that dress somewhere before. Iz, it looks great but I wish you’d let me buy you something else so you don’t have to wear it all the time. It’s not like you’re a guy and can get away with only one tux.”

“
You’re not buying me clothes,” I said calmly. “At least not until we’re married. Even then, I’ll still shop consignment stores and mark-down sales.”

I made decent money, but I was paying off my student loans and Vancouver wasn
’t a cheap place to live. But even if I were wealthy, designer clothing wasn’t something I could imagine ever wanting. It was so frivolous in a world rife with serious problems. In some ways, I really was my parents’ daughter.

When Richard had checked my coat he looked me up and down.
“Simple but elegant.”

“
Elegant?” I brushed a kiss across his cheek. “You’re sweet, but don’t go overboard with the flattery.”

He shrugged.
“Short hair, long neck, diamonds. Classy.”

Classy? Me?
“Thanks, Richard,” I murmured. “You look great, too.” Although he never made time to exercise, he had a naturally lean build. He looked good in anything, though I liked him far better in jeans than the conventional suits and ties he wore for work. His strong, classic features would only improve as age gave his face more character. Dark brows and lashes accented his hazel eyes, and his fashionable glasses lent a professional look that aged him a few years and was no doubt an asset in his work.

I marveled—not for the first time—at how fate had brought the two of us together. I
’d always assumed I’d marry a vet, and Richard’s obvious choice would have been another rising young lawyer. And yet, despite our differences, we had some important things in common.

“
Let’s get a drink,” he said.

As we headed toward the shorter of the bar line-ups, I said,
“I was thinking about how we met.”

“
A little different from this, wasn’t it?”

“
We do owe our parents,” I admitted. Richard and I had been seated side by side at a blood donor clinic, and he’d asked how I got started donating. Giving blood was taken for granted in both our families. When I’d mentioned Grace and Jimmy Lee, Richard had commented about me calling my parents by their first names as he did with his father, Gabe DeLuca. The first stories we shared were about our flaky parents. We’d each been delighted to find someone who truly understood, and who shared the drive to make our own lives into something very different from those of our parents.

Richard said he took after his mom. His parents had split up more than a decade ago. His mother Diane had married a comfortably wealthy businessman named Frank Bracken. Richard had liked Frank well enough—or perhaps been annoyed enough with Gabe—that he took Frank
’s surname. I found Diane and Frank pleasant, if overly materialistic. I’d never met Gabe DeLuca.

In fact, in the year I
’d known Richard, he hadn’t seen his father once. They spoke occasionally on the phone, but that was it. Although they were both lawyers, they were polar opposites. While Richard practiced corporate law on the thirty-fourth floor of a thirty-five floor tinted-glass tower near Vancouver’s harbor, his father had a storefront legal office in the infamous Downtown Eastside. Gabe represented low-income clients, minorities, people with disabilities—people who didn’t easily fit in the money-oriented justice system. He had some admirable qualities, but, from what Richard said, he’d been a rotten father.

My parents were both radical activists like Gabe
DeLuca, but they’d always been loving parents. I was so lucky, compared to my fiancé. I hoped he and his dad would reconcile one day. I hated to see Richard carrying around all that bitterness and resentment.

We
’d reached the front of the bar line-up. Richard was lost in a world of his own, so I nudged him. “What do you want to drink?”

“
Oh, sorry.” He reflected a moment as I ordered a glass of white wine, then said, “Scotch on the rocks.”

“
A power drink?” I teased. Normally he drank wine, or occasionally beer.

“
Caught me. Got to fit in with the movers and shakers.” We collected our drinks and moved out of the main traffic flow. “God, I hate events like this.”

“
That makes two of us.” I tucked my arm through his.

He squeezed my hand.
“Thanks for coming, Iz. I feel more confident, knowing you’re here.”

I winked.
“You’re definitely going to owe me.”