Page 27 of The Stranger in the Mirror

“This is great. Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. This is the white. Why don’t you take it back to the refrigerator?”

“I’ll put the other one here.” Ted places it on the floor and looks around. “How’s it going? All finished yet?”

“Come on, take a look,” Gabriel says to his dad, and Hailey and I both get up to follow them.

We stand there, the five of us, at the back of the small room and look without speaking. I know Gabriel and Hailey are looking at the exhibit with pride. They’ve both had such a big hand in it from beginning to end that I know it feels like it’s their exhibit too, and I’m glad for that. I’m not quite sure about Ted. He strikes me as a man who doesn’t rush to judgment but takes his time, careful not to jump to conclusions. If he doesn’t know what to make of me yet, I think he is giving me the benefit of the doubt unless I prove him wrong. The outlier is Blythe, of course. She has actually pitched in to help with the exhibit, but without the gusto of the rest of the family. There’s always a little bit she withholds.

“It looks amazing,” Gabriel says, coming to put his arm around me.

Blythe nods. “The photographs are beautiful, Addison. I’ve seenthese bridges for years, but your camera has turned them into a thing of wonder. Thank you for trusting us with your work.”

I feel a rush of gratitude. Her approval means more to me than I care to admit. Dare I believe that she’s come a little bit closer to accepting me?

“Thank you, Blythe. It’s really something to see them displayed like this. It’s more than I ever dreamed of.”

“I have a feeling that after tonight your name is going to be spoken of in a lot of art circles,” Gabriel says with a huge smile.

For some reason the thought makes me nervous. I’m comfortable in the small little world I’ve created. I think about the ticket I’ve booked to Florida. Who knows what might happen if that world opens up too wide?

− 26 −

Julian

Julian fumbled as he removed his wallet from his inside jacket pocket, and his hand shook as he pulled the photograph from the covered flap. Cassandra with her arm around Valentina, both of them grinning at the camera. He looked from the picture to the poster and back again. Some of the light had gone out of her eyes, he thought sadly, but it was without a doubt his Cassandra. He read the information under her photograph.

First Friday: Journey into Light

Photographs by Addison Hope

Oliver Gallery 5:00–10:00 p.m.

She’d changed her name. Julian frowned. The only possible explanation was that she didn’t know who she was. He’d been right. Something had happened to make her forget. How on earth had she wound up so far away from home? He took a picture of the poster and hailed a cab back to his hotel, feeling a weight lifting from his shoulders.

As soon as he got back to his room, he called the airline and canceled his flight back to Boston. Then he phoned the house to let the housekeeper and nanny know that he would be delayed in Philadelphia. Next he opened his laptop and searched online for Addison Hope, but she had no social media presence he couldfind. He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily, thinking about next steps. He thought about calling the detective but decided against it. Instead he picked up his phone and tapped the Photos app, scrolling through the hundreds of photos he had of Cassandra and him, as well as some shots with Valentina in them. Tomorrow night he would go to the gallery. When he showed her the pictures, they would finally reunite.

By the time he finally got into bed, it was after two, but despite the late hour he barely slept. At five he gave up and threw back the covers, rising to shower and shave. He looked like hell, he noted. Too little sleep and too much tension. His stomach rumbled with hunger as he slid into the taxi, but there was no way he could hold down breakfast. He nervously tapped his foot on the floor of the cab until they finally reached the symposium hotel, where he bolted into the lobby. A group of participants were clustered outside the meeting room, and he nodded as he walked briskly past them, hastily placing his notes on the podium in the room and opening a bottle of water that had been left for him.

As the audience filtered in, he felt himself grow edgier. How was he supposed to get through the eight hours before he could see Cassandra again?

***

It was a relief to get back to his room and be alone at last. The hours of waiting had been agonizing. There were times during the day when he’d actually been rude to some of his colleagues, his impatience and anxiety getting the better of him. Now he had a little time to think about what to say and what to do when he saw her. It was going to be a very delicate thing. Unpredictable. But he was trained for unpredictability, he reassured himself.

Julian changed out of the shirt and tie he’d worn to the symposium. Cassandra used to tell him he always overpacked—more like a woman than a man—but as he buttoned a fresh blue Brooks Brothers shirt, he was grateful that he had brought extras. A little after five he left the hotel and walked to the Oliver Gallery. He ran his moist palms along the sides of his jacket as he approached the building. He was finding it hard to take a deep breath. Then he was standing in front of the gallery with his hand on the doorknob. He hesitated, and someone behind him said, “Going in, buddy?”

“Sorry,” Julian said, startled, and pushed open the door.

Only a few people were wandering about in the main room of the gallery, where glasses of wine and trays of cheese and crackers sat on two high round tables in the middle of the floor. Julian walked around, still trying unsuccessfully to get a full breath of air into his lungs. He swept his gaze across the entire gallery and saw that one of the two side rooms looked more crowded than the other. That must be where her exhibit was, he thought, and strode over to its entrance.

Suddenly he saw her across the room. The hammering in his chest began again, just like the night before, when he thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his beating heart from crashing through his chest. She looked beautiful in a simple black dress, her long hair touching her shoulders and her eyes shining with excitement. She held a glass of white wine in her hand as she chatted with a few guests. Julian stood rooted to the spot as a good-looking guy with a mop of curly brown hair walked over to her and put his arm around her waist. Cassandra looked up at him, smiling, and Julian clenched his jaw. He flexed his fingers, forcing the blood to circulate, and walked purposefully toward her, never taking his gaze from her.

He waited until the man had stepped away to approach her.She extended her hand, not seeming to know him. “Hello, I’m Addison Hope. Thank you so much for coming tonight.”

Julian shook her hand, staring into her eyes, and she continued to smile blandly at him. No flicker of recognition. “Hello. I’m Julian Hunter. I’m here from Boston for a medical conference, and I saw the sign for your exhibit last night.” He watched her face carefully as he spoke. Nothing.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the exhibit and your time in Philadelphia,” she said, turning away to greet someone else.

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