A Case for Love (16 page)

“Just us—the regulars. If anyone else in the family wants to do something more formal for them, they can. We wanted to celebrate with them before it gets too far down the road and they start to feel like none of us cared enough to recognize their momentous occasion.”

When she put it like that, how could he not go? “I’ll be there. Are y’all going to be giving them your gifts tonight?”

“I think Jenn said something about a gift table, yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll have to run home and get mine on the way then.”

“But we can count on your being there?”

“I’ll be there. Just make sure there’s plenty of room on that gift table. I have two boxes and they’re somewhat large.” For the first time in days, an emotion other than anxiety started stealing over him. Meredith would love the gifts he’d gotten her. At least she’d better, with all the trouble he’d gone through to find them.

“Going to show us all up, huh?”

“That’s my goal in life.” He grinned. If he couldn’t be best man in their wedding, at least he could give them a gift that would make them feel guilty that he never got the chance.

“Okay. We’ll see you tonight, then.”

As soon as he got off the phone, Forbes finished his dictation and wrapped up a few other small projects he needed to clear off his desk before his meeting in judge’s chambers with opposing counsel on his longest-running case. He was tempted to ask the clients if he could request to fast-track the case, just so they could get a court date set and end the barrage of motions and continuances from the other side. But with what his clients paid for Forbes’s retainer, in addition to billable hours, the other partners wouldn’t be happy if he tried to push for a hasty conclusion to the case just because he was tired of dealing with it.

Samantha returned just before he needed to leave, pushing a rolling cart stacked with hundreds of photocopies. His heart sank. He’d known he’d asked for a lot of information; he just hadn’t realized how much it would be.

“Stack those on my conference table.” He moved out of the way so she could push the cart in through his office door. “The Pichon motion is ready to be typed. Have a courier bring it to me at Judge Aucoin’s office when it’s ready, and I’ll file it while I’m down there.”

“Yes, boss.”

“How’d your test go last night?”

“I think I aced it.”

“What class is it?”

“Pharmacology.”

Forbes shuddered and crossed to help her unload the copies from the cart. While he’d done well in the required math and science classes he’d had to take in college, the idea of purposely majoring in a science-based field gave him the heebie-jeebies. “Are you sure you want to leave all this and become a nurse?”

“Nurse practitioner. Big difference. Once I finish all of my schooling, I’ll be able to see patients on my own and write prescriptions.” She grunted as she heaved a stack of papers onto the table.

“But people throw up on nurses.”

Samantha mumbled something under her breath.

“I didn’t quite catch that.” He covered the two remaining stacks of copies on the cart when she would have just kept moving them.

“I said, I’d rather have people throw up on me occasionally than to be making copies and taking dictation the rest of my life. No offense, Forbes, but this isn’t the most intellectually challenging job in the world.”

He leaned over the cart, rested his elbows on the papers, and propped his chin on his fist. “No offense taken. But why nursing? Why not become a lawyer or a literature professor or an artist? If you think working for a lawyer is a thankless job, wait until you work for a doctor.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed, as he’d hoped, and waved him off the cart. He stood and picked up the few remaining copies and stacked them on the table. His fingers itched to start flipping through them and see what lay in their murky depths, but it would have to wait. Again.

He followed her out of the office. “I won’t be coming back tonight, so go ahead and lock up my office when you leave. And once you finish the Pichon motion—and type up those couple of other things I put in your box, go ahead and leave. You can use the extra time to study all that nasty science stuff.”

“Gee, thanks.” She pushed the cart to the side of her desk and went back into his office for the dictating machine. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Judge Aucoin’s right now?”

“Yeah. I am. If you need me—”

“I’ve got your number.”

He had to return to his office twice—once for a secondary file he’d left behind, and the next time for his large, red and black University of Louisiana–Bonneterre umbrella. He made it to the courthouse with bare minutes to spare—but ran into opposing counsel in the line waiting to get through the metal detectors, so let his anxiety ease. They weren’t sitting up there, waiting on him.

Two hours later, his expanding files stretched well beyond their original capacity with multiple new motions he would have to write responses to in the next week, Forbes left the judge’s chambers. The secretary handed him a courier envelope. He thanked the woman and took the paperwork out of the envelope to look over while walking toward the court clerks’ office. For as much as Samantha didn’t want to be a lawyer’s secretary the rest of her life, she was very good at it.

He filed the motion, stopped and chatted with a few colleagues on his way out, and finally left the courthouse with just enough time to go home and pick up the gifts. He pulled into the garage, leaving everything in the car, and jogged up the three flights of stairs to his bedroom. In the large, walk-in closet sat the boxes wrapped in silver paper and decorated with dark blue velvet ribbons—a rather impressive wrapping job, if he did say so himself.

He carried each one gingerly down the stairs. Not only were they heavy and somewhat bulky, if he broke anything, there were no returns.

Driving with them in the car made him nervous, and he drew nasty looks from fellow drivers in a hurry to get home from work as they whipped around him on Highway 77 when northbound traffic in the opposite lane eased enough that they could safely pass him.

Though he usually tried to park far away from the restaurant to keep anyone from parking too near his baby, tonight, he pulled into the closest space he could find. He leaned in to get the first box.

“Hey, there. Need a hand?”

He hit his head on the top of the doorframe in his surprise. Leaving the box, he stood and turned, rubbing the back of his head.

Evelyn Mackenzie would turn every head in the place tonight in her sleeveless black dress that accentuated every curve the woman had.

Wait. What was she doing here? “Hey, Evelyn. No, I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Well, at least let me get the door for you, huh?”

“Sure.” He carried the first box in. “Did Anne invite you?”

“No, Meredith did.” Evelyn nodded at the box. “Someone’s birthday?”

“We’re celebrating Meredith and Major’s wedding tonight.”

“I wish I’d known. I’d have picked something up for them.” Evelyn held open the glass-and-chrome door into the Fishin’ Shack.

“Thanks. I just found out about it a couple of hours ago myself.” He wound through the buzzing restaurant. He wasn’t sure if heads were turning at the sight of the gift he carried or because of Evelyn, but both of them drew the attention of pretty much every customer.

“Hey, you made it early.” Anne’s eyes widened at the size of the gift in Forbes’s arms. “Wow. You really are going to show us up.”

He arched his brow at her. “There’s another one just like this out in the car.”

“Put it here.” Anne pointed to a place on the long table covered with a dark blue tablecloth broken up by a silver runner down the middle.

“Anne, you remember Evelyn Mackenzie.”

“Yes, of course. Meredith mentioned she’d invited you to come. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to get in touch with you to forewarn you we’re having a little wedding reception for them tonight.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I just hope I’m not intruding on family time.”

“Not at all. We’re thrilled to have you and glad we can include you in some of our family activities since you’re so far from your own.”

After a second trip—with Evelyn insisting she hold the door for him, which, for some reason, included walking back out to his car with him—Forbes collapsed into a chair at the large, round table in the semiprivate room, relieved he’d gotten the gifts here without incident. Transporting them safely back to Bonneterre was now up to Meredith and Major.

“Wow. Looks like the owner went all out for you guys.”

He chuckled. “Given that the owner was supposed to be Meredith’s maid of honor and just happens to be our sister, yes, she went all out.”

Pink, blue, and brown streamers draped over everything stationary enough to hold it—from the fishing paraphernalia tacked to the walls to the pirogue hanging from the ceiling. The pink was Jenn’s contribution to the color scheme—back when planning the wedding-that-wasn’t, Meredith had insisted she only wanted to use her favorite color, brown, and Major’s favorite color, blue, in the wedding decor.

“Is that lace on the cake?” Evelyn leaned over to look closer at what looked like airy, florally brown lace around the base of the three tiers of the white cake dripping with blue and white frosting flowers. “My word. I never knew someone could pipe icing that fine.”

“Our aunt, my mother’s sister, is a professional pastry chef. She’s famous in Bonneterre for her cakes.”

Forbes saw to introducing Evelyn to his younger siblings and cousins as they arrived, each expressing his or her displeasure over the size of Forbes’s gifts in comparison to his or her own.

“Just remember,” Anne said, arranging the gifts in an artful presentation, “it’s not the size of the gift that matters, but the intention with which it’s given.” No one agreed with her.

When Meredith and Major arrived—having been purposely delayed by Mom, according to Anne—both exhibited genuine surprise ... tempered by the claim that they’d suspected Anne would have planned something like this tonight.

Hearing all about their trip to Colorado took up most of the conversation over dinner. Anne made a production of having them cut the cake, just as if it were a real wedding reception—with George taking plenty of pictures.

“Gifts!” Jenn squeaked like a schoolgirl as soon as the cake was sliced and served. “Mine first.”

Anne sat beside them and wrote down each gift and who’d given it. While his family members had given them nice things—mostly items for their house that they’d listed on their registry wish list, Forbes grew more and more confident that nothing anyone else gave them would compare with his gift. He leaned forward with eager anticipation when his two boxes were the only ones remaining to be opened.

“Wow, these are heavy.”

Forbes stood to stop Jenn from picking the box up and potentially dropping it. “They’ll probably need to open those over at the table instead of putting them on the floor.”

Meredith and Major came over, as did Anne and George with the list and camera.

“Should we open them at the same time?” Meredith asked.

“You can.”

She nodded at Major, and both started tearing away paper and ribbons. Forbes tried to keep the smug look from his face.

“Oh...” Meredith breathed. “Where did you find them? Oh, Forbes, they’re beautiful!” She turned and threw her arms around his neck. It was the first hug she’d given him in a while. That reaction made all his trouble in finding the two arts-and-crafts era antique lamps worthwhile.

“You’re welcome. I knew you wanted something like those for your living room but couldn’t afford the real thing and didn’t want to settle for cheap imitations.”

She finally stepped away and wiped a couple of tears from her cheeks. “Are they really...?” She returned to the box to examine them. “This one’s a ... Bradley and Hubbard.”

“And this one’s a Handel.” Major carefully extracted the ivory, slag glass shade from the mounds of paper it had been packed in.

“They’re not identical, obviously, but they’re as close as I could find. Both are supposed to be cast iron bases, and the scrollwork on the shades is brass.”

“They’re perfect, Forbes. You shouldn’t have done something this extravagant, but I’m so glad you did.” Meredith hugged him again. “I can’t wait to get them home and plug them in.”

He returned to the table to the good-natured jeers and ribbing of his relatives and indulged in a slice of Aunt Maggie’s cake.

Evelyn pressed her shoulder into his and leaned her head close to his. “You’re going to make some woman very happy some day, Forbes Guidry.”

He hoped so ... and that Alaine’s tastes ran to lamps that were easier to find than these.

Alaine stood at the rear of the sanctuary. Most of the people who came to this Saturday night service were young—and dressed to go out afterward. Would they leave here to go hit the bars and clubs in midtown, feeling as if they’d had their dose of church for the week so it was okay to go get plastered afterward?

Her sorority sisters had lived that way—and so had she, even for a few years after college. It was so much easier to maintain good church attendance when one could go
before
getting smashed instead of dealing with the hangover while trying to look properly worshipful on Sunday morning.

“Alaine? Alaine Delacroix, it is you.”

She turned at the masculine voice. Her heart gave a little lurch at the sight of Shon Murphy. She could rack it up to his dark good looks, but in all honesty, running into him embarrassed her more than excited her. Seeing him reminded her of her current status as one of his company’s clients ... and the several e-mails from him she hadn’t yet responded to.

“I didn’t know you went to church here.”
Wow. Great opener, girl.

“This is my first time to come to the Saturday service. Tomorrow’s my mama’s birthday, and I promised to go to church with them over in Pineville.” He looked around the sanctuary. “Looks like we’d better find seats. Mind if I join you?”

“Please do.” She took a few deep breaths when she turned to start down the central aisle, trying to keep the heat climbing her throat from progressing into her face. She stepped into a pew in the middle of the large room and edged her way down to the center of it.

Shon sat beside her and flipped open his order of service. Alaine did likewise but didn’t take in anything on the page. While she hated attending church alone—and
alone
was how she’d always felt in the regular services on Sunday morning, looking around at all the couples and families—the idea of sitting with the guy she’d paid to set her up on blind dates was a bit weird and uncomfortable.

“Did you have a good week?” Shon’s soft voice startled her.

“I did. But really busy. And you?”

“Same here. I saw your piece on the dance studio opening down in Comeaux. Looks like you had a really good time. Was that Forbes Guidry you were dancing with?”

Heat burst full force into her cheeks. “It was. I ... I met him at the
Bonneterre Lifestyles
bachelors’ dinner, and since there was an uneven number of people at the dance studio, he asked me if I’d partner him.”

“You looked like a natural. That wasn’t your first dance lesson, was it?”

“Thanks.” She curled the corner of the bulletin, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. “My mother thought that my brothers and I should at least know a couple of basic ballroom dance steps, so she taught us at home. It came in handy more for the boys than for me come prom time. I didn’t have the advantage of being asked by a boy whose mother thought he should know how to waltz and foxtrot.”

Shon cocked his head and gave her a quizzical look. “Did they actually play music conducive to dancing like that at your school?”

She laughed, then cringed when it carried, drawing the admonishing glances of several people sitting nearby. She thought about sticking her tongue out at them but knew that would only draw more glares. “No. But it has come in handy at wedding receptions when older men have asked me to dance. Or my brothers. I tried teaching my sorority sisters, but that wasn’t the kind of dance moves they were interested in learning. By then, the lambada was all the rage.”

“That ... or just two people writhing with their bodies pressed indecently close to each other.” Shon sighed. “That’s when I stopped going to the interfraternity dances. I didn’t want any woman getting that close to me but my wife, and since I hadn’t met her then, there was no point in going.”

“When did you get married?”

“Oh, I’m not—” Shon suddenly became interested in finding the scripture reference for the sermon in his burgundy leather Bible.

“You’re not married?” She narrowed her eyes. “But surely you have a girlfriend.”

His jaw tightened; his full lips pressed together.

“Let me get this straight.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “You run a matchmaking agency that’s so successful you’ve opened offices in six or seven major metropolitan areas ... and you haven’t found someone for yourself?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m the pickiest client I have.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You are so lucky I forgot to ask that question when I had you on my show. My, my. What would people say if they knew Mr. Matchmaker himself couldn’t get a date.”

“Hey, now. I date. Occasionally. Okay, rarely, and usually with the niece or daughter of someone my mom teaches with at Louisiana College, just because I can’t get out of it. But I’ll have you know that we have a very high success rate of long-term relationships out of the matches we make at Let’s Do Coffee.”

She held her hands up and stifled her laughter better this time. “No need to sell me on it, I’m already a client, remember?”

“Are you? I was sure you were having second thoughts since you haven’t responded to any of the e-mails I sent you this week. I’ve got at least three clients I’d like to set up meetings for you ... with.” He frowned and shook his head. “With who I’d like to set up for you.... You know what I mean. But I can’t do it if you don’t communicate with me. Remember, you are a paying client. What have you got to lose to give these guys thirty minutes to an hour of your time? If you don’t like them, you don’t have to see them ever again.”

The praise band started playing a soft but fast-paced introduction. “Fine. I’ll look at the e-mails as soon as I get home tonight, and I’ll let you know Monday if I want to meet any of them. Okay?”

People around them got to their feet when the praise leader stepped to the microphone and started singing.

Shon stood. “Okay. Seems like I’m making a lot of deals outside the parameters of the service recently.”

Alaine’s forehead barely reached his shoulder, and she craned her neck to look up at his profile. “What’s that?”

“Huh—oh, nothing. I just have another client who’s giving me a little difficulty when it comes to agreeing to go out on dates, and he also offered me a deal just the other day.”

“Isn’t that part of the ‘package customization’ we VIPs get?” She winked at him.

“Careful now. I made you a VIP. I can very easily make you
not
a VIP.” He held his index finger up to his lips. “Shush. It’s time to sing now.”

With a wry grin, she turned her attention to the giant screens at the front of the auditorium and started singing the familiar chorus. She’d never admit to Shon that she hadn’t gotten back to him because of Forbes Guidry.

Forbes would never need to stoop to using a matchmaking service. No, he most likely had women throwing themselves at him all day long. But she wasn’t going to be one of them.

Forbes rubbed his eyes and checked his watch again. If he was going to make it in time for the seven o’clock game, he needed to go. He changed into linen shorts and a dark red silk T-shirt and slipped into a pair of Top-Siders. Though sandals would be cooler, he hated walking across the dirt parking lot—littered with who knew what— and ending up with filthy feet.

In the car, he let his mind wander back over everything he’d read today. Spending his Saturday reading case files on his parents’ company’s legal proceedings hadn’t been the most fun way to start his weekend—nor the most productive. So far, none of the files revealed anything pertinent to Alaine’s allegations of wrongdoing.

The one thread of information that led him to believe there might still be a case was the mention of Mackenzie and Son in the files dealing with the acquisition of the Moreaux Paper Company warehouses—Warehouse Row—which had been legally purchased from the bank that had acquired the property when the previous development company went belly-up before they could get around to developing the site. The information he needed a copy of, but couldn’t get to because it was active and therefore still in Sandra’s office, was the file containing the negotiations, formal agreements, and contracts between Boudreaux-Guidry Enterprises and Mackenzie and Son. He needed to know what his parents had authorized Evelyn—and her father’s company—to do in their name and on their behalf.

As soon as he got out of the car, the heavy, humid air enveloped him with the sticky tang of cotton candy and perspiration. The clanks of bats hitting balls and the jeers and cheers of the spectators surrounded him—along with an immediate swarm of mosquitoes. He locked the Jag with his remote and crossed the dirt lot toward the rickety concession stand—the old wooden shack that had served junk food, sodas, and frozen slushes to players and fans of church league softball every summer since Forbes could remember—to check the schedule and find out on which field the men’s team from Bonneterre Chapel would be playing.

He slapped at the sting of a bite on his neck and hurried over to diamond three, hoping Meredith’s game was already over. A couple dozen members of University Chapel sat on the first-baseline side of the diamond, so he angled that direction. Most sat in their own lawn chairs instead of on the splintery, old wooden bleachers.

Stopping near a group of people from the singles Sunday school class, he greeted everyone and checked up on their weeks. The shout of “Two minutes!” from the field stirred Forbes to action.

“See y’all later.” He jogged over to the bleachers to join the girl in a pink Bonneterre Chapel Women’s Softball T-shirt and a ball cap with a ponytail of strawberry blond hair sticking out the hole in the back of it.

Meredith glanced up at him when he leaped up the bleachers and plopped down beside her. “You’re late. I thought you were going to try to come for the first game.”

“I was working.”

“Figures. Here. I know you didn’t bring any.”

“Thanks.” He took the can of bug repellent she held toward him and sprayed every exposed surface of his legs and arms—carefully avoiding getting any on his shirt and shorts lest he stain them. “Your shirt isn’t all sweaty. What happened?”

“The other team almost had to forfeit because they were one player short.” Meredith looked away from him to watch their team running in from the field.

“Almost had to?”

“Yeah ... I volunteered to switch over and play for them.” She kicked the duffel bag on the board beside her feet. “So the sweaty one’s in there, since someone on that team brought an extra. I told her I’d take it home and wash it and bring it back to her next weekend.”

“Oh. How’d that go?” A mixture of pride and incredulity filled him. Only Meredith would do something like that.

“Close game. But Chapel managed to pull it out in the end, by one run. I almost had her, too. Look.” She held her arm out in front of her and twisted it so he could see the underside of her forearm. A large scrape was already starting to turn a magnificent shade of purple. “I wasn’t sure either of us was getting up from that one. But her foot slid over the plate just as I dived for the ball to tag her. It was exciting. You should have been here.”

Unable to resist, he wrapped his arm around her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her cheek. “Good job, Mere. Way to take one for the team. Even if it wasn’t your team.”

She dug her knuckles into his side, right into his most ticklish spot, and he released her and scooted away. But her laughter showed she was getting better on the whole being-touched issue. “I’ll be wearing long sleeves to work for a few weeks until that bruise goes away. Mom’ll have a cow if she sees it—but only because she wouldn’t want any of our clients to see it. Sometimes I have a hard time believing she played basketball all four years in college. She’s so anti anything physical or sweat-producing nowadays.”

“Whereas you can’t get enough of it.”

“I’m not real hip on the sweat-producing part of it, but it does feel good to get out of the suits and formal dresses and makeup and get dirty—whether it’s sawdust or ball-field dirt.” She looked him up and down. “You, on the other hand, are more like Mom and Dad. You’ll sweat when it’s ‘exercise,’ but heaven forbid you do anything fun that would raise a bead of perspiration on your brow or get your clothes mussed.”

He hoped he was like his parents in more than just that way. His high sense of morals and ethics came from them ... he prayed that they still held them as dear. He opened his mouth to continue the subject of their parents when Meredith stood—along with everyone else around them. Both teams lined up along the first- and third-baselines, caps in hands.

Forbes stood and bowed his head for the prayer—which he couldn’t hear—and asked God to help him find the right questions to ask Meredith to get some usable information.

“Play ball!”

Meredith pressed her fingers to the corners of her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. On the field, Major and their three brothers all waved before taking their positions: Major, Rafe, and Kevin in the outfield and Jonathan as pitcher.

“Here.” Meredith reached into her small cooler and handed him a dripping can of diet cola once they were seated again. She held her can away from her when she opened it, then leaned over to slurp the frothing foam that threatened to spill over the edge.

Forbes tapped the top of his can and pointed it well away from his silk and linen garments to open it. He licked the drippage off his thumb—and regretted it as soon as he tasted the bitterness of the bug spray. He took a big swig of the soda to wash the nasty flavor from his mouth, then set the can on the bleacher beside him.

“So what do you know about this Evelyn Mackenzie girl?” His voice had been suitably nonchalant, hadn’t it?

“She’s a hard nut to crack.” Meredith cupped her hands to her mouth. “Straight in there, Jonathan. One more, and you’ve got him!”

“What do you mean?” He leaned back, propping his elbows on the edge of the bench behind them.

“She’s perfectly nice. Seems to be a sweet person, yet she doesn’t say much about herself. She’s very closed off.” A sharp clank from the field. “Foul ball,” Meredith muttered under her breath—and sure enough, a millisecond later, the ball landed outside the third-base foul line. “That’s okay, Jon, he just got a piece of it. Put him out on the next one.”