How Many Times Do I Have to Say I'm Sorry? (Maudlin Falls)

by Lesli Richardson

  I head for my truck, knowing darn well that word of this development will race around town before I even make it back to the store, courtesy of Maudlin Falls’ gossip network.

  Which is exactly what I want to happen. The more people who know he’s back, the less people will interrogate me about it when they see us out and together. It’ll speed up the acceptance process for my friends.

  Hopefully, I won’t regret that, either.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Desi

  I know I should be looking at this as an opportunity to do a good deed for someone whose luck has been sorely lacking, but I can’t help simultaneously and eagerly embracing this as a chance to suck up to Tomas and more fully cement winning him back.

  Goodness knows I need all the help I can get in that department.

  No, he doesn’t fully trust me yet, and I understand why and don’t blame him.

  I left him. He has no reason yet to believe I won’t leave again. Freddy showing up really threw a monkey wrench into my plans and triggered Tom.

  Thanks, Mom.

  The more I can do to show Tom how vested I am in us and this town, the easier it’ll be to fully win him back and ease his heart and soul.

  If stupid Freddy hadn’t shown up yesterday, this current mission would only be good-deed territory.

  Instead of going to Keith Barnes’ place, I backtrack home, park in our driveway, and walk down to Kelly’s house.

  I knock on the front door and when she opens it, I don’t miss the shock there. “Desi? You’re back?” She offers me a hug.

  “Yeah. Hey, you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure. I just got back from taking the boys to school. Come in.”

  She leads me into the living room and I waste no time on pleasantries. “I need to see everything you have about your custody case and the judgments regarding alimony and child support. I also need all the information you have on your ex-husband.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m your new attorney. For free,” I quickly add when I can see she’s about to object. “Please, let me do this for you.”

  She brings me a banker’s box full of paperwork and I quickly sift through it, taking pictures of key things I’ll need immediately to begin my own preparations.

  “My attorney said it can sometimes take years to nail someone down.”

  “It can, if someone doesn’t have the resources to bury the creep.”

  “What are you going to go?”

  “For starters? I’m going to sue his girlfriend where he’s living for interfering with a child support case.”

  “What? Is that even a thing?”

  I laugh. “No, but it’ll probably terrify her into giving him up. I’ll also give her notice I’ll be going after her employer to garnish her wages, and then start filing lawsuits against anyone I think is employing him under the table, including threatening them that I’ll be filing complaints with the IRS, the state’s sales tax office, and any professional organizations they might need to rely upon for certification to be in business.”

  Her eyes widen in shock. “Is that…is it legal?”

  I shrug. “It’s not illegal. Doesn’t mean we’d win any of them. The point is to literally stun them into rolling over immediately and cooperating rather than have to engage an attorney of their own.” I return everything to the box and replace the lid. “I can afford to do all the filings for you and make him my hobby. Essentially, I am opposing counsel’s worst nightmare, because I have what amounts to unlimited resources and energy to devote to this.”

  She bursts into tears. “Oh, my gosh! Thank you so much! What can I ever do to make this up to you?”

  A thought hits me. “Tom said your hours were reduced?”

  She sniffles. “Yeah.”

  “What if I can get you another part-time job you can do from home at first that won’t pay anything to start with, but will eventually transition into a full-time paying job?”

  “Doing what?”

  I explain everything to her and her eyes light up. “Oh! I took a course in grant writing in college!”

  “So you’d be willing to do it?” This is working out even better than I’d planned. “I would always be there to answer questions or provide advice, if you need it.”

  “Absolutely! Dad and Mr. Barnes were good friends.” She plucks a tissue from a box of them on the end table and blows her nose. “If I can help him out, I’ll be happy to.”

  This is something I never would have had in Miami, and something I didn’t realize how badly I’ve missed. A community that rallies around each other and helps people out, because it’s the right thing to do and because they give a damn about each other.

  With that all settled, I head over to Keith Barnes’ property and I won’t lie, it feels danged good when he removes his glasses and wipes at his eyes after I finish updating him about the paperwork issues.

  “Desi, I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate all you’re doing for me. It means the world to me.”

  “I’m glad I could help. I’ll keep helping you as much as you need with the administrative and legal parts of it until the non-profit is able to run itself with a director. We’ll need someone who can do grant writing. That’s practically its own art form. Fortunately, I have someone in mind.” I tell him about Kelly and his gaze lights up.

  “Her dad and I were friends. We went to high school together years ago. Oh, that would be wonderful!”

  “Then you’ll sign everything so I can get it filed?”

  He eagerly nods. “Just tell me where, son.”

  * * * *

  The rest of the day flashes by in a blur. I send Tomas texts updating him on my progress as I accomplish everything I needed to complete today. On one of my passes through Sarcan, I swing past the hotel and don’t see Freddy’s Jag in the parking lot.

  I don’t know if that means he’s checked out or still lurking around in the area, but Mom hasn’t called me so I’m guessing he hasn’t relayed the news of our confrontation to her yet.

  I have one last big thing I have to do today, and I wait until I’m back home and have privacy and my laptop set up to do it.

  That’s placing a call to Arthur Graham, the head of the firm who hired me.

  I have two draft e-mails ready to go in my e-mail account and nervously wait on hold for a moment while his admin assistant gets him on the line for me.

  His deep voice booms through the line. “Desi, what’s up?”

  “Art, we need to talk about the Maudlin Falls project.” I dive right in, hitting send on the first e-mail that includes a cover letter and a series of attachments listing all the better properties I’ve researched, then ready the next draft. “It’s in your e-mail right now. And we need to discuss Freddy Krutz and his behavior.”

  Arthur is a reasonable guy who doesn’t appreciate it when junior members of his firm engage in behavior, personally or professionally, that can reflect poorly upon him and his firm or put either in legal jeopardy.

  I discuss how Freddy had personal knowledge about my past and deliberately withheld critical information about the project that would have negatively impacted everything.

  I tell him how I dated Freddy—which there is no company HR policy against because we were not in the same departments or in chain of command to each other—and my family’s relationship to his. And I tell him how Freddy showed up and lied to Tom.

  When I finish that, Arthur lets out an aggravated groan. “I need to fire him, don’t I? I don’t need to tell you that you’re not the first to express concerns about his professional conduct. He’s becoming an increasing liability to this firm.”

  “I would say yes. Which leads me to point number two.” I hit send on the second e-mail. “Effective next Friday, I’m resigning from the firm. I will come in next Friday to clean out my office. If you want me to handle this sale for the client, I will, as long as they’re looking at one of the other properties. But the Barnes�
�� property is no longer available, and the owner is retracting their verbal agreement to sell. He will not entertain any counteroffers. I will hand over my remaining cases to other attorneys in the firm and get them up to speed.”

  Arthur goes quiet for a minute and I know he’s reading my e-mail, which is my resignation letter.

  Including my statements about Freddy’s unprofessional behavior.

  He sighs. “I hate to lose you. You’re a damned good attorney, but I understand. I would probably make the same choice if I were you.”

  Relief fills me. “Thank you. It’s nothing personal, but I’m returning to Maudlin Falls for good, and I’m not willing to commute home only on the weekends.”

  “Would you be open to taking cases as an associate if you can work from home there?”

  I think about it for a moment. “I’d need to talk to Tom about that. If he’s not comfortable with me traveling for work, I’m going to respect that.”

  “Well, talk to him, please. Yes, I want you to complete this deal. I’ll call the client after we’re done here and let them see the alternatives. I’ll also instruct them to deal exclusively with you for the duration of this. I appreciate you handling this professionally and coming back with options.”

  I slump back in my chair. “It’s nothing personal. I’m not looking to burn any bridges with you or the firm.”

  “I understand.”

  Once I’m off that call, I sit there and just…breathe. It feels like a chunk of weight has lifted from my shoulders. I don’t delay for long. Now armed with a business license, I order myself business cards and change out of my suit and back into jeans so I can head to the office.

  My office.

  I receive a few strange looks from customers and employees alike when I park in back next to Tom’s truck and head inside. He’s in his office on the phone when I stand in the doorway, but he waves me in, indicating for me to close the door behind me.

  I do, sitting there while he wraps up his call.

  “Well?” he asks.

  “I talked to Arthur and it’s done. Everything. He’s going to have the client get back to me about the alternate properties.” I tell Tom everything and sit back to wait for his response.

  I can’t read his expression, at first. Eventually, he slowly nods. “I wouldn’t mind if you have to travel occasionally,” he says. “Not every week. Maybe every couple of months. If you can work for them remotely, I’m not going to forbid that. If Freddy’s not at the firm anymore. Oh.” He returns my credit card. “Hope you like the color.”

  I smile as I tuck it back into my wallet. “I’m sure they’re great.”

  He rises, pausing to wait for me and kissing me. “Let’s go look at your office.”

  Not only did he hang the new blinds, but he cleared out the conference table, found me an old desk and two bookcases, an office chair, and two wooden chairs for in front of my desk.

  “This is great, really. Thank you.”

  He shrugs. “No excuses about not having an office now, right?”

  I smile. “Right.”

  “I know you’ll upgrade the furniture eventually, but this can get you started.”

  I pull him into my arms and with this kiss, I take my time. “I love you so much. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

  He smirks. “You thank me now, but Edith, Ellinor, Carole Lee, and their friends are ready to string you up by your toenails if you so much as step one millimeter out of line.”

  I grin. “They’re giving me a whole millimeter? Wow, I’m shocked.”

  Later that night, after we’ve had dinner and made love, Tom falls asleep in my arms as I lie there, smiling about my luck and blessings.

  I never thought I’d ever be here.

  I’m just drifting off to sleep when I hear a noise downstairs that startles me awake. I’m not sure what it is, at first, until I hear a solid thunk followed by Jester’s happy maows and a few more noises, like things are hitting the kitchen floor.

  Dang it.

  I ease myself out of bed, trying not to disturb Tom, but he stirs. “What?”

  “Nothing, babe.” I kiss him. “Go back to sleep. I don’t think I got the pantry door closed and Jester’s hunting peanut butter.”

  He grunts something but is softly snoring again before I can even straighten. I doubt he’ll even remember in the morning.

  Sure enough, I find Jester happily chasing the jar of peanut butter around the kitchen floor. I let him have it while I replace the other things he knocked out of the pantry. Then I take the jar away from him and put it in the pantry, firmly closing the door this time and checking it.

  “There.”

  He promptly flops onto his side on my foot, wraps his front paws around my ankle, and then starts rabbiting me with his back feet while biting me. Not biting me hard, but hard enough to make me yelp and hop around on one foot while trying to free my other from his maniacal grasp.

  “Ouch! You little goober, stop it!”

  He dives for the bottom of the pantry door and shoves a front leg under it.

  “Maow!”

  “No! I’m not giving it to you.” Although, as I head back upstairs, I suspect I’ll be helping Tom build that catio sooner rather than later.

  Behind me, Jester’s still at war with the pantry door. “MAOW!”

  I stop and listen, because he’s pretty loud and it doesn’t sound like he’s giving up. Turning around, I retrace my steps and find him still digging around under the pantry door. Now he’s on his side and rabbiting the door with his rear feet while one front paw is armpit-deep under the door.

  “Okay, fine!” I manage to keep him out of the pantry while I grab the container of peanut butter. After making sure the lid’s on tightly, I put it on the floor for him, where he pounces on it. I close the pantry door and watch him for a moment. “Just don’t tell Daddy, all right?”

  “Maow!”

  “Whatever, little dude. Have fun.” I turn off the light and return to bed.

  If this is the craziest my life ever gets again, I’ll be glad for it.

  Anything to be home again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tomas

  The next morning, I awaken before my alarm and can’t help smiling at the sight of Desi in my bed.

  Our bed.

  Jester’s not in bed, though, which is odd. I shut off my alarm, hit the bathroom, and grab my robe so I can go get our coffee started.

  Midway down the stairs, my foot lands in something on the stairs. Something warm and gooey.

  “Ugh!” Not the first time I’ve awakened to cat yak somewhere. This is why I have hardwood floors and not carpeting. The area rugs I do have can be spot-cleaned, or taken outside and hosed off.

  Holding on to the bannister, I hop the rest of the way downstairs and into the powder room down there, where I flip on the light and prop my foot up on the counter, in the sink, to rinse it off.

  “What the heck?” The tan gooey substance on the bottom of my foot doesn’t look like cat puke.

  Doesn’t look like cat poop, either.

  “Wait a minute.” I lean in and get a whiff and, yep.

  Oh, no.

  I wash my foot off and start turning on lights as I head to the kitchen, keeping an eye on the floor as I do.

  When I reach the kitchen, there’s Jester, rolling around in the middle of the floor.

  Covered in peanut butter, as is my kitchen floor. Next to him is the container of peanut butter, the lid next to it and chewed. How he got it off, I have no idea. Now I see the tracks leading to the stairs, out to the living room

  “DESIDERIO ARMAND KEISER!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

  Upstairs, I hear him jump out of bed and hit the floor running, heading for the stairs. “Tommy? What—EW!”

  I stand there, waiting while he hops down the stairs on one foot and over to the kitchen door. “What’s—oh, crap.”

  “Yeah.” I point. “Why is my cat Jackson Pollocking my house wi
th Jif?”

  “Um…” He swallows hard. “Because I’m an idiot?”

  “Ding ding ding!” I glare at him. “Guess what you’re spending the day doing? I suggest starting with bathing him in the laundry sink in the utility room, and then locking him in there with his litter pan so you can clean everything else up. You’d better hope he didn’t get it all over the couch or area rugs or any other furniture. Otherwise, you’re renting an upholstery cleaner, too.” I turn. “Good luck with that.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to get a shower, get dressed, grab something to-go from Alacea’s, and go to work. Don’t forget to check the extra bedrooms for peanut butter.”

  “But I can make you breakfast, and—”

  “No, you can’t.” I wave at my kitchen floor. It’s covered in peanut butter and cat hair and a writhing cat who’s apparently all too pleased with himself. “I’m not waiting around while you clean it up. And if he starts yakking, call the vet and get him in there.”

  I detour through the living room and it looks like Jester stayed out of there. There’s a trail of peanut butter up to the top of the stairs and back down again, though.

  I’m already in the shower when the laughter hits me. The sight of Jester rolling around on the floor…

  Poor Desi.

  I yank that thought out at the roots. Poor Desi, nothing. The pantry door was closed. Desi didn’t give me details, but from his answer, I suspect he gave Jester the jar to play with at some point overnight.

  Usually when Jester tries a midnight peanut butter pantry raid, I just squirt him with the spray bottle of water I keep on the kitchen counter by the doorway. That always deters him for the rest of the night.

  I’m still snickering as I head downstairs. From the utility room, I hear a battle royal between Desi and my now-howling cat, who haaaates baths. It literally sounds like Jester’s being strangled or skinned to death, which is normal for him during a bath.

  Talk about a fricking drama queen.

  “Dang it, Jester! What the heck has gotten into you?”

  “He hates baths,” I call out. “Hold on tight to his scruff and soap him up good, because you’ll only get the one chance. Love you!”