16 Lighthouse Road - Debbie Macomber [74]
But Cecilia couldn’t go tonight, not when she was working the dinner shift at the restaurant. Cathy knew her hours and had invited her anyway, making a point of including her. Cecilia hated having to explain, since it should’ve been obvious that she couldn’t get away.
Cathy answered immediately. “Cecilia,” she cried, sounding really pleased to hear from her. “Say you’ll come.”
“I can’t.”
“But it won’t be the same without you.”
“I’m working and it’s far too late to find a replacement.” That was true enough.
Cathy heaved a sigh of disappointment. “Maybe we should all come down and see you. You know that old saying—if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain…” She didn’t finish the statement, but laughed as though she’d said something clever.
Cecilia didn’t join in. “Maybe next time,” she said in a dull voice.
Cathy hesitated. “Is everything all right? No, don’t answer that. I can tell it isn’t. What’s wrong?”
Rather than tell Cathy the whole truth, she opted for the abridged version. “I’m dropping out of school.”
“You can’t! You love your classes.”
“I need the money.”
“I’ll give you a loan.”
Cecilia was shocked that a friend of such short acquaintance would make an offer like that. “You don’t have any money, either.”
“No, but I can get some…I think. Don’t worry, if worse comes to worst, I’ll take up a collection when I see the rest of the women tonight. We need to stick together, you know? If we can’t give one another emotional support, who will? With our men at sea, all we have is each other.”
Cecilia’s spirits rose, but that was unavoidable with Cathy, whose optimism and generosity always made life seem more promising, somehow.
“I’ll get back to you,” Cecilia told her. Then, despite her mood, she sat down with the algebra book and began working on her assignment. When she looked up, it was past time to leave for work. She tore around the apartment, changing her clothes, and rushed out the door, arriving at The Captain’s Galley just as her shift was starting.
As usual, Cecilia poked her head into the lounge to say hello to her father.
He raised his hand and called out “How’s it goin’?” when he saw her.
“Fine.” No use explaining her depression to him. He wouldn’t know what to say if she did.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath.
Cecilia hadn’t been at work more than an hour when a deliveryman arrived with a huge bouquet of fresh flowers. Yellow daisies, her favorite, and big pink tulips and a variety of others. “I’m looking for Cecilia Randall,” he said, reading the tag.
Taken aback, Cecilia said nothing for a moment.
“Is there a Ms. Randall here?” he asked, frowning.
“I’m Cecilia Randall,” she told him.
The young man, probably a high-school student, thrust the vase filled with flowers into her arms and left. She didn’t need to unwrap the cellophane and read the card to know they were from Ian. This was exactly the kind of low, underhanded thing he did just so she’d feel guilty. Well, dammit, that wasn’t going to work. She refused to let it.
Setting the flowers down next to the cash register, she removed the plastic and dropped it into the nearby trash can. Then she reached for the card.
Happy First Anniversary. I love you. Ian
Her stomach cramped, and Cecilia feared she was about to be sick. Biting into her lower lip, she waited for the sensation to pass.
“Who are the flowers for?” her father asked curiously, walking into the restaurant.
She didn’t answer right away. “Me, from Ian,” she whispered.
“Really. Any special reason?”
She nodded. “It’s…supposed to be our anniversary.”
“Oh.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. When her father noticed them, he patted her on the back and returned to the bar.
Justine sipped her wine and pretended to be listening intently to Warren as he babbled on. She’d lost track of what he was saying, but a response from her wasn’t required. Any comment, other than praise or social