Нора Робертс - Hideaway

Cate didn’t know about kismet, but she knew a good script when she read one. And her life shifted again, with her at the wheel, when she took the role of Alice in the animated short Who Am I Anyway?

She found her place in sound booths, with headphones, in the closet she soundproofed and set up as a studio in her apartment. And in time she converted the second bedroom in a new apartment as work rolled in.

She found her place, her own Who Am I Anyway? in voice-overs for commercials, animated films and shorts, in audiobooks, in video game characters.

She found her identity, her independence.

She found her joy again.

The turn, the direction, the self-knowledge, and the years between made her a different person when she ran into Noah again.

Walking home with a market bag after a long day in the booth, she heard her name, glanced up, focused in.

He’d let his hair grow a bit longer; he’d added some scruff. And he still had those wonderful lion’s eyes. She supposed any woman would feel a little heart-tug when face-to-face with her first love.

“Noah.” She stepped forward, kissed his cheeks as pedestrians flowed around them.

“I was just— Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s really good to see you. Are you busy? Can I buy you a drink? I’d really like … I’d really like to talk to you if you have a few minutes.”

“I could use a drink. There’s a place on the next block, if you don’t mind doubling back.”

“Great.”

He began to walk with her. A hot summer night, she thought, not so different from the last time they’d walked together.

“I guess you still live in the neighborhood.”

“Old habits,” she told him. “My grandparents are back in California, but I stayed. I go back and forth more than I used to. How about you?”

“I have an actual bedroom that can hold an actual bed. In fact, I’ve got a town house. It’s nice to have some room.”

“Here’s the place. Do you want a table? Want to sit at the bar?”

“Let’s get a table.”

The bar, several steps up from the coffee shops, pizza dens, Mexican joints they’d frequented once upon a time, offered steel tables, narrow booths, a long ebony bar.

Once they’d settled, she ordered a glass of cab, and he did the same.

“How’s your family?” she began, and he looked deep into her eyes. “The Irish can hold grudges, Noah, but there’s no need for it.”

“My parents are good. They’re in Hawaii for a couple of weeks—it’s cooler there, and my mom still has family on the Big Island. My grandmother passed last year.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We miss her. Bekka’s a doctor. We’re really proud.”

He ran through his siblings until the drinks came.

“I need to say some things. I’ve started to call you I don’t know how many times. I could never follow through. I didn’t do the right thing by you, Cate. I didn’t handle it right.”

“What happened was beyond awful. There’s no right way.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I said that then, but you were right, I didn’t mean it. I do now. It was never your fault.”

She looked into her wine. “It matters. Hearing you say that matters. We were both so young. God, the press afterward? Uglier yet, and we couldn’t have handled it. It would never have worked for us.”

She drank, studying him over the rim of her glass. “You were a key point in my life. I’ve been thinking about key points lately. How they all intersect or diverge. Being with you, then not. Key points. I’ve been to see every play you’ve been in since.”

He blinked at her. “You have?”

“Key points, Noah. It was good to see someone who mattered to me doing what he was born to do.”

“I wish you’d come backstage.”

She smiled at that, drank again. “Awkward.”

“I saw Lucy Lucille . Twice.”

She laughed. “Spending Mondays at animated films?”

“You were great. Seriously. I guess … it was good to hear someone who mattered to me doing what she was born to do.”

“You should hear my Shalla, Warrior Queen. You were never one for video games,” she remembered.

“Who’s got time? You look happy.”

“I am. I love the work, really love the work. It’s fun and challenging and, God, it’s diverse. I’ll say you look happy, too.”

“I am. I love the work. And I just got engaged.”

“Wow! Congratulations.” She could mean it, Cate realized. And wasn’t that a relief? “Tell me about her.”

He did; she listened.

“If you decide to come to another performance, let me know.”

“All right. And I’ll try to come to another. I’m actually starting the process of moving back to California.”

“Back to L.A.?”

“Big Sur. My grandparents are semiretired there. My grandfather had a fall, broke his leg last winter.”

“I heard about that, but that he was okay. Is he?”

“Mostly, yeah. But he’s getting older, whether or not he’ll admit it. And G-Lil’s waffling on doing a revival of Mame because she’s worried about leaving him even for a limited run.”

“So the rumors are true—Lily Morrow coming back to Broadway to revive her Tony-winning performance? Big buzz in my world.”

“She’ll do it if I’m with him, and I can do the bulk of my work anywhere. Or I can use a studio in Monterey, Carmel, San Francisco. I can make it work.”

Would make it work, she corrected. She had the wheel; she chose her own turns now.

“And lately, I’ve been missing California. I feel like it’s time to maybe change directions.”

She angled her head. “Seeing you, talking like this, it’s kind of closed a chapter—in a good way.” When the waiter came by, asked if they wanted another round, Cate shook her head. “I’ve got prep to do. I’ve really got to go. I’m so glad we did this, Noah.”

“Me, too.” He reached over for her hand. “You were a key point for me, Cate. A good chapter in my life.”

When she left him, she felt lighter. And knew as she walked home, as New York swarmed around her, she could leave without a single regret.

Because she had work, Cate flew into San Francisco. She’d forgotten how chilly November in San Francisco could be.

After a long, fraught decision-making process, she’d shipped ahead most of her possessions she’d opted to keep. Another selection went into storage for maybe later.

The rest she sold or gave to friends.

She’d thought it would make her feel lighter. Instead she felt weirdly empty, which wasn’t the same at all.

Because she definitely wanted her own car and had already researched what would suit her best, she spent a day test driving, negotiating, and buying a nice little hybrid SUV. Not the convertible of her teenage dreams, she thought as she waited while the bellman at her hotel loaded it up.

She still had time to fulfill that dream.

Getting out of San Francisco put her very rusty, rarely used driving skills to the test. One she nearly failed twice on the steep hills, then again when she hit the twists of Highway 1.

To calm those rusty driver’s nerves, she turned the radio up, did her best to mimic Gaga. She had decent pipes—not Gaga level, but who did? Still, she could sell it when called on.

And the views—the wild heights, the churning sea, the climbing cliffs. Yes, she’d missed this, somewhere deep inside. How strange it was, she realized, to be called back and find it a kind of coming home.

Even a year before she would have said, without hesitation, New York was home. Years before that, she would have said Ireland.

Didn’t it make her lucky to finally understand she could put her heart into so many homes? And to find herself absolutely ready to come back to this one.