Finding Isadora(13)

And maybe I wasn’t proud of myself for sitting back, being a vet, occupying my spare time with Richard, my friends, my animals, my knitting. I might admire the Multicultural Center, but had I ever gone and volunteered there?

How dare this man remind me that I—who hadn’t the excuse of ignorance—was no better than the stuffed tuxes around me? Even my parents didn’t lay this kind of guilt trip on me. Damn Gabriel DeLuca.

My head throbbed as if Gabriel’s words were blows from a blunt instrument. This whole night had been too much. My frayed nerves couldn’t take any more.

When his speech ended and the audience burst into hearty applause, I leaned into Richard. “I have a splitting headache. I’m going to catch a cab home.”

When I rose, Richard leaped to his feet too. “I’ll drive you.”

“You need to schmooze.” The idea of trying to make polite conversation, of having to face Gabriel again, made my head pound even worse. “I’m fine getting a cab.”

I started to walk away and Richard stayed with me. “They’ll do the silent auction, then people will leave,” he said, putting his arm around me. “The schmoozing’s done. Iz, I can’t let you go home alone when you’re not feeling well.”

No, he couldn’t; he was a considerate man. I loved that about him. “Sorry to drag you away,” I said weakly as we neared the door. My head hurt so badly I felt dizzy, and his supporting arm was exactly what I needed.

Richard collected my coat and helped me into it—one of those gestures my radical feminist mom found offensive, but I thought courteous. Downstairs, the valet brought our car and soon we were driving toward my apartment only a mile away.

“Feeling any better?” he asked.

I leaned my head back, closing my eyes against the lights of traffic. “Getting there.” At home, I’d mix up my favorite headache remedy of cloves and cinnamon in almond oil and rub it into my forehead and temples, then put on some soothing music and relax in a hot bath.

“Must have been the stress,” Richard said.

Oh yes, it had been stress, more than he’d ever know about.

“Sorry, Iz, I know you don’t like that kind of event. And then to have to meet Gabe…”

My eyes flew open as he went on. “Though the two of you did seem to hit it off, once he realized who your parents are.”

“Yeah, I’m sure if you got him together with Grace and Jimmy Lee, it’d be a big mutual admiration society.” For some reason the remark came out snippy.

He shot me a sideways glance. “What’s wrong? You get along with your parents, respect what they’re trying to do.”

I massaged my temples. “Sorry, I’m in a bitchy mood.”

“Gabe’ll have that effect.” He sighed. “So what did you think of my esteemed father?”

I really wished we didn’t have to talk about this, but I understood Richard’s curiosity. Carefully I said, “His speech was great. He’s dynamic.”

“Charismatic.” He sounded half proud and half annoyed.

“He comes across as genuine.”

He gave a snort. “Oh, he’s genuine when it comes to his causes. They’re all that’s important to him.”

Yet, twice that night, I’d had the impression Richard was important to Gabriel.

“Even when he’s not genuine, he can be damned credible,” Richard went on. “When I was a kid he’d promise to be there—like for a piano recital or a soccer game. And I actually used to believe he meant it.”

“But he often didn’t show up,” I said softly. “Not even when you graduated from law school.” Gabriel hadn’t bothered to show, but Diane and Frank were so proud they’d given Richard a Lexus.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Sorry, Iz, you’ve heard all this before.” He was quiet for a moment, then, as if compelled, went on. “He wasn’t reliable, you couldn’t count on him. He didn’t care about me or Mom.”

I winced, sorry for both his anger and his hurt, but, as he said, I’d heard all this before. I didn’t stop him, though. He seemed to need to talk. In the dark cocoon of the car, I rested a hand on his thigh, offering unspoken support.

“Anyhow,” he said, “that’s all in the past. I’m grown up and I’ve made my own life, and my father plays very little part in it. He no longer has the power to hurt me.”

“Tonight, he asked you to sit at his table so you could make contacts,” I pointed out.

“He probably just wanted to check you out. Seeing as we’re getting married.”

Check me out. I groaned.

“Poor Iz. I shouldn’t be making you talk. I’ll have you home in a flash. How about I come up and make you a cup of herbal tea, and I’ll walk Pogo for you?”

Richard knew I walked my three-legged Jack Russell every evening, and often he came along, but he’d never taken Pogo out on his own. In fact, though he liked animals, he was slightly nervous around them, probably because he hadn’t had pets when he was growing up. That would change when we were married, because any house I lived in was definitely going to have animals.

I took tonight’s offer as an encouraging sign.

He really was a considerate man. Earlier this evening, I’d looked forward to being alone with him. But now what I needed most was to be by myself, to deal with not only my aching head but my disturbing feelings. “That’s sweet of you, but not tonight, Richard. I’m not fit for company. And Pogo’ll be okay. Mr. Schultz will have taken him on a nice long ramble.” My elderly neighbor was a godsend, walking my dog whenever I couldn’t. He said it relieved the boredom of retirement, and ensured he got his own exercise.