Where Dreams Begin Read Free

into place with a quick yank on the elastic band holding his ponytail.
    “Don’t apologize. There’s more work than any of us can do.” Luke stepped back and shoved his hands into his hip pockets. “From now on, I’ll let the kids arrange the chairs. It’ll give them more of a sense that this is their group rather than mine.”
    “Sounds good to me. You want to get a pizza later?”
    Luke hesitated a long moment, then shook his head. “No, I need to get out of here. Maybe tomorrow night.”
    “Sure, whenever. I’m going to give the sprinklers another try. I need to clean out all the heads before I can judge whether or not the pipes are still good, but I’d sure like to be able to water what’s left of the grass.”
    “Yeah, give it a try,” Luke encouraged. He admired Dave’s initiative, and summoning what was left of his own, he welcomed the first of the kids to arrive. It was Tina Stassy, and while it was likely he was having more success reaching her cat, as long as she kept coming back, all three of them had a chance to survive.

Chapter Two
    Catherine flung the red dress toward the bed where the soft, sand-washed silk fell in a bright burst of color, then pooled out over the plush ivory comforter in a spreading stain. Next, she peeled a pale, peach chiffon gown from its padded hanger and sent it flying toward the high brass bed.
    “Give me a hand here, Joyce,” she called to her friend. “All these party clothes have to go.”
    Joyce pushed her frizzled blonde curls out of her eyes and took a tentative step toward the roomy walk-in closet. “You’ll regret this for sure,” she warned. “You’ve such pretty clothes, and they’ll cost a fortune to replace.”
    “I’ve not worn a one of these dresses since Sam’s death, and even if I did receive an invitation to a formal affair, I wouldn’t accept. Seeing them hanging in the closet just makes me incredibly sad.”
    Reluctantly turning toward the bed, Joyce reached for the red silk dress and folded it over her arm. “I wish we wore the same size,” she remarked wistfully. “I’ve always envied you your height and willowy figure.”
    After a moment of silent debate, Catherine threw a cranberry knit coatdress on the bed. The crystal buttons caught the morning light pouring in the windows and sent a riot of shimmering rainbows dancing across the ceiling. “I thought you enjoyed being petite.”
    Joyce laid the red dress aside and folded the cranberry. “It’s definitely an advantage where men are concerned, and there are always plenty of clothes on the sale racks in small sizes.” Her carefully penciled brows formed a mere hint of a frown. “But how long can a woman rely on merely being cute?”
    Joyce was thirty-seven and had gone through a bitter divorce three years prior. Catherine understood how serious her question truly was and gave it the consideration it deserved. “Cute lasts forever,” she assured her confidently. “I’ve met women in their eighties who were as cute as they could be.”
    “I hope you’re right, but I’m afraid a woman is really much better off being tall. Christie Brinkley was on Entertainment Tonight last week. She still looks so damn good, but like you, she has the height to be elegant.”
    Catherine glanced down at her oversized purple T-shirt and worn jeans. “Somehow I’ve never thought of myself as being particularly elegant.”
    Joyce followed the direction of Catherine’s gaze and laughed with her. “Not today, perhaps, but in any of these fabulous dresses, you most certainly are. I remember the last time you wore the chiffon.” Joyce’s words caught in her throat. “You and Sam were such a handsome couple.”
    The compliment caught Catherine off guard, and a painful rush of sorrow flooded her eyes and brought a dizzying weakness to her knees. Betrayed by the force of her seemingly inexhaustible grief, she sank down on the side of the bed and recalled that last party at the club in such