by Carsen Taite
A light rain started to fall as she pulled into her driveway. She jumped out of the truck and rushed to get the door into her workshop before it could get too wet, thankful she’d found it before it had sat in the rain. Once inside, she spent a few minutes moving things around, trying to decide where to put her new project. When she’d converted the garage into her workshop, she worked hard to create an efficient space, but as each potential project piled up, she realized the organizational skills she’d relied on in her past didn’t fit with her new creative career. At any given time, she had four to five projects going at once. As much as she enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment that came with finishing a new piece of furniture using the materials others had abandoned, she loved the freedom of bouncing from project to project more.
This old door would soon be new again, given a new purpose. A desk perhaps. Or maybe a wardrobe. The first step would be stripping away the beaten finish. The lead glass was a rare find and she might use it on another project altogether. It would make a beautiful wall cabinet.
Ellery looked at her current project, a custom order. The buyers wanted a large dining room table constructed from the old boards they’d saved when the unstable barn on their property had to be torn down. She’d finished the construction, and now it was time to sand the piece. She pulled a face mask from a drawer and fastened it in place. She loaded her sander with an eight grit belt and began to grind away the rough surface of the wood. The boards she’d chosen for the tabletop were each unique, and she loved bringing them new life. When the initial sanding was done, she reached for her orbital sander and applied a finer grit to add extra polish to the surface without taking anything away from the natural characteristics of the grain. She took her time, and when she was done sanding, she circled the table, smoothing her fingers across every inch of the surface until she was satisfied she’d done her best.
As she pulled off her mask, her stomach rumbled and she realized she was starving. She looked out the window and saw it was dark outside. Once again, she’d completely lost track of time. If not for the fact she was hungry, she might have stayed outside all night. Making a mental note to get a small refrigerator for the studio, she put away the sander and hung her canvas apron on a hook by her workbench.
When she opened the door to her workshop a thick wall of wet obscured her view of the house. The light rain from earlier had turned into a heavy downpour, and she was amazed she hadn’t noticed the growing storm. By the time she reached the back porch, she was drenched in the cold wet of the early spring rain. She shrugged out of her coat and boots, left them on the porch, and walked into her chilly house.
She must’ve forgotten to turn the heat up this morning. A glance at the clock on the oven told her it was six thirty and she’d been in her workshop for several hours. Her cell phone lay next to the stove—another thing she’d completely forgotten. How quickly she’d gone from having it with her always to forgetting it even existed. She started to walk away, but habit drove her to give it a quick glance before she went to change clothes. There was one message and three missed calls. She scrolled through the numbers. One was from April, the woman she’d dated a couple of times over the past month, and the other two were from a number she didn’t recognize. She clicked through to hear the message and April’s smooth, bright voice came through the line. “Hey, it’s April. Just checking in to see what you’re up to. Looks like we’re in for some stormy weather. They say it might even snow. Sounds to me like a wine and fireplace kind of night. If you’re not busy, maybe we could get together. Give me a call if you’re interested.”
Ellery listened to the message again, this time hearing the subtle sexy undertones. She had to agree, it was definitely a fireplace kind of night, but beer would be more her thing, and part of her wished April realized that. She shook her head, knowing she wasn’t being fair. Two dates wasn’t enough time for April to glean that kind of intel. Besides, it didn’t sound like what they’d have to drink was the first thing on April’s mind.
With the phone still in her hand, she reached into the fridge and pulled out a locally brewed stout and twisted off the cap. The dark, creamy beer coated her mouth and warmed its way down her throat. If she wanted April to get to know her better, she should invite her over and show her what she liked. She wasn’t used to having time to do this dating thing. Up until a few months ago, she’d barely had time for a quick rendezvous with any of the number of eligible women who’d run across her path. Now that she had time to savor their company, she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. Was it really as difficult as she was making it seem?
She drank half the strong brew while she rummaged through the kitchen, checking for supplies. Once she determined she had what she needed, she dialed April’s number before she could change her mind.
April answered on the second ring. “I hoped you’d call.”
“I just got your message. You’re definitely right about the weather. It’s a fireplace kind of night.”
“Would you like to come over? I just opened a nice Malbec.”
“Actually, I called to invite you over here,” Ellery said. “What are your thoughts on homemade chili and a nice oatmeal stout?”
“Hmmm, well, beer’s not my thing, but I love a good chili. I have the perfect wine to go with it. Can I bring anything else?”
Ellery paused, for a brief second wishing she could retract the invitation, before she mentally smacked herself. Wine, beer, what did it really matter? They didn’t have to like all the same things to get along. April was pretty and accomplished and a decent conversationalist. At least she didn’t ask a ton of questions about what Ellery did for a living and what she’d done before. It didn’t matter what they drank or whether they liked the same things. They’d have chili and talk and maybe make out by the fire. A near perfect date. “I’ve got everything covered. Head on over whenever you’re ready.”
She hung up and spent the next hour putting together the chili recipe her great-grandfather had made famous. Like her work restoring and repurposing furniture, the simple steps of putting together ingredients to create a complex result was soothing, satisfying, sensual. When the doorbell rang, she’d reached her Zen place.
April thrust a bottle of red into her arms. “It’s bold enough to stand up to a lot of spice. I assumed you’d make a spicy chili.”
Ellery did her best not to cringe at the poorly delivered innuendo. She took April’s coat and hung it in the closet. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Then follow me.” Ellery led the way into the kitchen and motioned for April to have a seat while she gave the chili a final stir. Satisfied it was ready, she opened the bottle of wine and poured a single glass. When April raised her eyebrows in question, she raised her own bottle of stout in a toast. “Cheers to whatever suits you.” She clinked the bottle against April’s glass and took a deep drink.
“You do casual well,” April said.
Ellery looked down at her worn jeans and rag wool sweater, a far cry from the sharply tailored suits she used to wear. April’s attire wasn’t much different from what she’d seen her in before. Her version of casual was high fashion—skinny black pants tucked into tall suede boots and a crimson sweater designed to hug every curve.
Ignoring the sexual undertone, Ellery handed April a bowl and pointed her in the direction of the large pot of chili. The family recipe was designed to feed a mob, and she’d made enough for a dozen dates, figuring she’d freeze whatever they didn’t eat. As April dished chili into her bowl, Ellery pointed out a line of small serving dishes. “Cheese, sour cream, cilantro, jalapeños. Have some or all.”
April held the bowl to her nose. “This smells divine. You never said you could cook. Your list of talents seems to be never-ending.”
“Hardly. I’ve always liked to cook, but I haven’t had time until recently.”
April ate a spoonful and groaned. “Cooking is all you should do. Seriously, this is amazing.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Ellery smiled at April’s unabashed enthusiasm. She hadn’t really picked April as the chili type. Ellery had been selling her furniture from a pop-up shop when her friend and former colleague, Meg, stopped by with April in tow. They’d been checking out a fresh juice vendor a few booths down. April, looking like she’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine, seemed completely out of place at the outdoor market, but that night Meg called to say that April had asked for her number and she figured what the hell. They’d been on two dates, both of them the kind of dates she’d used to have—high end, high energy, and high profile. Sushi, steaks, champagne, and clubbing. Tonight was designed to see if April would fit into her new life where things were much more low-key. So far, she measured up.
They sat at a low table by the roaring fire and devoured the chili. April, a cardiologist with a thriving Dallas practice, was keyed up, and she dominated the conversation with stories about her hectic week. Ellery leaned back into the large cushions she’d propped up around the table, letting the heat of the fire and the flood of words flow around her. It wasn’t that April’s tales weren’t interesting, but she feared if she listened too closely, she’d get swept back into the frantic style of life she used to lead as a high profile criminal defense attorney. Too much OPD, other people’s drama, had consumed her every waking moment. For years, she thought she thrived on the constant frenetic energy of her busy practice, but over the course of the past year, the pace had culminated into a series of incidents that convinced her to make a break or lose her sanity.
Her former law partner, Meg, hadn’t believed her when she said she was walking away, even went so far as to have a new firm logo designed with both of their names and ordered a boatload of new stationary. But Ellery had ignored Meg’s attempts to get her to stay on, paid the cost of the new stationary, and taken the necessary steps to dissolve the partnership. So far, she hadn’t regretted the move for a second.
“And that’s when I told her no way would I sign off on that kind of procedure,” April said.
Ellery looked up, oblivious to the subject of April’s diatribe, but certain she was supposed to offer some affirmation. Luckily, the phone rang. April looked toward her cell phone, but Ellery pointed toward the kitchen.
“It’s the house phone,” Ellery said.
“Go on and get it. I can check in with my service.”
Ellery picked up the extension and looked at the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number, but very few people had her home number so she answered the call. “Hello?”
“It’s Meg. You throw your cell phone away with the rest of your life?”
Ellery laughed at the gruff sound of her former law partner’s voice. “No, I’m just not tethered to it anymore. You should give it a try. Might stop you from having to pop antacids like they’re candy.”
“What, and give up all this glory? Not a chance.”
“Suit yourself. I’m on a date, so make it quick.”
“A date? At your house? Wow, you have changed. How will you get her to leave when you’re ready for the date to end?”
Ellery glanced down the hall toward the living room. She hadn’t actually thought that part through. Part of her new life was playing things by ear, but she wasn’t about to discuss dating strategy with Meg while April was sitting in the next room. “Did you actually want something or do you just miss me?”
“Both. I need you to handle a tiny little thing for me in the morning.”
Alarm bells went off and Ellery dug in. “If you need me to make you a piece of furniture, I’m in. Anything else, no way.”
“I wouldn’t ask, but it’s Amir. I’m set for trial on another case in Denton, and he won’t show up with anyone else. He trusts you.”
“That’s nice, but like everyone else, he’ll have to learn to let go.”
“It’s not his fault you deserted all of us. It’s for his son Naveed’s case. Come on, just this once.”
Ellery sighed. Amir Khan wasn’t necessarily a difficult client, but he did expect personal attention to all of his business matters and his expectations could be trying. His son had picked up a case around the time that she’d first decided to quit the practice. Although he’d wanted her to represent him, she had introduced him to Meg and made it clear from the start that she would take over when she was gone. “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing major. It’s just an appearance. Hold his hand, see if the prosecutor has a rec, sign a pass slip, get a new court date, and you’re on your way. An hour tops. I’ll even pay you.”
“Don’t. I’d rather you owe me one.”
“So, you’ll do it?”
“This is it, Meg. Nothing else. Are you sure you want to blow the only work favor you’re going to get from me on something this simple?”
“I promise I won’t bug you again unless it’s for lunch or drinks.”
“Fine. I’ll meet him at the courthouse, but I’ll have to come by the office and get the file, so let him know it will be around ten before I make it down there.”
Ellery hung up and instantly started sorting through details. All her suits were clean since she hadn’t worn one in months, but she’d probably have to iron a shirt. Taking into account the fact she had to run by the office before going to court, she’d have to get up early. So much for having another beer.
“Everything okay?”
She looked up to see April standing in the doorway. “Just an unexpected change to my plans for tomorrow.”
“Me too. Actually, mine has to do with tonight. I need to run by the hospital. I shouldn’t be too long though if you’re going to be up late.”
“Sorry, looks like I have an early morning in store. Guess we should call it a night.”
April’s smile held a tinge of regret. “I had a good time. And don’t worry, I completely understand about wacky schedules. This happens to me all the time.”
Ellery managed a smile in return, but she wasn’t feeling it. Interrupted dinners and late night phone calls used to happen to her all the time too, but she’d sworn off those things in exchange for a quiet life. She made a silent vow that she wouldn’t let Meg talk her into any more favors. This would be the very last one. Former clients would stay former clients. The serenity of her new life was worth protecting.
Chapter Three
So far, Sarah’s first day at the Dallas FBI field office had been duller than dull. From the moment she arrived, the rest of the fraud unit eyed her as if she were an alien creature. She’d shown up in a suit, ready to make new friends, and engage in the kind of work that didn’t involve gory crime scene photos and bullets whizzing past her head. Everyone else in the unit wore what was likely some version of business casual and, without exception, seemed unreasonably territorial about the incredibly boring work assigned to them. After a morning meeting with the field office director’s secretary to get security issues squared away, the director, Robert Mason, introduced her around, and then showed her to a desk loaded with boxes full of paper and computer hard drives.
“You’ll want to get started on these. Liz will be happy to fill you in.” He waved to a woman seated in a cubicle across the way and left Sarah on her own. The expression on Liz’s face told Sarah right away that the boss was exaggerating Liz’s happiness about anything. She sighed. These people didn’t know her, and it was probably going to be a lot harder to develop relationships with them since this assignment was more of a nine-to-five than an always on call job, but she was determined to make it work. She plastered a big smile on her face, walked over to Liz’s desk, and stuck out her hand. “Sarah Flores, nice to meet you.”
“Special Agent Elizabeth Dawson.”
Dawson delivered the title with just a hint of tone and the firmness of her handshake was punishing. Great, someone’s got a bit of an insecurity issue. Sarah kept smiling to hide the whir of personality processing going on in her head. Someday maybe she’d learn to shut down the constant need to analy
ze everyone around her, but it was more than a habit, it had been her life. “Mason says you’re in charge of this project.” She motioned to the stack of boxes on her desk. “What would you like me to do?”
“Mason’s in charge, not me, but I suppose you can do what the rest of us are doing. The hard drives contain various bank records we obtained in conjunction with an investigation into several tax and investment fraud schemes. We’re looking for unusual activity. There’s an evidence log with the boxes you can use to organize your searches. You find something, you let us know, and we’ll compare it to records the rest of the team is reviewing.”
A dozen questions popped into Sarah’s mind, but Liz’s face was an impenetrable wall. Sarah decided to start digging into the records and, if the answers weren’t readily apparent, when things got a little more comfortable with the rest of the team, she’d pose her questions then.
A couple of hours later, she had pages of notes, none of which amounted to much without some context. In between reviewing the records, she’d watched the group around her operate in an attempt to learn what she could about the existing dynamics. At least three other agents were working on this project with Liz, but no one stuck out as being on equal footing with her. Sarah saw them all converse and managed to catch snippets of what they had to say. Apparently, what they were working on had to do with the recent government crack-down on entities applying for non-profit status and the records review was supposed to root out those entities that didn’t truly qualify for the tax privileges they’d received as a result of their status. Would have helped to know that from the start. She was going to have to figure out a way to uncover information on her own until the rest of the group started accepting her.
