Simply Being Belle (3 page)

She gasped. 
“Lacey!  Need I remind you, you’re taken?”

“But you’re not. 
Taken, that is.”

Belle hadn’t been
involved with anyone for over a year, since she’d broken up with Paul Carlson,
an attorney at her grandfather’s firm.  She had dated him for nearly two years,
until they had reached an impasse in their relationship.  It was either get
married or move on.  It was actually Belle who had chosen the latter. 

Like her, Paul had
been driven in his work, but unlike her, his career aspirations included a wish
to make partner at Preston and Dunne.  To that end, he’d spent long hours
servicing the accounts he felt offered the best hope for both career and
financial gain.  He hadn’t cared one iota about the little guy, and she had
grown frustrated as his ego had expanded with each boardroom and courtroom
success.

“Belle!  Are you
there?”

“Yes, I’m here.  I’m
just thinking.”

“About Dare?”

“About Paul,
actually.”

“Ick.  Forget
him,” Lacey said dismissively.  “But Dare…”

“I suggest you get
that dreamy inflection out of your voice,” Belle said drolly.  “I’m thinking
Steven might not appreciate it.”

“Hey, I can look
as long as I don’t touch.”

“Isn’t that what
men always say?”

“Well, turnabout
is fair play.  But back to the subject at hand.  What did you think of Dare?”
she inquired nosily.       

Belle took a deep
breath.  What did she think of him?  More to the point, what did he think of
her?  He’d seen her at her sixteen-year-old worst.  He had seemed unaffected by
the tape originally, but later, she had seen something in his eyes. 

Shock?  Yes, that
had been it.  Seeing that look in any man’s eyes would effectively squelch any
romantic notions on her end.  She was sickened by her sixteen-year-old self. 
How could she expect him not to be?

“What did I think
of Dare?” she asked, stalling for time.  “Well, I thought he looked awfully
familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“Oh, it’s possible
you might know him.  He was raised here in Lawton, but left the area to attend
law school.  He worked for a firm in New York right out of law school—awfully
prestigious according to Steven—but has resettled here.”

“Hmm, that still
doesn’t answer the question of how I might know him.”

“Who knows?” Lacey
said.  “You may have attended the same fund raiser or other event.”

“It’s hard to say,”
Belle mused aloud.

“Hey, it turns out
Dare is living just up the road from you.  Maybe you ought to stop by and give
him a housewarming gift.  Or, maybe you could bake him a pie as a welcome to
the neighborhood.”

“I don’t bake.”

“Oh, that’s true. 
Well, buy a pie.”

“I’m not buying a
pie.  I’m not bothering the man, Lacey.”

“How are you ever
going to find Mr. Right if you don’t put yourself out there?” 

“Who’s looking for
Mr. Right?” Belle said in measured tones.

“You’re
twenty-nine, my friend.  You’re not getting any younger.  And it’s not as if
handsome, eligible attorneys grow on trees around here.”

Belle sighed
again.  Actually, in her world, they seemed to.  She suddenly remembered the
myriad lawyers she’d dated over the years.  Lacey was the consummate matchmaker
and she couldn’t count the many blind dates she’d been subjected to courtesy of
her friend. 

In reality, she
didn’t want to count them, but rather, discount them.  She was done with
lawyers.  If only she could convince her friend to give the matchmaking a
rest.  Lacey—the woman was intent on assuring the world went round in pairs.

Suddenly, Cy
barked loudly, and Belle was glad for the distraction.  “Hey, Lacey, I have to
go.  Cy needs me.  Sorry.”

“You are not sorry,”
she muttered.  “It’s funny how when we get on the subject of men, you always
have to go.  Belle, you’re going to end up old and alone.  Actually, you’ll
probably be an elderly eccentric who hoards dogs, cats, and … goats.”

“Well, I won’t be
alone then, will I?  Oh, sorry, gotta go…”  She dropped the phone onto the hook. 
She knew Lacey could go on all day about her impending old maid status if she
didn’t stop her now.

She dashed outside
and found Cy standing at the foot of the stairs, his tail swishing back and
forth.  Apparently he’d grown weary of waiting for her, or had forgotten a bath
was forthcoming.  Regardless, it was a relief she wouldn’t have to chase him
through the yard.  For a one-eyed dog, he had remarkably good depth perception
as he evaded her desperate attempts to catch him.

She grasped his
collar and hauled him upstairs and to the bath.  He put up less of a fight than
Tri, perhaps because he was some twenty pounds lighter.  While the vet had told
her Tri was a Labrador Retriever, he was the biggest lab she’d ever seen.  What
the vet hadn’t mentioned was that he was a King lab.  Considerably bigger than
a standard lab, he was a super-sized two-year-old liable to grow even bigger.

Like him, Cy had
seemingly grown to gargantuan proportions if one accounted for the breed.  Cy
was a boxer, and Belle had believed he would attain a medium size and perhaps
be muscular and stout.  Instead, he towered over the other boxers in the
neighborhood, having long, lean legs.  Like Tri, he had a propensity for
drooling. 

Belle bathed him
quickly, and then dried him off.  Soon, she sent him off to his dog house on
the porch and hurried to check on the kitten.  The tiny ball of fluff was still
asleep on the pillow, and Belle left her momentarily to find her a bed.  She
also retrieved the litter box she’d purchased earlier.  She finally settled the
kitten on the porch, nearby the dogs.

Once done, she
hurried to clean up in her master bathroom.  It had been a long day.  She was
about to step into the shower when the phone rang.  She grabbed a towel,
wrapped herself in it, and padded to the phone beside her bed.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Belle. 
This is Dare Jamison—from last night.”

“Oh, yes, hello,” she
said, unable to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Hey, uh, I know
this is kind of short notice, but I was hoping you might be free for dinner. 
It turns out you and I are neighbors.  I’m living at the old Madson place. 
Anyway, I just bought a new grill, and I…”  He laughed—an embarrassed,
self-deprecating sort of laugh.  “Sorry, I haven’t done this for awhile,” he
admitted.

“Barbecued?”

He chuckled.  “No,
I mean, I haven’t asked a woman out in a long while.”

“Oh.  Oh!”

“Are you free?” he
asked hopefully.

Belle glanced
around the room and caught her reflection in the mirror.  She was a mess after
having washed the dogs.  She ran a hand through her disheveled hair.         “I’m
sorry, Dare, but tonight just isn’t good for me.”

“Oh, okay.  Another
time?”

“Sure, another
time.”       

***

Belle punched her
pillow and fell back against it.  She’d lain awake for over an hour, mulling
over Dare’s invitation to dinner.  Why had she said no?  It wasn’t as if she
didn’t find him attractive.  With his sandy hair, crisp blue eyes, and full
masculine lips, he was definitely good looking.  She particularly liked his
thick wavy hair, and wondered if he hadn’t boasted a short precision hair cut
on his well-formed head, would his hair tend toward unruly curls?  She’d always
had a weakness for men with curly hair, and wondered if he ever grew his hair
out. 

She pushed the
ridiculous thought aside.  What was it to her how the man wore his hair?  Besides,
hadn’t she sworn off lawyers? 

She suddenly
wondered why he had asked her to dinner in the first place.  He’d probably
asked simply because of the close proximity of their homes.  Maybe he was
lonely.  She laughed at the absurdity of that notion.  Loneliness couldn’t
possibly be a problem for a man as handsome as Dare Jamison.  Surely he wasn’t
interested in her.  He’d seen the Sweet Sixteen party tape, after all.  It suddenly
occurred to her she wished he hadn’t.  What must he think of her? 

Apparently, he
hadn’t been put off by the tape, since he had asked her out.  Curious.  Or
maybe he was simply curious about her.  Belle the Bulldog, he’d called her. 
She hadn’t heard that in a while—not since she’d left the firm.  Perhaps Dare
was curious to know more about Preston and Dunne before he actually started
working there.  Who better to obtain information from than the granddaughter of
the founding partner?   

Maybe she should
have gone to dinner.  Wait.  No.  She didn’t have time for a man in her life. 
Frankly, she didn’t feel the time was right for a six-week vacation either, but
Millicent, her boss, had insisted she finally take the vacation time she’d
accumulated over the years.  Had she not taken it, she would have lost it.  Of
course, she had been perfectly willing to forfeit her time off, or to donate it
to any one of her co-workers who had obligingly offered to take the time, but her
boss would not be deterred.  But six weeks?  It was too much.    

Vacation. 

Lacey believed
Belle was insane for remaining close to home, tending to the myriad mundane
tasks that needed to be done around her place, rather than heading off to an
island resort.  But the fact was, she was a homebody.  She was happiest at home
with her pets.

Her thoughts raced
as they often did, from one topic to the next.  It was often like that at
night, as she recounted the day’s events. 

She thought about
her job.  It had been difficult to leave work on Thursday, since she’d been
embroiled in a big case.  Steven, as well as Brad, another attorney at Legal Aid,
had personally assured her that her current case would receive the attention it
deserved, but just the same, she bemoaned the timing of her extended vacation. 
She really should have forfeited her time off.  She was an adult.  It should
have been her decision to make.  Doggone it.

Millicent had promised
her she’d consider allowing her to continue helping out with the case on an
as-needed consulting basis during her time off.  She certainly hoped she would
give her the go-ahead to assist Steven and Brad. 

Millicent was
adamant that Belle take her six week vacation, suggesting that she needed time
to “get her head together.”  She wasn’t certain what her boss had meant by
that.  She knew Millicent felt she worked too hard, but she disagreed with that
assessment.  What was wrong with having a work ethic?   

She rose, flipped
her pillow, and punched it.  She leaned back again, forcing her eyes closed.    

Sleep eluded her. 
She wondered how Rosaria Rodriguez would react tomorrow when she arrived at
Legal Aid and found her absent.  Rosaria trusted her.  Would she feel
comfortable working with another attorney?  The case of Rodriguez versus Biggs,
tenant versus landlord—slumlord, if truth be told—was beginning to heat up. 
Belle desperately hoped it wouldn’t be too hot for Steven and Brad to handle.

Belle headed to
her garden the next morning.  It was Monday and she felt so odd being off work,
as if she were truant and the work police might suddenly show up with sirens
blaring and haul her back to her desk at Legal Aid.  If only they would… 

With a sigh, she
scanned her garden, noting the weeds had virtually taken over.  She hurried to
retrieve gloves from a nearby shed and then spent several hours pulling the
tangled, leafy invaders off of her tender plants.  She finally took a break
when Tri bounded over to her with a ball in his mouth.  “Okay, boy,” she said
agreeably, “I could use a fiver, too.”

She took the ball
from him and tossed it across the lawn.  He dashed after it, barking gleefully
with Cy on his heels.  “Give Cy a go,” she said when he dropped the ball at her
feet.  She picked it up and reared back to throw.

Tri obediently
stepped aside to give Cy a turn, and then barked at his heels as the smaller
dog hurried after the ball.  It wasn’t long before Cy grew bored of fetching, though
Belle knew Tri could go on all day.  Finally, she gave the dog a pat on the
head and headed inside her house for a glass of lemonade.  She startled when
the phone rang.

“Hey, Belle, it’s
me, Steven.”

“Hello.  How’s it
going at work?”

“Fine.  Hey, I
wanted to let you know Rosaria Rodriguez came in for her appointment today.”

“How’d it go?  Should
I give her a call?”

“Actually, that
won’t be necessary.  The boss has assigned Dare the case, since you’ll be out
for so long.  Turns out he’s fluent in Spanish, and has a good deal of
experience with landlord-tenant cases.”

Belle experienced
a pique of annoyance.  Millicent had given her case to Dare?  She had worked
long and hard on that case and was gearing up for a veritable head-on collision
with Jacob Biggs.  He owned the building Rosario resided in—a building with so
many defects its tenants often feared for their safety.      

“What do you mean
Millicent has reassigned my case?  She can’t do that.  I’ll be in first thing
tomorrow,” she said in a clipped voice.

“Oh, uh, hold on,
Belle…” Steven’s words trailed off.

Suddenly, her boss’s
voice exploded in her ear.  “I can and will reassign the case!  You, my friend,
will take your six weeks off if I have to change the locks here.”

“Millicent,” Belle
said reasonably, “it’s my case.  Really, I’d planned to avail myself to Brad
and Steven…”

“Listen, I’ve
decided to reject your offer to consult on the case during your time off.”

“Why?” she boldly
asked.

“It’s simple.  You
need a
vacation
,” she said, emphasizing the word.  “You can plan on picking
up where Dare leaves off when you get back, should there be a need.  In the
meantime, Belle, I don’t want to see you anywhere near Legal Aid.  You need a break
whether you know it or not.”