Cassandra's Song. Carole Gift Page

mother. Cassie has thrown herself into her music career. Practices hours every day. She’s beautiful, talented and ambitious, but sometimes I think she puts all of her emotions into the piano, so she won’t feel the pain of losing you…plus that no-good scoundrel who broke her heart the year after you died. Sure, Cassie loves her music, but that won’t replace the love of a good man someday.”

      Andrew put his head in his hands. “And our darling Bree is much too serious about her counseling work. She’s always helping others and bringing home every poor, needy soul who needs a place to stay, but she refuses to allow herself a serious romantic relationship. And Frannie, our baby, has taken over the household and does the cooking and watches over me like a little mother hen. But she should be pampering a husband, not me.”

      Andrew stared up again at the star-studded sky, moisture gathering in his eyes. “You would know what to do, Mandy. You would know how to encourage and guide our daughters in matters of the heart. You would know how to set them free and shoo them out of the nest so they could create their own homes and families. Me, I’m awkward at these things. I don’t know the right words. You know me better than anyone, Mandy. You polished a lot of rough edges, but I’m still a bull in the china shop. All thumbs. Two left feet. I wish I had your sensitivity, your knack for reading our daughters’ moods and knowing what they needed even before they asked. I’ve asked God to help me, but—”

      A noise came from downstairs. Andrew paused, listening. Yes, it was the front door. Cassie was home. He got up and walked out to the landing and looked down. Cassie was standing in the foyer, stepping out of her high heels, the overhead lamplight turning her tousled mane of hair to spun gold.

      He tied the sash of his robe and padded downstairs in his leather slippers. Cassie looked up and smiled as he approached.

      “Hi, Daddy. What are you doing up at this hour?”

      “Waiting for you,” he confessed.

      “Daddy, I’m twenty-six years old. You don’t have to wait up for me anymore.”

      He grinned sheepishly. “I know. Can’t help myself.”

      Picking up her shoes, Cassie walked in her stockinged feet to the living room and sank down on the overstuffed sofa.

      “Tired?” he asked, following a step behind.

      She nodded.

      “Have fun?”

      Another nod, and the hint of a playful smile.

      “So Gilbert what’s-his-name wasn’t so bad after all?”

      Cassie chuckled. “Oh, he was just what I expected, but nice enough in a cerebral sort of way. If you happen to like walking textbooks.”

      Andrew sat down in the recliner across from his daughter. “So if your date was nothing to write home about, why the mysterious little smile?”

      Cassie’s face flushed crimson. “Oh, Daddy, you’re not supposed to notice that smile.”

      “Really? Maybe I’m getting better at this parenting thing than I thought. So tell me, or my imagination will run wild, and we don’t want that, do we?”

      “Okay, but it’s nothing really.” Cassie pulled the pins from her French twist and gracefully swept her fingertips through her cascading curls. “I met a couple of interesting people tonight, that’s all.”

      “Of the masculine persuasion, I trust?”

      “A man and a woman.”

      “Married?”

      “Mother and son. What is this, Daddy, twenty questions?”

      “Just want to know what has put that new light in your eyes.”

      She lowered her long lashes. “Daddy, really, there’s nothing to it. I just met the man who performed tonight. A very talented tenor.”

      “Single?”

      “I assume so. I got the impression he lives at home with his mother.”

      Andrew’s thick brows arched. “His mother? Not a mama’s boy, I hope.”

      “Oh, Daddy, you wouldn’t say that if you saw him.” Cassie rushed on before her father could interrupt again. “I met his mother quite by accident. At the reception. We got to talking and, Daddy, she’s an absolutely fascinating woman…”

      Andrew sat back in his chair and tented his fingers. “Okay, I’ve got it, muffin. She’s my age and single and coming to dinner tomorrow night. Am I right so far?”

      “Not coming to dinner, Daddy. There’s the cantata. But I did suggest getting a bite to eat afterward.”

      “And this time we’ll make it a threesome instead of a double date. The tenor’s mother and Lydia Diddlehopper…” he said dryly.

      “Dibbles.”

      “And Emma Sawhorse, of course.”

      “Sorenson! Really, Daddy, you think you’re so clever.”

      Andrew sat forward and eyed his daughter intently. “I’m just trying to make a point, Cass. No matchmaking. You hear me?”

      She examined one long polished fingernail. “Of course, I hear you, Daddy. I’m not matchmaking. You’re just being your usual paranoid self. Besides, what makes you think I’m trying to pair you up with Antonio’s mother?”

      “Who’s Antonio?”

      “The tenor. Antonio Pagliarulo.”

      Andrew grinned. “I like the way you say his name.”

      Cassie pointed one red lacquered fingernail at her father. “Now who’s matchmaking?”

      Andrew raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “Just making a small observation!”

      “All Italian names roll off the tongue like that. It’s one of the romance languages, after all.”

      “Romance? Is there the possibility we’re speaking of more than languages here?”

      Cassie crossed her arms resolutely. “Not a chance, Daddy. Mr. Pagliarulo is a snob, a recluse, a loner. Everyone says so.”

      “And that was your impression of him?”

      Cassie chose her words carefully. “We met only for a few moments. He seemed nice enough.”

      “Well, unless you plan to see him again, I suppose you’ll never know what he’s really like.”

      “Oh, I’m going to see him again,” Cassie said quickly.

      Andrew shook his head, puzzled. “But you said—”

      “I didn’t invite Antonio and his mother over for dinner, but I did invite them to the cantata. They agreed to come.”

      Andrew grinned knowingly. “I see. And you’re hoping I’ll hit it off with…with…”

      “Juliana.”

      “Juliana?”

      “Juliana Pagliarulo. She’s beautiful, Daddy. And so full of life and spirit. I know you’ll like her.”

      Andrew got up and crossed over to the sofa and planted a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. “Maybe we’d better get some sleep, baby. It sounds like tomorrow will be quite a day.”

      Cassie caught her father’s hand. “Oh, and Daddy, one more thing.”

      He paused. “I hate to ask.”

      In a small voice Cassie said, “I invited Antonio and Juliana to join us for dinner after the program. Maybe that little Italian restaurant near the church?”

      Andrew sighed. “All right, Cass. On one condition.”

      “Of course. What is it, Daddy?”

      “No