Cassandra Returns to Random Point
It was a drizzly, muggy morning in early July when Cassandra Campi drove her brand new, small but luxurious compact into the village of Random Point and parked it outside Margaret Alexander’s bookshop. A slim, athletic brunette of small and graceful proportions, the former resident of the coastal village just a few miles from the tip of the Cape still wore her wavy hair very long, but today it was pulled back to the nape of her neck in a tortoise shell barrette to fully set off her agreeable features and her smooth, slightly olive toned, slightly peach toned skin. She was not recognizably Amanda’s mother, for the daughter was much taller, even more slender, much more bosomy and with pale, ash blonde hair. But the poised self-possession of the daughter was very like her mother’s and Amanda had also inherited Cassandra habit of intuitive thinking, which traits made them both wonderful and exasperating to their admirers. And the mother and daughter did have many admirers, both being beautiful and generous creatures, made for love and esoteric sex, as long as it was practiced with good taste.
She was wearing a pale pink print, halter pencil dress with a small turquoise and rose flower design under a beige trench coat and taupe peep toe high vamp sandals that set off her shapely legs to advantage. The outfit, like the car, was just purchased and each was perhaps slightly richer than the former head shop proprietor was accustomed to parading about in. But that lady had decided it was time to alter, upgrade or enhance several aspects of her day-to-day existence in her new life away from her longtime partner, and the element of style seemed somehow more important than it had previously been. She’d been wont, in years past, to not hide, but to more or less play down her attractions and had rarely sported overtly provocative apparel to display the lean contours of her yoga-trained, vegetable nurtured body. But now she seemed to feel a need to change her image from one of modest introspection to one more freewheeling and overtly adventurous.
Cassandra walked directly into the coffee bar within the galleried bookshop and sat at the counter, behind which Hope Spencer Lawrence, the premiere blonde belle of the village, had served as barista and snack server for over four years. The beautiful Hope had recently made an investment in and had become a partner in the bookshop and as a result, wore her crimson apron over her plain white shirt and jeans with a new pride and enthusiasm for her work.
Hope stood before her pretty new guest and asked her what she wished to order with her full, smiling attention. Cassandra said she would drink espresso with cream on the side and also selected a large, fresh baking powder biscuit from a case of cakes, breads and pastries under glass to one side of the coffee bar.
“I think you know my daughter,” said Cassandra, stretching out her small, delicate hand to shake Hope’s. “She’s often spoken of the beauty at the bookstore, Hope Lawrence.”
“Who is your daughter?” asked Hope, taking Cassandra’s hand in both of her own.
“Amanda Sands.”
“Oh, I love Amanda!” said Hope, squeezing Cassandra’s hand affectionately. “How lovely to meet you…”
“Cassandra,” said the brunette, smiling back at Hope.
“I don’t see the resemblance, and yet I do,” said Hope, preparing her guest’s espresso.
“She takes after Hugo,” said Cassandra.
“She certainly does,” Hope agreed. “They’re both so tall and fair. But what brings you to Random Point after all these years? You’re practically a legend, you know. Though you don’t look like a legend. You look very young to be Amanda’s mother.”
“You’re sweet,” said Cassandra, with a becoming blush at the compliment. “What brings me to Random Point is that my relationship just broke up and as a consequence, I’m thinking of moving back to the Cape. Amanda will be in Cambridge for the next three years and I’d like to be in closer hailing distance to her than San Francisco.”
“Don’t you own a shop there?”
“I did until last week. But I’m tired of being a shop keeper and I’ve let my ex-partner buy me out of both the shop and the house we shared.”
“Wow. That’s huge. What are you going to do here?”
“I have a plan but I’m not sure it’s going to work out yet. But I will gladly share all the details with you after I’ve had a few meetings with key people. William Random, for example. Is he in town this summer?”
“Yes, I saw him just the other day.”
“What about Anthony Newton? You know he sent me a ring for the Venus Club.”
“I know for a fact he is in town,” said Hope of the New York composer, for she was on intimate terms of friendship with both Newton and his younger girlfriend, Susan Ross and was a frequent summer visitor at the Cliff house to avail herself of the pool and tennis court. She had been swimming up there over the weekend and she and her husband David Lawrence, a teacher at the local prep school, had even dined with Anthony and Susan.
Before leaving the shop Cassandra went out into the main room and finding the card section purchased a blank note card with a reproduction of the Botticelli Venus on the cover. She went back into the coffee bar with the card and getting out a pen sat at the counter for a moment to write a note.
“Do you happen to have Anthony Newton’s address?” Cassandra asked Hope.
“Yes, he has an account with us,” said Hope, checking her computer.
“Write it on the envelope for me?” Cassandra asked, quickly reviewing her note to the wealthy and artistic patron who was famous in the scene for showering his largesse on spankable girls and ladies. Hope copied Anthony Newton’s address from her screen onto the envelope and handed it back to Cassandra.
The Bone and Feather Inn had of course been remodeled many times since its initial opening, but had stood on the same spot in the village for over a hundred and fifty years, and Cassandra remembered it well from her residence in Random Point twenty years before. She had in fact taken care to dress as smartly as she could in the knowledge that upon checking in she would walk by the pub room and dining room and possibly chance to see or be seen by someone she had known long ago. As it happened, the only guest sitting in the pub was Ambrose Bartlett, the owner of Bartlett’s Department Store in the neighboring village of Woodbridge. He was a person well known to her daughter Amanda and subsequently spoken of by Amanda to her mother. But at this point, Cassandra had no way of connecting the attractive not quite middle aged businessman sitting at the bar drinking a red wine to the colorful individual who had hired Amanda several times to walk in his store fashion shows and who was also married to Amanda’s best friend, Pamela. But Mr. Bartlett did look up and take note of Cassandra as she passed by the door on the way to the stairs leading up to the rooms. First of all, her body was light and graceful, which two traits he greatly admired, secondly, she had beautiful, sexy shoes on and thirdly, her face was charming.
“Who’s that?” Bartlett asked Connie, the innkeeper who poured the random drink required of a midafternoon.
“I’ll find out,” Connie told her perpetual customer agreeably, going out to the reception desk to discover Cassandra’s name from her assistant. The name meant nothing to herself or to Ambrose Bartlett when he heard it, yet there was something about the slim lady that seemed familiar to him, even though he had glimpsed her for but a moment.
Cassandra climbed to one of the third floor chambers and had only to wait a few moments before the check in clerk brought up her luggage. She had engaged to stay at the inn for at least the next week as she decided where in the village or near it she would eventually move. Rain began to patter and splash against the mullioned panes of her pleasant, rustic room as she exchanged her tight sundress and heels for walking shoes and socks, a pair of denim capris and a white cotton shirt. Thus attired for comfort, she took her umbrella and raincoat and walked out into the village, towards the street where she had once kept shop.
She stopped at the village post office to mail her card to Anthony Newton then continued on her way.
The Pearl still stood almost exactly as she had left it, the only shop of its kind in the village and as stuffed full of candles, incense, rolling papers and magical books as it had ever been. She’d just detached herself from a similar store in San Francisco and felt not the slightest urge to go and ask the present owner what he or she wanted for the entity. However, just looking in the window, Cassandra was reminded that she had no recreational supplies with her, having traveled by plane and realized that she could put off a visit to the antiques shop no longer.
It was a three block walk back to Shadow Lane, where Marguerite Alexander’s bookstore and Hugo Sands Antiques shop occupied opposite corners of the small, cobbled cross street. Cassandra’s heart pounded and her face flushed as she went through the front door and the familiar bell tinkled. The first time she’d walked into that shop Hugo had only just bought the property and opened the business. She was one local business owner welcoming another. He had come to her shop first, to buy rolling papers and incense. Then she had returned the visit, bringing him LSD. It had been an unconventional relationship from the start, with Cassandra instantly recognizing Hugo’s powers of seduction and yielding to them with the enthusiasm of a student or a gifted apprentice. Now she only feared that his new bride would be present at this first meeting since her return to the village, which would be awkward before she’d had a chance to explain how things stood with her. She had every reason to believe that she and Laura would grow to be the truest of friends, but it would take some time to gain that lady’s confidence and convince her that she, Cassandra, had not returned to Random Point to steal her husband. For Hugo was the father of Cassandra’s beloved only child and the bond between the three of them, although they had never been together, all at once, was growing stronger all the time.
She had only sent Amanda to Hugo for the first time the previous autumn, just before the girl’s first term at Harvard commenced. She had kept Amanda’s existence a secret for 18 years, only allowing their child to enter Hugo’s life after she had come of legal age. Now she wondered why. It was something to do with pride, certainly. He had never asked her to marry him during their two happy years together and she knew he wasn’t particularly fond of children. When she became pregnant, she knew that if she told him, he would do the proper thing, but feared he might feel trapped and resentful, while doing so. He had loved her with warmth and affection, but without intellectual respect. He wholly discredited astrology, which was her hobby and expertise. She had always given readings as a sideline and as a result had been able to pamper Amanda with lessons, camps, European holidays, high tech toys, a large wardrobe and many other luxuries. Hugo had no patience with superstition and believed her to be as gullible as her followers, in spite of her explaining to him on more than one occasion that her talents were clearly of an intuitive nature rather than a psychic nature.
“Why couldn’t he have just been nice about it?” Cassandra asked herself as she looked around the familiar front room of Hugo’s shop, which was well arranged, nicely dusted and included some of the best and rarest vintage pieces in his collection. It was, as usual empty, but this was absolutely to be expected on a rainy day, even in high season. At the tinkle of the bell, Hugo got up from behind his computer monitor in his editorial office behind the shop and hurried out front to greet his possible customer. He appeared first behind the back counter and as she came forward into his line of vision, his face broke into a smile.
“You? Here in my shop?” he cried, coming around from behind the counter to embrace her. Then he held her away from him. “Why?”
“I need some weed, of course,” she laughed.
“Sure, come into the back and I’ll hook you up right away. Did you just get into town?”
“Yes, via Boston yesterday,” explained Cassandra, following him into the back. “Is your wife around?”
“She’s at home.”
“When can I meet her?”
“Whenever you like. Come for dinner tomorrow.”
“Really? She won’t mind?”
“Not at all, she was fine with Anthony sending you the ring. Even though she knew it would bring you back.”
“I like her for that. But that’s not why I came back.”
“No?”
“My partner of seventeen years has been seeing a younger woman, one of his students. He wants to marry her. It’s been going on some time. So it’s ended between him and me. I sold him my shop and decided to come back here. I always liked it here. It is all right with you?”
Hugo handed her a pouch and a pipe and led her out a back door into a small garden patio behind the shop, which flanked the familiar Random Point brook. “I think it’s a very smart idea,” said Hugo, handing her a lighter.
“I knew you’d be nice about it,” Cassandra smiled.
“Amanda will be happy. She’s missed you. And maybe you can do better than I have keeping her out of trouble.”
“I thought we were all trusting Colby Hodge to do that at the moment,” Cassandra grinned.
“Maybe yes, maybe no on that one. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”
“Even so, he’s a good man,” said Cassandra.
“I kind of led her a little astray, I think,” Hugo admitted, “encouraging her to make those little video clips and do some other crazy things. I hope I didn’t do wrong.”
“You didn’t. Amanda’s is nearly irresistible when she sets her mind on doing something or having something, she showed up here wanting to do all that before you gave her one referral.”
“I can’t get over how sophisticated girls have gotten. Well, have you thought about where you’re going to live and what you’re going to do?”
“I’m going to ask William Random’s advice on where to live. As to what I’m going to do, I have sufficient income to coast for a bit while I consider my options.”
“I’m so glad you’re moving back,” Hugo said. “You never should have gone away. But you stayed away so long that I had to finally marry someone else. Of course, I still love you, so it’s going to be awkward at times. But we’ll get through it. You have a way of smoothing people out and I’m sure you’ll easily work your spell on Laura.”
The rain had become a light mist as Cassandra walked across the village to the Damaris dress shop. Within the small boutique, a very pretty petite brunette in a charming outfit stood behind the back counter drawing on a tablet. Damaris looked up with a smile as her attractive customer entered.
“Hello. May I help you with anything in particular?” Damaris asked. She was in her early 30’s and as sleekly well groomed as a dress designer might be expected to be.
“Hi. I’m Cassandra. You know my daughter, Amanda,” said Cassandra, extending her hand.
“Oh, how lovely to meet you!” Damaris said. “Amanda did such a wonderful job for us this year,” the dressmaker said, for Amanda had appeared in the spring ad campaign for her shop, which had included a billboard on Harvard Square.
“I’m moving back to Random Point, so I hope we can be friends,” said Cassandra, showing Damaris her Venus Club ring. “Look, Anthony Newton sent me this and made me an honorary member.”
“Cool!” Damaris clicked her own Venus Club ring lightly against Cassandra’s.
“I’m going to meet Anthony Newton for the first time this week and I want to buy a new outfit. Can you help me? Do you know his taste?”
“Yes! Go in the fitting room, I’ll bring you some things to try on. You’re a four, right?”
Cassandra grinned. Damaris knew her shapes. Cassandra had no sooner entered the plush dressing chamber with its triple mirrors then Damaris came in with an armful of dainty, fitted dresses in neutral solid colors, with nipped waists and well-tailored seam work. “The more feminine and retro the better for Anthony,” said Damaris, unzipping the frocks for Cassandra to try on. “But we have to be careful not to overwhelm you with material,” the designer wisely decided, taking away the crinoline lined dresses. “You’re very slender. We’ll stick to forms that cling to your slim curves.”
Cassandra choose three new sundresses dresses, all of which emphasized her small waist, rounded bosom and shapely buttocks while drawing additional attention to her long thigh line. While Damaris carefully arranged them in a hanging bag Cassandra’s eyes were drawn to the geometrically precise stacks of lingerie arrayed in glass cases along one side of the shop. These silk teddies, camisoles, panties and chemises were imported from Europe and of the highest quality.
“If you could pick just one of these dainties for your own personal wardrobe, which would it be?” Cassandra asked her pretty new friend.
Damaris thought a moment then said, “Instead of spending one fifty on a satin slip, let me show you something sexy that just came in.” Damaris went into the stockroom and came back a moment later with a sleeveless, cherry red, leather zip dress over her arm. “It’s $275 but you’ll keep it forever. And you can lend it to Amanda once in a while.”
“That’s just what I need,” agreed Cassandra. Damaris put the leather sheath into a separate hanging bag.
“I used to know your husband a very long time ago,” said Cassandra, putting away her credit card. “I wonder if he remembers me.”
“Of course he does. I have all the back issues of Hugo’s magazine and one of the first numbers has a photo set with you and William. So cute!”
“Do you think he could help me find some property around here?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes, he could do that very easily. Here’s his numbers,” said Damaris, writing them on the back of a shop card. “He’s at his office regular hours. But let’s you and I have lunch someday soon, okay?”
“Thank you, that sounds lovely. I’ll call you later in the week,” Cassandra promised before leaving with her new garments.
After depositing her new clothes at the Inn, Cassandra took herself to Polyxena Guzman’s gym and spa to purchase a membership, do a yoga class and go for a swim. As the beautiful Dutch immigrant gym owner processed Cassandra’s paperwork, the newest gym member reminded Polyxena that they had met before.
“I remember meeting you at the London Rubber Ball about ten years ago,” said Cassandra. “You were working at Club Doma at that time. I remember you being dressed in a sheer, pale latex gown and you looked stunning.”
Polyxena looked at Cassandra with deepening interest, not quite remembering her from the Rubber Ball but noticing something familiar about the brunette. After learning that Cassandra was in the scene, Polyxena was even friendlier to her new member, inviting Cassandra to have dinner with her at her earliest convenience, so that they might learn each other’s histories. Cassandra of course had heard about the white-blonde siren from Amanda, who had given her mother a detailed account of every lady who had attended the Venus Club dinner several months before. And Amanda had a remarkable mind for detail. Amanda had told her mother that there were three goddesses in Random Point, Hope Spencer Lawrence, Marguerite Alexander and Polyxena Guzman. So far Cassandra agreed with her daughter. The final goddess, Marguerite Alexander, was even more special, for she had been Hugo’s last protégée and was therefore rather like a sister Cassandra had yet to meet.
As she was just leaving the gym early that evening, Cassandra once again crossed paths with Ambrose Bartlett. He was still in his well-tailored business suit, having just left the department store. They made eye contact in the lobby as he was coming in and she was going out. She half smiled, which was enough encouragement for him to stop and say, “Have we met? I seem to recognize you, but can’t remember from where.”
“I don’t think so. Who are you?” she asked. Ambrose Bartlett introduced himself.
“Oh, you’re Ambrose Bartlett!” Cassandra smiled.
“You do know me, then?”
“My daughter has worked for you,” Cassandra said. “Amanda Sands. She’s modeled for you a few times at the store.”
“You’re Amanda’s mother?” Ambrose flushed while shaking Cassandra’s small hand. “Yes.”
“That’s so interesting. You want to get a drink?”
“I thought you were going to work out?”
“That’s true,” he agreed, “but I want to talk to you!”
“We’ll do that. I’m going to be living in Random Point from now on, I think.”
“Is that so? Well, come visit me at the store some day this week. I’ll give you lunch.”
“That’s very nice of you,” said Cassandra.