“Honey, I’m sorry, it’s out of my control. They’re having trouble with the design of the building; the presentation to the client is two days away. I can’t abandon this project. It’s too important to the firm.”
Tears welled in my eyes and I lashed out. “But you can abandon me! Abandon our baby!”
“Don’t say that, I’d never abandon you!”
It was an idiotic thing for me to say, but I was hurt and I lost control of my tongue. Matt tried again to draw me near to him and smooth things over, but I was too pigheaded and wrapped up in only thinking about myself. I pulled away and turned my back to him. “Just get out! Get out of my sight! I can’t talk to you now.” My back was to the door when it slammed shut.
The echo of the slam in my head snapped me back into reality. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead and sat in my office paralyzed by the upheaval of that memory--the piece of the puzzle that had been missing for years. I drew in a shaky sigh while my eyes welled with tears and the pigeons began to squabble with the bigger one jumping on the back of the smaller pigeon.
“Don’t fight,” I mumbled. Brushing tears from my face, I stared at the pigeons precariously balancing on the ledge. “Stop it now!” I shot up from my chair and burst toward the window, when I realized the one on the top was actually sowing his oats. With my palms pressed to the window, I watched in horror as the pigeons tumbled from the ledge. Squeezing my eyes shut, all I could see was Matt falling off the bluffs.
“Aubrey?”
I quickly wiped my tears with the back of my hand while trying to get my bearings, then turned around to face Ashley. “Yes?” I said, as I fought to compose myself and push the terrible memory to the back of my mind.
“Gavin is here to see you. He wants to know if you could possibly spare a few minutes.”
It took a few seconds for what she had said to register in my head.
“Is this the same person who tried twice before to see me?”
“Yep.”
I looked past Ashley to search for the man who had the audacity to think my day wasn’t important.
“Where is he?”
“He went down the hall to the restroom.”
I really didn’t think I’d be able to deal with anything just then, but he was there and I just wanted to get it over with.
“Thanks. Just send him in when he returns.”
I turned back toward the window and looked down to search the streets below for signs of a crowd gathering around splattered pigeons, when I heard a faint knock at my door followed by a man clearing his throat. I closed my eyes for a second thinking I should have told Ashley I didn’t have time to see him. I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Annoyed that he couldn’t even make an appointment like everyone else, I turned around swiftly to give Gavin what’s-his-name a cold reception.
My breath caught in my throat, every muscle in my body tensed as I felt my world tilt. Not because he was tall, ruggedly handsome with stylishly longish, wavy black hair that touched his high cheekbones and not because I saw something in his melancholy blue eyes and meadowlark smile that seemed oddly familiar. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, oh my God… It was because the man that stood in my office dressed in blue jeans and a light sports jacket, by some strange quirk of fate--was the man from the mall--the man from my dream--the man who I dreamed was Matt.
By the stunned look on his face, I sensed he had recognized me as the idiot who had knocked over the book display the day before.
“This sure is quite a coincidence,” he said.
I knew it!
“Do you remember me?” he asked. “We bumped into each other at the restaurant last week.” The corner of his lip curled up into a beautiful smile.
Bad enough that I thought he had recognized me from the mall--but to remember me as the babbling idiot from the restaurant? I wanted to crawl between the layers of file folders on my desk.
“Um, yeah hi,” I said, feeling a bit like Charlie Brown with an empty thought bubble floating above my head. How for the love of God, did I forget how to speak?
“Aubrey McCory, right?” he asked.
I swallowed hard, nodded, and automatically leaned over my desk to extend my hand. His eyes swept my face, my lips, my figure, not in a leering, perverted kind of way, but more in an admiring kind of way.
“Gavin Donnelly,” he said.
Looks, easy charm, flashing eyes and then came that smile again and all I could think of was that the man who was Matt in my dream was actually standing in my office. I couldn’t decide which was more bizarre, seeing the ghost of my husband or Gavin Donnelly.
Stop staring at the man as if Stonehenge Tablets were rising up out of his head!
“Please have a seat.” My words sounded disjointed, as I tried to catch my breath. I suddenly felt as if he could see right through me, know every thought in my head, and feel every beat of my heart. Then there was the other issue of the restaurant and me being so much more than just a little tipsy. Self-conscious, I lowered my eyes to my desk feeling as though the word lush was etched into my forehead and flashing like a bright neon sign.
“I apologize,” I said while my gaze traveled across my desk. “It was so clumsy of me to practically knock you over at the restaurant.”
“Actually, it was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He was gallant with an arresting magnetism and velvety sound to his voice that was made even more charming by the sexy way he spoke. I had to double-dare myself to get up the courage to look at him.
“Besides,” he said, as one hand combed back a wavy lock of black hair from his forehead. “I’m the one who should apologize for barging into your office. I’m sorry; I should have made an appointment.”
I giggled like a foolish schoolgirl and waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Not a big deal.”
“Well, I appreciate your courtesy. I have a crazy work schedule, but was lucky to run into Mr. Davis who referred me to you.”
“Oh, you mean my Mr. Davis? I mean Mr. Davis who works here in my office. Well, not in my office, but in this office...building…”
Stop babbling!
Gavin Donnelly let out a deep laugh that reminded me of my Uncle Max. Only my uncle was big and burly and always had a stogie clamped between his teeth.
“Please forgive me if I seem scatterbrained, it’s just been one of those mornings,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair, loosely clasping his hands together. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band and was curious to know if the Miss Universe I saw latched around his neck at the mall was his girlfriend or fiancée.
“So, how do you know Mr. Davis?” I asked, as I glimpsed Laura standing outside my office facing me with her tush leaning against Ashley’s desk. She raised a pair of pumps in the air, waving them at me. I quickly slid my stocking feet under my chair and ignored her.
“I’m a project manager for J&J Crew, a construction company located on the tenth floor.”
“Here in this building?” I smiled broadly, trying to cover up my annoyance at Laura and Ashley who practically had their ears up against my office wall.
“Uh-huh. In fact, “Mr. Davis had been visiting with one of my associates, Mr. Burns, who knew I was looking for a lawyer. He told me about you and said you were one of the best.”
I felt the heat run up my neck and into my face. “I’ll be sure to thank Mr. Davis for the referral. And I do recall him mentioning Mr. Burns. Said he was a widower and they had lots in common.”
“Yeah, that’s Mr. Burns.”
While searching for anything negative that would distract me from the strong attraction I was feeling, like looking for food stuck in his teeth, black hair growing out of his ears--Laura knocked on the door and poked her head into my office.
“Excuse me,” she said with a mischievous smile.
Gavin Donnelly automatically looked over his shoulder. “Hey,
you’re the other person from the restaurant,” he said, sounding quite surprised.
It was obvious Laura hadn’t seen his face before he turned to look at her. She began muttering the sacred language of the covenant of the brainless who can only speak in interjections. “Oh! Ah. Um...”
“This is Gavin Donnelly,” I told Laura, as my eyebrow rose ever so slightly.
“Ah, yes,” she said, in a voice that sounded strained. “I’m Laura Wentworth.” Her smile was mixed with a clear expression of confusion.
“Nice to meet you,” said Gavin.
“And you as well,” she responded as she quickly hid the pumps behind her back. “Sorry for the interruption. Aubrey, I’ll catch up with you after your meeting.”
“Sorry,” I said as she slipped out the door. So, tell me why you’re in need of a lawyer.” I couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy that I had spoiled whatever little joke Laura had cooked up.
“It’s about my father. He received an eviction notice and…”
All at once, it was if an earthquake hit, slamming my mind back to the argument I had with Matt that day he died. How could I have done that? I suddenly felt a sense of urgency in wanting to talk to Matt. But even if he would or could appear before me right at that very minute, I didn’t have a clue as to how I was supposed to keep him from vanishing so quickly.
I suddenly realized Gavin Donnelly had stopped talking. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said looking into his eyes, which made it even more difficult for me to concentrate. “Um, so what are the circumstances surrounding the eviction notice?”
“My father had a heart attack. After a few weeks in the hospital, the doctors wanted him in a convalescent home until he fully recovered. In the meantime, his social security checks were diverted to pay for his medical expenses, which left him no money for rent. Something he failed to mention to me. I would have never let this happen had I known,” he said, while shaking his head.
“So, my father called his landlord and explained his predicament, but the landlord told him it was no excuse. I tried calling the landlord myself, but he wouldn’t take my calls. I left messages asking if we could work something out.”
“Did he call you back?”
“No. That’s when I got worried that he might try to evict my father so I stopped by your office to get some legal advice. Ended up my father received an eviction notice for nonpayment of rent. I called the landlord again and left messages offering to pay the back rent, but he still wouldn’t return my calls.”
“Hmm, do you have the eviction notice with you?”
“I do.” Gavin Donnelly pulled the folded papers from the inside pocket of his sports jacket and handed them to me.
I took my time to read the document thoroughly before commenting on it. When I noticed the landlord’s name was Benjamin Solomon it rang a bell, but I couldn’t place why.
“If you or your father feels there is just cause to dispute the issue of nonpayment of rent, there’s still one more day to complete the attached answer form and return it to court.”
“Answer form?”
“Yes. It’s unfortunate, but the court generally rules in favor of the landlord in these types of cases, so if your father fails to file the paperwork he’ll lose by default. As though he’d gone to trial and lost. This form gives your father a chance to delay the eviction hearing so he can prove his case in court. He can offer up evidence that the eviction was unwarranted and that he had good reason for late payment. However, if he’s going to fight this, I highly advise that a lawyer be present, as the landlord will most likely have his lawyer represent him.”
“Do you handle these types of cases?”
Although I represented only high profile cases, I thought about Matt and couldn’t get it out of my head that he played a hand in me meeting Gavin Donnelly, and the dream I had was mind-boggling. And if I couldn’t speak with Matt, I needed to figure out for myself why the man in my office was suddenly in my life.
“Yes, I do. I’d be happy to help you if you like.”
“That’d be great.”
“Okay, I’ll have to complete the motion to open the pleadings today and file them in court no later than tomorrow.” I opened the calendar on my computer screen. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes; it should only last an hour. Could we see your father this afternoon so we can complete the paperwork?”
“Of course.”
“Great, I’ll need a contact number to get a hold of you when I’m done here.”
His penetrating stare made me feel as if he could see right down into my soul. I lowered my eyes, while Gavin Donnelly stood and pulled a business card from his wallet. I still could not believe how bizarre it all was.
“I really appreciate you helping me, especially on such short notice. Thank you,” he said, and gave me his card.
“You’re welcome,” I said, as he walked away. I felt dazed as I stared down at his business card when a sudden ruckus caused me to snap to attention. My client, Ray Peters, had pushed past Gavin in the doorway and charged into my office.
Ashley followed; her face flushed. “I’m sorry. He just--”
“Aubrey!” Ray bellowed, “I told you the curse wasn’t going away. Now what am I going to do?”
Ray was CEO of a billion dollar company. He suspected that his wife had a Mozambique witchdoctor put a curse on him, which he felt had led to the sexual harassment lawsuit against him by one of his employees.
An apprehensive look crossed Gavin Donnelly’s face as he sized up Ray, while I wondered how I was going to break the news to Ray that Judge Trudy Lopez, a Loraine Bobbit fan, was going to preside over his case. That in itself was a curse.
“Ray, what’s happened now?”
Ray’s jersey-knit shirt, with pearlized buttons embossed with the Arnold Palmer logo, stretched tightly around his bulging girth. As he stepped forward, his flashy yellow pants caught the glare of the sun through the windows, temporarily blinding me.
“Do you know what my wife did? I just got back from a four-day golf tournament and found her and all my furniture gone. What am I going to do?” he said, his voice cracking.
Ray burst into fitful cries equal to a Broadway performance of the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz.
“Ray, please sit down, we’ll work it out,” I said, as I peered past him to look at Gavin Donnelly and Ashley, giving them an assuring look that it was okay for them to leave.
Fourteen
The inside of Jeb Donnelly’s apartment smelled like musty flowers, a scent from a fading lilac plug-in air freshener. A large square of sunshine fell over the floral area rug covering the aged hardwood floors in the living room. Jeb was proud to point out his latest flea market find, a handsome pair of lamps. Both sat on white doily covered antique mahogany end tables.
Although Jeb Donnelly had just recuperated from a heart attack, he looked healthy. His body was solid, and the tattoos on his arms rivaled that of a rock star. His white whiskery face was heavily lined, and the only visible sign of illness showed in his cloudy, gray eyes. His reading glasses rested far below the bridge of his nose, as his tired eyes examined the legal documentation at arm's length.
“Is this where I sign?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Jeb glided a thick veined hand over the sturdy oak kitchen table to brush off crumbs before setting the paperwork down to sign it. The light above the kitchen table shined down through his thin snowy white hair to expose his pink scalp.
“So, Solomon can’t make me pack up and leave?” he asked gruffly, while handing the document back to me.
“No. Once I file the paperwork in court to open the pleading, which will take place tomorrow, he cannot take any action on the eviction notice until after the trial. That is if the judge rules in his favor. However, I feel confident that once we prove in court you were in a convalescent home and that your social security checks were diverted to pay for those expenses that will be enough to overturn the eviction.”
“See Dad, you can relax now,” Gavin said, as he rubbed Jeb’s shoulder.
Every time I looked at Gavin, I wanted to pinch myself. There was no logical explanation for how a stranger that I had dreamt about could actually be a living, breathing human being. Of course, Matt leaving me messages in the pages of a novel, making appearances and calling for me to find him wasn’t exactly normal either.
“Isn’t that right Aubrey?” Gavin looked directly into my eyes, as if he were searching for something more than the answer to his question.
“Absolutely, besides, I find it suspicious that when you left messages offering to pay the back rent, Solomon didn’t respond. I’ll be digging into his background. You never know, something unscrupulous might turn up, which could help the case.”
Jeb rose from his chair with a smile and waved a crooked arthritic finger at me. “You’re a little spitfire. I can see it in your eyes. Yep, you picked a good one, Son.” Jeb gave Gavin a wink.
“Hey, I almost forgot. Picked up a fresh apple Danish this morning” said Jeb. “I can make pot of coffee to go with it if you two are interested.”
“Oh, no, but thank you,” I said. “I really have to get back to the office.”
“I do too, Dad. But I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, come on, I’ll walk you both to the door.”
Dust particles danced around Jeb’s slippered feet as he walked over the sun patched floral area rug. I wondered where Gavin’s mother was and who was there to cook and clean for Jeb.
We stepped outside onto the large shady porch of the gray and white painted Queen Anne Victorian. The house was large with a big bay window, turret, and wraparound porch. As we walked down the front porch steps, I stared at Gavin’s red truck parked at the curb in front of the house. A rugged, testosterone-injected pickup that looked as if it sported one of those big hemi engines they advertise on TV. The truck looked ten feet tall with tires big enough to wrap around a small car, a four-wheeler that could trudge though three feet of mud, drive over boulders, and scale the side of small mountains. The kind of truck Superman would have driven had he not had special powers to fly.
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