Table for Two (38 page)

"Of course, it's just...how should I introduce you?"

"As your boyfriend. What else?"

A fiancé perhaps? Cassie sighed. Maybe she had blown it, he had become accustomed to what they had now and didn't want anything more. She had lost her allure. She rested her chin in her hands. At least he had figured it out before they were married.

The next day she didn't care. She had to be in a nightmare. A terrible, horrible, never-ending, heart-crushing nightmare. Cassie stared at the new steel-gray weigh scale as if she were confronting the magic mirror, which was showing her she was the fattest of them all. She'd lost five pounds. Five pounds! All her work for a lousy five pounds. All that nonsense of feeling lighter and looking better had been in her head. Now she would see her mother again and face her disappointment. She felt like wringing Drake's neck. He had the misfortune to walk into the bathroom right then.

He grinned at her. "Good morning."

"Don't good morning me," she snapped.

He glanced at the scale and scowled. "Get off that damn thing."

She pointed to it. "Five pounds."

"What?"

"This damn thing says I've lost five pounds."

"Hell, it talks?" He pushed her aside and stood on the scale. "Hmm," he said when it remained silent. "It must only work for you."

She looked down at his weight and groaned. "With a little work, I could weigh as much as you do."

His arms circled her waist. "Do you want to start right now?"

She pushed away from him. "No."

"We have to have those kids sometime."

"Right. Then the place will be filled with diaper bins."

"Toys," he challenged.

"The sound of banging pots."

"
Songs from
Sesame Street
."

She folded her arms. "Crying."

He did the same. "Laughing."

"Shouting."

"Singing."

She couldn't help smiling. "Now who's being the romantic?"

He turned to the mirror and picked up his razor. "You must be rubbing off on me. We have to think of names."

She felt honored that he wanted her to be the mother of his children, but wondered if it would be without the benefit of a ring. She turned away from him. "We're seeing my mother today."

"I know it will be fine."

"Said Custer to his troops; said the captain of the
Titanic
. "

"It will be fine," he repeated slowly.

She shrugged, suddenly nonchalant. "I know."

"How do you know?"

She winked at his reflection. "Because I have you."

A few hours later Drake wished he had her confidence. His stomach was in knots. Today was the ultimate test—one he could not fail. The mother of all proving grounds. He had to impress Cassie's parents.

"Stop fiddling with your tie," Cassie whispered as they walked up to her parents' home.

He glanced down, surprised. "Didn't realize I was."

"There's no reason to be nervous," she assured him, her classy sling-back heels clicking against the walkway. "Apoplectic perhaps, but not nervous."

"I'm fine."

She didn't believe him. He had taken special care with his clothes, ironing any wrinkle or crease in his dark trousers and gray shirt, polishing his shoes until they gleamed. If she had just met him she would have thought him vain, but she knew that wasn't the case.

He stopped and stared up at the house. "I thought you said your family was middle class."

"It is."

"Your house has pillars," he said, unable to disguise his awe.

She nudged him forward. "It's a regular colonial."

"With tall, white pillars like you see at the White House." And numerous windows, a manicured lawn, and a cobblestone walkway lined with lights.

"This isn't the White House. It just looks big, it's really average." She noticed him tugging on his tie again and grabbed his hand. "Drake, you look great and I don't care what my parents think. I'm glad you're in my life."

He blinked. "Thanks, but I already knew that."

She dropped his hand. "You are so unromantic. You could have pretended to be impressed."

"Forgive me. I'll try to swoon once the night is over." He lifted his hand to knock. "A butler better not answer the door."

The door swung open and a woman in a maid uniform appeared. Drake shot her a glance. Cassie grinned sheepishly. "She's new."

The maid led them into the formal living room. On an elaborate white sofa sat Angela Graham. Near the bar Oscar Graham fixed himself a drink.

"It's about time you two got here," Angela said, uncrossing silk-clad legs.

Drake watched Cassie greet her parents. It seemed almost appropriate that Cassie's mother was wearing a leopard-print blouse, a black skirt, and earrings that looked like spider webs. She was a predator and when she smiled at him, he could envision teeth sinking into his neck. The challenge to outwit her consumed him.

"Did you find the place okay?"

Drake transferred his gaze to the quiet man in a tweed jacket and gray trousers, shaking a brandy snifter. "It was fine," he said.

Cassie spoke up. "Dad, I was with him, remember?"

"Oh, right. Of course."

"You have a beautiful home here, Mrs. Graham," Drake said. "I see where Cassie gets her good taste."

"Thank you. So from what part of Jamaica are you?" When he told her, she nodded in cool disdain. "Oh, yes. I could tell by the accent. How unfortunate."

Cassie spoke up. "Mom, I think—"

"I'm not criticizing him, Cassandra. I'm just making an observation." Angela stood and took Drake's arm. "Let's go into dinner so that you can tell me all about yourself."

In the back of his mind a bell rang. Let the games begin.

Chapter 16

"I'm sorry," Drake said with regret, breaking the heavy silence that permeated their drive home.

Cassie noted the tense lines of his jaw that the passing city lights lit up with harsh accuracy. His large hands swallowed up the steering wheel in a vicious grip. "It's all right." She patted his knee. "You tried your best."

The simple gesture eased the tension coursing through him, but it wasn't enough. He needed something more. At the stoplight, he lit up a cigarette and angrily inhaled. "She's awful," he muttered, still shocked that such a woman existed.

"And now she knows it. You told her so in no uncertain terms."

He silently swore, vexed with himself. "I didn't mean to."

"I know."

He sighed. The evening had started out fine. He didn't mind Angela Graham turning her insolent honey-colored gaze on him and quickly exposing him for the street urchin he used to be. He wasn't bothered about the questions about his work, his parentage, or his schooling. He didn't care about the pointed remarks that smacked of prejudice. He could understand her viewpoint; those who had never been poor rarely understood what it was like and somehow thought that those in poverty deserved their fate.

She later congratulated him on his success although, she pointed out, she would have preferred it in another field. Throughout this inquisition, Cassie squirmed and tried to soften her mother's remarks, but her opinion ultimately meant little to him. The evening would have continued to go smoothly if Angela hadn't made a mistake—she attacked Cassie.

She despaired of her daughter's clothes, her job, her hair, her friends, but then she clinched it by mentioning her weight. To everyone else it was an innocuous, casual remark. Cassie could easily have turned it into a joke, but Drake stared at Angela with such anger she nearly choked on her food.

"Did I say something wrong?" she stammered, wondering what she had done to become the recipient of such a fierce gaze.

"I suggest you start your apologizes now, ma'am."

Cassie nudged him. "Drake, it's okay."

"It's not okay." He placed his utensils down in controlled anger. "My parents are dead, Mrs. Graham, and for a long time I didn't appreciate them the way I could have. Parents are wonderful people. I now see that I succeeded because of them while Cassie has succeeded in spite of you. In spite of your bitterness, your vanity, and your acrid wit. You wouldn't care if she dropped dead tomorrow, would you?"

Angela held a hand against her chest, horrified. "Of course I would."

He pounded his fist on the table, rattling the fine china and glasses. "Then act like it! I for one know that we don't have every day to tell our family that we care about them, or make them feel good to be alive. And everyday you squander your chances. Every chance you get, you tell her how little she means to you. How would you like to have the words you have just spoken be the last words she'd ever hear?"

"I think that's enough," Oscar said.

Drake redirected his glare. His voice was low, dangerous. "No, I haven't talked to you yet."

"But I—"

"You think your silence is neutral? You think that watching this drama only makes you the audience? You're the stage that allows the drama to continue. Your silence is as painful as your wife's words. I didn't come here to hurt either of you. I'd actually hoped..." His eyes fell. "Forget it. I only say this to protect my family. I want to make sure our kids have a safe place to come to. A place where their grandparents are their champions, a mountain of strength they can rely on in this harsh, cruel world. And, boy, do I know how cruel it can be! I will not allow my children in this house until you start treating your daughter with the dignity and respect she deserves." He stood and held his hand out to Cassie. It was a silent test of where her loyalties lay. She glanced at his hand and then at him, her butterscotch eyes unsure.

For a moment, he felt his throat close as the possibility of failure clawed at his heels. But she did not let him suffer long. She rose and took his hand.

Drake inhaled, feeling the smoke burn his lungs. He wasn't sorry about what he'd said, just how he'd said it. He could have been more subtle, more refined. Instead he'd left her mother in tears and her father in shock. Not the best way to endear yourself to the woman you wish to marry. He angrily stubbed out his cigarette. He had blown his last chance. She might be by his side, but she'd never belong to him.

"Your parents love you," he said quietly.

"I know."

He gripped the wheel until his palms burned. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Because I'm so proud of you."

He glanced at her, trying to read her mood. "You're proud after I... I..."

"Stood up for my honor, my pride, my dignity?" she finished. "Announced that you are my protector and champion? It was so romantic I nearly clapped."

He stared at the road and shook his head, hurt that she could make a joke out of it. "You're making fun of me."

"No." She rested a hand on his sleeve. "I have taught a lot of people about social graces—small talk, flattery— but I could never teach anyone what you have in buckets. Integrity. Something beyond class, beyond wealth, beyond intelligence that makes a man truly great. Yes, I'm proud of one of my best students for showing others what grace truly is. I'm proud of the man I hope will always be in my life."

He was too moved to speak or even look at her. Cassie wisely stared out the window.

* * *

Drake dropped Cassie's bags near the door. "This is illogical," he said, glancing around Cassie's apartment. "You liked staying at my place, you're over there often enough, and we get along well."

"I love my little place. I like my freedom." Besides, moving in with him wouldn't be enough. She wanted to be married. She laughed at herself. She'd never thought she'd feel that way again.

"Cassie, you wouldn't be losing your freedom."

She put a finger over his lips. "Let's not have this conversation."

He felt restless and frustrated. He hated knowing that she thought she was losing her independence by being with him. "You can still have your friends. You'll have your own study to work in."

"I know."

"You wouldn't regret it."

She shook her head.

"Mr. Gianolo says you're not safe here."

"He's overreacting. It's probably a student with a crush."

"I don't like it."

"I'll be fine." She kissed his frown. She wondered if she would have to ask him to marry her. She would have to think about it. He cared about her, but she wasn’t sure he loved her. "I love you."

"Hmm." He sighed, defeated. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay," she agreed. Then she closed the door.

She was glad to be back in her apartment. She liked seeing the signs of the Cassie she used to be. A desk filled with unfinished outlines, a Rolodex of acquaintances, but she also saw Drake's umbrella still sitting in the corner. That's how life with him would be. He'd be a wonderful accessory to a complete life. She just had to convince him to make it permanent, and then she would seduce him into loving her. With that thought, she went to bed.

* * *

Drake decided to stop by the bookstore. It was no use going home since every nerve ending seemed to hum with a certain restlessness. Cassie said she was proud of him, that she loved him, but would that be enough for her to marry a man her family disapproved of? He didn't have much of a family to offer her. Just Eric and Jackie. Would that be enough on holidays? He aimlessly searched the aisles until he saw Cedric in the poetry section.