long. That took courage.”
“I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
“Yes, you did. And you chose the hard road.”
Tina blushed. “I don’t have regrets. Not any.”
Cee Cee hesitated, wondering how far she dare take this. Her social skills were pathetic, but she took a chance that Tina Babineau might be in the same boat.
“Alain never said much about your past, only that his sun rises and sets on you and your boy.”
Tina looked away uncomfortably. “My past isn’t much to talk about. I try to forget it, when I can.”
“I know you stayed at St. Bart’s for a time before Ozzy was born. Did you know I practically grew up there?”
“Sister Catherine talked about you all the time— though I’m not sure I believe all the stories she told about when you two were girls.”
Cee Cee grinned. “Believe them.” Then her mood sobered. “We went through a real ugly ordeal together. It changed everything about our lives, about who webecame. I don’t think I ever would’ve gotten past it if not for Max.”
“And did you? Get over it?”
Cee Cee looked into the hopeful face and couldn’t lie. “No. I’ll never get over it. But I can forget about it for a time. And that’s enough.”
Tina’s dark eyes held haunting secrets, the kind Cee Cee understood all too well, and her mood toward Alain’s wife softened.
“If you need someone to talk to, someone who knows what it’s like to be scared and helpless and alone and survive it, you might find I’m a pretty good listener.”
Tina studied her carefully, and she was about to speak when Cee Cee’s cell phone rang. She held back a curse as she went to the living room to pull it out of her purse.
“Caissie.”
“Sorry to tap you on your day off.”
She blinked in surprise. “Showboat?” Stan Schoenbaum of Vice was no buddy of hers, and the last person she expected to hear from after he and Max had gotten into it during a softball game.
“I need to talk to you about the case you’re working on. Now.”
She blinked. “Where do you want to meet? Babs and I can be there—”
“Just you, Caissie. Newton’s in fifteen. Say you’ll be there.” There was urgency in his usually arrogant voice—and desperation.
“All right,” she said slowly.
“Caissie . . . thanks.”
Now she was alarmed.
She returned to the kitchen with a regretful smile. “Gotta go. Thanks for the invite. It was nice of you.”
“Maybe we could talk some more. Maybe have lunch.”
Cee Cee liked the idea, which surprised her. “Yeah. We could do that.”
They shared a smile. Their first.
C EE C EE STOOD at the door to her new car and softly said, “Max.”
His dark head shot up from across the street, and at her beckoning gesture he came to her side at a brisk lope.
“I gotta go, baby.”
Used to her business tone, he didn’t ask for details. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you at home.”
He opened the car door for her, enjoying her pleasure as she slid into the black leather bucket seat and caressed the steering wheel. He closed her inside and was about to step back when she leaned out the window.
“C’mere.”
Happy to reap another sweet benefit in thanks for the gift, he bent to accept a kiss that was rich and tender. And definitely not about a big-block V-8.
Her palm rested against his cheek, keeping him close while she gazed into his eyes with raw emotion. “I was never truly alive until you. I just wanted you to know that.”
Then the engine roared and she tore out of the driveway, dragging his heart behind her.
_________
N EWTON’S WAS QUIET . The lunch crowd had gone and the serious drinkers were still in bed. Stan Schoenbaum, sitting in a booth at the back, was already into his second bourbon. When he looked up at her, she was struck by his ravaged features.
“Hey, Caissie.” His tone was flat, lifeless.
She slid into the booth. “What’s going on, Stan?”
He fidgeted with his glass, his eyes puffy and red.
“I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
“Yes, you did. And you chose the hard road.”
Tina blushed. “I don’t have regrets. Not any.”
Cee Cee hesitated, wondering how far she dare take this. Her social skills were pathetic, but she took a chance that Tina Babineau might be in the same boat.
“Alain never said much about your past, only that his sun rises and sets on you and your boy.”
Tina looked away uncomfortably. “My past isn’t much to talk about. I try to forget it, when I can.”
“I know you stayed at St. Bart’s for a time before Ozzy was born. Did you know I practically grew up there?”
“Sister Catherine talked about you all the time— though I’m not sure I believe all the stories she told about when you two were girls.”
Cee Cee grinned. “Believe them.” Then her mood sobered. “We went through a real ugly ordeal together. It changed everything about our lives, about who webecame. I don’t think I ever would’ve gotten past it if not for Max.”
“And did you? Get over it?”
Cee Cee looked into the hopeful face and couldn’t lie. “No. I’ll never get over it. But I can forget about it for a time. And that’s enough.”
Tina’s dark eyes held haunting secrets, the kind Cee Cee understood all too well, and her mood toward Alain’s wife softened.
“If you need someone to talk to, someone who knows what it’s like to be scared and helpless and alone and survive it, you might find I’m a pretty good listener.”
Tina studied her carefully, and she was about to speak when Cee Cee’s cell phone rang. She held back a curse as she went to the living room to pull it out of her purse.
“Caissie.”
“Sorry to tap you on your day off.”
She blinked in surprise. “Showboat?” Stan Schoenbaum of Vice was no buddy of hers, and the last person she expected to hear from after he and Max had gotten into it during a softball game.
“I need to talk to you about the case you’re working on. Now.”
She blinked. “Where do you want to meet? Babs and I can be there—”
“Just you, Caissie. Newton’s in fifteen. Say you’ll be there.” There was urgency in his usually arrogant voice—and desperation.
“All right,” she said slowly.
“Caissie . . . thanks.”
Now she was alarmed.
She returned to the kitchen with a regretful smile. “Gotta go. Thanks for the invite. It was nice of you.”
“Maybe we could talk some more. Maybe have lunch.”
Cee Cee liked the idea, which surprised her. “Yeah. We could do that.”
They shared a smile. Their first.
C EE C EE STOOD at the door to her new car and softly said, “Max.”
His dark head shot up from across the street, and at her beckoning gesture he came to her side at a brisk lope.
“I gotta go, baby.”
Used to her business tone, he didn’t ask for details. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you at home.”
He opened the car door for her, enjoying her pleasure as she slid into the black leather bucket seat and caressed the steering wheel. He closed her inside and was about to step back when she leaned out the window.
“C’mere.”
Happy to reap another sweet benefit in thanks for the gift, he bent to accept a kiss that was rich and tender. And definitely not about a big-block V-8.
Her palm rested against his cheek, keeping him close while she gazed into his eyes with raw emotion. “I was never truly alive until you. I just wanted you to know that.”
Then the engine roared and she tore out of the driveway, dragging his heart behind her.
_________
N EWTON’S WAS QUIET . The lunch crowd had gone and the serious drinkers were still in bed. Stan Schoenbaum, sitting in a booth at the back, was already into his second bourbon. When he looked up at her, she was struck by his ravaged features.
“Hey, Caissie.” His tone was flat, lifeless.
She slid into the booth. “What’s going on, Stan?”
He fidgeted with his glass, his eyes puffy and red.
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