Tempting Fate (27 page)

He sighed, a burning sensation squeezing his gut. That was the whole problem. Somewhere lost in the depositions and court wins and the Manhattan skyline, he'd lost his heart for simple kindness. He thought about the letter still burning a hole in his briefcase from Wendall Palmer, a man accused of murder, swearing his innocence, and reaching out for his help. Could he keep turning his back on that, too?

“I guess I should think of a name for you, huh, buddy?” he said, reaching down and stroking the fur.

Dr. Schroeder straightened her spine. Her smile was wide, as though she were surprised at his decision and obviously happy with the outcome.

So was he.

* * *

“Who's getting married?” Cara asked, wasting no time getting to the heart of the matter as her mother walked through the kitchen door.

Ruthie cleared her throat and placed the brown paper grocery bag she'd been holding on the counter before answering. She made no eye contact. “Why do you ask, dear?”

Cara crossed her arms across her chest and cocked her head to one side. “You're being awfully secretive. Why didn't you tell me Manny was coming home?”

Ruthie perked up. “Oh, did he call?”

“No, but Penny Brunelle did. She wanted to let you know she'd be late for your meeting.”

“Oh.” Ruthie pulled a double roll of paper towels and frozen orange juice out of the bag and set them on the table.

Cara rounded the table. “That's it? You're not going to elaborate any further?”

“No.”

“What's going on, Ma?”

Ruthie waved her hand, making a tsking sound. “So full of questions.”

“I wish you were full of answers. Why were you meeting with Penny? And don’t tell me that it’s because you wanted to invite her to my birthday party because I won’t buy it. I haven’t seen her since High School.”

“You hadn’t seen Devin Michaels since just after graduation and look how pleased you were to see him.”

“Devin’s not a wedding consultant. He's a lawyer. And I'm not talking about him. Now are you going to tell me why you had a meeting with a wedding consultant this morning?”

The screen door slammed as Elsie waltzed into the room. From the look on her face, she was none too pleased. Cara had to wonder if her little fishing expedition was cut short by a little tiff with Albert.

“Who needs a lawyer?” Elsie asked, still weighted down with her fishing gear.

“No one needs a lawyer, Mother,” Ruthie said, taking the empty pail from Elsie. Guilt stabbed at Cara when she saw the worried look on her mother’s face. If only she knew the truth...

Elsie grunted. “Good, they’re all shysters. Every last one of them.”

“Oh, I think you’re being a bit harsh. Devin isn’t a shyster.”

“Who’s Devin?” Elsie stripped off her fishing vest and dropped her pole by broom closet.

“You look a little hot, Grandma,” Cara said, taking her by the elbow and leading her to a chair. “Let me get you a glass of lemonade.”

“Thanks, Dear, but unless there’s a little vodka in it, I’ll need something a little stronger.” The lines on Ruthie’s face deepened. Apparently Elsie noticed and decided not to push any buttons. “A glass of lemonade will be fine.”

Cara cracked a few pieces of ice from the ice tray and plopped them into a glass before adding lemonade. She handed it to Elsie and joined the two older women at the kitchen table.

“You remember Devin,” Ruthie said, her expression still drawn with worry. “He was the young man who had dinner with us last night.”

“Oh, yes. What a nice man.”

Ruthie's smile was hopeful. “He’s a lawyer.”

Elsie grunted again. “They’re all shysters.”

Albert must be a lawyer.

She watched as Ruthie wilted. Knowing the act her grandmother was putting on, she couldn’t help but feel bad that her mother was being deceived this way. But she had made a promise to her grandmother to keep quiet about her secret affair and she was going to keep her word.

After a lingering moment of silence, Elsie announced, “I’m going to go scrub this fishy smell off my body. Where’s Harold?”

“The hardware store,” Ruthie and Cara replied in unison.

“Well, when he gets back, tell him I need him to fix my fishing pole. I had a little...mishap with a shark.”

“Have a nice bath, Grandma.”

Elsie trudged down the hall toward the staircase. When she was out of earshot, Ruthie whispered. “Do you see what I mean?”

Feigning ignorance, Cara replied, “See what?”

Ruthie cocked her head to one side and shot her a look. “Is this the kind of behavior you would expect from a seventy-eight year old woman?”

Cara sucked in her cheeks. “Sure.”

She stifled her mother’s retort and got back to the real issue at hand. “Why did you have a meeting with a wedding consultant this morning?”

She wasn’t disappointed when Ruthie followed her lead.

Ruthie shrugged. “It's nothing really, ah, your father and I have decided to renew our wedding vows.”

Cara’s jaw hit the floor and her heart melted at the thought of her parents standing at the alter renewing their wedding vows after all their married years together. “Really? That's so romantic! That's so...unlike Daddy.”

“I know,” Ruthie said, almost in a grunt.

Cara chuckled. “Wait a minute. Knowing how you work I'll bet he doesn't even know about this yet.”

Ruthie picked up a dishtowel and swung around, a devilish smile played on her face. “He knows he’ll be paying for a wedding.”

Cara threw her a suspicious look and proceeded to unload the remaining groceries from the last bag.

“Oh, all right, I told him it was for you.”

“Ma!”

“Before you go off and get mad, let me explain.”

Cara sunk down on a kitchen chair, her head still spinning from her mother's revelation. Although this sort of thing shouldn't come as a surprise, she couldn't believe her mother had planned a wedding for her.

Ruthie filled the tea kettle and set it on the burner.

“If I'd told your father that I was planning a ceremony for us, he wouldn't have agreed to it. You know how much your father and I love each other, but let's face it, he's not the sort of man who renews his wedding vows unless I held the wedding at Fenway Park. Baseball is and always was his first priority in life.”

“That's not true. Daddy would do anything for you.”

“Yes, he would. As long as it wasn't during the Red Sox’s opening game. How many times have I told you the story about how we had to wait to go to the hospital when I was in labor with you because the Sox were playing the Yankees? Your father would never miss that game.”

Okay, she was with her mother so far. Romance was not anywhere on the list of her father's priorities in life. Baseball, however, was sitting at the top.

“And he bought that?” Cara asked skeptically.

“Of course he did. I told him you were getting married and he was as thrilled as I was.”

“Wait, you've never been happy about the prospect of me marrying Roger. Daddy actually believed you were happy?”

Ruthie made an innocent face. “He wants to see some grandchildren as much as I do.”

“So tell me, how do you propose to tell Daddy this ceremony is really for the two of you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I'll take care of everything. Just don't breathe a word of this to anyone until the ceremony.”

Cara actually laughed. Her parents had such a strange relationship. For a minute she wondered if they'd always been like this. But then she remembered the stories her mother had told her about her career and giving it up when she was born. Had her parents naturally grown into this strange relationship out of boredom? She knew her parents loved each other, but she also knew that her mother was as career driven in her youth as Cara had always been. She knew her mother had given it all up for them.

On the other hand, Cara had given up the notion of family for a career. Her relationship with Roger had never threatened her goals because he was as driven as she'd always been. They had an unspoken understanding that theirs was a companionship that was comfortable, not meant to clash with the demands of work.

But now her goals were changing, like everything else around her. Manny had left home long ago. Now her parents were leaving, too. And she wanted a family of her own, more than just the occasional convenient coupling she had with Roger.

Cara’s heart leaped to her throat when she heard a scream reverberated through the house. She and Ruthie ran toward the staircase, hearing the scuffle of feet, the sloshing of water and the slamming of the bathroom door.

“What happened?” Ruthie called up.

Elsie stood at the top of the staircase wearing a terry robe and a scowl on her face. Her fists were firmly planted on her hips.

Cara’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God, I forgot.”

Ruthie, still looking daze and bewildered, floated her gaze back and forth from Cara to Elsie.

She bit her bottom lip. “Roger is taking an oatmeal bath.”

* * *

Cara shouldn’t have been surprised when an hour later, Roger was out of the bath and settled into her father’s den engrossed in the pile of paperwork. In the eighteen months she’d known Roger, she hadn’t once seen him take a day off, or a moment’s rest. Facts and figures were his life, not emotions. She’d always found his drive appealing. If he was busy with his own career, he couldn’t make demands on her or have expectations that clashed with her own goals.

The unbidden image of her grandmother and Albert on the beach came to mind and she sighed. Just once, she’d like Roger to keep his facts and figures stuffed in his briefcase and take her with that kind of passion.

With thoughts of passion came images of Devin running along the sand, his hair slicked back, every muscle moving in magnificent form. Inside, her body stirred in a way she couldn’t control. She’d had this feeling before, but never with Roger.

She walked out into a steam bath outside, hearing the screen door slam behind her. August was living up to its word of being the most humid and hot month of the year.

As she walked on the beach, she pulled off her white canvas sneakers and dug her toes into the warm sand. There were scattered blankets spread across the sand by some of the neighbors and local residents, but being a private beach, it wasn’t crowded.

She walked along the edge of the beach and noticed a flock of seagulls picking at the remains of someone’s lunch. As she drew closer, all but an ornery bird stayed and picked at the debris until she was close enough to touch. She picked up the old brown paper bag, discarding it in a garbage can a few yards away. If only people would clean up after themselves and remember that people lived here. This was her home, after all.

She swung around and looked at the beach. The beautiful seascape she’d taken for granted in her teens, the one she’d come to love as an adult, wasn’t her home anymore. She lived in Boston now in a brownstone building without so much as a porch. And her parents had decided it was their time to leave the home she loved and move on. She couldn't blame them for that. It was their choice.

Cara had left the house not knowing where she was headed. As Devin’s cottage came into view, she knew that she’d been unconsciously seeking him out all along.

The cottage was the same one his family had stayed at when they visited that summer. It was a small, single story house painted an antique ivory with slate blue trim. It was complete with white picket fence and perennial garden that boasted Indian blanket flowers, hostas and purple coneflower. Even though the cottage was rented out most of the summer, the owners were adamant about the grounds being kept up for the few weeks they stayed there themselves. The sweet scent of the flowers propelled her forward. As she got closer, she saw two hummingbirds dancing on air from one coral flower to the next. When she reached the gate, they flitted away.

Cara pushed through the gate and heard the hinges clank closed behind her. With a few strides up the brick path, she stood at the front door. What was she doing here? she thought as she rapped lightly on the glass. She peeked through the lace curtain hanging on the other side of the door, but could see nothing.

Impatience had her walking around the house when Devin didn’t answer the door. A lone car was sitting in the driveway, so he couldn't still at the veterinarian office.

She wasn’t prepared for what she found when she rounded the corner.

# # #

Chapter Five

Cara found Devin spread out on a canvas hammock, wearing nothing but a pair of faded denim cutoffs. She’d forgotten how the dusting of dark hair on his chest formed into a V and trailed down his flat stomach until it disappeared into his blue jeans. It wasn’t like her to stare. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

Every exposed muscle was firm, from his head right down to his toes. His hair was slicked back and wet, as if he’d just taken a shower or gone for a swim.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced her greeting past the lump lodged there. “Here you are.” Her voice was much too breathless to her own ears. She silently prayed her actions wouldn’t betray her thoughts.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, pulling himself up from his reclined position on the hammock and dropping his bare feet to the floorboards.

A hot gust of wind blew in from the ocean and tousled his hair about, making him look incredibly adorable, causing her insides to shake as if she were running over a rickety dock. She'd never reacted to him this way before. She had no idea why she had this strange reaction now.

Lord had she ever made a big mistake in coming here this afternoon.

“Things got a little crazy this morning with the dog and Roger.”

Devin nodded.

She looked around the porch and the immediate perimeter, rubbing her sweaty palms together. Anything to keep from staring at Devin. A pair of leather sandals lay tossed in a heap on the floor with a copper tee-shirt. A stack of newspapers were stacked neatly beside them, looking as if they were still unread.

Cara just stood there, trying to keep her breathing steady, trying not to make a complete and utter fool of herself for what her mind kept straying to. And Devin just stared back at her, at her lips, her eyes...her body, with a hot hunger look in his eyes. There was nothing overt about the way he was staring at her, but it definitely was not the way she was use to him looking at her.