She shook her head and put down her phone. “I’m sure he’s very busy.”
I thought about the state of Paul Cerasino’s office and had to agree. However, he had said to make an appointment. I’d called first thing yesterday morning and been told that someone would get back to us. No one had. Busy or not, my time in Cecilton was running out. I was due back in Boston soon and wanted this resolved or at least in motion before I left.
I made up my mind. If we didn’t hear anything by the time Miriam left for the bookstore, I was going to go back to his office.
“Don’t even think of going back there,” Miriam warned. She knew me so well.
I focused on slathering my toast with whipped butter and said nothing because, one, I was not going to lie to my sister, and two, I didn’t make promises I couldn’t keep.
“I’m serious, Ally. Don’t be a pest. He’ll answer if and when he can.”
I sat up. “You think I’m a pest?”
“You can be”—she hesitated, as if searching for the right word—“determined when you set your mind on something.”
Determined, driven, goal-oriented, focused—those were words people used when describing me and my work ethic. I didn’t see them as negatives.
“You need to be prepared, just in case.”
“I know. It’s just not as high on my priority list as it is on yours. Things have been quiet. I really think we’ve turned a corner.” Her eyes widened, and I swore, if we were cartoon characters, a lightbulb would have appeared over her head. “Unless, of course, you have an ulterior motive for going to see him.”
“What ulterior motive could I possibly have?”
“Well, he is extremely handsome. And the way he was looking at you ...”
My mild irritation instantly took a backseat to curiosity. “How was he looking at me?”
She smirked. “Like he wanted to see your legal briefs.”
I tossed a napkin at her and scoffed, but inside, a thrill ran through me. I’d be lying if I said similar thoughts hadn’t crossed my mind once or twice, but those were personal, private thoughts and not meant to be shared. “You’re delusional.”
“Not delusional. Imaginative,” she corrected. “Comes in handy. You know, for writing.”
“Right.”
I was determined, and she was imaginative. We were as different as night and day.
After eating, Miriam set off for the bookstore. She said she wrote better there; plus, it felt more like a “real” job when she left her apartment and went somewhere else to do her thing. She’d invited me to go along, but I was too restless to sit in one place for hours. I was used to being active. I needed to do something.
I did the dishes and tidied up the apartment. Miriam was on the messy side, and I was slightly OCD when it came to having everything in its place. That didn’t take long, and I once again found myself looking for something to do.
I decided to go for a walk. Specifically, I headed downtown—toward Paul Cerasino’s office. I hadn’t actually told Miriam that I wouldn’t, so I didn’t feel too guilty.
When I got to the Wilkins building, however, I hesitated in the lobby, Miriam’s earlier words echoing in the back of my mind. Was I being a pest, or was I simply being a good sister and following up?
While I was standing there, trying to answer that, Paul Cerasino entered the lobby, briefcase in hand, and made a beeline for the café like a man on a mission.
A tingle ran through me. My first thought was, That man can fill out a suit like nobody’s business. The second was, He looks like someone who has something important on his mind. I wondered if he’d just come from court.
Since I hadn’t yet decided whether or not to go up to his office, I turned away and pretended to study the directory. I could see his reflection in the glass case and marked his progress as he exited the café and approached the elevators. He didn’t even glance in my direction.
I wasn’t surprised. He appeared preoccupied, and unlike the last time I had been here, I was wearing my blend into the background clothes—jeans, sneakers, and a lightweight top with my glasses instead of my usual contact lenses and my hair in a messy bun at the back of my head. I called it my nondescript look, because no one gave me a second glance. It was quite helpful when I wanted to observe without being seen.
After several minutes of silent deliberation, I made up my mind. I stepped into the elevator and rode it up to the sixth floor. I mean, why not? I was already there, right?
The nice older woman who had been at the desk on Monday wasn’t there today, but Stella was.
She looked up from whatever she was doing and scowled. “Yes?”
Her customer service skills could certainly use some work.
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Cerasino, please.”
Her scowl deepened. “And you are?”
“Allison Kearney.”
Her eyes narrowed, as if I looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place me. I really did look different in my suit.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but—”
“Mr. Cerasino is a very busy man,” she said, cutting me off before I could explain. “If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to make an appointment. Try calling next week.”
“I’m not going to be here next week,” I said, keeping my voice calm and even. “And I did call. No one called me back.”
Her smile was cold. “Then, perhaps you should try contacting someone else.”
For a moment, I was rendered speechless by her blatant rudeness. But he wasn’t.
“Stella!”
We both turned at the sharp voice. Paul Cerasino stood in the hallway that led to his office, and he looked angry. His lips were pressed together, and his dark eyes had become even darker.
There was a lot of passion simmering beneath that polished, professional exterior. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. That tingle I’d felt earlier returned with a vengeance.
Just that quickly, Stella’s demeanor changed. “Paulie—”
“My office. Now.” He turned to me, his expression softening somewhat. “My sincere apologies, Ms. Kearney. Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you in a few moments.”
I nodded, selecting a seat in the waiting area. Stella walked back toward Paul’s office but not before shooting me an evil glance over her shoulder, as if this were my fault.
Several minutes later, Paul reappeared alone. His brows were pulled together, but they relaxed when he saw that I was still there.
“Thank you for waiting,” he said. “Would you come back to my office, please?”
I stood and followed him. There was no sign of Stella and I wondered if she’d used the alternate exit to avoid facing me.
I took the same seat in front of his desk, and like last time, he offered me something to drink. I declined. I didn’t plan on staying long.
His desk phone rang. He scowled at it and tapped a few buttons. The ringing stopped, but the lights continued to blink.
He turned back to me. “Since you are here alone, am I to presume that your sister has changed her mind?”
“Just the opposite. I called first thing yesterday morning and was told someone would get back to us, but no one did. I’m only in town for a few more days, so I thought I’d stop by and see if perhaps you had changed your mind.”
His brows furrowed again, and I put the pieces together.
“You never got the message, did you?”
He shook his head slightly. “My receptionist has been out of the office, and my assistant has been filling in.”
So, Stella was his assistant. I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she assisted him with since she didn’t seem very capable in an administrative capacity. However, the first couple things that came to mind sent unexpected ripples of something dark and ugly through me, so I shut them down and directed my thoughts in another direction.
“No offense, but you’d be better off with an answering service.” I clamped
my lips shut, appalled that I’d blurted it out like that.
I was usually better at keeping my thoughts to myself. I wanted this man’s help. Insulting him wasn’t the way to get it.
So, I did what anyone would do. I backpedaled. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”
Rather than be offended, he quirked his lips. “Perhaps not, but I tend to agree with you.”
Lights continued to dance on his desk phone. I wondered how many calls he got in a day. As the only family services lawyer in the area, probably a lot. What he needed was a capable assistant—or better yet, a paralegal like me to take some of the weight off his shoulders.
“Then, why keep her around?”
“It’s complicated.”
His nonanswer reinforced my theories about Stella’s particular skill set around the office, causing those earlier ugly ripples to return twofold.
“It’s hard to work with someone you’re involved with.”
His eyes widened. “Stella and I aren’t involved. At least, not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Does she know that?”
Again, my brain-to-mouth filter had failed to engage.
And again, his lips quirked. “You sound like my sister.”
“Maybe you should listen to her. Sisters know things.”
“Duly noted.” The quirk became a full-fledged grin before he grew serious again. “In any event, it’s no longer an issue.”
A pang of guilt went through me as the meaning of his words registered even though I had nothing to feel guilty about. I hadn’t done anything wrong. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was long overdue.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Irene will be back next week, hopefully. Until then, I’ll figure something out.”
Yeah, now, I really felt bad.
I waved my hand in the direction of the phone and its blinking lights. My OCD was flaring. “Do you want to get that?”
He shook his head.
“It might be important.”
“They’re all important,” he told me. “Including your sister. When are you returning to Boston?”
“Sunday.”
He checked his calendar and frowned. I assumed that meant he had nothing available. I was right.
“Would you be amenable to an evening meeting?”
“Of course. My sister’s a writer, so her schedule is very flexible.”
“My brother is a writer too.”
I thought back to the good-looking guy I’d seen him with a few days earlier. “He’s the guy you were talking to in the bookstore?”
Paul nodded. “Shall we say, seven o’clock this evening?”
“Perfect. Thank you. I really appreciate this, Mr. Cerasino.”
“Paul. And you’re very welcome. See you then.”
I walked out of his office and immediately called Miriam to tell her the good news. Not many lawyers were willing to go out of their way to help someone like that, especially when they knew that nothing might come of it.
I took satisfaction in having been right about Paul Cerasino. He was as attractive on the inside as he was on the outside. He actually cared about people, and I was looking forward to seeing him again.
Until then, I had nothing to do and nowhere to be. I walked to the community park located in the center of town. Moms and dads watched over little ones playing on the brightly colored equipment. Joggers and dog walkers made their way along the paved trails that wound through the grounds. Locals, including a fair number of businesspeople, ate their lunches on strategically placed benches.
Delicious smells filled my nostrils from the food trucks that had set up there, offering an eclectic variety, and I decided to sample some of the fare. As I ate one of the best hot dogs I’d ever had, I couldn’t help but think about Paul, swamped at the office. Something told me he wouldn’t take time out to get lunch for himself.
I had no idea what he liked, but I went back to the hot-dog truck and placed another order. Then, I returned to the Wilkins building. My plan was to leave the food at the reception desk and call out to let him know it was there, but it didn’t quite happen that way.
Chapter Eight: Paulie
I rifled through the stacks and piles of papers strewn haphazardly across nearly every available surface, searching for the Di Miglio file. I had a call scheduled with the opposing counsel in less than an hour and needed the investigative notes I’d asked Stella to transcribe and summarize. If I were smart, I would have asked her for them before I’d told her to pack up her things and leave.
I heard the soft chime that signaled someone had entered the office and cursed. I didn’t have time to deal with another walk-in.
Reluctantly, I abandoned my search and made my way out to the reception area. Right before I got there, I felt it—that tingling of awareness I only seemed to feel around Allison Kearney—and quickened my steps.
My instincts hadn’t failed me. She was standing in front of Irene’s desk with a bag of what smelled like food from one of my favorite vendors in her hand.
I’d mentioned, she was a beautiful woman, right? At that moment, she looked like a bona fide angel. Thankfully, I managed to keep my enthusiasm at an acceptable, professional level.
“Ms. Kearney, I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
She offered a tentative smile. “I brought you some lunch.”
Her words hit me right in the chest—hard—even as I searched for an angle. “You did?”
“I figured you might be too busy to go out and get something, so ...”
She hesitated and looked down at the bag. It was the first hint of uncertainty I’d witnessed from her. It was adorable.
“So ...” I prompted.
She straightened her shoulders, once again presenting the confidence I’d seen earlier. “So, I decided to do it for you.”
She’d brought me lunch. Because I was busy. My nonno would have a field day with that.
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Yes, well, you’ve been very kind to my sister and me. One good turn deserves another, right?”
I felt myself grinning like an idiot. “Right. Is that a Rocco’s special by any chance?”
“It is. I hope that’s okay. I had one myself, and it was delicious.”
“It’s perfect.”
A rosy flush painted her cheeks at the compliment, making her eyes sparkle even more behind those black rims. I glanced at the clock, dismayed to see that it was almost time for my conference call. Of course, she noticed.
She held out the bag for me. “I should be going.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with genuine regret. “I have a meeting.”
“No problem. Go. I’ll let myself out.”
“Thanks again.”
She nodded. I hurried back to my office, Rocco’s in hand, just in time to pick up the call.
When I hung up an hour later, I sighed in relief. Thankfully, I’d remembered enough of the highlights from the private investigator’s report to get my client’s ex to think twice about his threat to take the case to court.
I still needed to find that file though along with the others I’d need to reference in the next few days.
I wolfed down the lunch Allison had so thoughtfully brought for me, now cold but still delicious, once again appreciating her kindness. There were still several hours to go before I saw her again, but I was already looking forward to it.
AT SIX FORTY-FIVE, my phone went off with the alarm I’d set, but it wasn’t necessary. Even as busy as I’d been, I’d been keeping track of the time in the back of my mind.
I took a few minutes to visit the restroom and give myself a brief once-over. The long days and excessive workload I’d been carrying were visible in my face. My eyes were bloodshot. My hair was badly in need of a trim. I could probably use a shave, too, since I hadn’t had a chance to do so that morning, but that would also have to wait.
I splashed s
ome cold water on my face, combed my hair, and made liberal use of the mouthwash I always kept on hand as well as a handful of breath mints. It would have to do.
Allison and her sister arrived five minutes before their appointment time, and I brought them back to my office.
Together, we reviewed the file Allison had brought with her, the same one she’d tried to give me the first time we met. I had to say, I was impressed. It was extremely organized. Color-coded with clear notes, dates, names. Allison’s meticulous attention to detail was refreshing, especially after dealing with Stella’s haphazard methods.
As we talked, both women filled in details, and by the end, I had a much better understanding of Allison’s concern—not only because Miriam’s ex was a piece-of-shit human being, but also because Miriam seemed, well, a little flighty, if I was being honest.
I didn’t mean that in a bad way. She was clearly intelligent and well-spoken when focused. However, her attention span also seemed to be rather limited, and several times during our meeting, she’d clearly been thinking of other things.
“It’s her creative mind,” Allison said on an exhale when Miriam excused herself to use the restroom. “Sometimes, she prefers to live in her own world rather than deal with reality.”
“It’s not uncommon among those who have experienced abuse.”
“For some,” she agreed. “Others decide to fight back and change the system that allowed it to happen in the first place.”
She spoke quietly, but her tone was laced with steel.
A sick feeling in the pit of my stomach suggested that Miriam hadn’t been the only one who’d faced abuse. My eyes met Allison’s, and I knew my hunch had been correct.
Allison had been protecting Miriam a lot longer than the last few years.
She must have sensed me connecting the dots because she met my gaze head-on and said, “Our father was a drunk. A mean one. And my mother was like Miriam. A dreamer who deserved better than what she got.”
Just For Her: A Cerasino Family Novella (Cerasino Family Novellas Book 3) Page 4
