Moonlight and Roses (3 page)

****

Case took her hand again and they walked along in silence for a while.
"Do you work at a regular day job or does art pay the bills," he asked.

"It doesn’t. I’m looking for a teaching job. Does non-profit law pay your bills?"

"Barely. Don't confuse me with rich, successful lawyer types."

"You're a poor lawyer…a new breed?"
s
he said, laughing.

"Not poor exactly, but far from rich."

They walked across 59th Street, stopping to pet one of the horses h
itched to an open-air carriage.

"There's a nice path through the park that parallels Central Park West. I think it's safe, even at this hour. Want to take a chance?"

"Sure, let's live dangerously."

At Columbus Circle, Case tugged on her hand and led her into the park, which was dark and shadowy as the leaves rustled in the light summer breeze, playing peek-a-boo with the moonlight.
She looked at Case's profile. His strong jaw and longer nose gave him a decidedly masculine look. He drew her closer. She turned at the sound of several horse-drawn carriages clip-clopping on the street winding through the park. Couples made out in some of the passing carriages. In others, families looked out on the park.

Case pulled her into the shadow of a tree and kissed her again. She felt uncomfortable as his kiss grew more urgent. He angled his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss, his arms vice-like around her. She tried to move away but he tightened his grip. A feeling of panic rose in her throat.
A mistake, coming into the park at night alone with...with...a man I don't know!

Her heart pounded
in her ears
, sweat broke out on her forehead
and she couldn’t catch her breath
as his hand moved up over her breast. She shoved against him with all her might. He let go and stepped back, with a look surprise on his face.

"What? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? You were attacking me!"

"Attacking? Is that what you call it when a man attempts to make love to a chick who comes into the park at night with him? Why do you think I b
rought you here? For a stroll?"

She nodded, tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

He laughed.

"You’re a bit old to be so naive. How old are you?"

"Old enough to know better …I hardly know you," she said, regret in her voice.

"That's right. You came here willingly. Thought you wanted to make love. Guess I was wrong. I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer to Caroline.

She lurched back instinctively, feeling a tremble of fear and raised her hand.

"Aw, come on. I'm not going to rape you. This is ridiculous."

She moved closer to him, he took her hand.

"Let's get you home, little girl," he said.

She walked next to him,
stiffly at first, reluctantly
allowing him to take her hand in his. He held onto firmly but safely. Her breathing slowed down and
he
r pulse resumed it normal pace.

"Do you often make love in the park after a charity function?"

"Not unless I get lucky. And you
were
giving me all the right signals."

"I liked you..."

"Liked, past tense?"

"After someone won't let me go…" she said, easing her hand from his.

"Ooh. Sarcastic
and
immature. What a combination!"

"Hey!"

"Okay, okay. Sorry. That was pretty nasty. You're a beautiful woman, can't blame a guy for being mad...getting ‘no’..."

She stared at him.

"…when he thought he already had 'yes', eh?"

"I suppose I should apologize for being naïve but I'm not. I took you at your word about a nice stroll through the park in the moonlight."

"Well...maybe. I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, sorry I'm not going to sleep with you."

"That...and sorry I upset you. Now I've ruined my chances, haven't I?"

"You could say that."

"Crap. Do I still get a kiss goodnight?"

"We'll see."

They walked up through the park in silence. Caroline felt foolish
being
so naive and annoyed at him for being so...insistent. When they got to her door, she could see the light was still on in her apartment. She turned to say goodnight.

Case took her in his arms and gave her a gentle kiss. She let him, then moved away.

"Any chance I can see you again?"

"Why would you want to date such a...a...child?"

"Maybe because she's the most beautiful child I've ever seen."

She laughed. "Trust issues, Case. I have trust issues with you."

"Okay. Give me your number and I promise to take you somewhere with lots of people...so you'll feel safe."

She wavered. He was nice looking and fun up until the park. "Okay, one more chance."

He kissed her hand and wrote down her number
in a small notebook he took from his breast pocket
. She went inside.

"No, Ma, I'm not engaged to a rich man yet," she called out as she entered the apartment.
Not raped by one, either, thank God.

Alex Davis’ work sold in galleries, providing the money for upkeep on the summer cabin. But his work found its most loving audience in the country. People in Pine Grove, though they couldn’t afford City prices, scooped up all the work Alex chose to sell there.
They loved his simple landscapes of their pastures and willow trees in spring or old barns, needing a paint job. He painted creeks swollen to capacity after a rain and wildlife, especially deer and eagles. Alex’s brand of realism crossed with a hint of impressionism captured the beauty of the countryside.
When Caroline was five, Alex presented her with her first box of serious colored pencils. She took a small sketchpad and joined her father on weekend jaunts to paint or draw beautiful scenery.

At first, Linda didn’t suspect her daughter’s love for her father was an outgrowth of the artistic talent she shared with him. It wasn’t long before Alex hung “Sunny’s” work up in their cottage alongside his. The little girl and
her father became inseparable.

Those weekends together reminded Linda why she loved Alex so much, why she married him, instead of one of the wealthier boys at college. The small family laughed and cooked together, enjoyed being part of the community and then separating themselves for their own quiet times. I
t was idyllic; they were happy.

****

“This is it. The last one, Ma,” Caroline said, drying herself after a shower.

“Okay, okay. The last one. But you’ve got to go to this one, I paid for it already. Besides, it’s for the Art Coalition in SoHo. Very trendy. And it’s all about art,” Linda said, grinning her most persuasive grin.

“The last one, you hear me, Ma? Last!” Caroline said, moving into her room and slamming the door.

“Please God, make him be here,” Linda said, her hands in prayer position her eyes supplicating to a deity in the sky.

An hour later, a sullen Caroline came out of her room wearing the gold sheath her mother had made for her. She wore her long hair in an upswept style in the front, with the bulk of it cascading down her back. She
donned the pearls that
were
a gift from her father’s mother, a pearl ring and bracelet. Her make-up was perfection. Linda knew her daughter was attractive, but had never seen her look quite so stunning. She gasped.

“Why didn’t I use gold before? You look fantastic…you take my breath away,” Linda said.

Caroline chuckled and freshened her coral lipstick in the mirror on the wall in the front hall before taking her matching stole and opening the door.

“Come on, let’s get
this over with,” Caroline said.

****

Heavy rain on and off for three days saturated the countryside and by the time Alex boarded the bus for Pine Grove, some roads and streets were closed due to flooding. Water
surged
over the highway, obscuring the bus driver’s view, limiting his ability to judge how deep the water was when he hit a puddle going too fast. The bus skidded and slid sideways, rolled over and over, sliding down an embankment into a deep pond. The accident killed eigh
t people, including Alex Davis.

When the news arrived at Pine Grove, something inside Linda died with him. A portion of her heart sealed over, never to be touched by another man. Caroline was hysterical for days, waking up every morning and forgetting at first he wasn’t coming back. When she remembered, the revelation only
renewed
her grief. She was only ten years old and her beloved father was gone.

The serious struggles for money began when Alex died. He left no life insurance, having no expectation of death so young. Linda worked as hard as she could while Caroline went to school, but they watched every dime, stretching every dollar to make it do for two. The stress of being only one step ahead of poverty further hardened Linda. Second-hand clothes, scholarship to college, all the pressures of living for two on a small salary became Linda’s preoccupation. Without her beloved Alex, she changed. Fun and frolicking were snuffed out as she determined to find a better life for her daughter.

****

The two women hailed a taxi and were soon speeding across town through Central Park on 79
^th
Street, heading for the Hotel Pierre on Fifth Avenue. Their posh ballrooms were often the settings for these elaborate fund-raisers. Caroline found she enjoyed being in this gorgeous building where the ladies rooms were fancier and larger than some New York apartments. She stopped in to tuck away a stray strand of hair before heading to the Grand Ballroom, one of her favorites. She smiled before she entered for
what she already decided would be her
last time.

The soft lighting highlighted Caroline’s beautiful face, delicate nose and sensuous lips. Several men turned to look at her as she entered slowly, getting her bearings. Shyness always set in at first, until she had her first drink in her hand. Before she even took a sip, she felt stronger, more confident. This being the last one of these events, a sense of relief flooded her body, making her more comfortable, giving her a bra
vado she didn’t normally feel.

“Caroline!”

She turned toward the familiar voice to watch Case walking toward her.
He looked as handsome as ever in a dark
suit, white shirt and gold tie.

“You looking smashing tonight. Where have you been hiding that dress?”

“Didn’t know you were still interested in art, Case.”

“Art attracts many beautiful women. I’
m
feeling lucky tonight,” he confided.

“Then perhaps you’d better move away from me.”

“My luck hasn’t changed with you, has it?” he asked, a sad look on his face.

She laughed at his pup
py-dog expression. “Good try….”

He smiled and shrugged. “Can’t help trying, especially when you look the way you do tonight.”

“Corny but sweet, Case,” Caroline said, moving away from him and approaching the tables, elegantly dressed in fine table linens, crystal and silver.

As she looked around for her table, ignoring her mother who was waving to her, a tall man stepped up next to her.

“Looking for a table?” he asked, his bluish gray eyes friendly.

She nodded.

“I think that woman is waving at you,” he said pointing to Linda Davis.

“What woman? I don’t see anyone,” Caroline said, turning to look the other way.

“Right over…oh, I get it. I get it,” he chuckled.

She smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Your mother?”

In spite of herself, a smile slipped across her lips. “Very perceptive.”

“I read minds in my spare time,” said the stranger with a smile of his own. “And find tables for beautiful women who can’t seem to find a place to sit.”

He placed his hand on the small of Caroline’s back and guided her to a table away from Linda.

“There happens to be a seat free right next to mine,” he said, pulling out the chair.

“What a coincidence,” she remarked, taking the seat and placing her drink on the table.

“Would you like another drink? Or champagne, perhaps?”

“Ooooh. Champagne would be delicious,” she said.

The tall man glanced around and snapped his fingers. Within seconds, a waiter dressed in black and white appeared.

“What can I get you, Mr. White?”

“Dom Perignon, a bottle, please,” he said, then seated himself.

The waiter gave a small bow and left.
Caroline noticed his smooth, self-assured way and the hint of upper class schooling in his voice.
Curiosity ate at her.

“Mr. White?” Caroline asked.

“Bradley Riordan White. My friends call me Brad. And you are?”

“Caroline Davis,” she said, offering her hand, “but my friends call me Sunny.”

“I love the name Caroline, it has dignity. Do you work?”
h
e asked, his eyes connecting with hers
.

His interest in her took Caroline by surprise. She was ready for any attempt to cajole her into bed, but she wasn’t ready for a man with a sense of humor who wanted to know who she was. She was flattered and suddenly quite interested in Bradley Riordan White.

“I’m an artist,” she said.

Brad’s eyes lit up and his smile got bigger. Before he could start talking again, the music began. Caroline smiled when she recognized , “The Way You Look Tonight.” Brad stood and offered her his hand.
Caroline slipped her hand into Brad’s and allowed him to
lead her toward the dance floor
just as the waiter arrived with their champagne.

“Uncork and pour, please, Henry,” Brad said, slipping a twenty dollar bill in the waiter’s breast pocket.

“Of course, Mr. White.”

It all happened so quickly, so effortlessly, Caroline had never been in the company of a man as
sophisticated
as Brad White. She was both impressed and a bit intimidated. He took her in his arms and held her close but not too close. Everything about Brad White seemed to be perfect. He put his cheek on her hair as they waltz around the room. He smelled of the most expensive men’s cologne, the fine fabric of his tuxedo caressed Caroline’s hand as it rested on his shoulder. The tailoring followed the slender lines of his body perfectly. Like it was made for him…which it probably was. When they returned to the table, they sipped the cold champagne and continued their conversation.

“You don’t paint weird stuff do you, like Picasso? What is your best medium?”

“I’ve heard Picasso called many things, but you’re the first one with the nerve to call him weird,” Caroline quipped.

“I call them as I see them. He’s not my taste at all. But you are. What is
your painting style?” Brad asked, taking her hand and lacing his fingers with hers.

“I paint like my father did, realism with a touch of impressionism,” she said, ignoring the tingle she felt from his hand locked with hers.

“Right up my alley. What are your
best subjects?”

For the next hour, Caroline told Brad all about her art while they ate dinner. He not only appeared sincerely interested but knowledgeable as well.
They shared favorite artists and paintings, laughed about phoneys and pretenders in the art world and never took their eyes off each other. Brad slipped his arm around the back of her chair and moved it down until it was around her shoulders. Caroline welcomed his closen
ess, not budging from her seat.

“I’d love to see your work,” he said, finishing his last bite of the rich chocolate dessert.

“Is this where I invite you up to see my etchings?” She laughed
but maintained eye contact,
losing herself in his warm gaze, leaning slightly closer.

“Would you?”

“I live with my mother.” She smil
e
d. “And I don’t do etchings.”

“Then can I invite you up to my place to see my etchings…and I actually do have etchings.”

It took effort not to choke on her drink as Caroline laughed at him. She finished her glass of champagne, but when Brad moved to refill it, she put her hand over the top.

“That was my third drink of the night. Enough…thanks.”

“Who’s counting?”

“Me.”

Brad refilled his glass and put the bottle down.

“So how about it? Will you come home with me?”

Caroline barely finished swallowing her drink when she burst out laughing.

“At least you’re direct.” She chuckled.

“Come on, Caroline. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room. There would be something wrong with me if I
didn’t
want to take you home.

“I’m going home alone tonight, Brad.”

“Worth a try. Can I drive you home? My car is waiting outside. I would like to see your work, even if you do live with your mother,” he said, smiling. He typed something on his cell phone. At Caroline’s
quizzical look,
he told her, “
I’m not texting another woman, just my driver, Harry.
”

Caroline motioned to her mother and the three left the ballroom together.
Outside, a short man with brown hair held open the door to a silver Bentley. Brad motioned the ladies in first, then squeezed in next to Linda.

“Strong family resemblance,” he said.

“Thank you,” Linda replied.

When they reached the Davis apartment, Linda entered first and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Caroline took Brad’s hand and led him into her room. He sat on the bed while she pulled out several canvases. Brad picked up the paintings and moved to the living room where the light was better. Linda served coffee while Brad studied and analyzed the paintings. He gave Caroline some advice and much praise. She focused on his words, nodding in agreement most of the ti
me. After an hour, he stood up.

“Time to go,” he said.

“Thank you for your critique, Brad. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“You have a huge gift, Caroline. Don’t waste it,” he said, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the lips.

He shook Linda’s hand then disappeared out the front door and into his waiting car.

Linda fell back on the sofa with her hands clasped in front of her bosom.

“Jackpot!”