“I thought we’d see each other more. I only live a few blocks away. I used to see you more when you lived in Logan Square than I do now, and we’re practically neighbors.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Eleanor shrugged and they exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. They both knew the only reason they used to see each other with regular frequency was their mutual relationship with Caddy.
“I miss her,” Sandra said quietly after a pause.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Of course you do. You two were so close. I ran into Schraeder’s the other night with a bunch of work associates from out of town. I told them all they had to get a Caddy Green,” she laughed, referring to the specialty martini the bartender at the local hot spot used to make for Caddy. “Did you know they made it official, and added it to the menu?”
“No,” Eleanor said, shaking her head and smiling. “But it doesn’t—”
“Surprise you?” Sandra finished, and they both laughed. “You’re right. It’s just the kind of thing that would happen to Caddy.” She started to pick up her shopping bags.
“Do you have time to grab that drink now?” Eleanor wondered. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Of course,” Sandra said, her quick reply and game smile amplifying Eleanor’s guilt over making excuses whenever Sandra called. She realized now that she’d been afraid seeing Sandra would just emphasize Caddy’s absence.
“Let’s go over to the Four Seasons,” Sandra suggested. “We missed the parade this year, but we can still do part of the tradition: the holiday drink. Caddy would like that, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Eleanor agreed. “I think she would.”
—
Twenty minutes later, they sat in the handsome, posh bar at the Four Seasons Hotel, their drinks in front of them.
“So, you said you had something you wanted to ask me?” she asked Eleanor once they’d caught up on what’d been happening in their lives for the past few months and Eleanor had told her about her father’s heart attack and recovery.
“Um . . . yeah,” Eleanor replied, awkwardness swamping her. She’d told herself in the last several minutes that she’d come up with a good way to broach the topic of Caddy and Trey, but had come up empty-handed now that the moment had arrived. “It’s about . . . it’s about Trey Riordan.”
Sandra paused in the action of lifting her martini, her gaze shooting over to Eleanor.
“So Caddy told you about him?” she asked in an amazed, hushed tone.
“Uh—”
“I’m surprised, to be honest,” Sandra said, setting down her drink and looking reflective. “Caddy could be such a paradox. Bold as brass one second, vulnerable the next.”
A strange feeling quivered in Eleanor’s belly. “Caddy? Vulnerable?” she asked in amazement.
TWENTY-FOUR
Sandra smiled at her stunned reaction.
“Sure, Caddy could be vulnerable. About some things. Very few, the truth be told. Not much got Caddy down. Her confidence was no act.” She gave Eleanor an assessing glance. “It doesn’t surprise me that you never saw her as vulnerable. She didn’t want her little sister to see her as anything but in control. Happy. Carefree. She was very protective of you, you know,” Sandra said, fid
dling with the toothpick in her drink. “That’s why I’m a little surprised she told you about Trey Riordan. He was one of her few vulnerabilities.” Sandra seemed to rise out of her memories and focused on her. “Why did you want to ask me about Riordan?”
“I met him,” Eleanor said impulsively.
“You did?” Sandra asked, her gaze sparking with interest. “I’ve never had the honor. I’ve seen a few photos of him in the newspaper and magazines. And of course, I saw that infamous photo of him with the Scarpetti twins. Who didn’t, right?” Sandra rolled her eyes and laughed. “And I heard about him from Caddy, naturally. From her description, he’s one hell of an exciting man.”
Eleanor shook her head, trying to break the surreal feeling that had come over her. “I can’t believe Caddy talked about him to you,” she admitted. “She never said one word about knowing him before she got sick.”
Sandra shrugged and took a drink. “Like I said, she tended to avoid topics with you that made her feel vulnerable, or susceptible, or anything but the successful, woman-about-town, confident persona she put out there for the world to see.”
Eleanor froze. “Are you saying she wasn’t those things? That she was a fake?”
Sandra gave her a concerned look. “Of course Caddy was all those things. She was one of the most successful, warm, dynamic, confident women I’ve ever met . . . I likely ever will meet. She was the best of friends,” Sandra assured feelingly. Emotion seemed to overcome her for a moment. She sniffed and shut her eyes briefly. “Who of us does want to wear our vulnerabilities on our sleeve for everyone to see? That’s all I meant, Eleanor. You must know how much I adored Caddy.”