Without Justice

by Carsen Taite

  She downed her now cool coffee and zoomed through a shower. A midnight blue sweater dress hugged her form, but not too much for the church-going crowd, and she raced out the door. When she arrived at church, her family was already seated in the front two rows, and she joined them just as the organist started playing the opening chords to the processional. Ignoring her mother’s pointed look, she rose with the crowd and buried her head in a hymnal. One day she would show up here with a woman on her arm, merging her new family with the traditions of her current one, but for now, this was her life and she would make the most of it.

  *

  Cade sorted through the clothes in her closet, but it didn’t take long to determine she had nothing appropriate to wear to play tennis at a country club, even if said club was located out here in the sticks. When she’d received Monica’s message last night inviting her to fill in for a foursome at the local country club, her new resolution to be more social prompted her to say yes, but her survey of the closet left her skeptical.

  The marshals who had smuggled her out of the hospital in Chicago had been tasked with arranging for her personal belongings to be moved to Texas. Figuring she’d start fresh, she’d made a list of essentials and directed the rest to be donated to charity. Tennis whites hadn’t made the cut, and she finally settled on Nikes, a pair of khakis, and a vintage track jacket she’d found on one of her forays to the Goodwill near the college.

  She surveyed her image in the mirror. Dressed like this, she was more likely to be mistaken for someone who worked at the country club than a member, but she didn’t look bad. Apparently, Monica wasn’t a member either, but their opponents were, and Monica said she joined them as a guest to play there often.

  Funny. Monica didn’t know a thing about her other than the half-truths in her personnel file, but on her first invitation outside of work she’d landed on one of Cade’s favorite pastimes. From her past life, anyway. When she was growing up, her parents’ Winnetka country club had been like a second home, and she’d played games of tennis on clay courts the way some kids played pickup ball on dirt lots, even earning a scholarship to play as an undergrad. She hadn’t played in a while since her salary as a state’s attorney hadn’t afforded her the luxury of membership, and the long hours meant she had to find less time-consuming ways to burn energy, but she was excited to revisit the sport.

  The drive over was short, and she was pleasantly surprised to find a fairly large brick building with a valet. Monica had kept her promise, and she was waiting outside the front door, holding two racquets and a duffel bag.

  “I’d about decided you were going to bail on us,” Monica said.

  “No chance.” Cade waved at her attire. “I was searching through my closet for the closest thing to tennis whites I could find.” She grinned. “I might have come up a little short, so if I’m not suitably dressed for this place, tell me now.”

  “Hell, I don’t care. I doubt anyone else will either. It’s not like it’s the Ritz or anything.”

  “Is the pro shop open?”

  “Save your money. Everything in there costs double what you’d pay in the real world. You look fine. Besides, I’m sure everyone will go easy on you since it’s your first time.”

  Cade bit back a smart remark. The temptation to relax and enjoy herself was great, but she would do well to be careful. An assistant librarian didn’t buy clothes at the country club pro shop. Little mistakes built up to bigger ones. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Inside. Come on.”

  Monica led the way through the doors of the club, and Cade followed her down a long hallway lined with trophy cases. Tennis, golf, skeet shooting—all the privileged sports were represented. When they reached the end of the hallway, they were standing at the opening of a large dining room. Monica waved to a woman across the room, dressed for tennis, who smiled and waved back. Cade watched as the woman turned, and she realized it was Becca, the coffee savior from Friday night.

  Cade waved and Becca waved back, but then she shook the shoulder of a woman seated at the table, and motioned for her to look across the room. Emily Sinclair turned in her seat and their eyes locked.

  Small freaking world. She’d gone two months living here without running into Emily Sinclair, and now she seemed destined to see her at every turn. Of course she was at a country club. From everything Cade had managed to find out through the wonders of Google, the Sinclairs were the first family of Bodark. Her father was a US Senator. A quick glance at the rest of the members of the table told her that was probably him, engaged in lively conversation with his socialite wife to his left. Emily’s brothers and their families rounded out the bunch. Suddenly, she cared very much that she didn’t fit in here, and she wished she could melt into the parquet floor.

  She didn’t melt, but she was paralyzed in place as she watched Emily stand up and walk toward her. The rest of the room fell away, and only Emily filled her vision. A midnight blue sweater dress and tall black suede boots showcased her fantastic figure. Her auburn hair flipped in sexy waves around her face and her full lips were fixed in a bright smile. But as she drew closer, Cade noticed her eyes reflected exhaustion and stress. Something was troubling her. She only had a few seconds to wonder what it might be before Emily was standing directly in front of her. She cast about for what to say, but Emily beat her to the punch.

  “Cade Kelly,” she said, her voice smooth like silk. “So you’re the mysterious stranger who’s rounding out the tennis set. I have to warn you, Becca’s a sore loser. Beat her and you risk being frozen out of the underground coffee supply.”

  “I love a challenge.”

  “You must.”

  Emily punctuated her remark with a gentle brush of her hand against her arm. Cade wanted to lean into the touch, to offer a witty retort, anything to continue the gentle flirtation, but the sound of a clearing throat reminded her they weren’t alone. She turned to see Becca and Monica. Becca wore an indulgent smile, but Monica looked puzzled.

  “You two know each other?” she asked.

  “We met at the panel Friday night,” Cade explained.

  “Actually, we met before then.” Emily corrected her. “A few weeks ago, I found Cade here wandering the streets looking for coffee, but I wasn’t entirely certain she was worthy of our underground supply until Friday.”

  Cade looked at Monica. “So, you knew about Becca’s coffee bar, but you didn’t tell me?”

  “Sorry, pal, but it looks like you had all the help you needed.”

  Cade followed her glance. Emily’s hand was no longer on her arm, but she was standing close. In your personal space close. Close enough for Cade to drink in the scent of lavender from her hair, and for a brief moment, she imagined those lovely waves fanned out on her chest. Holy shit. She needed to get a handle on her emotions right now or she was going to make a fool of herself. She turned to Becca. “Who’s the fourth?”

  “My sister, Laura. She’s in the locker room, changing. Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

  Cade started to say she hadn’t brought anything else to wear, but Monica saved her. “Cade came ready to play. She says she doesn’t need tennis whites to whip your butt on the court, and that’s why she’s my partner today.” She stuck out her tongue at Becca, and Cade shot her a thank you smile.

  “Big talk,” Becca said as she grabbed Monica’s arm and pointed to a door at the west side of the room. “Cade, we’re headed over there. Meet us in five minutes or lose by forfeit.”

  Cade watched them walk away, acutely conscious of the fact Becca had set things up to give her a few minutes alone with Emily and not entirely sure how Emily felt about the maneuver.

  “I guess I should get back to the table,” Emily said, but her questioning tone told Cade she wasn’t convinced that’s what she wanted to do. On impulse, Cade said, “Join us.”

  Emily’s glance flicked back to her table and Cade followed her eyes. The handsome man with gray hair she’d pegged as Senator Sinclair, was
regaling the table with a story, and everyone was listening with rapt attention except the woman seated next to him, who she imagined was his wife. Mrs. Sinclair was looking in their direction, barely hiding the fact she was staring straight at them, her expression at once curious and annoyed. She watched as Emily offered her mother a tacit nod. “I need to get back, but…”

  “Yes?”

  “But I’d like to see you again.”

  “Me too, you.”

  “I don’t know if you saw the papers, but the weekend got a little crazy after I left you Friday night. I can’t really get into it right now, but I’m going to be tied up for a while.”

  “I may have heard about that. But you eat, right?”

  “What?”

  “Meals, nutrition, sustenance. Even busy prosecutors have to fuel up for the fight, right?”

  The smile again and this time it reached Emily’s eyes. “I suppose. What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, I could bring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to your office and chat while you munched on it. I’d even bring chips too, good ones, but I’m thinking you’re not exactly a peanut butter, jelly, and chips kind of girl.”

  “Oh, you think that huh?”

  Cade made a show of glancing around the ornately decorated room. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

  “I like sandwiches.”

  “Those little finger ones they serve with tea, right?”

  Emily hung her head. “Guilty as charged. But I do love a good chip.”

  “Then how about I take you to dinner? You choose the place and time. Whenever’s convenient for you.” Cade pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Tell me your number.”

  “What?”

  “Your number? You know, I call you and then you have my number on your phone. No pressure. Call me when you can. I promise I won’t bother you until you’re ready.”

  “And when I’m ready?”

  “Well, then we’ll have to see about that.”

  Cade punched in the numbers and looked up to find Emily staring at her with a curious expression. She put the phone to her ear and her hand up, palm out. “Hold on, I’m on a call. Hey, Emily,” she said into the phone. “It was great seeing you at the club today. I was thinking we might meet up for tiny little finger sandwiches. What say you? Give me a buzz.” She clicked off the line and saw Emily shaking her head. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just you’re very different from the women I’m used to meeting.”

  “I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s a great thing.” She pressed her palm against Cade’s chest. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Go kick Becca’s butt.”

  Cade watched Emily walk back to join her table while she relished the slow burn of her touch. She’d be lucky to win a single game of tennis as distracted as she was at the prospect of a real date with Emily. Excited yes, but also terrified. It was one thing to give vague responses to coworkers about where she was from, what her family was like, but fending off a date’s questions was another matter entirely. She should never have pushed the point, never given Emily her number, but she hadn’t been able to resist.

  She was almost to the door that led out to the tennis courts when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She fished it out, glanced at the screen, and answered, “I thought you’d never call.” She didn’t even try to hide the grin in her voice, but she did turn around and lock eyes with Emily who was standing where she’d left her with her phone to her ear.

  “Well, I had to give it a lot of careful thought.”

  Cade laughed into the phone. “And your conclusion?”

  “I think we should make a plan. Just know that if I wind up having to reschedule, it’s—”

  Cade cut in. “I know, it’s not me, it’s the job, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Got it. So, how does dinner sound? You name the date.”

  “How about Friday? That’ll give me time to get through whatever this week holds.”

  “Perfect,” Cade lied. Perfect would have been dinner tonight, tomorrow at the latest. Now that she’d made the leap, she was ready to dive full in. A week of second-guessing her decision was not her preference, but she’d have to make do with the prospect of a perfect Friday night. “I’ll call you on Thursday with the details. Now, go eat your tiny sandwiches.”

  She hung up and shoved her phone back in her pocket. When she looked back up, Emily was still standing across the room, phone in hand, returning her grin. She had a date with Emily Sinclair and she couldn’t wait.

  *

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “Girl?” Emily slid into her seat at the family table, wishing she could ignore her brother’s remark, but it was no use. She’d caught everyone’s eyes on her while she was talking, make that flirting, with Cade, and her family was an inquisitive bunch.

  “Sorry, woman,” Travis said. “Who’s the woman? I don’t recall seeing her around here before.”

  Emily looked around the table, noting the expectant looks and knowing they, her mother in particular, would want more than the few simple details she had to offer. Megan Sinclair had carefully screened both of Emily’s brother’s wives before they became official members of the family, and they’d passed with flying colors. She didn’t know much about Cade, but she sensed that no matter how worthy she was, she might not meet her mother’s criteria: high social standing and a deep pedigree.

  She hadn’t given her mother’s criteria much thought in the past since she hadn’t been remotely interested in settling down until she had her career goals achieved, but now that she had accomplished her major goal, the desire for a wife and family was edging its way into her thoughts. She confessed to daydreaming what it would be like to come home to someone every night, share a meal, share a bed. Children, family vacations, growing old together. She wanted all of these things, but the timing might not be quite right, especially since a murder case had landed in her lap within her first quarter in office.

  She might not be ready to settle down and Cade might not be the one, but she was seriously attracted to her and she wanted to explore her feelings. The first step was acknowledging them. “Her name is Cade Kelly and she works at Jordan College.”

  “Professor?” Her mother’s expression was neutral as she asked the question.

  “Librarian.”

  “She doesn’t look like any librarian I’ve ever met,” Sierra remarked.

  Emily bristled at the catcall tone in Sierra’s voice. “Well, I doubt you see many librarians at the club getting ready for a tennis match.”

  “True. Are you dating?”

  Emily hesitated, certain the moment she answered in the affirmative, there would be a free-for-all of questions. She looked from Sierra to her mother, but she saw only kind curiosity reflected back at her, and she decided to take the plunge. “We just made our first date.”

  She was relieved to see Sierra and Travis smile in response to her declaration, but it was her mother who surprised her by saying, “I’m glad you’re starting to have a personal life.”

  “Thanks, Mom, me too. This past year has been a little crazy work-wise.”

  Megan sighed. “The life of a politician. It’s hard, but fulfilling. If you’re really interested in dating, Beth Farber is single and very accomplished. I’m sure she’ll be at the next Junior League meeting.”

  Emily watched her mother closely, but she couldn’t quite get a read. It was certainly the first time her mother had ever mentioned setting her up on a date, but no one was more attuned to the travails of politics than she. Megan Sinclair had tirelessly worked side-by-side with her husband for the last twenty years while he worked his way up from representative in the state legislature to lieutenant governor to his current seat in the United States Senate. The power payoff was grand, but the climb had taken its toll on their entire family. During election years, Emily rarely saw either parent, except for when the cameras called for the candidates to trot out their families.
The woman who managed their house and personal affairs, Clara, had filled in at teacher conferences and pretty much anywhere else a parent was needed.

  In a little more than two years from now, maybe longer if she didn’t draw a challenger in the primary, she’d have to start running for office again. She’d vowed that as much as she wanted to keep the office, she wouldn’t let her career interfere with achieving her next goal, which was a wife and family. With any luck, by the next election, she’d be happily married. She allowed herself to fantasize about walking down the aisle toward a woman waiting at the altar. She couldn’t make out the woman’s face, but that made sense since she hadn’t dated anyone since well before she’d made the decision to run for district attorney. For a brief second, she pictured Cade standing in the front of the church, smiling as she approached, but just as quickly as it came, the image vanished. It was ridiculous really since they’d just met. Emily shook her head. This was why fantasies were a waste of time.

  She’d reach the goals she’d set not by having crazy daydreams, but with deliberate action. Step one, start dating. Step two, narrow down the choices. Step three, commit. There was a proper order to things, and she wasn’t going to let anything, not even the searing attraction she felt whenever Cade looked her way, get her off track.

  Chapter Ten

  Monday morning, Cade showed up for work and went about her usual routine, but when she went to put her lunch in the break room fridge, she spotted Monica chatting with one of their coworkers, and she tried to duck by without being spotted.

  “Cade, is that you?”

  Damn. Oh well, it wasn’t like she was going to be able to avoid Monica all day, but she’d hoped to make it until lunch before enduring more questions about whatever she had going with Emily Sinclair. Plans thwarted, she stepped into the break room. “Hey, Monica.”