more about that soon. And, Cass, don’t ever doubt how important you are to your mother and to me. Goodbye.”
Before Cass could pocket the phone, it rang. She checked the caller ID and answered. “Hi, Mom,” she said quietly, looking carefully about her. No need to attract a coworker’s attention.
“Honey, I have the most wonderful idea. Why don’t you and your friends come to our apartment for an inauguration party? You don’t want to stand for hours in that freezing rain. That’s what they predict for Washington, you know.”
Hans was right about that talk, Cass thought. This is soon. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your concern, but we’ve already made arrangements. We’ll be fine.”
“But where will you stay? You and Jordan and, uh—”
“Married friends of ours, Mom. What are you getting at? Do you think Jordan and I are bunking in together?”
“Oh no, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to imply anything. I just … would love to have you all here with us. Warm and well fed.” She laughed nervously. “I’ll put on a presidential brunch worthy of Travis Noland’s second big day. And don’t forget, Hans and I attended the president’s first inauguration and still remember how painful the cold was. We both came back sick.”
Cass regretted being so edgy and irritable. “I appreciate the invitation. And sorry I jumped at you like that. Just a hectic day so far.” Hectic wasn’t the right word.
“So you’ll come?”
“No, Mom. I just want to see it for myself.”
“But Hans will be so disappointed.”
That stopped Cass. She glanced at her watch, less than two hours since her abrupt departure from her stepfather. Cass was certain he’d put her mother up to this. It wasn’t just a casual invitation. He wants me to stay in New York. Why? Then Cass remembered the odd look on his face when she first announced she was going to the inauguration. It didn’t make sense.
“Mom, when did Hans ask you to call me?” Cass felt no guilt over the loaded question.
Jillian Kluen sputtered. “Well, uh … why do you … he didn’t … well, he did ask me a little while ago. But we both thought it was a good idea. My goodness, Cass, don’t make such a big deal out of this.”
“Mom, you’re the one insisting I cancel my plans. Why?” But her mother was innocent. Cass knew that. “Never mind, Mom. Tell Hans I’m sorry, but I’m going to Washington. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Well, please wear that full-length down coat I gave you. And take some of those hand warmers for your gloves. And maybe some—”
“Mom, I’ll be fine. I really do have to go. I love you.” She ended the call and sat down on the floor, still cradling the phone in her hands. Beside her rose a stand of synthetic black cornstalks backlit by a fiery red sunset that almost quivered in anticipation of the Oz witch’s arrival. From above, a technician adjusted the trajectory of the spotlights for maximum impact of the visual lie. Had Cass lived so long in a mirage that she could no longer distinguish what was real and what wasn’t? Who lied and who didn’t?
Before Arnie could catch her dazed and distant, she forced herself to her feet to check the fittings on the great bubble ride of Glinda, the good witch. By the time Cass left the Gershwin Theatre, tense and knotted, she was eager for a long, brisk walk home and a workout at the gym, which she usually managed about four times a week. But the downpour she encountered on the other side of the stage door made her race for the subway instead.
“You’ve got a perfectly fine car, Cass. Please use it and stay off that filthy subway.” Her mother’s frequent refrain merely amused her. Who was Cassandra Rodino that she shouldn’t swing a hammer in her chosen career or travel with the masses? Shouldn’t inhale the same subterranean molecules as her coworkers? Did the Manhattan real estate her father left her and her mother—which included a couple of parking
Before Cass could pocket the phone, it rang. She checked the caller ID and answered. “Hi, Mom,” she said quietly, looking carefully about her. No need to attract a coworker’s attention.
“Honey, I have the most wonderful idea. Why don’t you and your friends come to our apartment for an inauguration party? You don’t want to stand for hours in that freezing rain. That’s what they predict for Washington, you know.”
Hans was right about that talk, Cass thought. This is soon. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your concern, but we’ve already made arrangements. We’ll be fine.”
“But where will you stay? You and Jordan and, uh—”
“Married friends of ours, Mom. What are you getting at? Do you think Jordan and I are bunking in together?”
“Oh no, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to imply anything. I just … would love to have you all here with us. Warm and well fed.” She laughed nervously. “I’ll put on a presidential brunch worthy of Travis Noland’s second big day. And don’t forget, Hans and I attended the president’s first inauguration and still remember how painful the cold was. We both came back sick.”
Cass regretted being so edgy and irritable. “I appreciate the invitation. And sorry I jumped at you like that. Just a hectic day so far.” Hectic wasn’t the right word.
“So you’ll come?”
“No, Mom. I just want to see it for myself.”
“But Hans will be so disappointed.”
That stopped Cass. She glanced at her watch, less than two hours since her abrupt departure from her stepfather. Cass was certain he’d put her mother up to this. It wasn’t just a casual invitation. He wants me to stay in New York. Why? Then Cass remembered the odd look on his face when she first announced she was going to the inauguration. It didn’t make sense.
“Mom, when did Hans ask you to call me?” Cass felt no guilt over the loaded question.
Jillian Kluen sputtered. “Well, uh … why do you … he didn’t … well, he did ask me a little while ago. But we both thought it was a good idea. My goodness, Cass, don’t make such a big deal out of this.”
“Mom, you’re the one insisting I cancel my plans. Why?” But her mother was innocent. Cass knew that. “Never mind, Mom. Tell Hans I’m sorry, but I’m going to Washington. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Well, please wear that full-length down coat I gave you. And take some of those hand warmers for your gloves. And maybe some—”
“Mom, I’ll be fine. I really do have to go. I love you.” She ended the call and sat down on the floor, still cradling the phone in her hands. Beside her rose a stand of synthetic black cornstalks backlit by a fiery red sunset that almost quivered in anticipation of the Oz witch’s arrival. From above, a technician adjusted the trajectory of the spotlights for maximum impact of the visual lie. Had Cass lived so long in a mirage that she could no longer distinguish what was real and what wasn’t? Who lied and who didn’t?
Before Arnie could catch her dazed and distant, she forced herself to her feet to check the fittings on the great bubble ride of Glinda, the good witch. By the time Cass left the Gershwin Theatre, tense and knotted, she was eager for a long, brisk walk home and a workout at the gym, which she usually managed about four times a week. But the downpour she encountered on the other side of the stage door made her race for the subway instead.
“You’ve got a perfectly fine car, Cass. Please use it and stay off that filthy subway.” Her mother’s frequent refrain merely amused her. Who was Cassandra Rodino that she shouldn’t swing a hammer in her chosen career or travel with the masses? Shouldn’t inhale the same subterranean molecules as her coworkers? Did the Manhattan real estate her father left her and her mother—which included a couple of parking
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