Soul Mates (2 page)

She paid for her shoes, and the two women began to walk. It was a beautiful evening. They were headed to their favorite French restaurant to meet several other friends. Cassandra couldn’t wait to show off her purchase, yet her happiness went beyond her fashion acquisition. Breathing deeply, she was filled with the awareness that life was very good—something she had taken for granted for twenty-six years. As she consciously acknowledged the fact, it occurred to her that she was glad Nick Hagen was no longer in her life. Breaking up with him had been long overdue.
I don’t need him—or any man, for that matter—to complete me.
The thought was liberating. Having no desire to get into another relationship anytime soon, Cassandra was at a pivotal place in her life. It was time to discover what she really wanted, maybe set new goals. A weekend in Port Hayden would be the perfect opportunity to begin doing just that.

JACE ATTEMPTED to quiet the discordant thoughts. As he focused on chores that needed doing, he tried to get excited about the game.
I should be thankful. This is an opportunity that doesn’t come around every day. Besides, a hundred bucks is hardly a reason to get bent out of shape.

He bagged some garbage and took it to the trash bin. As he returned, he had to move to one side of the narrow stairwell to allow a woman to pass. Recognizing the old lady who lived on the top floor, he greeted her politely. He was about to continue up the stairs when she placed a small, wrinkled hand on his arm

“You can have anything you want, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“You think life is dealing you a bad hand. It’s not. You get to choose. It’s up to you.”

He stared at her, not quite sure what to do. She seemed like a sweet little old lady, reminding him of his grandmother whose mind had started to fail the year before she passed away. As he debated whether to say something or simply smile and nod, she took her hand off his arm and turned to go down the stairs.

“It’s a nice evening for a walk.”

Jace returned to his apartment, feeling uneasy. He’d assumed that she was confused, that she’d mistaken him for someone else. Yet, as he replayed her words, he sensed they were meant for him.
It’s a coincidence, that’s all
,
he assured himself.
I must remind her of a grandson or a nephew—someone who looks like me, who’s going through a hard time.

Regardless of who her advice was meant for, it affected Jace deeply.
I can have anything I want? I get to choose? I wish that were true,
he sighed.

His mind drifted to dreams he’d once held of being a commercial pilot. As a young boy, his walls had been covered with posters of airplanes. Model planes sat on his desk and hung from his ceiling. He’d held to that dream through high school and wasn’t daunted when his parents persuaded him to get a business degree at the local college—something to fall back on if he didn’t make it as a pilot, they said.

He’d given in to their wishes. They were, after all, paying for his education. When his father had gotten sick during Jace’s first year of college and their insurance covered little of the cost, Jace had dropped out to work full time so he could help with the bills. That was six years ago. Since then he’d kept his dreams carefully tucked away. Now he realized why. They were painful. When he looked at them, all he could see was the huge crevasse between the dream and the reality he lived in.

Jace quickly finished his tasks, grabbed a six pack from the fridge, and headed to Chad’s to watch the game. As he descended the front steps of his building, the old woman’s words remained etched in his mind. They may have been meant to comfort someone else, yet they taunted him, reminding him he wasn’t living the life he wanted.

As if events were conspiring to torture him further, a plane went by overhead. It appeared to be making its descent toward the local airport, though not on a usual flight path. Jace watched intently as the landing gear was deployed and the wing flaps were lowered to slow the plane as it neared the ground. He stood a moment longer, paying tribute to the dreams of his childhood. Then he turned resolutely and walked away, not only from the sight of the plane but from the dream of ever flying one.

CHAPTER 2

CASSANDRA BUCKLED her seatbelt and put her chair-back in the upright position. Looking around her in first class, she smiled at Mrs. Charlebois who was returning from visiting her daughter in California. Two seats ahead were Mr. and Mrs. Edmonds. They had been touring Europe for several months. The Davises were on the flight as well.

The social circle in Port Hayden was small but elite. Not much happened that everyone didn’t know about. Cassandra’s mother was always up to date on gossip and had filled her in on the phone the evening before.

As Cassandra rode the escalator down to the meeting area, her eyes scanned the small airport. Not much had changed in the eight years since she’d moved away. The routine was the same every time she came home. She smiled warmly at the man who had been the family’s chauffeur for as long as she could remember.

“Good evening, Miss Cassandra.” Wallace reached to take her shoulder bag. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Yes, Wallace, thank you,” she replied as she accompanied him to the car. A porter followed and placed her Louis Vuitton in the trunk of the vintage Rolls Royce.

They chatted as they made their way to the Town House, so named to distinguish it from their summer home at Walden Beach. Her grandfather had had the house built nearly seventy-five years earlier. He was one of the first to settle in the Port Hayden area, and he’d chosen the nicest piece of real estate available. The family home sat high on a rocky hillside overlooking the town and the port itself. From the dormer window in her bedroom, Cassandra had spent many contented hours watching fishing boats coming into the harbor and sailboats and yachts setting out to navigate the islands off the jagged coast.

They rounded the last curve on the driveway, and Cassandra smiled as the house came into view. It was a four thousand square-foot, two story, chateau-style house with seven bedrooms and as many bathrooms. The manicured grounds were expansive. When she was younger, she’d loved roaming the property with the dogs by her side.

No sooner had they come to mind, when two Great Danes trotted up to meet the car. Cassandra laughed as she reached to embrace the old dogs. Nearly twelve, they looked as strong and healthy as ever. They were pure steel blue in color and stood thirty inches at the shoulders. “Hello, Samson,” she cooed. “Hello, my lovely Delilah.” After reuniting with the gentle giants, she heard barking in the distance and watched a younger dog bound toward them. Her father had kept one of Delilah’s last pups. Marrakesh had grown considerably since Cassandra had been home last. At a year old, he stood nearly as tall as his parents, but had yet to fill out. He was already a regal-looking dog.

“Welcome home, darling.” Her mother greeted her as she walked up the marble steps.

“Hello, Mother,” Cassandra smiled, taking in the familiar front entry. It was always good to be home; she felt it every time. It made her question why the lure of the big city and the demands of her job kept her away for such long periods of time.

Her father walked up and before any words were spoken, embraced his daughter. “Hi, kitten,” he grinned.

“Hi, Daddy.” She kissed her father’s cheek, breathing in his familiar cologne. “Marrakesh has really grown. He’s such a handsome dog.”

“He’ll sire some nice pups. I’ve already had inquiries about him.”

They continued talking about the dogs, her mother’s latest charity fundraiser, and Cassandra’s work. She noted that nearly fifteen minutes had passed, and her mother had yet to ask about Nick. She hadn’t told them about the breakup. However, since Nick’s parents also lived in Port Hayden, Cassandra suspected she might already know.

Her suspicions were correct; her mother admitted having heard a rumor. When translated that likely meant she’d called Nick’s mother, and the two had discussed the situation at length. Cassandra gave her parents the necessary details and then tried to change the subject, but her mother was persistent.

“I’m sure it was just a lover’s quarrel, darling. Give it a day or two. These things always sort themselves out. Nick’s a nice boy. I talked to his mother just the other day. She’s so proud of Nicholas. He’s taking the bar exam next month. After that he’ll be moving back here to join his father’s law firm.”

The picture she painted was different from the one Cassandra was familiar with.
A nice boy?
Nick would become a successful lawyer; she had no doubt of that. However, she couldn’t see him moving back to Port Hayden and settling down anytime soon. She was deciding how much to tell her mother, when her father intervened.

“Helen,” he said firmly. “Cass is a grown woman; she knows what she’s doing. Maybe Nick isn’t the right man for her.”

Cassandra beamed a thank-you to her father. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, people listened. Her mother always backed down—at least in front of others. Relieved that the subject had been changed, she inquired about her Aunt Sophia. “I’d hoped to see her this weekend. Will you be having her out to the house?”

“We invite her all the time,” Helen replied tersely. “She rarely comes.”

“She doesn’t go out much anymore.” Richard Van Broden came to his aunt’s defense. “She might appreciate a visit, though.”

Cassandra was glad for the reprieve as she went upstairs. Breathing deeply, she surveyed her bedroom. Within its walls, life was less complicated. Though it seemed she had everything, she realized for the first time that her relationships were lacking. Even the relationship with her parents wasn’t as simple and easy as it once was.

Mulling it over, she curled up on the window seat and gazed out at the harbor. The sun was low, causing long shadows to reach down the rocky slopes and drape the city in a velvety grey as they made their way into the dark waters of the Atlantic. Off the coast, several small islands were still lit up by the sun’s fading light. Cassandra watched mesmerized as the shadows slowly consumed them. Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Excuse me, miss.” A woman poked her head in Cassandra’s bedroom. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you…” Cassandra hesitated. “I’m sorry; I don’t know your name.” Her mother hadn’t mentioned that she’d hired a new housekeeper.

“It’s Sarah,” the woman smiled politely.

“Thank you, Sarah. Tell Mother and Daddy I’ll be right down.”

Traditions were honored in their home, and that meant the formal evening meal required a change of clothes. Although Cassandra was familiar with the routine, she found it unnecessary and old fashioned. Her father shared her views. Whenever her mother was away, the two of them dressed in casual clothes and enjoyed their evening meal outside on the terrace or curled up in front of the television. Cassandra smiled at the fond memories, then quickly changed her clothes and hurried down to join her parents at the dinner table.

NEXT MORNING, Jace applied for a two-hundred-dollar advance on his paycheck. Chad was right; it was easy enough. Still, he had a hard time coming to terms with the extra money he’d be spending. They would inevitably go to parties after the game. By the time the night was over, the cash would likely be gone.

He hated the way money controlled his life. He longed to go out and enjoy himself like his friends did. Even with money for the ticket and cash in his pocket to spend that evening, he didn’t feel free to have fun.
How ironic,
he grumbled.
I borrow money so I can have a good time, and I’m more miserable than ever.

When he returned to his apartment, an envelope was lying by his door. Picking it up, he saw that it was addressed to the old woman upstairs. It wasn’t the first time he’d received her mail by mistake, yet it seemed odd to see the letter outside his door and not in the mailbox, especially since there was no mail delivery on Saturdays.

Maybe someone else received it and misread the number as well,
he speculated as he went up the stairs to deliver the envelope to its proper owner.
Or maybe someone dropped it off
.
He paused when he noticed her door was open a crack. Tapping lightly, he listened for a reply. When no one answered, he knocked louder.