His sister’s garden party was a huge success, all the neighbours and many friends from Kevin’s work had shown up to welcome him home and enjoy the beautiful spring day. Paula and Janie were dressed in their Sunday best and were helping their mother serve some professionally prepared hors d’oeuvres to the guests.
Paula had eaten almost as many chocolate covered strawberries as she had served, but then who could blame her: Big ripe juicy red strawberries were wrapped in a chocolate glaze with the tiniest sprig of mint for decoration. They were as nice to look at, as they probably were to eat.
Janie was all professionalism, curtsying to everyone like an English maid out of some Victorian tale. She was enjoying herself immensely as she circulated some type of wrapped meat in a pastry. Andrew thought it looked very much like pig-in-a-blanket but doubted that was the name the caterers had given to this particular delicacy. Although he’d bet his Mother’s diamonds that the ingredients were the same.
Angela circulated. She was dressed in a long cream skirt of some diaphanous material with a matching blouse. Her hair was in ringlets and glowed in the sunlight like a halo. Andrew watched as Kevin surreptitiously kept an eye on her at all times. I don’t blame him. If my woman were here in this throng of wealthy attractive men I’d keep an eye on her too.
Andrew nodded, smiled at the woman in front of him, said all the right things in all the right places and had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Concern was reflected momentarily in his eyes as he glanced again towards the driveway. Where was Casey? She had expected to be here an hour ago. If she’d gotten held up at the shop surely she’d have called. He didn’t know her that well but he had the impression that she wouldn’t leave someone waiting like this without a good excuse.
Waiting for a break in the monologue in front of him he looked down at Mrs. Applebottom, his sister’s nearest neighbour. Smiling apologetically at the blue haired matron as she paused for a breath he said quite loudly: “Mrs. Applebottom, I have to leave now, if you’ll excuse me.”
She smiled up at him blankly.
“I need to find out where my friend Casey is; she’s on her way from her bookstore and is very, very late.” His concern was impossible to hide. Where the hell was she?
Mrs. Applebottom squeezed his hand. “Of course, my boy.” She smiled at him. “You’ve been sitting here listening to the rambles of an old lady long enough anyway…such a good boy.” She muttered as she shuffled away towards the punch bowl.
Andrew felt about two inches tall as he turned away. He tried to think of one thing the woman had said in the last half hour and couldn’t remember any of it. He sighed and strode purposefully into the house to get the cell phone he’d left on the dresser to call the bookstore. Casey must be the only woman in this day and age who didn’t have a cell phone, or he’d call her directly. He hadn’t realized how used to the immediacy of being able to contact anyone, anywhere, any time, he had become, until he couldn’t. And he’d hardly believed it when Casey told him she had a phone but rarely charged it, and hardly ever carried it.
Reaching the Reading Room he was informed by someone named Gail that Casey had left nearly an hour ago. Could she have gotten lost, had an accident? Where on earth could she be? Probably just stuck in traffic, but if not…" He tried not to become too panicked, she was her own person, maybe she got distracted, had to run some errands. He wasn't her keeper, he reminded himself. He had no claim. She didn't have to answer to him. She's said she would try to be here early, he reminded himself. There had been no promises. No, there were never promises, he didn't need promises.
He leaned against the newel post on the front porch, trying not to be concerned, trying not to worry, trying to decide what he should do, when an older model Escort pulled into the driveway. Andrew barely gave it a glance, and turned to walk back into the house. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed familiar copper hair.
“Casey!” His ground-eating stride carried him over to her Escort in three steps. He pulled open the driver’s side door and almost yanked her out of her seat. He clasped her to his chest and buried his face in her hair. “Where the hell have you been?” He shook her slightly, pulling back to study her face. “You look a wreck, what happened? I’ve been worried sick. Someone named Gail at the bookstore said that you left an hour ago!”