Chapter 16
Cate
Waiting for her date reminded Cate of senior prom, so very long ago.
But this time, instead of her mother fluttering around her, her nieces were.
And instead of Tom Johnson in his powder-blue tux, she was waiting for her blind date.
Winston Price. And she was only doing this because Gabby and Chip had suggested the recent widower.
Her stomach fluttered. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
“Your hair looks great,” Sam said, eyeing her like a stylist before a photo shoot. She even lifted a hand to smooth Cate’s hair.
The roles had switched. When had that happened?
“Well, it should,” Cate muttered, turning back to the mirror. “You put an entire can of hairspray on it.”
“You look wonderful,” Sam insisted, circling her. Sam really would have made a great mother. She was so calm, steady and nurturing. Cate refused to let that thought take root tonight. Not tonight.
Her lime shimmery top probably wasn’t much, but it added a pop to the comfortable black slacks.
Marlowe had brought down a pair of Frida Kahlo earrings as a final touch, ceremoniously swapping out Cate’s gold studs.
Cate prayed they weren’t too much. They felt like mini chandeliers swinging from her ears in lime and black.
“Are you wearing your cape tonight?” Marlowe asked.
“Of course.”
Cate ran her fingers over the camel cape hanging from the antique coat rack, one of the few survivors of the remodel. Her father had the ornately carved rack shipped to Charlevoix from Chicago decades ago. It weighed as much as a Buick and refused to be budged.
The gutsy roar of a car made all three of them freeze. Marlowe darted to the living room window.
“The man has a very nice black Porsche,” she stage-whispered. “Convertible, but top’s up.”
“Thank goodness.” Cate hurried back to the mirror. “I hope I can get into it without throwing my back out.”
“Just relax and enjoy yourself,” Sam murmured, twisting her hands like she was the one going on the date.
Why were they nervous? With good reason, maybe. Cate felt like an old fool. Why had she agreed to this? And why had she told Seth? His amused expression had flashed through her mind at least a dozen times today.
“I’m sure you’ll like him,” Marlowe said with forced cheerfulness.
“I haven’t dated since, oh… college.”
Sam looked scandalized. “No. You mean…not since…?”
Cate sighed. “Right. Not since Uncle Monty’s passing.”
A wave of memories hit her, fond and painful all at once.
Monty’s laugh and his steady presence. He had a way of holding her hand as if she were something fragile that had to be protected.
No wonder her stomach was jumpy. What man could ever measure up to all that?
But how foolish she was to worry about that now.
“We can’t all be standing here,” Marlowe hissed. “Positions!”
Her nieces dove for the living room and snapped on the TV. Marlowe, however, lingered at the window. Eventually she called out, “He’s coming up the steps. Slowly. Very slowly. Wait. I think he stopped to rest halfway.”
Not surprising. There had been times when Cate had to do the same.
Finally the doorbell rang.
Cate inhaled and opened it. Winston Price stood there—tall, silver-haired, deeply tanned, and unmistakably winded.
“Those steps…” he puffed.
“Keep us young, don’t they?”
He managed a smile. “Winston Price.”
“Cate Conway.” Why did this feel like a business meeting?
He looked every inch the polished gentleman in his navy sport coat, pale blue shirt, striped tie and khakis. Sam and Marlowe introduced themselves, and Winston brightened considerably. “A bevy of beauties!”
The girls exchanged a look.
Winston reached for her cape with a flourish. He swung it around her shoulders like she was about to step onto a red carpet.
The sound of the TV made him peek into the living room. “Race cars?”
A thick silence fell. She had no idea what the girls were watching. They probably turned on the TV so they wouldn’t appear to be anxiously waiting for him.
“Yes,” Marlowe said with admirable composure. “We hit the track once in a while.”
Cate nearly snorted.
“Oh. Well. Better step along,” Winston said. “We have a seven o’clock reservation.”
They said good-bye to Samantha and Marlowe, and he opened the door. As they descended the steps, he focused on his footing like a man descending from Everest. Cate gripped the railing.
Monty, give me strength.
When they finally reached the bottom, the Porsche awaited, so close to the ground. That might be her first challenge. He opened the door and Cate took a deep breath. Somehow she managed to angle her body and folded into the seat. She didn’t miss Winston’s appreciative glance.
The car smelled like cologne, heavy and insistent. She opened the window.
“Too warm for you?” Winston asked as he got in, hands gripping the steering wheel with pride.
“I just love fresh air.”
“Terrific. When it gets warmer, you might want a ride with the top down.”
That was rushing things, in her opinion. Winston drove fast and Cate pressed both feet against the floorboard like she was bracing for turbulence.
“Tell me about your career in New York,” he said.
Ah, a safe topic. She talked about the law practice she’d built with Monty. About how much she’d loved the work. But talking about it brought a sharp ache of missing her husband to lodge somewhere under her ribs.
“Tell me about Bay Harbor,” she countered. Anything to stop reliving the past.
That was all the invitation he needed. He launched into a detailed list of amenities, upgrades, exclusive memberships.
As he talked, Cate’s mind drifted to Seth Barrett.
He’d looked at her with a spark of amusement when she’d told him about this date.
With him, conversation flowed and seemed so natural.
It almost felt like they’d stepped into a warm current and let it carry them away.
The warmth in his smile had felt almost dangerous.
But at the time, she’d pretended she didn’t feel that subtle, electric awareness.
Winston kept talking, and she kept remembering. He was talking about the club’s new steak night, while she thought of that conversation with Seth. Cate nodded at intervals.
When they pulled into the Inn at Bay Harbor, Winston was instantly recognized by the valet. Of course he was.
Inside, the restaurant was all dark leather and hushed conversations. The kind of place that took itself very seriously.
They ordered martinis.
“To new adventures,” Winston said, raising his glass.
Was she the adventure? Heaven help me.
“Now, what are you looking for, Cate Conway?” he asked, leaning in. “I mean in life.”
She choked on her martini. “I’m not really looking for anything,” she said honestly. “I like my life.”
His eyebrows inched up.
“What about you?” she asked.
That unleashed his wish list: an attractive woman of means, who loves travel, takes cruises, and golf. Lots of golf.
“No golf with me.” Cate felt somewhat relieved.
“No problem. We can always book lessons for you at the club.”
“Oh no. I’m much too busy.” Now that was a lie, but she relished the look on his face.
They ate and Winston obviously enjoyed his steak, brandishing the steak knife like a weapon as he talked. Eyes down, Cate focused on her modest walleye.
With a sad and respectful voice, he talked about his late wife—mostly her beauty, her clothes, her golf game, her popularity. She’d be a hard act to follow.
Cate found herself thinking that if Seth had been sitting across from her, they’d be laughing about the waiter’s dramatic presentation of the mushroom bisque. Or the couple at the next table, arguing over the wine list.
With Winston, everything required effort. With Seth… nothing had.
“It looks as if you keep in shape.” The words brought her back to their conversation.
“Yes, I guess.” She hadn’t seen a gym in years.
“Got to keep our systems going, right.” He raised a brow knowingly.
“Systems?” Obviously she’d lost track of the conversation.
Leaning forward as if he had valuable information, Winston said. “Constipation. The bane of seniors.”
Oh for heaven’s sake. She nearly burst out laughing.
By that time, Cate was ready to leave but Winston had ordered dessert.
He insisted on giving her a bite of his date cake with brandy whipped cream.
She nibbled politely, while Winston nattered on about his workouts at seven in the morning.
Cate thought longingly of her nine o’clock breakfast tray with a toasted English muffin and the morning paper.
When he suggested they linger in the bar for a night cap, she invented an early morning doctor appointment.
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“No,” she said shortly. “Just a checkup. You know, to check my system.”
“Excellent.” He’d missed it completely. “Psyllium husks. Keep you moving every time.”
The drive home was mercifully quiet except for his incessant humming.
At last they reached Sunnycrest.
“No need to come up,” Cate said quickly when he pulled up in front of the house.
“Really?” Winston eyed the steps like a man assessing a military obstacle course.
“Oh, of course not.”
He seemed relieved. Cate pushed open her door and managed to get out without help. She was proud of herself. “Good night, Winston. Lovely to meet you.”
“How about next weekend?” he called, lowering the passenger window.
Cate took a step back. “Winston, you’re a good man, and I’m sure there’s someone perfect for you. But it’s not me.”
He blinked, startled, and then recovered. “Exactly. I was thinking the same thing.”
The window slid up.
She trudged up the steps. When his car pulled away, she let out a relieved laugh.
Why had talking with Winston felt like wading through molasses when talking with Seth always felt so easy? She didn’t want to think about that.
Of course the front door was unlocked. It always was.
When she stepped inside, the TV was on low. Someone had waited up. She hung up her cape and followed the glow into the living room.
Marlowe was stretched across the new blue flowered sofa but she popped upright when Cate entered.
“Okay,” she said, patting the cushion beside her. “Full report.”
Cate kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa next to her niece. “I don’t know how you girls do it,” she said. “Dating is exhausting.”