by Lacey Baker
One of the things the judge had said to Perry at the end of that first trial was, “Don’t let this acquittal be the beginning of your professional criminal career.”
It was apparent that Perry hadn’t listened.
“Hey, Preston, you fix things to get me outta here yet?” Perry asked the moment he was seated in the chair across from Preston.
“We have a few things to iron out first,” Preston said. This was his job, time to do the work; he’d deal with the doubts and recriminations later.
He pulled his file out of his briefcase and opened it to the page where he’d taken notes of the meeting with the judge and the prosecutor.
“The state’s attorney thinks you have information in another case. A federal one. She said you witnessed a big drug buy in New Jersey a couple of months ago.”
“I don’t know what she’s talking about. Just get me out of here, man. I gotta get to work to take care of my kids,” Perry told him.
Preston wasn’t fazed by Perry’s work statement. He always used his children—six, if Preston wasn’t mistaken—as an excuse when he was incarcerated. When he was home, Preston doubted Perry had time to see said children since he was usually in the street breaking the law.
“If you agree to testify in the federal case, they’ll reduce the attempted-murder charge to assault and offer you a suspended sentence,” Preston told him. A sentence that would make him a free man once more.
“I don’t know about no drug deal in Jersey,” Perry said adamantly.
Beneath his sheet of notes there was a charging document that the state’s attorney had given him. It was for the New Jersey case. Preston hadn’t read it in the judge’s chambers because he wasn’t concerned with that charge—it wasn’t against his client. Still, while Perry was going through his mini tirade, Preston skimmed the report.
The name Johnny Tuscaverdi all but leapt off the page.
“How do you know Johnny Tuscaverdi?” he asked, looking up at Perry.
“I don’t know nobody,” Perry said.
“It says here that you rode in an SUV, two men in the front and three men in the back. One of those men in the back was identified as Johnny Tuscaverdi. He’s accused of orchestrating the drug deal. You watched from the backseat as the money was exchanged for drugs.”
Perry was shaking his head slowly. “I told you I don’t know nobody. You gotta go back and get me another deal.”
Preston sat back in his chair. He closed the file and stared at this twenty-one-year-old. On the outside he looked like a clean-cut young man, high school education, medium build, from a two-parent home with siblings. Some would say he’d just gotten mixed up with the wrong friends in his later high school years. Others would say he was predestined to a life of crime given his inner-city address. Preston said Perry had made a choice. And for years Preston had ignored Perry’s choice. He’d taken his money and defended him, and watched him go back out onto the streets.
Today, he wasn’t so sure he could do that again.
“From what I hear Tuscaverdi is into a lot of bad stuff. The feds are really after this guy, which means they’re gunning for anybody associated with him as well. You’re saying you weren’t in that SUV and you don’t know him. Eyewitnesses say differently.”
“I’m not testifying,” Perry said adamantly.
Preston closed his file. “Then there’s no deal on the table and your attempted-murder trial will proceed on Monday.”
“You can get me out, Preston. You’ve done it before. That’s why I pay you all that money,” Perry insisted.
Stuffing the file back into his bag, Preston stood from the table. “And you will receive representation for your retainer. Be ready for trial next week, Mr. Bradbury.”
He’d already walked away from the table but still heard Perry calling after him. Preston didn’t care, he wasn’t talking to this young man anymore, and he wasn’t representing him next week.
* * *
“So what now?” Joe Baskerville asked when Preston had returned to the office.
Joe sat across from Preston in his modern-fit suit. He had one ankle propped on his knee, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Preston sat behind his big cherrywood desk in a high-backed leather chair, his arms on the armrest. He leaned back in the chair and turned so that he was sideways next to the desk.
“I don’t want to practice criminal law anymore,” he said thoughtfully.
The room grew quiet.
“You’ve been leaning in that direction awhile now,” Joe said. “Remember, we talked about it earlier this year. That’s when I started mentioning the firm branching out.”
“I remember,” Preston said. “It was my dream,” he continued. “I’d always wanted to do some good in the world and law seemed the right way to go. Maybe I should have stayed on the prosecution side.”
Joe waved a hand. “They’re getting burned out, too. It’s not a personal issue as much as I think it’s a community one. We see the same things over and over again, the only change is that they seem to be getting younger and younger. The prosecutors’ dockets are as full as our calendars. Everybody in the criminal system is overworked, everybody except maybe the criminals.”
“That’s a pretty cynical thing to say seeing as you’re a defense attorney,” Preston countered.
“Right,” Joe said with a chuckle. “That’s why I’ve been working so hard to hire associates. Look, Pres, our firm is known for its criminal defense work. We can still capitalize off that reputation and give ourselves a break.”
“I’ve been doing some contract work for the inn,” he said. “Trying to get some partnerships going that might bring in more customers.”
Joe nodded. “You’ve been heading back to that town since the moment they called about your grandmother’s passing. Frankly, I don’t know why you’re still sitting here.”
“My life is here,” Preston countered.
“No. It used to be. But over the last few weeks I’ve seen that change. You want to be there more than you want to be here. And when that happens there’s nothing left to fight. If you stay here and continue to work, you’re going to grow angrier and angrier at the job you’re doing. Eventually that’ll affect your representation of the clients. And no matter how guilty they might be, or how much we get an attack of morals, the job of a defense attorney is to defend.”
“I would never not do my job,” Preston countered.
“But you wouldn’t like it and it would eventually begin to show. Look, I can’t tell you what to do. The decision is yours. But as your partner, I think it’ll be in both our interests if you opened another branch of the firm and started some civil work where you could focus on your contract writing and still practice some litigation.”
“Another branch of the firm?” Preston asked. “Let me guess, in Sweetland.”
Joe smiled. “Now, that’s a fabulous idea!”
* * *
“Summer’s almost over,” Drew said, kneeling down in Heaven’s front yard. “But all around the perimeter here are wildflowers that will drop seeds and regrow pretty much on their own. Dawber does the landscaping work so he can come over weekly or monthly to do your weeding and keep everything nice and neat. That is, if you’re not the type to come out and do it yourself. I planted multicolored tulip bulbs in the front beds so they’ll come up nice and pretty in the spring. That’s about all we can do for now.”
Heaven stood in the yard, looking around at the beautiful array of colors still offered by the spray of wildflowers. Her move-in date had been approximately one week ago. Two truckloads of stuff had arrived from Boston two days after that. She’d had no idea she’d accumulated so much in a life that had yielded her so little. At any rate, she and Coco were just beginning to settle into their little blue house, and she was loving every minute of it.
“It’s so pretty, so calming,” she told Drew.
In the two months Heaven had been in Sweetland she’d gotten to know lots of the townsfolk. A few
she’d grown closer to—the Cantrells, of course, Michelle, Raine, and Savannah becoming the sisters she’d never had. Delia and Cordy had also shown themselves to be friends. And definitely Drew, who with her sandy brown hair that had a tendency to frizz in the heat, but otherwise had the nicest sheen, always showed up when Heaven really needed someone to talk to. And they talked about flowers instead of men, which for both of them seemed to be working out just fine. Heaven had sensed a bad relationship in Drew’s past, but she hadn’t asked, hadn’t wanted to pry.
“That’s how I got hooked,” Drew said, coming to a stand, brushing her hands on the thighs of her faded jeans. “The colors suck you in, then the petals soothe some inner edge, and next thing you know you’re head over heels in love with everything from bulbs to blossoms to things that are called weeds but still have a whimsical appearance.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Heaven said. Coco ran freely in the yard loving all the open space and the time Heaven allowed her to go free.
“So what’s on tap for this evening?” Drew asked Heaven.
“Probably get some reading done. Unpack some more of these boxes.”
“What about pizza?” Drew asked pushing flyaway wisps of hair from her face. “I was feeling a little off this morning so I didn’t get breakfast. Then I’ve been going most of the day. I don’t think I’ve eaten at all. I’m starving.” She rubbed her stomach.
Heaven chuckled. “Pizza sounds great. I was probably going to throw some lunch meat on a couple of slices of bread and call it a day. But I could certainly go for a nice hot slice. Vito’s has great pizza! I was so glad when Nikki took me there. She loves the Hawaiian pizza and now I’m hooked on it, too. Parker and Quinn are bigger fans of the meat lover’s with anchovies and mushrooms.”
Heaven kept right on talking, suggesting they could maybe stop for ice cream and then walk the dock to convince themselves that they were working off most of the calories consumed. Drew was silent.
Heaven turned to be sure her friend was still there and she wasn’t walking throughout her yard talking to herself. Developing a reputation as the crazy lady in the blue house wasn’t her goal. Drew was standing in the same spot Heaven had left her. She was even still holding her stomach as she had been when she’d first brought up the subject of food. But she didn’t look good at all. And when Heaven came to stand beside her she wobbled a bit until Heaven wrapped her arms around her.
“You all right?” she asked.
Drew lifted a hand to her head, her eyes closing then opening slowly. “I don’t know. Just felt dizzy for a moment. Really dizzy,” she told her.
“That’s not good. Let’s get you inside. I’ll call Quinn to come over and have a look at you.”
“No,” Drew said as they headed for the door. “It might just be the heat, and I haven’t eaten anything. I’ll just go in and sit for a while. Do you have something to drink?”
“I do,” Heaven said. “But I’d feel better if we call Quinn. He’s just a few blocks away and he won’t mind at all.”
Drew tried to protest but Heaven insisted. Quinn arrived in less than ten minutes as he had already left the medical center and was on his way back to the inn. He took one look at Drew and said she needed rest and maybe to have some blood work drawn to see if she might be anemic. He also ordered her to eat three meals a day. The remainder of the doctor’s orders meant their night of pizza and ice cream was out of the question.
So after everyone had left, Heaven called Coco into the house, fixed herself a ham-and-cheese sandwich, and sat at her cute little kitchen table with her book and notepad in front of her. That’s where she was when there came a knock at the door.
* * *
Preston had no idea what he was going to say.
He’d come back just last night, and since then so much advice and a good measure of I-told-you-so looks had been tossed his way.
“Good to see you come to your senses. I told you before she was a good one,” Mr. Sylvester had said when he’d watched Preston walk up onto the porch carrying his suitcases.
Preston had only smiled. The old man saw and knew absolutely everything, he deduced. There was never any point in arguing with him; it made more sense to just listen to what he had to say. Especially since Mr. Sylvester’s words inevitably came back to mind, and when they did they made all the sense in the world.
“I know she’s good. That’s why I came back to get her,” he’d said as he approached the door.
“Janet always said you were a smart one,” Mr. Sylvester had added with a chuckle.
His brothers had given similar responses. Quinn clapped him on his shoulder and shook his hand while Parker looked playfully devastated, declaring this the end of the Double Trouble Cantrells. Savannah had been in a mood so he hadn’t seen her that night or the next morning before he’d left the house. Raine had been quietly happy. Michelle wasn’t there. Preston was told that his older sister had a meeting with a couple about catering their wedding. Before he did anything else, Preston needed to see her.
He drove down the street. It was only about a block, but he had plans to go someplace else after speaking to Michelle so he’d opted not to walk. His sister lived in a nice little two-bedroom town house surrounded by trees and shrubs that she gave great care. Her van was parked out front so he was relieved that this conversation wouldn’t have to wait any longer.
He knocked and waited. She opened the door and just stared for a few moments. Then with a partial smile she moved to the side to let him in.
“Go ahead and say it,” he told her the moment he stepped into her living room.
It was decorated in girlie colors, beige and pink and light green, that somehow managed to flow together without making him nauseous. Everything was in its place, including the two dog pillows that were neatly positioned in the corner just beneath the window. She’d been slowly trying to get Ms. Cleo and Lily, the two Labs she’d inherited, used to being in her house. It was a little harder for Ms. Cleo to adjust since she’d been at The Silver Spoon the longest.
“What would you like me to say, Preston?” she asked, propping one hand on her hip.
He took a deep breath. “I know I was wrong to be mad at you about Gramma. I guess I just needed somebody to blame.”
Michelle nodded. “I guess I was an easy target.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking into eyes that reminded him more and more of their grandmother.
She smiled, and Preston instantly felt better.
“I accept your apology.”
“Now you can say it,” he said with a slight grin of his own.
Michelle laughed. “You want me to reaffirm my stance that you should stay in Sweetland? Or do you want me to tell you how foolish you were for walking away from Heaven the way you did? Take your pick.”
“I’ve sort of come to both those conclusions on my own,” he told her sheepishly.
“And they called you the smartest of the bunch.” She continued to laugh.
Preston shook his head. “No, I thought that was Quinn.”
“And you see what type of role model he turned out to be. That’s probably why you thought it was okay to run back to Baltimore, instead of staying here and fighting for what you wanted.”
“The fight was within me. I thought I needed to get away from here to win the battle. But leaving made me feel like mom. It made me feel like I was running away from every day that mattered,” he admitted. “Still, I think it was something I had to do. A lesson I had to learn on my own.”
She shrugged. “I guess you have a point there. Another point you may have missed, however, is that you’ve been gone for weeks. Heaven’s moved on.”
At her words he went perfectly still. Preston remembered when Quinn had gone back to Seattle after breaking things off with Nikki. Deputy Jonah had asked Nikki out and she’d accepted, a couple of times. Quinn had not been happy about that when he’d returned.
“If you tell me she’s seeing someone in town,
there’s going to be a lot of trouble. You might want to get the sheriff on the phone right now.”
“More trouble than the FBI shooting at bad guys behind Sweetland Presbyterian?” She laughed again. “I sure hope not.”
“Michelle, tell me what’s going on.”
She waved a hand and walked into the kitchen, the room Preston would swear was her favorite in any house. He followed her.
“She’s all moved into her little house with Coco and they’re doing great. She’s researching and writing and she reads for an hour each day to the preschoolers who visit the library. That’s in between working at The Silver Spoon as if her name were on the deed as well. She’s really fitting in here.”
He sighed. “I never doubted she would.”
“So you only doubted that you’d fit here with her?”
“I doubted that happily-ever-after was what I wanted. Our family doesn’t exactly have a good track record with relationships.”
“Then I think it’s about time this generation shakes things up a bit. You can have happily-ever-after if that’s really what you want, Preston. We’ve all been through a lot. We deserve it.”
He nodded. “You’re right. So I’m heading over to see Heaven. Any words of advice for me.”
Michelle smiled. “Beg,” she told him. Then she left the room and came back with a small black bag in her hand, which she extended to him. “And give her this. It was Gramma’s. She would have loved Heaven the moment she met her.”
* * *
Preston loved Heaven now. He had for each moment since he’d met her two months ago.
That’s why he was standing in front of her very blue house, knocking on the door and trying unsuccessfully not to focus on the color too much.
When she opened the door he had stepped back to get a full view of the house. She looked breathtaking and she only wore cutoff jean shorts and a button-down shirt that she’d tied above her belly button. Her hair was braided and hanging over one shoulder, and her eyes glistened with flecks of gold as she looked up at him in surprise.
