Secrets Of A Good Girl

“I came here for Professor Gilbert Harrison.”

Cassidy did look genuinely confused then. She probably hadn’t heard the teacher’s name in ten years, Eric thought. She’d not only left him behind, she’d left everyone.

“I know you’re at work,” Eric said. “And I’m sorry to track you down here. I didn’t know where you live and I needed to find you. Will you talk to me later? There’s things I have to fill you in on.”

Cassidy appeared to really want to shake her head no.

“Please,” Eric said. “I came all this way. Gilbert really needs your help. He called a bunch of your old friends, and they want you to help, too.”

“He didn’t call me.”

“No,” Eric conceded. He had wondered why Gilbert hadn’t called Cassidy, his former work-study student, who’d spent so much time with him and admired him so much. But Gilbert had said on the phone that he didn’t want Cassidy to have to make the long journey back to the United States. On the other hand, a bunch of Saunders grads—particularly Ella Gardner, were positive Cassidy would drop everything and run back. Eric had run into Ella recently in Boston. She was the one who told him about Gilbert’s predicament, and suggested Eric fetch Cassidy. She also asked him about the “crush” she’d suspected he’d had on Cassidy at Saunders. Eric would have laughed at the gross understatement if it hadn’t been his own tragedy.

“No,” Eric repeated. “But your friends insisted you should be found. And I guess I really had to agree.”

Cassidy glanced behind her at the main door, either concerned she should be working—or searching for a place to flee.

“What time do you finish for the day?”

Cassidy glanced behind again.

“What time, Cassidy? I’ll meet you here.”

He wasn’t going to let her leave without responding. She figured that out, because she said, “Seven.”

“Seven?”

“Usually—but tonight, I have—”

“I’ll meet you right here at seven.”

She nodded.

A part of him longed to just stand in awe of her, gaping at the beauty she’d matured into. The girl he’d remembered wasn’t even as beautiful.

But the other part of him, the part that had kept him awake for days and weeks and months on end, that distrustful part of him, made him say, “You won’t be here at seven, will you? You’re going to make me chase you, which is the only thing my pride has managed to stop me from doing.”

Cassidy blinked very slowly, translucent lids covering and uncovering two golden lights.

Then she turned on her heel, yanked on the main door and disappeared into the building.

Eric stared at the spot she’d just vacated. A whiff of unfamiliar perfume lingered in her wake, a scent he’d already begun to miss.

His heart ached with emptiness. “That went well,” he said to the wall.

Chapter Three

“Ambassador?”

Alan Cole looked up from his desk with a pleasant smile, a smile that came easily even though he’d been running around today longer than Cassidy herself had. “Yes?”

Cassidy handed him a few e-mail printouts. “You may want to take a look at these today. I’m leaving now, so…”

The ambassador pulled up the sleeve of his suit jacket, checked his gold watch and frowned. “I’m not sure about this…”

Cassidy hurriedly added, “Unless you need me to stay, of course. It’s not necessary for me to leave now. Never mind, I’ll just be in my office.”

“That’s right. According to my calculations, you’ve only put in a thirteen-hour day.”

The shock of earlier events slowed Cassidy’s ability to recognize the joke. She had turned all the way around to leave before she realized it, and then she turned back to the ambassador, who was fixing her with a shrewd look.

“Actually,” he said, “I very highly recommend you do leave. Your day started before dawn. Anyone else would be long gone.” He smiled again. “Anyone but the determined Ms. Maxwell.”

Cassidy relaxed a bit.

Ambassador Cole was an admirable figure, both politically and as one of London’s most eligible bachelors. His wife had died of breast cancer seven years prior, and Cassidy, who had been a junior staffer then, had sadly watched his heart breaking, along with the rest of the embassy. After that, the ambassador had dedicated his whole waking life to his work, and established himself as an influential voice for the United States in Great Britain. About a year ago, he had become fodder for tabloid speculation after he was seen with a stunning middle-aged blonde at an opera opening. The blonde turned out to be only a cousin, but society reporters persisted in their interest in the attractive politician, making it obvious they felt they’d kept their respectable distance long enough.

Alan Cole had short, graying-brown hair and deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. His smile was bright white and frequent. His racquetball habit—or, Cassidy often teased him, his racquetball obsession—kept his physical form trim, and his taste in suits was impeccable, assisted by the best tailors in the city. Despite being in his mid-fifties, he’d unwittingly made BBC News fans out of many young twentysomething women who might have instead been watching “Coupling” or “EastEnders.”

The well-spoken and persuasive ambassador continually made an impression on world leaders and pundits alike, and after marveling at his obvious charisma for years, Cassidy was amazed when he took notice of her abilities and eventually promoted her to the position of his closest assistant. She strongly felt that one of her greatest professional achievements was earning his respect, and one of her most rewarding personal achievements was that he treated her like a member of his family.

Which was why she was one of the very small handful privy to the existence of his new girlfriend, a lovely watercolor artist who lived in Brighton, near the ambassador’s summer cottage.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” the ambassador now added meaningfully, “I often encourage you to leave at a decent hour, but you never do. I’m quite surprised at your sudden reasonable behavior.”

Cassidy wasn’t sure what to say. It had been bad enough that Eric Barnes had showed up after ten years to kiss her at the entrance to the U.S. embassy. She didn’t want to call any more attention to herself. And she knew if she made something up, the man in front of her would not be fooled.

“I hope it’s because you’d like some extra time to get ready for the party tonight,” he said.

Cassidy was relieved at the out he’d accidentally given her. “Actually, yes. I was thinking of getting my hair done.”

“Brilliant. I worry about you sometimes, Cassidy. Don’t get me wrong. You’re one of my best assets here, and I certainly wouldn’t want you not to be, but you’re maybe a bit too much of a—workaholic?”

Cassidy had to laugh. “You’re telling me I’m a workaholic?”

“Okay, okay. I admit that is the pot calling the kettle…et cetera. But once in a while—” he paused to sigh significantly “—I see you flying around here, and I wonder if…you’re trying to prove something. I hope it’s not to me. You know I’m confident in your abilities.”

“I know, Ambassador, and I’m appreciative—”

He cut her off. “Don’t be. You earned it. But—” He paused, watching her for a sign to stop. Cassidy carefully kept her expression neutral, so he went on. “Maybe you’re trying to prove something to yourself.”

Cassidy blinked but didn’t answer.

“I know what it looks like, you know,” the ambassador said. “When Natalie died, I pushed myself and pushed myself, determined to prove to myself that I could go on, that I could handle life. You know what? It turned out I was right. I was capable of handling it, but I really didn’t need to make my own life so frenetic to learn that lesson. It only made things harder.”

Cassidy still didn’t say anything.

“I want you to know that you can talk to me. If you need anything, if you ever need a day or a week off, just say the word. We’d have a tough time without you, but we’d manage for your sake.”