A Case for Love (27 page)

The crisis—the panic—didn’t set in until Forbes made it back down to his office. “Hold all calls please, Samantha.” He blew by her desk, not even looking at her because if she had the least sympathy or concern in her eyes, he might lose it.

After closing the door, he couldn’t get his coat and tie off fast enough—pulling off one of the buttons in the process, which skittered across the wood floor. He flung the coat and tie onto the small conference table, not caring about the paperwork they scattered.

“Why now, God? I had everything under control. I was handling everything.”

Well, maybe the situation with the family wasn’t controlled or handled as much as compartmentalized and not thought about. And attending a different church to avoid the uncomfortable encounters with his family wasn’t controlling or handling the situation, but running away. And while he was handling working eighteen-hour days, six days a week, he’d long since lost the feeling that his life was in any way, shape, or form under his control.

Excruciating pain shot down the side of his neck and across the top of his right shoulder. He stabbed his finger on the intercom button on the phone. “Samantha, cancel the rest of my day. I’m going to the doctor, and then I’m going home.”

“Y–yes, boss.”

He looked around his office. Typically, he’d take most of the paperwork now scattered across the table and floor home with him to work on over the weekend. But not today. He retrieved his coat and tie—and the button that had rolled behind the ficus tree—grabbed his nearly empty briefcase, and walked out, locking the door behind him.

Snarled traffic and pain every time he moved his head didn’t improve Forbes’s mood. “What do you want from me, God? All my life, You’ve put me in situations where I’ve had to take control. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.”

When no audible answer came, Forbes turned the radio on and switched it from the news station to the next preset. He’d caught it just as a new song started. The twangy guitars and old-fashioned organ music sounded familiar. Yep—this was one he’d listened to with the guys as a possibility for the quartet. He sang the opening line along with the Southern gospel group on the radio.

“‘All to Jesus I surrender, all to Him I freely give.’” His throat nearly closed at the impact of the words.

Control or surrender?

He pulled into the parking garage at the medical center and turned off the engine. Silence filled the car—but a silence different than any he’d ever experienced. He tried to bow his head, but pain stopped him. He closed his eyes and found a comfortable position.

“Lord, I don’t know how to surrender. I only know how to control. But I feel like You’re telling me it’s time to let go and let You handle everything. I can’t promise I’ll never try to control anything again. All I can do is promise to try to surrender my will to You and ask for Your help in learning to do it.”

He sat a little while longer, enjoying the moments filled with nothing to control, then got out of the car feeling, for the first time in weeks, that things might work out okay, after all.

Following a three-hour wait and a diagnosis of stress-triggered muscle spasms, Forbes picked up the prescription muscle relaxers and painkillers on his way home. Deciding he deserved an indulgence, he stopped at Maxi’s Diner in midtown and ordered a deluxe cheeseburger with onion rings
and
french fries to take home for lunch.

He changed into running shorts and a TV-station-logoed T-shirt he’d gotten at one of Alaine’s live remote events, then carried his food and a bottle of sparkling water upstairs to the fourth-floor media room to watch the recording of Alaine’s program on the big-screen plasma television, which he usually didn’t use unless he had people over to watch movies. He fast-forwarded through the first ten minutes of headlines and weather—even though he really liked Bekka Blakeley the few times he and Alaine had gone out with the newscaster and her veterinarian husband. He wasn’t watching this for news.

As soon as Alaine’s face appeared, larger than life, the pain in his shoulder eased—though it had been almost half an hour since he’d taken those pills. He devoured the junk food while watching the love of his life on TV doing her thing.

Soon, though, he slowed, then stopped eating altogether. Keeping his eyes open seemed to be his most important task at the moment. Giving in to the fatigue, he stretched out on the sofa—on his left side—and promptly fell asleep.

An incessant buzzing sound woke him. He caught the phone just as it vibrated itself off the coffee table. “Hello?” His voice sounded like he’d eaten lava rocks for lunch instead of a burger.

“Forbes?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, Mere, it’s me.”

“Oh—you aren’t sick are you?” The concern in her voice warmed his heart.

“No. Just taking a nap.”

“Taking a—you aren’t
sick
are you?”

He laughed—and it felt good. “I have muscle spasms in my shoulder and neck. The drugs the doc gave me knocked me out.” He blinked the bleariness out of his eyes and squinted to focus on the small clock on a shelf of the built-ins. Almost five o’clock. That had been a long nap. “What’s up?”

“Major and I were wondering if you and Alaine would be interested in meeting us at Magdalena’s for supper tonight. He did that guest segment with the head chef from there that aired today, and they invited us to come to the restaurant for dinner tonight at six—and told us to bring guests. So I thought of you and Alaine, since we haven’t seen you in several weeks.”

“Please tell me that Evelyn Mackenzie isn’t going to be there.”

“No. Why?”

He launched into the story as he gathered up the remnants of his lunch, now soggy and unappetizing to look at, and carried the detritus all the way down to the garage to put straight into the trash bin.

“And she told you that I gave her your address?” Meredith sounded not just appalled but outraged.

“That’s what she said.” He rolled his head, then his shoulder, testing the muscles. Still painful, but nowhere near as bad as before.

“The liar. I’m so glad she left today.”

Forbes tripped on the stairs going back up to the main floor. “What?”

“She didn’t tell you last night that she was going back to Boston today?”

He sank onto the steps and rubbed his stubbed toe. “No. Why’d she leave? And when is she coming back so I’ll know when to start worrying about her showing up at my house again?”

“She’s not coming back. Mom came in and told me this morning that they’d come to a mutual agreement that Evelyn had done everything she needed to do here and until ... until the case is settled, there isn’t anything else Mackenzie and Son can do for us.”

The doorbell echoed from upstairs. “Hey, Sis, someone’s here. I’ll call Alaine and get back to you about dinner tonight. You said six o’clock, right?” He jogged up the remainder of the stairs to the front hall.

“Yeah. But if y’all need extra time, we’ll wait for you.”

He finished the conversation with his sister and tucked the phone in his pocket before opening the door.

Alaine stood on the other side of it, her fine brows pinched together. “Are you okay?”

He stepped back so she could enter. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“I called your office before I left work, and your secretary told me you’d left this morning and said you were going to the doctor and then coming home. What’s wrong?” She planted her fists on her hips.

Laughing, he pulled her into a hug. When her arms went around his waist and tightened, he almost forgot his pain. He told her about the doctor visit and the diagnosis.

She tilted her head back, mischief twinkling in her dark eyes. “So it’s official? You really are a pain in the neck?”

He leaned down to kiss her, ignoring the way his neck twinged at that angle. He ended the kiss quickly, for his own safety, and tucked her back into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I was on the phone with my sister Meredith when you arrived.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She called to see if we’d like to meet her and Major for supper at that Spanish restaurant—Magdaline’s?”

“Magdalena’s. Oh, they’ve got great food. But”—she pushed against his chest, and he allowed her to move back a little—“how do you feel about meeting them for dinner? I know you’ve been trying to limit your contact with them to try to protect them.”

“No, I’ve been avoiding them to try to protect myself.” The words came out of his mouth before he’d even thought them through. “But that’s over. I’d really like to go if you want to.”

“I’d like to. I’ve missed Meredith.”

“You don’t talk to her anymore?”

“I figured you knew that, seeing as how we never talk about her.”

“No. I thought you probably just weren’t telling me when you’d talked to her or seen her.”

“Out of respect for you, I’ve also been limiting my contact with her and Major, though it’s slightly harder with him since he does come into the studio at least one day every week for a voice-over session.”

He kissed her forehead. “Thank you for that. But I don’t want you giving up your friends just because of me.”

She smiled and shook her head.

“So, how fancy is this restaurant?” He looped his arm around her neck and escorted her up to the main floor.

“Shirt and tie, chinos or khakis. Not overly fancy. What time are we supposed to meet them?”

Instead of turning right at the landing and going into the living room, he turned left and led her into the study—but then, as soon as his eyes swept over the corner, he looked down at her, regretting his decision.

But Alaine was already moving away from him. She walked over to sit in the club chair nearer the fireplace instead of the one she usually sat in—the one where Evelyn had perched last night.

“Forbes?”

“Huh? Oh, we’re supposed to meet them there at six.”

Alaine looked at the antique clock on the mantel, then checked the time on her cell phone. “Forty-five minutes.” She bounced back out of the chair again. “I’ll run home and change clothes and pick you up at five thirty.”

“Pick me up?”

“You told me you’ve taken prescription painkillers and muscle relaxers and slept at least three hours this afternoon. I’d rather not have you fall asleep behind the wheel, even though we aren’t going far.” She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

He grabbed her hand before she got past him and pulled her back for a real kiss. “Have I told you recently how much I love you?” He’d meant to save it for a special occasion, but now was as special a time as he needed.

Alaine’s face paled, but her eyes glowed. “No, as a matter of fact you haven’t.”

“How remiss of me.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I love you”—he kissed her forehead—“very”—the bridge of her nose—“very”—the tip of her nose—“very”—her left cheek—“very”—her right cheek—“very much.” He pressed his lips to hers and lost himself in the wonder and joy that came from finding the one thing in life he could easily surrender to: love.

Alaine still hadn’t stopped tingling by the time she pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He’d said it. He’d actually said it.

She cut the engine and popped out of the car—only to come face-to-face with a disappointed-looking Forbes.

“Oh, fine.” She unlocked the car and climbed back in just so he could open the door and assist her out. “You’re so weird.”

“Nah, he’s just a control freak.” Meredith and Major joined them. Alaine stood back while Forbes and Meredith hugged, holding on to each other for a long time, seeming to try to catch up on two months’ worth of missed communication in hushed tones.

Alaine chatted with Major, who had some ideas for upcoming segments to feature executive chefs at other restaurants in town, which Alaine was all in favor of, especially when he mentioned several restaurants in the Mills.

Finally, Meredith and Forbes finished their whispered conversation. Meredith hugged Alaine in greeting, and the foursome entered the restaurant. The hostess showed them to a table in the back of the restaurant—a table for six. Forbes balked, and Alaine had to stop with him, since he had hold of her hand.

“Who else is coming?”

“What?” Meredith looked at the table. “Oh, we asked Anne and George to come as well, but they had a wedding rehearsal tonight so couldn’t.” She looked at Major, who gave a slight nod. “We thought about asking Mom and Dad to come but didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

Major rubbed his hand in a circle on his wife’s back. “And I wanted Meredith to be able to actually eat and enjoy the food tonight.”

The executive chef came out; and as soon as he saw Alaine, he turned incoherent—in English or in Spanish. She even tried Portuguese, which only sent him further into raptures. Listening carefully, she managed to get the gist of what he was saying—that just since the show aired that afternoon, their phone had been ringing constantly for bookings.

Within minutes of their arrivals, plates of tapas appeared on the table. Each dish held a measure of familiarity for Alaine, being from the same part of the world as her own ethnic cuisine, which Mother made so well and so often. And yet the chef ’s signature shone through in each presentation. She’d have to bring Mother and Daddy here—maybe get Joe and Tony to pitch in and bring them for their anniversary or something.

After tapas came six or seven main courses, which were set in the middle of the table so they could try some of each. Forbes reached for the dish closest to him but put it down and reached for his Blackberry.

His expression clouded as he read whatever message he’d received that was urgent enough to look at during dinner. But he clipped the device back to his belt and squeezed her hand before going back to serving himself.

“So, anyway,” Alaine said, returning to her conversation with Meredith and Major, “I played softball on the girls’ team at church during the summer a few years. I hated it. But it was either that or soccer, and I disliked soccer more. Too much running around. In softball, they stuck me in the outfield, and at eight or nine years old, most girls aren’t going to hit it past the bases. And those who were serious about playing the game—you know, who wanted to go on to play in high school or college—played in the city league anyway.”

“But what about watching it?” Meredith asked. “We’re usually out there on Friday nights playing, but the citywide interchurch pastors’ conference is this weekend, and since so many of the teams have their pastors on their teams, they gave us a bye weekend. You ought to come out next Friday to watch us play. As a matter of fact, I think my team might be playing the ladies’ team from your church.”

“Are the stands air-conditioned?”

Meredith and Major both laughed. “You’re right, Forbes, she is perfect for you.”

Forbes sat silent, contemplating the food on the plate in front of him, not reacting in the slightest to his sister’s comment. Alaine exchanged a concerned look with Meredith, then turned and touched Forbes’s shoulder.

He startled and snapped his attention away from his untouched main courses. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“It wasn’t a question, we were just worried because we lost you there for a minute.” She rubbed her hand lightly along his shoulder. “Is it bothering you again?”

“No, it’s not that.” His jaw took on a hard set. “It’s nothing. Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

“We can’t enjoy it if you aren’t.” Meredith put her fork down. Alaine and Major followed suit.

“Was it the message you received a few minutes ago?” Alaine nodded toward the phone.

“Partially.” He sighed, wiped his mouth, and tossed the napkin on the table beside his plate. “Something happened at work today. I—the other partners called a meeting to vote on an amendment to the partnership agreement ... which is basically the contract we all signed when we became equity partners in the firm that states how profits are to be divided, how we’re to conduct business, and what, if any, actions can lead to separation—getting fired.”

Alaine’s heart sank. “So they finally did it?”

His lips pressed together in a grim line. “I have one week to decide if I’m going to leave the firm or if I’m going to resign as lead counsel for the plaintiffs in the Mills case.”

More like
only
counsel than
lead
counsel, but she wasn’t going to quibble.

“Then, a few minutes ago, I got an e-mail from B-G’s lawyer—who is the managing partner of the firm that’s just given me an ultimatum—saying that B-G wants to meet with counsel for the class, me, to discuss another offer.”

Alaine frowned. “But we’re—they’re not asking for a monetary settlement. What are they talking about?”

“What it means is that they’re going to change the amount they’re offering to buy everyone out. They just don’t
get it.
” Forbes’s hands, which had been braced flat against the table now balled into fists. “Why can’t they see what they’re doing is wrong? Haven’t I staked everything on that assertion?”

Alaine laid her hand atop the closest fist. “You just have to have faith that God is going to show you how to get through to them. You have to let go of the idea that if you just work hard enough or sacrifice enough, they’ll see the light and change over to your perspective. It was never going to be as easy as asking for a different dessert than the other sixty people at the banquet receive.” She ducked her chin and gazed up at him.

He dislodged his hand from hers and bumped it gently under her chin before leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose. “You’re correct, of course. But that still leaves the decision about the job. I believe in the merits and principles of this case so much so that I have already staked my career on it just by taking it. But I have to be sure I’m not making the decision to choose the case over the firm for reasons that are less than ... objective.”

Alaine interpreted his significant look at her. “You’re afraid that our relationship might cloud your judgment because my family is involved. Would it make any difference if I told you that I’d still love you no matter what you choose? Because that’s the truth. I want you to be happy, Forbes. I don’t want you to ruin your career on a case you don’t believe in just because we’re dating. Nor would I want you to ruin your soul by staying in a job that’s become increasingly unsatisfactory for you in the past couple of months. I mean, come on, think about how often I’ve heard you complain about the Pichon case. About how if you had your choice, you’d have been sitting in Russ’s position in that argument.”

Forbes didn’t say anything for a long time but put his napkin back down on his lap and started eating again, for which Alaine was grateful. The tapas had been tasty, but not filling. She could almost hear Forbes praying about his decision, and she interceded on his behalf the entire time.

After several minutes, Meredith returned to the innocuous topic of softball. Alaine kept half her attention on Forbes, though.

A few minutes later, a “eureka, I’ve found it” smile overtook Forbes’s handsome face.

“What?” Alaine asked.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to find out who’s the real-estate agent for that vacant office space next door to Anne’s on Town Square.” He shoveled a huge spoonful of paella into his mouth.

A chunk of beef from Alaine’s
cocido Madrileño
slipped off her spoon and plopped back into the bowl. “You mean ... you’re going to start...”

“My own law firm. I have several clients who’ll follow me over if I hang out a shingle, and there are a lot of good people out there who need more help than what a community legal aid center can provide—but can’t afford a billable rate of five hundred dollars per hour or more. I can run things the way I want to, take on only the clients I want to.”

Alaine could hardly stay in her seat from wanting to dance around the table in joy. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Of course, it’s going to take a while to get it up and going, and even longer before I start to see a steady income.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head.

“Good thing you already own your town house and car outright.” She winked at him. “I’m sure you have savings you can live on for a few months. Some things are worth working and waiting for.”

The office space had seemed much larger than this when Forbes had done the final walk-through last week before signing the closing papers. The large, open room that comprised the first floor of the converted Victorian row house smelled of fresh paint and sawdust from the newly laid wood floors. The furniture he’d rented—from Joe Delacroix—to suffice until he could afford to buy all new stuff hadn’t filled the space by any means, but now, with the dozen claimants included in the class action for the lawsuit seated in every available chair—including the four he’d borrowed from Anne next door—the room felt tight and overcrowded.

His nerves fought to get the better of him. This would be his first official action as the sole lawyer at the Forbes Guidry, Attorney at Law, law firm, without the prestige of being a name partner in the most successful law firm in town.

JD and Joe Delacroix, bless them, had worn themselves out helping Forbes get everything set up so that they could meet with Sandra Landreneau and Forbes’s parents here instead of in the more intimidating executive conference room at Folse, Landreneau & Maier.

Alaine finished her phone conversation with someone from her work and came to stand in front of him. She made a fuss over the position of his tie’s knot, then smoothed her hands down his lapels. “I’ll be praying for you the whole time.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.” He kissed her cheek. As Mom and Dad and Sandra had not yet arrived, Forbes needed to use this time wisely. He went to the middle of the room and asked for quiet.

“I’m not certain exactly what they’re going to come in here and offer.” He looked around and tried to make eye contact with everyone. “But no matter what they say, don’t react—positively or negatively. This is like haggling at a bazaar. If you show the least sign of vulnerability or emotion, the other side has you where they want you.

“What’s most likely to happen is that they’re going to come in, make their offer, and then give us time to discuss it so we can decide if we want to respond immediately or take longer. No matter what they offer, I intend to ask for at least a week to respond; that way we can come up with a counterproposal.”

Rustling sounds behind him quickened his pulse. “Does everyone agree?” Nods and murmured agreement surrounded him. “Good.”

The front door swung open, and Sandra Landreneau processed in like a queen—with Evelyn Mackenzie following her like a spoiled princess, and Mom and Dad like supplicants waiting to perform their lieges’ bidding. Forbes’s heart sank. Evelyn’s reappearance spelled doom for a reasonable settlement offer.

“I’ll go now.” Alaine touched Forbes’s arm. “Don’t forget, I’m praying.”

He caressed her cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” She wrinkled her nose at him and went outside, past the large front window toward Anne’s office.

“Ms. Landreneau, are you ready to proceed?” Forbes asked, motioning for them to sit at the long table, where JD and the other business association board members sat waiting.

“We are.”

Forbes took his seat, then signaled for Sandra to begin. He took copious notes during her twenty-minute opening statement—none of which represented much more than her legal double-talk that basically said that her clients had done no wrong and therefore the residents of Moreaux Mills represented in this case should consider it an honor to receive an increased settlement offer from the defendants.

Through continuous covert glances, Forbes tried to gauge what his parents were thinking during all of this. His father looked grim, his face set in that infuriatingly unreadable expression he’d developed for hiding his emotions. Mom’s mouth grew thinner and thinner the longer Sandra talked. Evelyn smiled slightly but looked only at Sandra.

“...and it is therefore the privilege of the plaintiff to receive—”

“Ms. Landreneau,” Forbes interrupted with a sigh, “it’s almost three thirty. Most of these people have taken time away from their jobs—time for which, unlike you, they are not getting paid. Can we dispense with the posturing and get on to the settlement offer? Some of us would like to get out of here sooner rather than later.”

Outrage flashing in her eyes, Sandra inclined her head. “If you insist.”

Forbes flipped to a clean page of his legal pad, steeling himself to show no outward reaction no matter what he heard.

Sandra finished rustling through her notes. “The defendant, Boudreaux-Guidry Enterprises, under advisement from myself and their partner firm, Mackenzie and Son, have agreed to offer an additional 20 percent of the value of each property represented in the class; and if the terms are accepted, the plaintiffs represented in the class cannot solicit bids or buyers for—”

A hand slammed down, open palmed, on the table. Forbes—and everyone else in the room—jumped.

“That is
not
what we agreed to.” Mom stood, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at Evelyn and Sandra. “I want to go back to the original settlement offer. Original—”