Don't Scream Part 18

At this point, shes using every free momentat home and at the officetrying to make the final arrangements for tomorrows party, which now feels almost anticlimactic in light of next weekends trip.

Tildy still cant quite grasp the fact that its actually going to happen. Theyre actually going to go away together for an entire weekend. Sh.e.l.l be able to wake up in his arms at last, two glorious mornings in a row. Eat with him in a restaurant without worrying that somebody might see them, recognize him, say something toher .

Yes, its really going to happen unless something goes wrong.

Why cant she shake the feeling that something might?

A nagging trepidation took hold soon after he gave her the green light to make the reservation at the inn, and its grown steadily these past few days. Its as though shes looking out over a deceivingly calm sea and clear blue sky, armed with a near-certain forecast for an oncoming noreaster.

What are you working on? Ray peers nosily over her shoulder.

You know. The usual. She shuffles one stack of papers on top of another and then back to the bottom again in a minimal effort to seem busy.

Id love to take you to lunch tomorrow to celebrate your birthday.

Sorry, cant.

Dinner, then, tomorrow night? Im free, he adds, followed by a significant pause.

She refuses to take the bait, and looks him squarely in the eye as she replies, Im not. But thanks anyway.

No problem, Waltzing Matilda.

But it is a problem, obviously.

Ray stares at her for a long moment, as though he wants to say something else.

Is he going to come right out and ask her about the party? Does he want to know why hes one of the few people in the office who isnt invited?

If he asks, sh.e.l.l just tell him the truth in as straightforward a way as she can. So much for the newly anointed Good-Deed-Doer. Sometimes, you have to be brutally blunt with a guy like this.

But Ray doesnt ask.

He just turns and walks away, head bent, leaving her inexplicably disturbed.

Oh, come on. Who cares if his feelings are hurt?

Well, maybe Tildy does just a little.

She cant help it. After all, shes only human and so is he. She doesnt necessarily want to hurt him any more than shed want to kick a dog nipping at her heels But you do what you have to do.

Ray disappears around a tall filing cabinet.

So, in a matter of seconds, do Tildys thoughts of him.

She flips her date book to the second weekend in October:next weekend. The date boxes are empty, of course.

Two nights and almost three days alone with him. Maybe marking them on the calendar will make it seem more real.

She doesnt dare write his name there. She never does.

She takes a pencil, and then, thinking better of it, exchanges it for a pen.

Then she marks Friday, Sat.u.r.day, and Sunday with aG.S.

There. Thats better.

Smiling smugly, she closes the date book.

Mr. Bingham is here.

Fiona doesnt look up from the trade report shes reading, having seen quite enough of Emilyand her oversized burnt-orange nubby wool pulloverfor one day.

Send him right in.

Okay. Emily departs with a jangling of jewelry.

Many times in the past month, Fionas spoken to her a.s.sistant about dressing in a more professional manner. Emily is always contrite, promises to do betterand does, for a few days. Sh.e.l.l come in looking relatively sedate in a dark skirt, white blouse, and leather flatsbasically the same outfit every day.

Then, she presumably has to launder everything and lapses right back into her gauzy Indian print skirts, dangly earrings, sandals, or, now that autumn is setting in, thick-soled boots.

She dresses a lot like you do, actually, Fee laughingly said to her sister Deirdre a few weeks ago, during one of their long-distance gripe sessions. Fiona was griping, rather; Deirdre was mostly listening and offering advice.

Advice like: I dont know Why dont you try and look past the clothes, Fee?

I tried. Theres nothing there, either. I have to fire her, Deirdre and not just because she dresses like you.

And she will, just as soon as she finds a spare minute to look for a replacement. Business is booming; all the more reason she desperately needs someone she can count on. Shes even toying with the idea of hiring an a.s.sociate to take on some of the actual client contact.

But for right now, the firm remains a gloriously eponymous one-woman show playing to glowing reviews.

The latest came from James Bingham himself, who yesterday complimented not just Fionas business savvy but the color of her eyes.

Back so soon? she asks now, looking up to see him in the doorway.

So soon? he echoes, crossing the carpet to take her extended hand. I dont know, it seems like ages since I saw you.

Hes flirting blatantly. Good. Flirting never hurt business.

Its been less than twenty-four hours, she says, shaking his hand, allowing her fingers to linger in his warm grasp an extra moment and her eyes to appreciate his rugged good looks.

A younger Harrison Ford?

No, thats not it. He reminds her of someone, and, for the life of her, she cant seem to put her finger on who it is.

Twenty-four hours? Is that all? He relinquishes her hand and sits in the guest chair.

Thats all. I thought you were going back to Boston last night.

Hes based there, but also has an office at his weekend home in the mountains near Cedar Crest.

This time of year, I like to spend more time here. But Im headed back east just as soon as I take care of a little business with you.

Really? What can I do for you?

I came to give you this. He hands her an envelope.

What is it?

The payment for the first months retainer. I got your invoice.

You handle your own bills?

Not usually. But I wanted to get this here promptly.

You could have mailed it, she says lightly.

I know. But I didnt want to mail these.

She finds herself holding two glossy cardstock rectangles. Tickets Behind home plate, the Red Sox playoff game tomorrow night at Fenway, he informs her. Do you like baseball?

Not particularly, but Doesnt everyone? she asks with a coquettish tilt of her head.

So are you free to meet me in Boston tomorrow night?

Sure. She isnt free, not with a nine-year-old daughter in her care, but isnt about to turn down James Bingham.

Why not?she asks herself.Because hes a client? Or because hes rich, s.e.xy, and eligible?

Both.

Unfortunately, I have to work out of my Boston office tomorrow, and Ive got an early meeting Friday so I have to stay put there, but if you have no problem driving in and out by yourself I have no problem with that at all.

No, the problem lies with Ashley.

Sh.e.l.l just have to ask Pat if he wants to take her overnight. He wont be particularly eager to help her out, but if she asks in Ashleys presence, he isnt likely to say no.

Dirty poolthats invariably the name of the game when shes dealing with her ex.

Ill make reservations for a late dinner at my favorite restaurant over on Newbury Street after the game. Do you like sushi?

Not particularly, but Doesnt everyone? she asks again, and he smiles.

He leaves with a promise to call her tomorrow morning.

What are you doing?she asks herself, leaning back in her desk chair and folding her arms across her ivory silk blouse.

You dont like baseball, and you dont like raw fish, and you dont particularly like driving in and out of Boston at night No, but she likeshim .

James Bingham isnt the first man to pay attention to her since the divorce. But hes the first who just might be worth her precious time.

Glancing at her desk calendar, she notes that tomorrow is crammed with appointments from morning to night. Sh.e.l.l have to rearrange the last two if shes going to escape the office early enough for the two-hour drive to Boston. Now, if she can just find two free time slots where she can put them As she glances over the next days agenda, shes struck by the date.

Thats Tildys thirtieth birthday.

Ca.s.sie isnt ready when the doorbell rings at six thirty. Shes half-dressed, and she still has to brush her teeth, put on makeup But even if she was pulled together cosmetically, shed still have a long way to go before she could possibly feel prepared for any of this.

Seeing her mother, whos just driven up from the city to spend the weekend Being the guest of honor at a wedding shower tomorrow night Thats what this weekend is all about. Ca.s.sies official transition intobride-to-be, which will imminently and fleetingly lead tobride before giving way permanently towife .

No, she isnt ready. For any of it.

Well, youd better get ready in a hurry, because its full speed ahead from here on in,she tells herself as she hastily pulls a tailored navy sweater over her head.

The doorbell rings again as shes about to answer it. Twice, actually: a pair of staccato jabs at the b.u.t.ton.

Patience never was a prominent character trait in Regina Ashfords personal repertoire. Ambitious, sophisticated, industrious, brilliant yes.

Patient, never.

Ca.s.sie opens the door and comes face-to-face with the formidable Deputy Mayor for Legal Affairs of New York City.

Hi, Mom.

There you are, Ca.s.sandra. I thought you might not be home. Regina hugs her briefly, enveloping her in a cloud of expensive perfume. She, of course, is fully made up and impeccably dressed in a trim tweed suit, her black hair straightened and worn low at her neck in an elegant twist.

Come in, Mom. Ca.s.sie reaches for the large black Coach satchel at her feet; a matching clutch is tucked under her mothers arm.

Why dont you let Alec get that, honey? Its heavy.

Alec isnt here. As she hoists the bag over the threshold, she glimpses the disappointment on her mothers face.

Where is he? Regina asks, stepping into the condo and giving it a sweeping visual inspection.

Accustomed to her mothers critical eye, Ca.s.sie glances around for cobwebs as she replies, Hes still at his office. He had to take care of an emergency procedure.

Alec did use the wordemergency loosely when he called to tell Ca.s.sie about the delay. It seemed one of his regular patients was demanding a last-minute collagen injection before her daughters wedding this coming Sat.u.r.day.

Shes the mother-of-the-bride from h.e.l.l, Alec confided into the phone, and Ca.s.sie pictured him rolling his eyes and shaking his head. This isnt going to be fun.

Tell me about it. Ive got a mother-of-the-bride from h.e.l.l of my own to deal with on this end, she replied wryly, and he laughed.

Dont tell me this means hes not going to dinner with us? Regina is looking around Ca.s.sies living room as though shes hoping to spot Alec lurking behind a potted palm.

h.e.l.l try to meet us there.

Ca.s.sie fervently hopes he will.

Otherwise, it will be just the two of them.