To catch a fox, p.19
To Catch a Fox, page 19
“What’s that to do with me?”
“You’re an engineer.”
“Petroleum.”
“Same difference.”
“Hardly,” she said. “Unless you want a pump jack on the new retreat lawn instead of an oak tree.”
He smiled. “I’m thinking Roman villa.”
“Haven’t you done that?”
He looked at the hills glowing hazy in the late-afternoon sun. The dying light produced a sheen that obscured his face, but now the mask slid away. A scar marred his cheek. Childhood accident? Surfing mishap? Fight? Interesting that he’d perfected the rest of him and not the scar.
“When Aurora and I started this,” he motioned toward the retreat and continued, “we winged the design. Threw in a mishmash of Italian fantasies without doing the research. A dab of Tuscan here, Roman there. She vetoed my idea of a Venetian canal.”
Julie smiled at the over-the-top image.
“The new retreat will be pure Rome. We’ll wear the togas and stolas. Guests in the old Tuscan buildings will sport Renaissance garb.”
“You’ll wear a toga?”
“No way.”
“That leaves you in the old retreat.”
“I get to switch back and forth between the two, in my tunic.”
“You’re special?”
He smirked. His mask returned. For a moment, she’d caught a glimmer of the person underneath, but she still didn’t have a real understanding of him.
He edged to the trail. “We better get down before Aurora wonders what we’re up to.”
“Do you think she cares?”
“The question is, does she approve of us or not?”
“Us?”
He bolted ahead. “I dare you to keep up.”
“You’re on.”
Chapter Twenty
Reclining on his bed, Sebastiano thought about Julie. She was like Aurora—Marion—around the age when he met her, except Julie was more genuine, and athletic. Marion was crap on a surfboard. He pictured Julie, in a bikini, cresting the waves.
Aurora hadn’t looked angry when he and Julie had shown up in the herb garden, sweaty from the hike, Julie’s robe nicked from her near fall on the way down. He’d grabbed her arm. She’d let his hand linger. He’d wanted to take her right there in the woods.
But if Aurora approved, did that mean involvement wasn’t in his interests? He leapt to the floor. His gaze lit on the abstract painting above his bed. Part of Aurora’s motive had to be getting him away from Cassandra, and he would hate to lose her.
He paced to the table, bare feet pounding the cool tile. Good chance that Aurora had lied and she was really near death. Her maternal instinct might be nil, but if forced to let go of the retreat, she’d want it to continue through part of herself: Julie, her flesh and blood. That reminded him—if Aurora didn’t trot off for radiation or chemotherapy on Monday, he would phone her surgeon to get the scoop.
He looked outside. Since Julie’s bedroom window faced the lawn, he couldn’t tell if her light was on or off. During their hike down, she’d admitted that a lateral shift from petroleum to civil engineering wasn’t out of the question, might even be a positive for her career. So, she was intrigued by his plan to develop the property over the hill. The real trick for him would be to juggle Julie and Cassandra without dropping either or both.
Outside, someone exited the main building. He peered to make out the person’s stride in the dark. Cassandra. She moved purposely through the garden. He slunk back to his bed. She pushed open his door and slammed it behind her.
“While you cavorted with Julie, I spent the afternoon packing.”
Sebastiano glanced at the dresser and closet. So that was why she’d removed her stuff. She wore a red jacket and capris, town clothes.
“Aurora turfed me out for good,” she said. “I leave in an hour with Francisca. She’ll put me up while I make flight arrangements.”
Score one for Aurora, but he had to appease Cassandra. He reached for her arms.
“I don’t suppose you could convince Aurora.” Cassandra caught his expression and sloughed off his touch. “I didn’t think so.” She marched past him toward the back door. “Why do you let her push you around?”
“Open confrontation isn’t how to play Aurora.”
“What is?”
“I’ve been pondering that all afternoon.”
“While you ponder, I’m headed up shit creek.”
He drew up behind her, placed his arms under her jacket, around her waist, under her shirt. Cassandra at the retreat would ruin his plans for Julie. Cassandra nearby might work. He nuzzled her neck.
“Stay in town,” he said. “Lie low. Not at Francisca’s. She’ll tell Aurora you’re there. Get a room at the motel.”
“With what money? I only have enough for a few nights.”
She turned around, looking especially pretty with her wide mouth quivering. Like Julie, Cassandra had strength with hints of inner hurt, a combination he loved. He’d gladly help her stay by dipping into the bank account or petty cash, but Aurora kept her nose on every penny.
“Get a job,” he said. “Temporarily, while we wait things out.”
“This sounds like a long-term project.”
“Talk to Trish, at the restaurant. She’ll know about any openings.”
Cassandra pulled her jacket zipper up and down. He closed all the window blinds, including the ones on the rear door leading to the forest, even though no one ever passed by.
“Things could happen quickly,” he said. “I’ve been talking to Julie all afternoon.”
“I noticed.” Cassandra’s breasts moved up and down beneath her tight T-shirt.
“Aurora sees Julie as her natural successor.”
“I realize that.”
He stifled his surprise. His theory had been a leap. “She’ll open a path for Julie.” He grabbed Cassandra’s zipper toggle. “But Julie’s not interested.”
“I agree.”
This was a negative for him. “Why do you think that?”
“Julie’s got a life out there. Isn’t there a husband and child?”
He nodded. Estranged husband with custody of the kid for reasons Julie avoided explaining. Had Julie given her child up willingly, like Aurora had? Maternal instinct or lack thereof could be hereditary.
“And a high-level career in engineering.” Cassandra removed her jacket.
Julie was on disability, but she hadn’t said why. Best to leave Cassandra believing Julie had too much to give up.
“So,” he said. “Aurora steps aside to create space for her daughter. Julie flies home to Canada. You swoop in to fill the void.”
“I can’t see that working.”
“I can. Trust me.” He slid his hands around her hips. Cassandra tensed but didn’t move. It was a long-shot, but what else did he have?
Cassandra’s forehead wrinkled. “I still find Aurora a bit off.”
“She seems normal to me.” He smiled down at her. “Normal for Aurora.”
“Since when does she nap before dinner? She’s just returned from a week’s rest.”
“How about us taking a little nap right now?”
Her body stayed tense. “I won’t sit forever in the motel.”
It could be over in two days, if Aurora left for further treatment. He thought again how he didn’t wish sickness on her, but it would make his life easier. Meanwhile, he had to string this along until he talked to the doctor.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s meet in town, after my hike. I’ll find some excuse to go in. Make it four thirty, at the restaurant. By then, we’ll have a greater sense of the situation.”
“What about tonight?”
“You’ll have to stay at Francisca’s. Make Aurora think you’re going home, tail between your legs.”
He rubbed her lovely ass and pressed himself to her pelvis.
“Are you sleeping with Julie tonight?”
“No fucking way. Too skinny.”
Cassandra chortled.
He kissed her. Their hands peeled off each other’s pants. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, people said. Which was Cassandra? At the moment, he didn’t care.
After Cassandra was happily fucked, dressed, and gone to finish packing, Sebastiano tore across the herb garden and into the dining room. Faces around tables turned his way. From the podium, Aurora’s subtle glare landed on him. Guests dug into their dessert as she continued her talk about the schedule for the week. Sebastiano stopped a server from yanking away the last main course dish from the buffet table. He scooped up the remnants of chicken cassoulet. Two women at the back table slid their chairs apart to make space between them. He grabbed a chair from the side wall, squeezed it between them and smiled greetings at his dinner mates. Aurora continued speaking, that glare her only sign of annoyance at his disruption, but inside she would be furious.
“This being winter,” Aurora told her audience, “there is only a half hour between the sunrise service and breakfast. For those interested, during that interval we’ll offer tai chi on the lawn, led by Sebastiano.”
He raised his hand to identify himself to the guests twisting toward him. Julie and Delilah sat at the head table beside the podium. They flanked Aurora’s vacated seat. For years, Aurora had nagged him to join her up front. He insisted his role was to be one with the people. She no longer argued with him about it, a sign she saw he was right but wouldn’t admit it.
Aurora began the next part of her spiel. “The morning session…”
Sebastiano forked up some chicken and legumes. When Aurora chewed him out for arriving late, he’d tell her he’d fallen asleep. And he had, after the hot, sweet sex with Cassandra. Julie looked beautiful in her pale-green robe, her shoulder bare. She tilted her head toward her mother, seemingly transfixed by the words, her crème caramel untouched on her plate. Incredible that Julie had turned up, the solution to both his and Aurora’s dreams—if Cassandra didn’t screw it up.
Aurora explained that the morning and afternoon sessions were held at the same time as Sebastiano’s hikes. He flashed another wave at this new crop. Her sessions covered identical material, giving guests the option of doing the easier or harder hike scheduled. They included three rigorous hikes a week for those wanting an extra challenge. Sebastiano wondered which guests he would grow closest to this week. After ten years, this question continued to excite him each Saturday. Aurora added that their information packet provided details on hike length and elevation. After dinner, Sebastiano would answer anyone’s specific questions in the lounge. He smiled and saluted.
Late afternoon was for relaxation, Aurora went on. She led yoga in the lounge. The pool had reopened this afternoon.
“Yay,” said a woman at the table closest to the podium.
Aurora smiled down at her. “Expect the water to be cold. After refilling, it takes several days to warm up.”
Aurora’s ad-lib relaxed the room. Sebastiano constantly debated if her elevating herself from the guests was a positive or negative. She did manage to bridge the distance with a semblance of warmth. In the end, he always conceded Aurora was the expert on her own style, and it certainly worked. This didn’t mean any successor couldn’t shake up the mould. “A leader must create herself,” to quote Aurora. He finished the cassoulet, which was lukewarm and bland. Female servers wove by the tables topping up guests’ coffee and tea. One removed Sebastiano’s empty plate. Another brought him dessert.
“For the remainder of the week,” Aurora said, “dinner will be at six, as a courtesy to the staff, who need to get home to their families. Let’s give them a hand for this wonderful meal tonight.”
The room resounded with claps and a shrill whistle that suggested a fun week might lie ahead. The whistle came from a woman who had arrived with a pair of giggling friends.
“That takes care of business.” Aurora paused. She spoke slowly. “The more important matter is this, why are we all here?” She scanned the faces fixed on her. “Some of you have come with clear ideas. Others, perhaps most, are searching.” Another carefully timed sweep of the three tables. “I was once like you.”
Silence. A cough.
“I was caught up in the ways of the world.”
Sebastiano sipped his coffee and leaned back for what came next. The old story of the young man in love with Aurora fifteen years ago. Her insensitive treatment of him that led to his suicide; partially true, except Aurora’s sin hadn’t so much been indifference but callousness. What Aurora had really learned was how to hide her cruelty behind apparent caring. And she related the story in a way that made her and the retreat look good. Knock yourself down, repent, and show how much you’ve changed thanks to New Dawn’s philosophy.
“This is a special night,” Aurora said. “You may be curious about these two women.” She turned from the podium and raised an arm to the head table. Her left arm, he realized, due to the surgery on the right shoulder. “At the far end is Delilah.” Aurora smiled. “And this is my daughter, Julie.”
Sebastiano clunked his cup to the table. An ad-lib and now a total departure from script?
“When I was young, so very young,” Aurora said. “I did the worst thing a mother could do.”
Even from this distance, he could see Julie’s jaw quiver. She gazed down at her crème caramel, hiding her face from the crowd.
“When Julie was four years old, an innocent little girl, I left her with her father in Canada and split for California to do my own thing.”
The audience tensed, not knowing how to respond. Delilah extended her hand to Julie, who didn’t look up. Had Aurora told Julie she would talk about this? Was it the new repentance story?
Aurora described her narcissistic days in Santa Monica, making them sound like a real blast. And they had been. Sebastiano had been there for the later ones. He doubted that during that time Aurora had given her daughter more than a passing thought.
“I thought of her every day,” Aurora said. “But I was too weak to do anything aside from call her home and hang up. I’d let her down as a mother. What turned me around was the tragic death of a friend. Suicide.” She paused for the faint gasp in the crowd. “I saw the consequences of the careless life I lived. That revelation led to a host of fresh ideas. Ideas we’ll explore this week.” She glanced at Julie, who looked up, face flushed, eyes red. “When I was ready,” Aurora said, “Julie found me. I thank the gods for bringing her here.”
Aurora glided to Julie, leaned over and clutched her to her breast. Julie’s arms hung by Aurora’s sides then wrapped around her silver robe, shimmering under a spotlight. Aurora winced—from pain, he guessed. Viewers would think it was from emotion.
Delilah’s hands drew together in a gesture of prayer. A woman across his table sniffed. The one next to him sobbed and blew her nose. Others in the room wept and clapped. The new narrative was a hit. Aurora made a show of extricating herself from Julie, returned to the podium and took out the box of tissues she stored underneath. She dabbed her eyes and handed the box to Julie. Even the servers were crying.
“I don’t deserve such forgiveness,” Aurora said.
Mutters from the audience suggested she did.
“But forgiveness benefits the giver more than the recipient.” She smiled through her tears at Julie. “Already, I see my daughter, so capable of forgiveness, becoming whole.” She looked at the guests. “This week, we will talk a lot about forgiveness.”
Aurora paused, and then welcomed them all to a life-altering week, this one particularly special on account of Julie. She sat down to the room’s applause.
Julie leaned in to say something to her. Mother and daughter talked and smiled. Sebastiano would kill to be a bird on Julie’s shoulder listening. Guests murmured to each other. Typically, one or two went up to Aurora at this point, but this time everyone left her alone with her daughter. Delilah looked around the room, perhaps confused about her place at the head table. Aurora’s speech hadn’t included her stepdaughter.
“You’re Sebastiano,” the woman to his left said. “I wanted to ask about the tai chi. Do we need to have done it before?”
“I gear it to all levels.”
“I’ve always been interested in trying it but wasn’t sure I could concentrate.”
Aurora led Julie and Delilah out of the room. Guests from the other tables followed.
“What brand of tai chi do you do?” a woman across his table asked.
“My own,” he said. “A blend of the best of them all.”
Aurora’s story about abandoning her daughter had been a risk. Sebastiano admired that. It might have turned the audience against her. He guessed the response had topped Aurora’s expectations. Her embrace with Julie at the end had sealed the moment. The story would certainly work best with Julie present. If Aurora had taken the risk to draw Julie in, she must really want her to stay. Again, he considered that Aurora’s desire might be useful to him.
“I’ll give the tai chi a try,” the woman beside him said. “What do I have to lose?”
“No risk, no gain.”
* * *
In the lounge, Sebastiano found Aurora and Julie surrounded by an admiring group. He joined Delilah and a gay couple, twenty years apart in age. According to his registration form, the younger man was thirty-three, lived in San Diego, and worked as a financial analyst. According to his tunic, he was handsome and fit.
“About those rigorous hikes,” he said to Sebastiano. “What would be the rigours?”
He also had wit, not a common trait of New Dawn guests. His older partner’s robe accentuated his paunch. Sebastiano described the hardest hike’s rocky terrain, exaggerating its technical difficulties.
“I’d go for that,” the young man said.
“You’d have to carry me up the hill.” The older one rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “I won’t hold you back, Nelson. We’ll do the different hikes.”
“Then we’ll be in different sessions.” Nelson looked at his partner. “The point was to work together.”
