“Will you be?” Darcy whispered. The abandoned child inside her longed for it to be true. But she didn’t need George in her head to realize her childish hopes had no place in her adult world. “Don’t bother answering that. I can’t make any promises for or about you.”
In a blink it was a seasoned convict sitting across from Darcy, a felon searching for a weakness to exploit, not her mother. “Where did my little girl go, I wonder. You used to ride shotgun when your brother stole cars and your dad pilfered cattle. And you were a good student of the game. You showed promise at reading people, at fitting into a role with just a change of your hair.”
Darcy stared at her hands. “You’re wrong. I was just a kid.”
Mom scoffed. “You have a conscience now? If you did, you’d never have married old George. Admit it. You knew George’s marriage offer was too good to be true. A nice, upstanding girl would have turned him down flat. On some level, you knew what was going down. And now you’d do anything to protect the ground you’ve gained, including keeping the details of your marriage to George secret from all those upstanding friends of yours.”
Her accusations pressed on Darcy’s chest, rang in her ears, chilled her bones. Why?
Because she’s right.
No. I loved George. I owed him a last wish.
But it had come with benefits—tutoring, the protection of his name, a job recommendation.
If George had proposed to Avery, she’d have laughed in his face. And if Lola had accepted, she wouldn’t have changed her personality or her wardrobe. If Mary Margaret suspected she was a bigamist, she’d immediately hire a lawyer to straighten out her mistake.
I am the horrible person most people in Sunshine think I am.
“You’re starting to see.” Mom nodded. “If the truth came out, you’d have no one in your corner. No one but us Joneses.”
Yes, Darcy was starting to realize that what little pride she’d gained in her performance as judge was undercut by the way she’d gotten the position in the first place. Jason gave her the benefit of the doubt because she’d cared for George. Her friends might as well. But the town…
Darcy stood on legs that shook. “I have to go.” Because she was thoroughly disgusted with herself.
Her mother got to her feet. “But we haven’t talked about how you’re going to get me out of here.”
“I’m not.” She couldn’t do that to George. Or Judge Darcy Harper.
“You can’t leave me here.” Mom shook her finger at Darcy, raising her voice. “How dare you. I’m the reason you’re where you are today.”
“Jones!” A guard yelled, making them both look. “Settle down. Show some manners.”
“You’re right, Mom. You created this unicorn,” Darcy said, relying on her court face and her sentencing voice to cover her pain. “But you’re not the reason I feel remorse. That came from the feisty old man who watched over me, the decent foster parents who took me in, the big-hearted friends who made up my real family, and the cowboy who loves me. Being a Jones isn’t something I’m proud of, but I’ve always tried to do right by you.” Darcy drew a big breath. “But that ends today. Good luck to you, Mom.” Darcy fled the room, shaking. As soon as she was free of security, she ran. All the way across the parking lot.
Jason stood at the truck bumper, holding Stogey’s leash. He took one look at her and opened his arms.
She fell into them, allowing herself to draw from his strength and be comforted by his love. And Stogey’s too. He stood on his hind legs and rested his front paws on her calf. “You’re my family.” A cowboy and a stinky, toothless dog.
“Always,” Jason said simply.
“I don’t deserve you.” How could she look forward and plan a life with Jason when she hadn’t resolved her past?
“Oh, you deserve me, all right.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Darcy stared up into his eyes. They were the same color as the clear blue sky, the color of innocent wishes and girlish dreams. “No matter how hard I try, a part of me will always be a Jones.”
“Being a Jones is what makes you special.” He kissed her nose. “Because you always triumph over that part of yourself.”
Did she? Darcy wanted to believe him.
“I can tell by your expression you have doubts.” He kissed her nose again. “You’re the girl who stayed after school to study in the library because you knew that was the only way to get into college. You’re the girl who worked full-time and stayed in college even though it took you years longer to graduate.”
“That says nothing about me not being a Jones.”
“Doesn’t it? Look around at the friends you’ve accumulated—their quality and integrity reflects on you.” He smoothed the hair away from her face. “And look at me, the man who loves you. I’m still that boy who walked you home after school, the guy who’ll wait for you, no matter what. Through college and law school. Through internships and clerkships. Through a marriage to another man and an appointment to a lofty office that not even you dreamed of attaining.” He pressed his lips tenderly to hers, drawing her close enough to soak in his warmth, almost close enough to erase the Jones in her. Almost. “I’m good at waiting for you to find a place in life where we can be together.”
“With a white picket fence, a dog, and a passel of kids,” she murmured, because that had always been their dream.
But increasingly, a feeling was building in her chest, the belief that she didn’t deserve him, because as much as she wanted to deny it, she just might be the woman her mother had raised her to be.
And she couldn’t think of a way to protect Jason or to disprove her suspicions.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m so glad I asked you to go shopping with me.” Bitsy couldn’t stop herself from giving Darcy a hug. She’d been incredibly nervous about stepping outside her 1980s comfort zone. Having only sons, it wasn’t like she could call on her grown children for a fashion assist. “You look fabulous today, so much more like yourself.”
“You mean with my hair down and wearing Keds?” Darcy watched Jason drive away with Stogey in his lap. She had a sad look on her face and a defeated note in her voice. “Not exactly judge-like. Shall we go in?”
“Just another minute.” They’d met in front of the biggest department store at the mall in Greeley. Bitsy peered inside, wondering how to lift Darcy’s spirits. “I arranged for a personal shopper. He’s meeting us here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind you being spoiled?” Darcy smiled but it wasn’t big enough to wipe away her melancholy.
“Well…I might have told Sonny we were both in need of a wardrobe makeover.”
“Bitsy.” Darcy had the whole courtroom persona thing down. The slight frown. The stern tone.
“Don’t argue. I need to gracefully transition to this century.” Goodbye, shoulder pads. “And you need to gracefully transition from a hot, single lady to a respected woman of the court. George didn’t do you any favors trying to make you look matronly.”
“Thanks?” Darcy almost smiled. “But—”
“Hello.” Sonny Baker waved as he crossed the parking lot toward them, cutting off any arguments Darcy might have made. He was a distinguished-looking older gentleman wearing a charcoal-gray polo and pressed khakis. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re right on time, of course.” Bitsy accepted his air kisses, wondering why she couldn’t get twitchy over Sonny, who was single, older, and charming. “This is Darcy Harper, the woman I told you about.”
“It’s a pleasure, Your Honor.” Sonny took Darcy’s arms and held them outstretched. “I take it we’re going from Sporty Spice to Kate Middleton fashionwise?”
“You caught me on a bad day.” Darcy drew her hair forward, across her cheeks, as if trying to go incognito. “I used to idolize the fashion of Sarah Jessica Parker, but on a country girl’s budget.”
“Lucky for you, SJP and Duchess Kate both adore Alexander McQueen. And as head buyer here, I s
tock plenty of affordable look-alikes, options that will help bring out the true inner you.”
Surprisingly, Darcy didn’t protest.
Bitsy fidgeted, trying not to because Darcy needed the courage the right wardrobe would bring just as much as she did.
Perhaps sensing Bitsy’s nervousness, Sonny fussed with the drape of her sweater. “And never fear! I’ve got several things to make my favorite Widows Club board member look fabulous for her newfound beau.” Sonny swept them both inside. “Everything awaits us upstairs, including champagne.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. I’m driving,” Bitsy felt compelled to say.
“Darling, you’ll need alcohol to loosen your grip on your beloved shoulder pads.” He hooked his arms through theirs and marched them across the store to the elevator. In a matter of minutes, they were upstairs in a private area with two small dressing rooms, chilled champagne, and a rack of clothes.
Every outfit Darcy tried on looked better than the last. Skirts and blouses. Dresses and pantsuits. High heels, wedges, and flats. Darcy had a figure that looked good in practically everything.
Meanwhile, Bitsy was having a crisis.
“Bitsy, my love, come sit with me.” Sonny drew her down to join him on the bench upholstered in green velvet. “I’ve picked out lovely looks for you. And with every outfit, all I see is you working on deepening your frown lines.” He smoothed his thumb across her forehead and then handed her the glass of champagne she hadn’t touched.
“They’re beautiful clothes,” Bitsy agreed, sipping the tart bubbly. “Everything is wonderful. It’s just…”
“Too expensive?” He tsk-tsked. “I was going to give you both an employee discount. Your fashion show fund-raiser brings us lots of customers every year.”
“No. Not really. It’s just…My body is no longer made for cinched waists and scoop-necked blouses.” Not to mention leggings. She hadn’t had the courage to step out of the dressing room with those on. She swallowed more champagne, wishing she were home in Sunshine and twitchless.
Sonny frowned. “You said you wanted date clothes.”
“Yes, but…I want my date clothes to be comfortable and the reflection in the mirror to be…” She felt the forehead creases this time.
“Bitsy, your body isn’t thirty. Love the curves of your prime.” Sonny patted her hand and then got to his feet. “But I’ll take the blame. I may have pushed too far.” He gathered the items he’d hung in her dressing room and replaced them with an entirely different collection of clothes from the rack. “These will flatter without emphasizing any one area.”
Spirits bolstered, Bitsy gamely returned to the changing room. She emerged a short time later in a dress that fell gently past her knees. She twirled. “This checks a lot of boxes.” No cleavage. No belt. And the tiny blue print flowers made her feel delicate. If only it had…
“If only it had shoulder pads.” Sonny came up behind her, beaming in the mirror. “I can read your mind.”
“Yes.” Bitsy chuckled. “I might have the courage to switch out a few items, but you’ll have to pull my sweater sets out of my cold, dead fingers.”
Sonny wrapped his arms around Bitsy’s shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. “Clothes should express who you are and the mood you’re in. I’d never burn your sweater sets.”
Darcy emerged from her dressing room wearing a white mandarin blouse over maroon slacks. “This has such a high neck. I’m not sure it’s my style.”
“I wanted something for the judge that would make a fashion statement at the neckline of your black robe.” Sonny released Bitsy and moved to fiddle with Darcy’s blouse, tugging it down at her waist and primping the stiff neck. “Those robes are extremely dull and made to show a man’s collared shirt and tie. You need a necklace or a something stylishly feminine to let people know you may be the law, but you’re also a woman.”
“Oh.” Light dawned in Darcy’s eyes. “Like Ruth Bader Ginsburg. She’s always got something going on at her neckline. What a fantastic suggestion.”
“While simultaneously being hard to pull off,” Bitsy noted. “Not many women’s fashions go up high on the neck. Most go down.”
“True that.” Darcy gave herself a critical look in the mirror. “If I go the jewelry route, George had quite the collection of bolo ties. Some might pass for chokers. I don’t think I can bring myself to wear pearls, even if I had any.”
“You have plenty of time to figure out your courtroom style,” Sonny said. “Experiment. Both of you should experiment.”
Darcy and Bitsy spent a few moments checking out each other’s outfits and handing out compliments.
“You don’t think I’m being ridiculous?” Bitsy asked Darcy, holding out her skirt. “Going for a new look?”
“Rupert isn’t going to know what hit him.” Darcy’s fingers tugged at the hem of her blouse. “You don’t think I took advantage of George?”
Was that what was bothering her? “Heavens no. Even Mama couldn’t twist that man’s arm once he set his mind to something.” Bitsy hugged Darcy. “Don’t you dare believe what the gossips say. If anything, George took advantage of you.”
Darcy drew a shaky breath. “Thank you for inviting me. I needed something to shake off the blues and someone I trust to do it with.”
“We’re an odd sort of family,” Bitsy said, repeating the sentiment she’d told Rupert. “Brought together by George and Mama.”
“A family of our choosing.” Darcy gave Bitsy a watery smile. “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“Families don’t disappoint, my dear.” Of this Bitsy was certain. “They support. No matter what.”
Darcy turned away, murmuring something that sounded like, “If only that were true.”
* * *
“This is cool.” Ken sat down in an Adirondack chair near the pond at Darcy’s place. “The inside of the house was rough. But out here, it’s like your own private park. The flowers are a nice touch. Hope Darcy liked them.”
“I scored points. And I’m just getting started on this place.” Jason planned to build a gazebo and picnic table near the water. He might be further along if he hadn’t taken to skipping rocks across the pond.
Darcy might not want to stay in the house forever, but Jason wanted it to bring her joy while she was here. She’d been so upset after visiting her mother. He didn’t like seeing her cry.
That’s the only reason I tolerate you, George said gruffly. You treat her right.
Jason had positioned a small cooler filled with ice and beer between the two chairs. Darcy had texted to say she was staying in Greeley with Bitsy for dinner.
“We needed some time alone to go over a few things.” Ken examined the beer label before opening it. “Gluten-free beer. You spoil me.”
“I have a favor to ask, Mr. Fix-It.” Jason opened his own beer and settled back with Stogey in his lap. “How can we make the record of my marriage disappear? Darcy is worried about it.” Jason was beginning to believe they needed one big do-over.
“My gut reaction is that you can’t.” Ken picked at the beer’s paper label, uncharacteristically glum. “If you let me, we’ll get ahead of the story and make a statement. We may lose a sponsor or two but as soon as you’re back on the circuit, we’ll make that up. It won’t be easy for Darcy. She broke the law.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” This was unacceptable. Jason’s entire body tensed, sending a bolt of pain through his leg and startling Stogey enough to make him flinch and pass gas. “What happened to Mr. Fix-It? Darcy unwittingly broke the law.”
“Drunken memory loss doesn’t exactly conjure up the sympathy of the public.” Frowning, Ken sipped his beer. “Give me a copy of your marriage license, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Marriage license?” Jason blinked. “All that was in the envelope you gave me was the photograph.”
“No license?” Ken chuckled. “Seriously? This might be easier than I thought. Hold the damage control endeavors.”
&nbs
p; “Hey.” Jason sat up, catching on. “We don’t have an official marriage certificate.”
You’re hopeless, George said. The both of you.
“No license, no bigamy.” Ken nodded, reaching over to pat Stogey on the head. “I’ll call Monday to check.”
Relief had Jason slouching deeper in the chair until he realized, “Being married is the only bargaining chip I have with Darcy, besides you staying in my apartment.”
“Dude, love shouldn’t require negotiations. You need to tell her it might not be real.”
Jason’s mind spun around the odds of Darcy kicking him out if she found out they weren’t married. “I won’t tell her until you confirm it. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case the license got misplaced.”
Wrong, George intoned.
A bird swooped across the pond. Stogey’s ears perked up and he gave the area a good look-see. The bird disappeared into the trees before Stogey located it. He sighed and settled back in Jason’s lap with a gentle belch.
What are you feeding my dog?
“Cheese pizza.” At Ken’s sharp look, Jason scratched Stogey behind his ears. “It gives the dog gas. You said we had other business?”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought and come to a conclusion. Iggy must go,” Ken said simply.
Jason startled, nearly losing Stogey and his beer as he jolted upright. “Get out. He’s my friend.”
Ken’s somber expression said he wasn’t joking. “Listen to me. Step outside of yourself and look at your business situation rationally. The man’s ineptitude generated a lawsuit. He was resentful of you being considered the star of a little video show. And I’ve seen the state of Bull Puckey Breeding. I can’t imagine your books are any cleaner than your floor.” Ken paused to drink some beer. “How am I doing?”
Perfect, George said.
George…“I can’t get rid of Iggy. We’ve been friends since we were five. We’re partners.”
“With a legally formed partnership and everything?” Ken set his beer on the cooler and turned toward Jason. “I thought not. Do you even know how much money you bring in each month?”
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