Cassie had always envied Beth's brains and success, even though what she
really wanted was what Julie had. Beth had always seemed so sure of
everything she aimed for in life. When they were younger she'd never
been the least bit insecure about not being popular, not having a
boyfriend. Even major setbacks—and Beth had been through some heavy
stuff—barely seemed to slow her down. She marched on, following her
instincts, doing what she was born to do.
Beth's parents were oddballs—a couple of middle-class eggheads. Her
mother was a librarian at the college and her father was a
professor—helminthology. The study of worms. Beth grew up in a messy
house cluttered with papers, bulging bookshelves and microscopes, dishes
stacked in the sink, beds unmade, dirty clothes piled high, her parents
completely distracted by their intellectual obsessions. They never had a
lot of money to throw around, nor did they pay much attention to their
daughter, but they had real high educational standards and had raised
themselves a young genius who proved she could be the best of both of
them. Beth had been in gifted programs since she was six.
But Julie…Julie had Billy, who had adored her for thirteen years. He
still looked at her as if she was the only woman alive. They might have
to pinch their pennies most of the time, but their relationship was
solid, unshakable. Jules might not be able to count on being able to pay
the bills, but she could always count on Billy loving her, being there
for her. And if they ran into a big problem, they never failed to tackle
it together.
Given a choice, Cassie would take the kids, money troubles and true
love, which she figured must make her a fool. A rational look at the
world around her indicated an M.D. was more practical and reliable than a
Mr. and Mrs.
Driving home from lunch, she found herself passing that motorcycle
dealership. She let herself go three more blocks before making a U-turn
and going back. She went into the showroom and faced the same grinning
salesman. "Hi," she said. "I wonder if Walt Arneson is working today?"
"One second." He smiled. He went down the counter to a phone, dialed,
spoke into it briefly and said, "Miss?" He held the receiver toward her.
"Hello?" she said into the phone. "Walt?"
"Hi," he said. "How are you?"
"Good. I was on my way home and passed the dealership and thought…maybe you'd like me to buy you a cup of coffee?"
"Are you in a big hurry?"
"Well…no, I guess not. Why?"
"I'm at another store, but if you want to wait a few minutes—like, twenty—I'll be right there."
"Oh, listen. I don't want you to go to any—"
"Cassie, I love having coffee with you. It's not any trouble, believe me."
"Are you sure?"
"You made my day. Go to the bookstore, get us a couple of coffees,
settle into our spot if it's free and I'll see you in twenty."
"Okay, if you're sure."
"I'm sure. Walk slowly." And he hung up.
This is loony, she found herself thinking. What in the world do I hope
to gain by a dumb-ass move like this? "You called him at another store?"
she asked the salesman.
"Sure. That's where he was. He's on the move a lot."
"Oh. Well, thanks." Then she headed for the bookstore, slowly. She
browsed a little before buying the coffees, settling into the corner
that had become theirs.
