Warm Hearts by Barbara Delinsky Read Free Book Online Page A

As she’d done then, she flipped on the fan, opened the French windows, then stood in the semidarkness and played back the answering machine.
    Her mother had called, bless her impatient soul. And Ben, no doubt checking to make sure she hadn’t lied about late meetings. And one of her clients, who was sick and wanted to cancel her next day’s leadoff appointment. Caroline didn’t stop to wonder whether the sickness was real; she was too grateful to have the extra time to make up for the work that she suspected she might not get done tonight.
    There was no return call from either of the doctors. She phoned their number and left her name as a reminder, then phoned her mother to relate the non-news. Dripping with sweat by this point, she peeled off her clothes, took a quick shower to wake herself up, pulled on a sleeveless nightshirt and, bending forward, secured her hair in a barrette at her crown. Then, pushing aside the small plant that was normally her centerpiece, she sat down at the round kitchen table with a low lamp, a tall glass of iced water and her briefcase.
    Concentration didn’t come easily. That morning seemed so far away that she had to struggle to recall the contents of those early sessions. Her mind wandered to the Valentes, to her parents, to Carl and Diane, while her eye wandered to the window.
    His apartment was dark. She wondered whether he was out on a date or simply working late. Propping her chin on her palm, she closed her eyes and pictured herself out with him. They wouldn’t go to the symphony, or the theater, or a movie. They’d go to an intimate restaurant where the ambience would more than make up for the lack of conversation. Even without that ambience, they wouldn’t have to talk. He’d understand her exhaustion. He’d know that it was the quiet companionship that mattered.
    Opening her eyes with some effort, she trained them on the folder marked Meecham, Nicole. She squared a pad of paper before her, lifted her pen and began to write. Client initiated discussion of her superior at work. She resents what she sees as condescension on his part, and this fuels the anger she feels toward her parents. Independence is becoming a central issue in therapy, as is self-worth.
    She dropped the pen and took a cool drink. Independence. In some ways she’d always been independent, in others never. What was independence, anyway? Was it a state of mind or a physical state? And self-worth? Oh, she had a sense of that, all right. The people in her world wouldn’t let her forget that she was their mainstay. She wished they would, once in a while. There were times when she wanted to lean on someone else.
    What she needed, she decided, dropping her head back with a tired sigh, was a vacation. Not the kind she usually took—visiting her parents and her sister—but a real, honest-to-goodness vacation. A remote spot. No telephone. No responsibility. Total anonymity.
    Well, almost total. Her gaze crept out the window and across the courtyard. She’d take a vacation with him. He’d pick the spot, a sparsely populated island in the Caribbean.… No, no, a remote cabin in northernmost Maine, where the nights were blessedly cool. He’d drive her there in his Jaguar. It’d be a long drive, but she’d sleep most of the way. She wouldn’t have to keep an eagle’s eye on the road as she did with Elliot, who, she was convinced, had done his driver training at Macy’s. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome would be a careful driver. She’d be able to relax and rest.
    Without conscious thought, she rose from the table and went to the window. Tucking one leg beneath her, she perched on the end of the seat with her arms wrapped around her waist and her shoulder braced against the frame.
    He’d wake her when they reached their remote cabin, but he’d do it gently, and the first thing he’d do after he unlocked the door would be to pull back the