Silent Masquerade. Molly Rice
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not now?”
Cara shrugged. “I guess I just see a different kind of future than I used to expect.”
The waiter came to their table just then, and they both ordered the crab legs. Bill ordered a sauvignon blanc to go with their meal, and Cara smiled inwardly, pleased to discover that he liked wine.
“You like crab legs, too,” Bill said.
“Mm-hmm.” Cara sipped from her water goblet. “I’m a true New Englander.” That raised a question she couldn’t help but ask. “Where are you from?” The look on his face caused her to amend her question hurriedly. “I mean originally.”
She watched the play of emotions alter his face, and she thought he must be considering how much he could tell her.
She could see he was telling the truth when he finally answered, “A small town in the Midwest.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start—an opening-up to her, which he’d obviously been avoiding.
“Small towns are nice,” she said, reaching for a roll just to have something to do with her hands.
“They are. There is something so rich about life in a small town.” His voice and eyes became dreamy. “People really live with one another, really share their lives. In big cities, people just live side by side, their lives not really touching.”
“That’s...profound, Bill. And very true, I think.”
She concentrated on buttering her bread for a moment before asking, “Do you get home often?”
“Home?” Bill busied himself with a roll of his own. “There is no home any longer. My family was small and short-lived and—” He shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Listen, do you mind if we change the subject?”
“No, of course not, Bill. I’m sorry.” She frowned and looked away.
She jumped and turned back when she felt Bill’s hand close around hers, where it rested on the table.
“Hey, darlin’? Don’t take my bad manners so personally, okay?” His eyes beseeched understanding, and his hand was warm on hers. She fought the impulse to turn her hand so that their palms touched.
She sought a new topic of conversation, instead. “This town reminds me of one of my favorite movies.”
“Oh? Which?”
“Continental Divide.”
“Ah, John Belushi and Blair Brown.”
Cara’s hand turned of its own accord.
“You know the movie?” She felt their palms meet and started to draw away, but his fingers closed around hers.
Bill grinned. “It’s my secret vice. Movies. And that was a favorite of mine, because of the ending.”
“I thought the ending was a little disappointing.”
“You didn’t think it was a happy ending?”
“Yes and no. It didn’t really let you know how they were going to live out their lives, when her work kept her in the mountains and his kept him in the city.”
“You like every t crossed and every i dotted.”
Their hands seemed to have acquired a life of their own. It was almost as though their hearts were beating in unison, right there between their palms. “It’s not that,” she said, reaching for her water glass with her free hand. She took a nervous gulp. The glass wobbled as she set it on the tabletop again. “It’s more a need to know that the hero and heroine are going to make it.”
“There’s more than one way to make it,” Bill said, leaning forward, his voice hushed and slightly husky. “And that’s what that movie says, and why I liked it.” The candlelight was reflected in his dark blue eyes, and it softened the planes of his face. Cara felt the pulse in her throat begin to quicken.
“Salads, sir?” The salad cart bumped against their table, and Bill and Cara jumped apart.
“Yes, th-thanks,” Bill stammered. Cara was delighted to discover that her sophisticated traveling companion was capable of being rattled. It gave her a slight edge, she thought.
It was an argument about white hats and black hats that brought them back to reality. “No, it’s not always like that,” Bill said, when Cara insisted that the white hats were always the good guys and always won. “At least not in the real world.”
He seemed to lose some of his energy after that and when he signaled for the bill, Cara didn’t protest.
They were silent on the way back to the motel. I don’t want it to end, she thought. But she knew it had to, had known all along that this was never going to last beyond tonight, or at the most beyond their arrival in San Francisco, when they would go their separate ways.
But tonight wasn’t really over, she reminded herself as they passed the now-darkened liquor store. She’d surprise him with the wine she’d purchased earlier, and maybe they could recapture some of the good feelings they’d shared during dinner. They could talk all night. It didn’t matter. They could sleep all the next day on the bus.
They were just entering the lobby when the elevator doors opened, revealing a lone man within the car.
It was the man from the ice machine. Cara started to raise her hand, but the man looked startled to see them and quickly jabbed the button that caused the elevator doors to close.
“What was that all about?” Bill asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
Cara shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess he thought this was his floor.”
“Do you know him?”
“Know him? No. Why would you think that?”
“Oh, no reason. I just thought you looked like you recognized him.”
“Oh. Well, I did talk to him briefly at the ice machine. He needed directions.”
“Funny, he didn’t seem anxious to recognize you just now.”
“Well, I only talked to him for a moment. Maybe he didn’t recognize me.”
“Maybe.” But Bill looked dubious. Cara might have questioned him, but she decided what she wanted most was to restore the mood they’d shared earlier. Just then the elevator car returned to the main floor and the doors drew apart. This time the car was vacant.
“I enjoyed dinner, Bill,” she said, as they entered the elevator.
“Yeah, that was fun. I’ll have to thank the desk clerk for suggesting the inn.”
They got off on the third floor and walked down the hall to Cara’s room. Bill waited while Cara got her room key out of her purse and unlocked the door. She turned around and smiled. “See you later, Bill, and thanks again.”
“Sure. My pleasure.”
He hesitated a moment, and Cara thought he was going to kiss her. Her hand grasped the edge of the door nervously. But he merely nodded and turned away, headed for his own room.
Cara went inside and closed the door. She’d give him a few minutes to get settled and then surprise him with the wine.
* * *
BILL WAS JUST PACKING his sport coat when a knock came at the door. He stood at the door and breathed deeply before asking, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Bill. Cara.”
He opened the door.
“Cara.” He stared at her, clearly shocked.
She lifted her hands and he saw that she was holding an ice bucket in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Cara...do