He passed her the paper. Belle studied the single sheet, her brows furrowing into a frown. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered as she met his gaze. “I can’t believe Biggs would stoop to something as low as threatening Rosaria.”
“We don’t know for sure he’s responsible for this,” he said reasonably.
“Who else then?” she demanded.
He sighed. “I … don’t know.” He raked a hand through his hair and snared her gaze. “I really don’t believe Biggs did this, however.”
“And why would you think that?” she demanded, disbelieving.
“I met the man yesterday morning,” he said absently.
She shook her head. “You met him?”
“It seemed only right I give him an opportunity to give his side of the story. When you and I had dinner at your place, you didn’t seem particularly interested in hearing his side.”
“Actually, I’m very interested in hearing his side of the story,” she said pointedly. “I’ve tried to reach him repeatedly. He wasn’t interested in a face-to-face meeting.” She snorted in disgust. “All right then,” she said, sitting back in the chair, “tell me his side.”
“Well,” he said wearily, “although he didn’t seem inclined to answer many of my questions, upon the advice of his attorney who was also present, of course, he did seem concerned about the conditions Rosaria and her fellow tenants are facing. In fact, he appeared absolutely shocked by the state of the complex. Belle, you should have seen the color drain from his face when I showed him a list of defects. He looked ill when we discussed the pipes and their unsafe effect on the drinking water.”
“If he’s so concerned, why is it he has yet to respond to my inquiries? Why hasn’t he responded to Rosaria’s own requests for repairs? Why hasn’t he…?”
“He said he’s never heard from Rosaria—or you,” he cut in.
“That’s absurd,” she scoffed. “Not only have I called him several times, I’ve also sent multiple certified letters.”
“I know. I’ve seen your notes.” He watched her intently, though Belle suspected he was actually staring right through her. She realized he was indeed lost to his thoughts as he tapped his pen on the tabletop and emitted a long sigh. She could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
She left him to his thoughts and absently smoothed an errant tendril of hair behind her ear, and then leaned back in the chair. She crossed her slim legs at her ankles, and suddenly realized she had walked into work wearing shorts and a t-shirt that had seen better days. The torn shirt had several bleached out-spots, and a gaping hole under her right armpit caused a sag in the fabric along her side.
She nearly groaned as she dropped her arm and held it close to her side. If she forgot and raised it again, Dare would assuredly see more of her than he had bargained for.
She quickly reached for her purse on the floor. She could only imagine what her face must look like. She pulled her compact out and flipped it open to reveal the mirror. She wasn’t particularly pleased to see what it revealed.
Several streaks of dirt muddied her face from her constantly swiping at the bugs that had buzzed around her all morning. She hadn’t bothered with any makeup, though her cheeks boasted a rosy hue from hours in the Great Outdoors. She glanced down and spotted the streaks of dirt along her thighs and calves. Her knees were caked with mud, since the garden had been damp due to a light sprinkling during the early morning hours.
She should have taken a shower, she realized. Sometimes she could be so single-minded. Work called, she dashed. Steven often called her overly-focused, while Lacey called her just plain obsessive.
Lately, she’d been downright absent-minded. A few weeks before, she had been in her car on the way to work, wearing a skirt, nylons, and sensible shoes, but only a bra on top. Thankfully, she’d had a jacket on the seat beside her, and had managed to slip into it, but not before several male motorists had gotten an eyeful during their morning commute.
Just recently, she’d actually arrived at work wearing flannel pajama pants and fuzzy slippers—an odd contrast to the silk top and blazer she had remembered to put on. She suspected the latter incident was the impetus for Millicent to suggest it was time for a vacation.
She shifted uncomfortably, hoping desperately that Dare hadn’t noticed her disheveled appearance.
As if on cue, he sent her an appraising glance. “Been working in the garden, I see,” he said, biting back a grin.
She startled. “Huh?”
“Been working in the garden,” he observed again, still fighting the smile that tugged at his lips.
What was his first clue? She waved off his comment as she would an annoying mosquito and then studied the note again, disgusted by the threat to Rosaria and other tenants. It was spelled out with letters cut from a newspaper or magazine. She realized the letters had probably come from both, since some were a matte finish on flimsy paper, where others were thicker and magazine glossy.
“If Biggs isn’t responsible for this note, who would you suggest might be?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “That’s what I have to figure out.”
“We,” she said grudgingly. “That’s what we have to figure out.”
He chuckled lightly. “Right.”
“Did Rosaria call the police?” she asked.
He shook his head. “She brought this to me first.”
“I have to get her out of there,” Belle sighed. “She’s not safe at that complex.”
He shook his head again. “She’ll be all right. It’s a bogus threat. If indeed someone were to carry out any kind of threat, the finger would point directly at Biggs. I’ve already called him, and he’s bumping up security at the complex.”
Her mouth dropped open. “He’s bumping up security? Right,” she murmured dubiously. She leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the tabletop, but promptly pulled back when she remembered her torn shirt.
“Belle,” Dare said reasonably, “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and it seemed to me Biggs was as upset about the threatening letter to Rosaria as you and me. I don’t know. He seemed … authentic. A pretty nice guy, actually. I checked him out. He’s about a reputable as they come. Very civic-minded and well-respected in the community. Certainly nobody could accuse him of being a slumlord.”
She watched him, mouth agape, and shook her head. “I’m calling the police.”
“Not yet.” Those two words, spoken in firm, even tones, riled her even more.
“I’m calling the police,” she repeated with authority. “This is my case, and I’ll handle it as I see fit.”
“This is my case,” he corrected her, not unkindly, and his eyes met full-on the challenge in her lavender eyes.
Suddenly, Millicent appeared in the doorway, arms folded across her chest. “Belle, the case is Dare’s until you get back to work,” she said in a tone that defied argument. “You need a vacation, and come hell or high water, you’re getting one.”
“But…”
She raised a hand to silence her. “Dare will handle things while you’re gone. Go to the coast, Belle. Walk on the sand, splash in the surf, whatever! You … need … a … vacation.”
Belle shook her head, pushing back from the table in frustration. Millicent had called her out in front of Dare, and it rankled her. She raised her hand, nearly spoke words she realized she might later regret, and then promptly closed her mouth. Why was everyone so intent on her having a vacation? She knew when and if she needed one. Didn’t she?
Chapter Six
After her meeting with Dare, Belle sat in her boss’s office, awaiting her return. No doubt Millicent had a few choice words for her. She still wondered why she was so intent on her taking a vacation—and a six-week long one, at that. It seemed to her that the decision to take time off really should be up to her.
When Millicent entered her office and closed the door behind her, Belle watched her questioningly. She nearly jumped out of her skin wh
en she dangled a mirror in front of her face. “Take it,” she instructed.
Belle eyed her curiously, but reached for the mirror.
“Look at yourself.”
She sighed as she studied her face in the mirror. “Yes? So? My face is dirty. I was working in the garden when I got Dare’s message.”
“Look at your eyes.”
She checked her eyes, and then shrugged. “So?”
“You look exhausted. Notice the dark circles, my friend.”
“How nice of you to point them out to me,” she said in a flat tone, eyeing her boss with a tinge of annoyance. She gingerly placed the mirror on Millicent’s desk. She didn’t need a third look at her undeniably fatigued features.
“Belle, I’m talking here as a friend now, not as your boss,” Millicent said. “You’re exhausted. You haven’t had a vacation, in … well, never, that I can recall. You actually have twelve weeks coming to you. In light of how much time you have available to you, I don’t think six weeks off is unreasonable. Belle, you need a vacation!”
“I don’t need a vacation,” she protested. “And especially not a six-week vacation! What am I going to do with all that time off? Can’t I take it in installments? You know, a day here, a day there?”
Millicent shook her head. “No. Belle, you do need time off. You know I admire your work ethic. You know nothing would make me happier than to supervise a staff of folks just like you, but… Your work is all consuming for you. You eat, sleep, and drink Legal Aid. It’s commendable, but you need balance in your life. Girl, you need a hobby.”
Belle watched her friend curiously. Millicent had often given her wise counsel over the years, but she was practically suggesting she had no life. She had a life. Sort of.
“Belle, tell me, exactly what do you have to prove and whom do you have to prove it to?” her friend asked kindly.
She was taken aback by the question. She shook her head. “I don’t get…”
“You move at sixty miles an hour, and often spend as many as thirteen hours a day here. I have to remind you to take a lunch, and then half the time you don’t eat. Instead, you go off on long walks to…”
“To clear my head,” she interrupted.
“No. You think about work and you know it. And Belle, you never take breaks. You can’t go on like this. You’re going to burn out by the time you hit thirty. You need to slow the pace. No one will think less of you for it.”
She shook her head, confused. She wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone.
“I don’t get…”
Millicent threw her hands up in exasperation. “Belle, listen to me. You need to slow down.”
She saw concern in her friend’s eyes. “I … don’t want to. Besides, I’m not sure I know how,” she admitted softly. “I love my work.”
“I know you do,” Millicent said, smiling fondly. “But everyone needs a break now and then. It’s good for the soul. It’s a means to recharge the batteries.”
Belle emitted a long sigh, seeming skeptical and uncertain.
“I have a job for you,” Millicent said suddenly.
She perked up then. “You do?”
“Yes. Your job is to take a day off from everything. You need a day of lolling around the house, doing absolutely nothing. Get a good book, retire to a comfortable chair, and read. Or better yet, sit, close your eyes, and simply be. Can you do that for me?”
“I can try, I guess,” she relented. “But why would I want to?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
Millicent chortled. “Because I said so.”
Belle sighed. It didn’t sound like a very productive way to spend her day.
“Belle…,” Millicent prompted, “your first order of business is to rest. Second, get a hobby. Something fun. What do you think?”
“I guess I can … take it easy, and maybe … get a hobby. Can you suggest one?” She grinned at her friend then.
Millicent laughed. “Something just for you. And I don’t mean volunteering at another non-profit. Do you get me, my friend? No volunteer work. You need to devote yourself to Belle for awhile—you!”
“Oh, okay. I guess I can figure something out,” she reluctantly agreed.
“Good,” Millicent said with a sigh of relief. “Go home, get some rest, and we’ll talk later. Okay?”
“Okay. It’s not as if I have a choice,” she grumbled under her breath.
As she left Millicent’s office, she couldn’t help but glance over at her desk. How she longed to find herself back there. It was familiar—home. Unfortunately, today, Dare sat there, in her chair, and drinking … from her coffee cup!
She couldn’t stop herself. She hurried over to him. He looked up and eyed her questioningly. “That’s my cup,” she said flatly, pointing to the mug in his hand.
He held the cup in front of him, studying it. “This cup?” he asked finally.
“Yes. See. My name is on it. Give it to me.”
He seemed taken aback. “You want it … now?”
She nodded.
He tipped back in the chair, watching her with amusement. “Can I finish my coffee first?”
“No.”
She refused to back down. She wanted her cup and she wanted it now. She didn’t care one iota that she might be being unreasonable. The man had taken her case, her chair, her desk, and now he had the unmitigated gall to drink from her very own coffee cup. He could get his own doggone cup. There were plenty of stray cups around the office. “Well…?” she prompted.
He passed her the cup.
“Thank you.” She spun on her heel and left the building. Outside, she tipped the cup, dumping his steaming hot coffee onto the sidewalk. With a satisfied snort, she watched the liquid spread across the pavement, and then she strode briskly down the block.
She’d barely made it to the end when she heard a masculine voice calling her name. She glanced back. Dare stood in the doorway of the office building, waving her back. She glanced around uncertainly, and with an exasperated sigh, began walking toward him. What now?
“Did you need something?” she asked flatly when she reached him.
“Let’s get lunch,” he said, smiling in what struck Belle as a practiced, albeit, disarming way.
“No, thank you. I should get home.”
“But you and I have things to discuss.”
“Such as?” she asked in a clipped tone, checking her watch.
“The case,” he said succinctly, his eyes sparkling with his customary good humor.
“I’ve been banned from work,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. “I don’t think Millicent wants me anywhere near the Rodriguez case, which means I’ll have to steer clear of you. Darn,” she said with mock disappointment.
“It’s just a lunch,” he said reasonably. “And don’t tell me you’re going to forgo an opportunity to continue our discussion of the case.”
“Like I said, Millicent won’t…”
He silenced her with a dismissive wave. “She won’t know.”
She took a deep breath. Was he really prepared to ignore Millicent’s explicit instructions that she wasn’t to be involved with the case until her return to work? She couldn’t deny she wanted desperately to discuss it further; to wield her influence with Dare, to show him Biggs was a crook and not the solid citizen he seemed to think he might be.
With a defeated sigh, she muttered, “I’ll drive.”
He grinned. “Be right back.”
She waited outside while he dashed back into the building to grab a few things. Soon he strode toward her carrying a black attaché case, and whistling a happy tune. Belle didn’t speak until they arrived at her car. She hitched a thumb at the back seat. “You can put your brief case back there.”
He tossed it into the back, and then climbed into the passenger seat. Belle slid into the driver’s seat. She backed the car out of the space and steered out of the parking complex and onto the street. “Where to?” she asked.
His lips quir
ked into a grin as his eyes lighted on her attire. “Well, I’m thinking a casual dining place might be just the ticket.”
She shot him a hostile glance, realizing immediately she’d just flashed him. She dropped one hand off the wheel and steered with her left hand.
He chuckled and she shot him an annoyed glance. He stopped laughing when she pulled into the parking lot of a nearby convenience store. “What’ll you have?” she asked him. “I see they have corndogs, two for ninety-nine cents. Or maybe you prefer the two-cheeseburger deal. If you fancy popcorn, it comes with a free small soda.”
He leaned back in the seat. “I wasn’t thinking quite this casual, but… well, considering your outfit, it’s probably a good choice.”
She scowled at him then.
With a cheery laugh, he left her in the car and headed inside. He returned moments later with two corndogs and a pound of potato wedges. He held a super-sized coffee in one hand.
Since his hands were full, Belle leaned over and opened the door for him. He passed her the corndogs and slipped into the seat. “Are you thirsty?” he asked. “I can run back in and grab you something. I just didn’t have enough hands to grab you a drink, and since I was desperate for coffee since mine was hijacked earlier…”
She silenced him with a contemptuous look.
He only grinned as he carefully settled his coffee in the cup holder between the seats, and then turned to watch her. “Shall we eat here? Or, I noticed there’s a park a block or so back, just around the corner from work.”
She started the ignition and drove to the park. Once there, they climbed out of the car and Dare rounded the hood to stand beside her. She eyed him curiously as he stared at her car. He finally turned to meet her gaze and frowned. “It isn’t purple.”
She shot him a questioning glance. “What?”
“Your car. It isn’t purple.”
Suddenly, color flamed in her cheeks. She realized he was remembering the Sweet Sixteen party tape, in which she had demanded a purple car from her mother.
“No, it isn’t,” she said, failing to mask the flash of pain in her eyes.
He abruptly sobered and watched her with concern. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” he began, but she turned away and hurried to a nearby picnic table beneath a canopy of trees. She dropped onto the bench seat, and then glanced around. The park was beautiful; a veritable oasis in an urban landscape. She had often enjoyed lunchtime walks there.
Simply Being Belle Page 5
