Chapter 11

"Tomato juice," said Cassie. "It's the best thing in the world for skunk odor."

"I read somewhere the smell lasts for days." Kajurian stood, glum and reeking, in Cassie's kitchen as she rummaged through the pantry.

"It's on the higher shelf," said John, reaching over Cassie's head for the can. He was thankful he hadn't been Bertrand's target, and his sympathies were with Kajurian. The trigger-happy Bertrand had been banished to the shed.

"What a welcome you give me," moaned Kajurian. "Morgana warned me that you probably wouldn't be overjoyed to see me, Cassie, but I didn't know about your secret weapon."

"Bertrand doesn't like men," said Cassie. "Morgana should have mentioned that."

"I spoke with Morgana when she came back from here, and the sum total of our conversation was, 'Kajurian, you go up that mountain and talk sense into Cassie.' I should have stayed back in L.A. There it's only bad drivers, not skunks. Bad drivers I'm used to."

Cassie held out the can of tomato juice. "Take this in the bathroom and wash yourself in it."

Kajurian looked at her as though she were crazy.

"I mean it. It'll work. Pour this juice through your hair and then wash it out with shampoo. Rub it all over your skin before you take a bath."

"You got any vodka? I sure don't feel like taking a bath in straight tomato juice."

"Go," said Cassie, giving him an encouraging shove. "You'll find towels. John will bring in your luggage so you can put on clean clothes."

"Here are the car keys," Kajurian said morosely, handing them over.

Cassie hurried to fling wide the few windows that weren't already open. John went outside and eyed Bertrand in his cage in the shed. No doubt about it, Bertrand's stay here would be short now that this had happened.

John carried in Kajurian's suitcase and handed clothes through the bathroom door. Cassie went out to the shed to confront Bertrand, taking Tigger with her. John watched through a window as she spoke earnestly to the skunk. He repressed a smile at the sight of Tigger, who was twitching his nose and listening in smug superiority from the tree stump where he'd perched.

Kajurian emerged from the bathroom. "We'll have to bury my suit," he said unhappily.

"Maybe the local dry cleaner can do something," John said, though Kajurian would be better off without it. The suit was probably twenty years old.

"Well, Kajurian," said Cassie, coming back in. "You're smelling better."

"Humph. I'm not the only thing around here that stinks," was Kajurian's disgruntled reply.

"What in the world are you talking about?" said Cassie.

"You. Specifically, you hiding up here on this mountain. Come home, Cassie. Show business needs you. Morgana needs you. I need you. More to the point, my agency needs you."

"Why? So you can lose more money at the race track?"

"If I wasn't cut out to be a gambler, I'd never have survived in this business. Come back to L.A., Cassie. Let me set up a comeback appearance for you. Maybe in Vegas. We'll make millions together, you and me, like we did in the old days."

"Sorry, Kajurian. I hope you'll be able to stay the rest of the week, but when you leave for home, you go alone."

John interrupted. "Look, I'll let you two hash this over together. I need to get ready for Sharon's opening. Kajurian, we're going to the Juniper Inn for dinner. Will you join us?"

"An opening? What kind of opening?" Kajurian's ears, attuned for more than forty years to show business, perked up.

Rose o' Sharon Ott would never have a better opportunity than the one that was standing in front of Cassie now. Kajurian was tops in the business.

"It's a local singer," said Cassie. She didn't want to appear too eager. "She's a pupil of mine. She plays the mountain dulcimer."

"You mean there's more than one dulcimer player? More than one Cassandra Dare? This I do not believe." Kajurian looked uncommonly interested.

"There aren't many dulcimer players with a voice like this girl's," said Cassie. She shot John a look. "Am I right, John?"

John realized exactly what Cassie was up to. "You're absolutely right, Cassie. Sharon can sing."

"Like you? She sings like you?"

"Not like me. Different. She has an amazing range, and—well, why try to describe it? You'll go with us tonight."

"I thought you never stepped off this mountain. Morgana said—"

"For Sharon Ott I'm going to the Juniper Inn. Come back around five, John. We'll have a glass of scuppernong wine before we go." The wine had put Morgana in a mellow mood; maybe it would do the same for Kajurian.

"Scuppernong wine, she says. Never in my life have I drunk scuppernong wine. What is it, anyway?"

After Kajurian retired to the guest room to dress for the evening, Cassie flipped through the clothes in her closet. She hadn't bought any in the past couple of years. Finally she selected a loosely fitted but nevertheless classic and sexy silk dress in cornflower blue. Bertrand had destroyed her last pantyhose, so she'd go barelegged, but her legs in strappy sandals were so tan that it wouldn't matter.

Promptly at five, John drove the Explorer into the side yard. He and Cassie plied Kajurian with wine for the next hour. Kajurian relaxed to the point where he was able to laugh off the incident with Bertrand, and Cassie was grateful for that. She wanted him to be in a good mood when he first saw and heard Sharon.

They rode down the mountain, the three of them in John's SUV. Cassie made no comment when they passed the Otts' tin-roofed shack, and neither did John. Cassie raised a hand to wave at the hollow-cheeked man sitting hunkered over on the porch, but she received no answering greeting. The man was Sharon's father.

John glanced at Cassie. She was taking a major step forward in going to Sharon's opening. His plan to draw her inexorably back into the mainstream of life was actually working.

When they arrived at the Juniper Inn, Cassie was overwhelmed by the press of people, their talk, their laughter, their unaccustomed mingled scents of perfume and after-shave lotion. Sliding a protective arm around Cassie, warming her with a reassuring smile, John guided her smoothly as the hostess led them to their table.

The Juniper Inn was a mansion formerly belonging to a timber magnate and recently refurbished to its original glory. Fireplaces, banked with huge sprays of rhododendrons, graced every room. Walls had been torn out and rooms rearranged so that each dining area opened to a large central space.

Cassie, John, and Kajurian sat near the stage. Cassie inhaled a deep nervous breath. For the first time since she'd moved to Flat Top Mountain, she was out in public and sitting among people who might recognize her. Kajurian grinned hopefully across the candlelit table, and she knew she would have to convince him that she was never going back to L.A. All of it was almost too much to handle.

John's hand clasped hers beneath the table and she clung to it. His knee pressed comfortingly close to her thigh. For the moment, Kajurian was gazing at the stunning mountain view beyond the windows.

"I love you," mouthed John silently.

"I love you, too," she pantomimed in return.

They smiled at each other, sharing the secret. They squeezed hands. And Cassie felt better immediately.

The waiter was bringing their dessert when Sharon appeared. She slipped in quietly from a side door and climbed the steps to the stage, where there was a high stool, a floor microphone and nothing else.

"That's Sharon," she whispered to Kajurian, who immediately focused his attention on the beautiful girl who was adjusting the mike as if she'd done it many times before.

The sweater Cassie had given her outlined Sharon's curves nicely. It was a soft shade of coral and emphasized the natural tint of Sharon's strawberry-blond hair. The full-blown rose with which she'd pinned back her curving locks on one side brought out the pale beauty of Sharon's translucent skin.

"She's a looker, Cassie," said Kajurian admiringly. "You didn't tell me she was a looker." He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her eager young face.

"I figured you'd find out for yourself," Cassie whispered back. Inwardly she was delighted. Kajurian didn't know the words "beautiful,"

"exquisite," or even "gorgeous." To Kajurian, you were either a looker or not, and Cassie knew that he considered good looks of primary importance in promoting young hopefuls to stardom.

The man who introduced Sharon wasted no time with preliminaries.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, for your listening enjoyment—the first time on any stage, Rose o' Sharon."

A spotlight switched on, illuminating Sharon's lovely features, and Cassie's throat tightened. Sharon was every bit as beautiful onstage as Cassie had known she would be.

Sharon smiled easily and brushed her hair back over her shoulder in that languid way of hers. She bent her head over the dulcimer for a moment so that the lights played off her hair, and at last she lifted her head and began to sing.

Kajurian seemed spellbound. Cassie glanced at John, and he lifted his eyebrows. She nodded in silent reply. They were both thinking that Kajurian would not be sitting as he was, a forgotten forkful of pie raised in midair, if he had not been hypnotized by Sharon's performance.

And hypnotized Kajurian was. Not only was this girl a looker, but she could sing. Sharon Ott possessed a rare indescribable quality that any experienced agent in the business recognized when he saw it. The girl was a natural. Like Cassie had been. Only different. But definitely marketable.

The dying chords of the first song faded away, and Cassie, joining the rest of the audience, applauded until the palms of her hands ached.

"What do you think?" whispered Cassie to Kajurian, although she knew what the answer would be.

"She's fantastic," said Kajurian. "Why didn't you tell me?"

And then Sharon lit into "Darling Cora" so that the rhythm filled the air and captured the attention of the audience once more, and the applause afterward was even louder than before.

"I had no idea that Sharon would be able to perform so well in front of an audience," marveled Cassie to John in a low tone.

"She's wonderful," John agreed. "You deserve all the credit."

"Not I," objected Cassie. "She's gone beyond anything I ever taught her." She turned her eyes to her pupil, who now sang a mountain ballad with feeling and strength.

"I must talk with her," said Kajurian after the next number. "Would she come to California to work? Or has she got a thing about staying up on that mountain like you?"

Cassie considered this. Sharon needed to get out of Scot's Cove if she were to break out of the Ott cycle of despair and poverty. But then, Sharon was also a simple mountain girl, and although she'd confided to Cassie that she longed to make something of herself, Sharon had strong ties to her younger brothers and sisters and an affection and sympathy for her mother. When it came right down to it, would Sharon leave Flat Top Mountain?

"I honestly don't know," Cassie said.

"After she leaves the stage, I'll go to her. You'll come with me, Cassie, won't you? She knows you. You can explain to her, maybe, what it means to sign with a top agent in the business." Unconsciously, Kajurian puffed up with pride. Cassie smiled. But of course, Kajurian was right. He was tops in the business.

Sharon sang for another twenty minutes during which Kajurian sat on the edge of his chair, narrowed his eyes at her speculatively, and jittered his knees. The girl was a prize.

Not a great singer—after all, her voice was untrained. Kajurian thought she'd need a few singing lessons; not many, because Kajurian wouldn't like the girl's naturalness to be subdued into something artificial. Maybe a few gigs at small clubs in L.A. first, then on to opening the show for larger acts on tour. Maybe some television. One of those big-buck contestant shows. She'd look great on TV.

As her closing number Sharon chose Cassie's award-nominated theme song from Morgana's documentary, "Where the Heart Is." As she sang, Sharon focused her eyes on Cassie, her gratitude to her teacher and mentor shining on her face. Cassie sat spellbound. The phrasing, the technique—it was as Cassie imagined her song should be performed. Sharon's low-pitched voice imparted a resonance that Cassie had never achieved. Suddenly, although Cassie was entirely caught up in the warmth of Sharon's rendition, a chill vibrated through her bones. In her heart Cassie knew with certainty that Sharon's life had changed forever. Sharon was going to be a star.

Her protegee slipped down from the stool and bowed as applause rippled anew from the audience. When it seemed as though the applause was not going to stop, Sharon bowed toward Cassie and swept a hand in her direction. Cassie felt all eyes upon her, and she heard the surprised voices whispering, "Cassandra Dare, Cassandra Dare."

The applause began all over again, but now it was for her.

Cassie blanched. She felt dizzy. All these people looking at her, every one of them puzzled and curious. They'd know about the airplane accident and how she'd disappeared from public life. She wanted to run. She could not face those people, could not be Cassandra Dare again. Could not.

But John was smiling at her, squeezing her hand. His strength communicated to her.

"They want you to acknowledge their applause," he urged.

Gripping his hand, weak with the effort of having to respond to an audience again, Cassie stumbled to her feet. She bowed slightly, feeling awkward and embarrassed. John gripped her hand tightly, and he stood to hold her chair when she sat down again after Sharon had slipped from the stage out the side door.

"Oh," Cassie said faintly, "that was so unexpected."

"They love 'Where the Heart Is,'" said John. "They wanted to show you their appreciation. Look, they've all gone back to eating and drinking now."

It was true. Except for an occasional nod in Cassie's direction, no one was paying attention to her. Cassie closed her eyes in relief. She was going to be left in peace. She didn't have to be Cassandra Dare again. Ever.

***

"Go to California?" Sharon sounded incredulous.

"Yes. If you sign with me, that's what you must do."

"Cassie?"

"It's true, Sharon. Kajurian wants to sign you. That means you'll get bookings on the Coast. It's a wonderful opportunity."

"The Coast?"

"The West Coast," Kajurian filled in.

"I never dreamed..." began Sharon, but then she couldn't go on. In her wildest imaginings she had not foreseen being approached by an honest-to-goodness agent who would promise her a career in show business.

Sharon lowered herself onto a straight chair in the closet that served as a dressing room at the Juniper Inn. "I've just performed in public for the first time," she said dazedly. "I was real excited to be getting a paycheck at last. Now you're offering me this big chance, and, well, I can't believe it." Her eyes sought Cassie's.

Cassie sank to her knees beside Sharon and slid an arm around the girl's shoulders. This development must be a great shock. "Kajurian was my agent for years, and he helped me get my start. He can do the same for you if you're willing to work."

"I love singing, you know that, Cassie. But leaving home..." Her voice drifted off. "That would throw more responsibility on Bonnie to help Ma with the kids." Sharon's eyes swam with troubled tears.

Kajurian couldn't allow this wonderful find, this discovery of his, to turn him down. "Ms. Ott—"

"Sharon," she corrected. No one had ever called her Ms. Ott before.

"Sharon," he said patiently. "Talk to Cassie. She'll reassure you."

"Do I have to decide right away?"

"No, my dear. You think a little, talk a little. But I'm telling you, with your talent and your looks, you're making a mistake if you don't sign with Kajurian." He sympathized with her feelings; he'd been through this with other young kids. They all had the desire to succeed, but sometimes they didn't have the will.

"Sharon, we're staying for the second show," said Cassie, rising to her feet. "We'll talk about it later, just the two of us. Okay?"

"Okay." Sharon looked up at Kajurian. "It's just that I'm so surprised," she said apologetically.

"I know," he said, patting her on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Take your time. I'll be staying here for—" and he paused, because after the skunk spray, he'd wanted to leave immediately. Now that he was hot on the trail of someone he perceived to be the heir to the Cassandra Dare tradition, however, he'd changed his mind. "I'll be here until you decide," he amended.

Cassie and Kajurian rejoined John at the table. John ordered drinks all around, as did people at other tables who had seen Sharon's first appearance. As Cassie expected, Sharon's second show was even better than her first. Cassie blew her a kiss as she walked offstage.

"A star," mumbled Kajurian on their way to the parking lot afterward. "That girl could be famous."

They heard a shout from somewhere behind them, and they turned to see Sharon running toward them, her face pale in the glare of the parking-lot lights. "Cassie," she called, and then stopped.

"It's all right," said Cassie encouragingly.

"I thought—I mean, if you think it's a good idea—that you and I could maybe ride home together?" It was clear to all of them that she wanted to talk privately with Cassie.

"Why don't you?" urged John. "Kajurian and I will be fine on our own."

"Okay," said Cassie, and the relief on Sharon's face was evident.

"I'm driving your Camry," Sharon reminded her. "It's parked over this way."

On the way back to Flat Top Mountain, Cassie drove because Sharon declared herself too excited to attempt it.

"Oh, Cassie, tell me what to do! I'm so afraid!" Sharon sank deep into the corner of the front seat and nibbled on a thumbnail.

Cassie focused her gaze on the tail lights of John's Explorer straight ahead.

"I can't make your decision," she said gently. "I can only advise you about what it would be like if you signed with Kajurian."

"I'd like that," Sharon said.

And so Cassie told her about the excitement of auditions, the disappointment of learning that you hadn't landed the job, the anger when you thought no one appreciated your talent, the joy when someone finally did. Talking about it made the whole show biz scene come back to her in vivid detail. Those had been wonderful times. Until now, she'd so successfully buried her past that she'd forgotten how much fun she'd had.

"If I don't go, I'll always wonder if I could have made it," Sharon said wistfully. "Did you feel that way when you started, Cassie?"

"That was part of it. I'd watched how hard Mom worked to support us after my father ran out on her. I was destined for a paper mill job and was afraid to take a chance on any other. Mom told me, 'Cassie, get out of this town.' She wanted me to have choices."

Cassie remembered with love the fierceness of her mother's ambition for her. Her mother had left her own secure home with Gran on Flat Top Mountain to marry neither wisely nor well. She died shortly after Cassie married Kevin, never to know how her own ambition had fired her daughter's success. Dear Mom. Without her mother's faith in her, Cassie would never have summoned the courage to leave the small town where she'd grown up.

But Sharon's mother was not like Cassie's. Mrs. Ott had never been supportive. She'd never shown in any way that she hoped for a better life for any of her offspring. Sharon had no one to boost her up and over.

No one, that is, except Cassie herself.