Where Dreams Begin Read Free Page A

shimmering detail, she could almost taste the frosty key lime pie served for dessert.
    “I’m sorry.” Joyce gave Catherine’s shoulders a quick hug. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
    Catherine responded with a poignant sigh. “Please don’t be afraid to mention Sam. I may cry each time you do, but I don’t want him to be forgotten.”
    “Oh, Cathy, no one will ever forget Sam. All his friends loved him. Come on, let’s take a break and have some iced tea, or something stronger, if you’d like.”
    Catherine brushed away her tears with trembling fingertips and laid aside a black velvet skirt as she rose. “I think it’s a damn good thing I don’t drink, or I wouldn’t have been sober a single day this past year.”
    Still struggling to regain her composure, Catherine led the way through her charming Cape Cod-style home. It was too large for her now, but it contained far too many precious memories to sell.
    The kitchen faced the east and opened out onto a redwood deck. On long summer nights, she and Sam had enjoyed the concerts staged at the nearby Rose Bowl from the lazy comfort of their own backyard. He had loved the Rolling Stones and been elated to hear Mick Jagger whip the paying crowd into a frenzy with “Satisfaction”.
    The bittersweet memory brought a shaky smile, and, cheered, Catherine poured two glasses of iced tea and added sprigs of fresh mint from her garden. She and Joyce carried them out to the glass-topped table on the deck and settled into the thickly cushioned chairs. She took a long sip of tea, then held the cool glass to her cheek.
    “We can finish packing up the clothes later, but for now, there’s something I’d like to run by you.”
    Joyce immediately sat forward. She smoothed her white slacks and tapped her pink-tipped nails against the side of her glass. “I’m no expert on anything except decorating, but I’ll do my very best to help.”
    Catherine gazed out over the lush green lawn. Every spring, the flower beds needed attention, and she was embarrassed to have overlooked them until now. She made a mental note to buy pansies and snapdragons for some much-needed color. Unfortunately, her life was equally pale, and brightening it would not be nearly as easy as replanting the flowers.
    “I’m not ready to look for a full-time job,” she finally confided, “but I do want to get out more and try some volunteer work.”
    “Well, alleluia ! It’s about time.” Joyce paused to again fluff her curls from her eyes. “The Huntington Library has a terrific program for docents. It’s close, and so is the Norton Simon Museum. Or what about the Los Angeles Zoo? Wouldn’t that be fun? I bet they let their volunteers hold the baby gorillas.”
    Catherine nodded to acknowledge the wealth of attractive possibilities nearby, but she’d already made her choice. She watched Smoky, her pampered gray tomcat, leave the shady spot beneath the camellias and welcomed him into her lap. He responded with a noisy purr, curled up and, utterly content, closed his bottle-green eyes for a nap. Catherine stroked his fur lightly as she described her plans.
    “There was an article in the Times a few months ago about Lost Angel, an organization in Hollywood that serves runaway and homeless teens. It was such a moving story, and—”
    Joyce rattled the table with her fist. “Oh no. You can’t be serious. It’s located in a terrible neighborhood, and you might get mugged, or worse.”
    Catherine wasn’t altogether surprised by the hostility of Joyce’s reaction, but she had a ready defense. “Just bear with me a moment. Before Sam and I were married, I taught high school English. The pressures of his law practice made our lives so hectic that there just never seemed to be a good time to get back into education, but schools have changed in the last ten years. What I need is some practical experience with today’s teens. If it’s good, then I’ll apply for a teaching position for the