Page 17 of This Is Who I Am

CASS

My mind blows as hot and cold as my body does these days.

It’s unmistakable that I feel something, that the old engine has some steam left in it, especially since Estelle told me that ‘she only gives, never receives’.

But I’m hardly going to jump into bed with her to find out what that means exactly. It’s not that hard to imagine.

We order our meal, drink more wine, even dazedly stare into each other’s eyes once in a while like lovestruck teenagers.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Estelle breaks the easy silence.

“It’s only fair.”

“It’s not about fairness. You’ve told me plenty about yourself.

” Estelle’s voice is soft—velvety, like her lips.

And her eyes. God, those eyes. The lightest of brown with a hint of green—an infuriatingly complex color that I can’t stop studying.

“I was just wondering, as you suffer so much from hot flashes and the other delights of menopause, whether you’ve considered hormone therapy? ”

“Of course.” It’s hard for me not to get defensive about this subject—because it touches on such a sore point. “My best friend is a menopause consultant. She’s on my case about it all the time.”

“Okay.” Estelle just tilts her head.

“My mother died of breast cancer ten years ago. She was only sixty-eight.” There goes my voice.

Ten years without her, and I still can’t say it in a normal tone.

“She took hormones and until the day she died, she was convinced that it was the cause of her cancer. That it killed her.” I swallow hard.

“Nothing I said could convince her otherwise and she made me promise… She made me look her in the eye and promise her that I would never take hormones so I wouldn’t have to suffer the same fate she did. ”

“Oh my god, Cass. I’m so sorry.” Estelle extends her hand toward me again.

“I gave her my word.” I gladly put my hand in Estelle’s. “And I’m keeping it.” I hold up my other hand. “Spare me the lectures, please. I’ve heard them all a million times before.”

“I wasn’t going to lecture you.” Estelle gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “My lecturing days might very well be behind me.”

Mercifully, our food arrives. The Bay does damn good burgers—and that’s high praise coming from me.

Estelle doesn’t waste any time. She digs in with so much gusto, it catches me off guard. It’s almost as though she’s making love to the burger instead of just eating it, the way she groans and suddenly loses all decorum.

“I love the burgers here,” she says, after she’s had a couple of greedy bites.

“I can tell.” I purse my lips into a mock-pout. “One might get jealous.”

“One really mustn’t.” She puts her burger down. “They don’t compare. This burger is delicious in its own way, while your food is on another level altogether compared to most fine-dining restaurants I’ve been to.”

“Maybe I should make you a burger.”

“Maybe you should.” She licks some juices off her finger and the old engine is surely revving now. “I’m there for it. Any time you like.”

“It’s on,” I barely manage to say. I tuck into my own burger—or hide behind it, more like.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Estelle starts munching on her burger again and, this time, I simply enjoy the view. It’s pure joy to watch her eat, how she delights in it and—obviously—doesn’t care how it makes her look, even though we’re on a date.

Our conversation stops while we eat and I catch myself feeling a certain sense of pride—of look-at-me-now—at sitting outside The Bay with her.

Estelle can say she’s not out of my league all she wants, but that’s not how I see things.

If she hadn’t already kissed me, I’d have to pinch myself because I’m sitting opposite this gorgeous woman.

Earlier, when I suffered through another hot flash, it made me feel as if I was the most unkissable person in the world.

And it’s not just that—because there’s still the unruly mass that is my body.

Despite my attraction—because, honestly, it’s impossible not to be attracted to her—I’m glad sex is off the table.

I wouldn’t dream of letting Estelle see me naked.

I couldn’t bear it. So maybe Suzy was right.

Maybe we are a match made in heaven, because I sure do like her.

After we’ve finished the burgers, wiping our greasy hands on our napkins, I pick up on something she said earlier.

“Your lecturing days are really behind you?”

“I could give you one of my lectures if you want. I’m pretty good at it.” She flashes a sly smile made all the more seductive because of the pillowy quality of her lips.

“Please, don’t teach me math. I hope that’s not what a third date’s for.”

“What’s it for, then?”

“Getting to know each other better. Asking about future plans, for example.”

“Fair enough.” Estelle nods. “I’m lucky, actually. My dad left me enough money that I no longer have to work if I don’t want to. And I really don’t want to right now.”

“Really?”

“I may be smart and have a flair for mathematics, but my father was one of a kind brilliant. His skills were in high demand by a number of companies and organizations and they paid him handsomely for his work.”

“I’m sorry I never got to meet him.” For the life of me, I can’t remember retired math professor Mr. Raymond walking the streets of Clearwater Bay. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in town.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Estelle’s voice sounds a bit more gravelly.

“He didn’t go out anymore. He didn’t have the confidence.

He had the beginnings of dementia and—” She pauses to swallow something out of her throat.

“For a man with a brain like that, it’s worse than losing your pride.

” She shakes her head. “In the end, it was a mercy for him that he died relatively quickly, because it was agony—for him, and for me to see him like that.” Her beautiful brown eyes fill with moisture.

“He was such a great father. I loved him to absolute pieces.” A tear slides down her cheek, but Estelle doesn’t try to catch or hide it.

“Some people are just natural born parents. My mother wasn’t, but my dad really made up for that.

He taught me everything. No matter how busy he was, he always had time for me.

” She tilts her head backward briefly. “I miss him so much, but the year or so before he died, he wasn’t the father I’d always known.

As though he wasn’t a full person anymore because of his illness.

It was awful, but he had a good life and he gave me an amazing life.

” She reaches for the dirty napkin and dabs it at her tears.

I swiftly dig a pack of paper tissues out of my purse and offer her one. “Here.”

She takes it. “I’m pretty sure third dates aren’t for crying either, but there you go.” Her radiant smile has dimmed into a forced grin.

“They can be for whatever we want them to be.” I give her my warmest smile. “I know how hard it is to lose a parent. Someone you love with all your heart.”

“Yeah. Sadly, they just can’t live forever.” She discreetly blows her nose. “My dad was eighty-three and I guess you could say at the end he was ready to go. It’s not the same as your mom.”

“No.” My turn to swallow a lump out of my throat.

“My mother…” Even though she passed ten years ago, at times, it still hits me as if she only died the previous week.

“She was a go-go-go kind of woman. She couldn’t sit still for five minutes.

She always had plans and such an incredible zest for life.

” If only I could talk to her, just ask her one last question, just have five more minutes.

“To see her die from cancer.” I huff out some air.

“I should be able to talk about this by now, but sometimes I can’t.

” I inhale deeply. “I vote we steer the conversation away from dead parents.”

“To life.” Estelle picks up her wine glass, but it’s empty.

“More?” I take another breath, and it’s easy enough to shake off my grief when sitting opposite her.

“Why not? I don’t have to work tomorrow.” She leans back in her chair.

“I do, but I don’t have to get up early.

” And most of the time my work doesn’t feel like a job, I think, but don’t say out loud because of Estelle’s burnout.

That’s probably the last thing she wants to hear—although she did just say she doesn’t have to work if she doesn’t want to, which is not the worst position to be in.

I pour more wine and even though we touched on a melancholy subject, I don’t feel sad, because I’m sitting with Estelle on the deck of The Bay and I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be.

* * *

“Uh-oh.” Estelle’s gaze is pulled to the shoreline. “I think Sadie’s lesson has finished. Things might not be so quiet here anymore once they’ve changed out of their wetsuits.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Was it only a week ago that I sat here with Estelle for the first time? It feels like so much has happened since. She’s taking up so much space in my life already.

“That’s a safe bet. They’re a pretty rowdy bunch for middle-aged ladies.” She makes quick work of her wine and pushes herself out of her chair. “Let me settle the bill. I’ll be right back.”

I have no choice. Automatically, my gaze follows her as she heads inside.

Her ass looks mighty fine in those jeans and the way that blouse is tucked in so tightly easily convinces me that—unlike me—Estelle doesn’t carry much excess fat on her body.

While with anyone else, it would make me feel insecure enough to cut a lovely date short, with her, it doesn’t—because I don’t have to show myself to her and it takes off so much pressure.

Maybe—and I won’t know this until I work up the nerve to ask her—she sees people differently.

Maybe physical attraction is not something that’s in play for her when dating.

It would certainly explain why she’s on a date with me.

My lips pull into a smile when she walks toward me.

“Do you want to go elsewhere?” I ask.

“How about you walk me home this time?”

“I’d love to.”

“Word of warning, my dad was a scotch collector.” Estelle leans into me and slides her hand down my arm.

Her fingers slip between mine and we walk hand in hand along the boardwalk.

We wave at Sadie and her ladies, who must be having all sorts of thoughts, and there’s that ripple of pride again running up my spine.

If anything, Estelle’s very good for my self-esteem.

“I do like a good scotch.” I revel in the warm touch of her hand against mine. Maybe, when sex is off the table, all other touches are magically magnified, and simply walking hand in hand along the ocean can feel like an intimate kiss.

The waves roar beside us and we don’t speak for a while, until we have to turn inland. Estelle’s father’s house is a few blocks from the beach.

“Apologies in advance for the mess and the dust.” Estelle gently extricates her hand from mine so she can unlock the door. “I’m not much of a cleaner and my dad was basically a hoarder.”

“You don’t cook. You don’t clean,” I joke.

“I’m no trad wife.” Estelle bats her long lashes for an instant, then opens the door and ushers me in.

She wasn’t kidding about the mess, nor the dust. She stops in the hallway for a moment, as though the state of the house surprises her as well.

“We can also just go to yours.” She shrugs.

“I’m trying to see the place through your eyes and I now realize it’s not, um, you know, as it should be, but I don’t notice it anymore.

It’s like I’ve become blind to the shambles this place is in.

” She turns to me. “I wasn’t really thinking about this when I invited you over. ”

“What were you thinking about?” As if I care about the state of Estelle’s late father’s house when I’m standing so close to her I can smell her perfume.

“Scotch, of course.” Her grin is so mischievous, it’s obvious she wanted to say something else entirely.

“Then by all means, take me to your scotch.” I reach for her hand again, as though I already miss it, and I’m taken aback by what her touch in the privacy of this house does to me.

It feels as though my clit has woken up from the longest hibernation and, hesitantly but unmistakably, says to me, “Hey, I still exist. I’m still a part of your body. ”

Thank goodness Estelle pulls me into the living room, stacks of paper everywhere, toward a bar worthy of a top-notch restaurant.

“Daddy Raymond liked a tipple,” I say, admiring the dusty bottles crowding the shelves.

“Funnily enough, he was more a collector than a drinker. He added a lot of bottles while not many got thrown out.” Estelle sighs. “It was a nightmare when he moved back here, but he wasn’t one for downsizing, either.”

“When did he move back to Clearwater Bay?” I have my eye on a bottle of Macallan.

“Three years ago, when he turned eighty and the dean finally convinced him to leave the university—not an easy thing to do.” Estelle reaches for the bottle I was eyeing. “This one?” She nods approvingly. “Excellent choice.”

While we head to the living area, Estelle grabs two glasses.

“In hindsight, I think that’s when his dementia started to become an issue.

In Berkeley, he was still known for his sharp mind, but his body wasn’t very able and willing anymore.

” She pours us each two fingers of scotch.

“But he didn’t want to stay in his house in Berkeley after he left the university.

He didn’t say it as such, but it hurt him too much to no longer be a professor.

It truly was his pride and joy. Clearly, he’d made enough money to no longer have to teach, but it was everything to him.

” Estelle gazes into the amber liquid. “I think it might be one of the reasons I held on for so long at my own job at Berkeley. I didn’t want to disappoint him by quitting.

I would never have quit as long as he was alive.

I’d rather have dragged myself through day after day, completely mentally exhausted, than having to tell my father that I no longer wanted to be a professor at his beloved Berkeley.

” She exhales deeply, then holds up her glass.

“The day I got tenure might have been the best day of his life. You should have seen him.” She shakes her head.

“To Richard Raymond, a wonderfully complicated genius and the best father a girl could ever wish for.”

I tap my glass against hers. “To Richard Raymond.” While I take a sip, I make a mental note to google Estelle’s genius of a father tomorrow—if I manage to think of anything else but her.