Catch a Falling Star (7 page)

When Professor Dryasdust finally let them go, Joe had his books and was out the door before Natalie had even zipped up her backpack.
Note to self
, she thought at his retreating back.
Move faster!
She grabbed her backpack and made her way out into the hall. Her courage almost failed her then, but she ran after him, catching up to him a little breathless, and nudged his arm.

“Hey.”

He turned to see who it was, then slowed his step a little. “Hey.”

“Listen, after my marketing class, I have to go let the dogs out, but I was going to come back to the library to do some studying.” Which wasn’t true, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Oh,” he said.

“What about you?”

“I’ve gotta work after I’m done with my next class.” He picked up his pace.

“Oh, okay,” she said, and let him go. So, wow, this was what he’d felt like that other day, dumb and embarrassed and disappointed.

Damn that Brianna for making her think it would be easy.

• • •

Brianna was sitting in her car. It was supposed to be her lunch break, but she wasn’t eating lunch, she was returning phone calls for Once in a Lifetime. Missy had agreed to the contract terms in principle, and then she’d called off the wedding, which, okay, you didn’t go ahead and marry Mr. Wrong just because you didn’t want to inconvenience your event planner, but Brianna had been so close to success! It was bitterly hard to return that call and invite Missy to get in touch with her again if her circumstances changed, but Brianna did it. Fortunately, she was able to leave a message on voicemail instead of talking to Missy personally. Otherwise it would probably have taken an hour to make the call, having to listen to Missy enumerate all of her ex-fiancé’s bad attributes.

Brianna supposed that was how the business went, ups and downs, and you couldn’t count on anything till you had it in your pocket. A lot like life, in fact. But there were a couple of solid leads that might result in business — those were people she would call back right away — plus a few other small clients who had milestone birthday and anniversary celebrations to arrange. Small gatherings weren’t that lucrative, but everything added up, and the important thing at the moment was to get her name out there and to get referrals. So that meant the celebrations had to come off without a hitch.

No pressure
, Brianna told herself as she dialed the banquet facility where the Hendersons would be hosting their golden anniversary celebration.

• • •

Richard was watching the door of the museum and thinking maybe he ought to go back home if he couldn’t get his courage up. Maybe he needed a plan. Maybe he needed —

And then he spotted her, her red hair brilliant in the fall sunlight as she climbed out of her car, apparently coming back from lunch. Although he hadn’t seen her pull into the parking lot. So maybe she’d just been sitting in her car, eating a sandwich. He swung out of his rental before he could think about it and went after her.

“Brianna!” he called, and his throat ached, not from the shouting.

She halted on the sidewalk outside the museum door. She turned to look at him, saw who it was, and pivoted on her heel. From this distance he couldn’t see her expression but he didn’t need to see her expression to guess that she wasn’t delighted that he was here.

He darted after her, catching her arm as she pulled open the door. She shook off his hand and spun to face him, and he supposed he was lucky she didn’t punch him; thirteen-year-old Brianna would have socked him in the gut.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like he’d run a damned marathon. “That’s it. That’s what I came to say. I’m sorry. I know it was hard for you. You deserved better than what you got. And I’m sorry.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him, and for a moment he saw the thirteen-year-old she had been. Thirteen years since he had seen her.
Thirteen years
. It hit him hard and he made a sound, but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of Brianna.
Thirteen years.

“You’re on step nine?” she said coolly. “Congratulations. I’m guessing you’ve never made it past four before.” She turned and, okay, he had said what he came to say. So maybe he would just let her go inside the damned museum and he would go back home.

L.A. had never been home, it would never be home, there was no home anymore for a man like him.

And then she stopped, and she turned back to face him, and he wasn’t glad about that because she had the look on her face that meant he was in for hard times.

“No,” she said. “You know what? No. Hell, no. All those years I was in Al-Anon, trying to figure out why my parents loved alcohol more than they loved me, I know what the damned twelve steps are. Number nine: ‘We made amends to the people we harmed.’ That’s not, ‘I’m sorry,’ Richard. That’s reparation. That’s
repayment
. You still owe me, you bastard.”

With that she flung the door open and went inside.

• • •

“So we’ll proceed with the patent application,” Matthias said. “The changes the client made to the production process are sufficient to make it unique, so I don’t anticipate any problems.” That was what people paid him for, to not have problems.

“Great,” Donald said. “Marigold wants to go to dinner on Friday.”

Matthias repressed a sigh. Marigold was Donald’s wife. He should have guessed that Donald had an ulterior motive for wanting to meet in person. They could have accomplished this update over the phone or by email.

“I’m sure you’ll think of someplace delightful to take her,” Matthias said. Despite knowing he wouldn’t win, he was not going down without a fight. He gathered his folders together and tucked them in his briefcase.

“Dinner with
you
,” Donald clarified.

“Friday?” Matthias echoed. He could think up an excuse, but then Marigold would want to do it on Saturday or next Friday. There was no chance of getting out of something once Marigold had set her mind to it.

“She has someone she wants you to meet.”

As if that might entice Matthias. “I’ve met her friends,” he said and diplomatically did not add
They’re all as plastic as she is.
Maybe he shouldn’t criticize. Maybe he was as plastic as the rest of them.

“You haven’t met all her friends,” Donald said. “
I
haven’t met all her friends.”

She makes them in molds,
Matthias guessed.

“She just wants you to be happy,” Donald added.

“I am happy.”

“She doesn’t think so. And if Marigold makes you her mission … ” Donald shuddered and Matthias felt a slight stab of alarm. “You need to get out more,” Donald suggested.

“I’m hosting a party,” Matthias said quickly, and where that idea had come from he did not know.

“Really?”

“Yes. A gathering … after the holidays. Early spring.”

“So you haven’t given up on social life after Olivia.”

Matthias had always suspected his
Olivia did not break my heart
protests had fallen on deaf ears and now he knew he’d been right. “So just tell Marigold she doesn’t have to worry about me.”

Donald didn’t look convinced. “She’s going to want details.”

“I’m calling the event planner first thing on Monday.”

• • •

Brianna unlocked the front door. She saw Natalie’s backpack on the table, but no sound or smell of dinner started. Dakota came trotting over to say hello, but no Natalie. Brianna patted Dakota, then shut and locked the door behind her, dropped her bag in the corner and went to find her sister, who was sitting crosslegged on her bed, listening to her MP3 player and and petting Jasmine.

She wasn’t studying, so that was wrong. She was just … sitting there. She wasn’t crying. She was just … not doing anything. Brianna’s stomach turned over. That was how Natalie coped with everything hard. She found a still place inside and went there. Not like Brianna, who had messy sobs all over everything.

She knocked on the door to get Natalie’s attention. Jasmine looked up, saw who it was, and settled her head on her paws again.

“Today sucked,” Brianna announced, and went to sit down on the bed. She rubbed Jasmine’s head, and Jasmine sighed and let her.

Natalie took out her ear buds and said, “What happened?”

“You first,” Brianna said.

Natalie gave a half-smile. “I got shot down.”

“You … what?” The idea that someone — Joe? — could turn down Natalie was frankly unimaginable.

“So I’m never listening to you again,” Natalie said.

“Yeah, I guess. What happened?”

Natalie shrugged, elaborately unconcerned, like she didn’t have any hurt to hide.
Oh, Natalie.
Brianna wished she could have only good things, wished they could both have only good things.

“He said he had to work,” Natalie said, scratching Jasmine’s belly.

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Brianna said. “Although maybe he really did have to work.”

“Maybe.” Natalie shrugged again. She fiddled with the ear buds.

“Richard came by work.”

Natalie’s head shot up. “What?”

“He wanted to say he was sorry. The bastard.”

Natalie played with one of Jasmine’s floppy ears. “That sucks. I mean, I’m glad if he’s sober now, but — ”

“Exactly,” Brianna said, falling back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “
If
is the operative word. And I’m not even sure I care. I mean, good for him, but what does it have to do with me? He’s been out of my life for thirteen years. I hardly even remember him.”

Watch me make this quarter disappear, Daddy! Want to go to a movie this weekend?

Natalie was watching her with a look of concern in her blue eyes. Brianna closed her eyes. Jasmine’s tail thumped against her arm.

“I told him I didn’t care he was sorry,” she said.

“I wouldn’t care either, Bree,” Natalie said stoutly, which probably wasn’t true. She would care. She would think it mattered. She was a nice person, that was the difference.

Brianna flung an arm over her eyes to keep the tears from leaking out. “I told him ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough. I wanted repayment.”

Jasmine’s tail thumped harder, which meant Natalie was rubbing her belly. “Wow. What did you mean by that?”

“I have no idea.”

Natalie made a sound and Brianna lifted her arm away from her eyes to give her a suspicious look. “You’re
laughing
?”

“At us,” Natalie said. “I mean … we might as well wear big ‘Loser’ signs. We don’t even know what we want.”

Brianna shifted onto her elbow and said, “We know what we want. It’s just … things keep getting in our way. I want to keep paying the bills, so we don’t end up on the streets. I want to make a go of Once in a Lifetime. I want Richard to fade back into the shadows where he came from and leave me alone. I was doing fine without him.”
I want Mr. G to notice me. I want to call him Matthias, like friends. Like lovers.
If you couldn’t even say it, how could you make it come true?

“What do you want, Nat?” Brianna asked, and then realized it was a stupid question. Natalie wanted to
live
, that was what Natalie wanted.

“I want to go to the ball,” Natalie said, her fingers stilling in Jasmine’s fur, a slight smile on her face.

“The ball?” Brianna said, sitting up and staring.

“You always talk about the Cooper-Renfield gala as if it were the biggest pain in the ass.”

“It is. I keep trying to think up ways to get out of going, but I have to be there in case the caterer put the wrong date on her calendar or the violinist tries to stab the cellist again.”

Natalie wasn’t paying any attention to her. She was apparently looking at a picture only she could see. “All I can imagine is the music and the fairy lights and everyone so beautiful … ”

That was the magic that Brianna tried to pull off behind the scenes, but when you were in charge of the magic, it didn’t seem so magic anymore. It was just a lot of hard work and headaches.

“How come you’ve never said so?” she asked.

Natalie shrugged. “I’m not a donor. I’ll never get invited.”

“Nat, I
work
there. I’m in charge of the gala arrangements. I can write you a damned invitation.”

Natalie was looking down at Jasmine, not at Brianna. “I don’t have a dress or anything.”

“They rent them in town,” Brianna said. “It can’t be that expensive. Seriously, how could I not know this about you? If you want to go to the ball — ”

“I want to dance in the moonlight and drink champagne.”

“It’s not that thrilling.”

“I want to do it anyway. I want to see what men look like up close in their tuxedos.”

Brianna smiled. “They look exactly how you think they’re going to look.”

“And the women in their dresses.”

“They’re all so high-minded they’re incapable of holding an amusing conversation.”

“And caviar. I want to taste caviar one time in my life.”

“It’s very salty. And, ew.”

“And then I’ll lose my glass slipper at midnight,” Natalie said, leaning back against the pillows with a contented sigh, looking pale and tired.

“Okay, so I put off painting the house until next year. This year, you go to the ball.”

“You weren’t going to paint the house anyway,” Natalie said, and smiled.

• • •

Brianna shoved her arms in her coat sleeves, grabbed her purse, and stepped over the threshold. She was supposed to meet Virginia Drake at one to go over the plans for her daughter’s sweet sixteenth birthday, but she had promised Natalie she’d go look at dresses at Luxury to Lend and that had taken longer than she’d thought it would because Natalie had to try on Every. Single. Dress. Pure delight for Natalie, and torture for Brianna as she tried not to watch the time ticking away.

Finally Natalie had decided on the one she wanted to rent, and put it on hold, and patted it lovingly, and taken photos of it with her phone — “I’ll need shoes and accessories to match.” Which Brianna hadn’t thought about and hadn’t budgeted for, but that was a worry for another day.

So Brianna had brought her home and dropped her off and grabbed her proposal for Virginia. Now, if she could just make it to Virginia’s house in — she glanced at her watch — twenty minutes, she’d be okay.