Falling Angel by Clare Tisdale Read Free Book Online

Better just to humor her.
    Ann yawned and flipped off the TV. “I’m gonna check out the new Tim Cross movie at 9:30. Wanna come?”
    “No thanks, I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
    “Suit yourself. Are we still on for Sunday?”
    “Definitely.” Cara had asked Ann to help her pick out a dress for the Fineman party. They planned an afternoon shopping spree to check out the spring sale at Nordstrom.
    Ann gave her a thumbs-up, then rose and headed down the hall to the bathroom.
    Cara turned off the TV and started to fold the blanket Ann had left crumpled on the couch. She wished Ann weren’t quite so gleeful about her dating a banker. It made her whole plan seem so contrived and petty, as though she were following some mechanical model rather than her own desires. Truth be told, the Old Cara wouldn’t have given someone like David a second glance. She’d always been drawn to more flamboyant, less conventional men. Now, however, she was determined to change her ways. Following her heart rather than her head had gotten her into so much trouble in the past. It was time to replace emotion with reason, the hippie garb for the three-piece suit.
    Cara picked up the empty soda can Ann had been using as an ashtray. Wrinkling her nose, she carried it to the kitchen and threw it in the garbage.
    Perhaps David wasn’t the most dynamic or exciting guy she’d ever met. But he was solid, smart and upwardly mobile. And that, Cara told herself firmly, was what really mattered.
    .   .   .
    The changing room at Nordstrom was more than large enough to hold Cara, Ann and the slew of dresses that lay on the bench, piled on top of one another like sheets of gaudy wrapping paper.
    Cara posed before the mirror in a strapless ivory cocktail dress with a full A-line skirt, fitted bodice and embroidered overlay. “That one looks great on you,” Ann said from the bench, where she sat cross-legged. “But then, everything does,” she added, loudly cracking her gum. In marked contrast to Cara’s glamorous outfit, Ann was dressed in a pair of ripped black jeans, black combat boots, and a grey hooded sweatshirt.
    “That’s not true,” Cara protested. “What about that hideous little black dress? More like a two-foot tube!”
    Ann giggled. “Ok, I have to admit that one was pretty bad.”
    Cara made a face. “I’m sure it would have been a big hit at the party. Only people would think I’d forgotten to put on my skirt.”
    She was glad Ann was laughing again, rather than making remarks about her looks. It made Cara feel uncomfortable, and guilty, as though she were responsible for Ann’s feelings of inferiority.
    Her relief was short-lived, as Ann caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror next to Cara’s reflection and sighed deeply. “No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a kid.” she said. “My mother was always too wiped out to even notice or care whether I had a bath or even changed out of my PJs in the morning. My brothers’ favorite name for me was frog face, among others. And of course, my dad wasn’t even around.”
    Through the mirror, Cara glanced at Ann’s pinched and sullen expression, and had to press her lips together to avoid coming out with something prudish and parental, like  ‘You’d look so much better if you lost the nose ring and smiled more often.’
    “Hey, look, why don’t you come to the party with me?” she said instead. “I’m sure Ingrid wouldn’t mind. We could use some help with the set-up, and after that you and I could have fun.”
    “Sounds a little too fancy for me,” Ann looked glum. “I’d probably do something inappropriate, like get drunk and fall over on the dance floor, or start making out with some socialite’s husband. Those kind of scenes always bring out the rebel in me. Anyway, I’m supposed to be going out with Joseph.”
    “The guy from the Art Walk? I thought he lived in Yakima?”
    Ann grinned. “He does. He’s driving out to visit.”
    “Must be