Falling Angel by Clare Tisdale Read Free Book Online Page B

tried to get in touch with your dad?” Ann asked.
    “Not after the way he walked out on me and my mother. It was really hard on her.” Cara finished her drink and stood up. “Shall we move on?”
    It wasn’t until late afternoon, at a small boutique on First Avenue, that they found what Cara was looking for.
    It was a Grecian-style dress in gold silk chiffon, with brocade trim around the waist and bust and halter straps that tied at the back of her neck. An asymmetrical skirt fell below the knee in soft folds. It was the perfect combination of glamour and comfort, sensual without being overtly sexy.
    “It’s you,” Ann said, and Cara agreed.
    When she read the price tag she almost put the dress back on the rack. It was much more than her mother had wired to her. But she had been so frugal since moving to Seattle, and the urge to splurge was irresistible.
    That evening at the apartment, Cara accessorized the dress with a pair of high-heeled, rhinestone-studded sandals in gold leather that she had bought at a vintage store years ago. They were a perfect match, adding a touch of sophistication to the ensemble.
    “Gorgeous,” Ann declared as Cara shyly modeled the outfit. “Your transformation into Venus is complete.”

Chapter Six
    It was a windy day in early winter and the Lincoln Park Zoo was almost deserted. Cara, age seven, held tight to her father’s hand as they walked through the exhibits. She dragged him to her favorite, the Farm-in-the-Zoo, an urban replica of the typical small Midwestern farm of the 1950s and a complete novelty to Cara, who’d lived her whole life in the suburbs. She loved to watch the zookeepers milk the cows and stroke the scrubby hair on the heads of the crazy-eyed goats.
    She held out sugar cubes, crumbling from being stashed in her coat pocket all day, for the horses, giggling at the moist heat of their muzzles as they lipped the sweet treat from her palm. Her father watched, smiling, his blue eyes bright. When she’d used the last of her sugar cubes, she tugged on his jacket sleeve. “Tell me about the farm, daddy.”
    He laughed. “Again?”
    Cara nodded. Her father took off his Cubs baseball cap and cleared his throat theatrically. “I was born on a small farm in Idaho.”
    “That once was your great grandfather’s.”
    “Right.”
    “And you used to ride horses, and you had a pet chicken called Lucy that you wouldn’t let your mama put in the stew pot. You hid her in your closet and she pooped all over the floor.”
    He laughed and ruffled her hair. “Who’s telling this story, anyhow?”
    “Why’d you sell the farm, daddy? I would have liked to live there.”
    “It wasn’t the best place to raise a child.”
    “But I love animals!”
    “Your mother’s a city girl. She hated farm life. It’s not for everyone.”
    He bought her an ice cream and they huddled on a small bench by the pond, watching a pair of swans glide regally across the frigid water. Cara dropped half her ice cream into her lap and burst into tears. Her father scrubbed at her skirt awkwardly with a wad of tissues from his pocket.
    “No sense crying over spilt ice cream, angel face. What say we get you another?”
    Cara took a long time to finish her second ice cream cone. She didn’t want to go home. Her parents had split up less than a year ago, and now she rarely saw her father. Every third weekend, he came to pick her up for a day out. They would come to the zoo, or visit the huge FAO Schwartz store on Michigan Avenue, or ride the L Train to a pretty park for a picnic lunch. She began to look forward to their next day together the moment he dropped her off.
    “I miss you, daddy,” she said, moving closer to him on the bench.
    He kissed the top of her head. “I miss you too, pumpkin.”
    When her mother had heard they were going to the zoo, she’d started screaming at him. “How can you be so irresponsible? Dragging Cara through Stockton Avenue and Clark Street. You could get