He moved stiffly toward the table and reached for a folder. “And so do I.”
They stood side by side, leaning over the table, hands braced on the edge, father and daughter, studying the files of the defense’s case.
“What do you want to do?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know that there’s much we can do. I guess I didn’t know my partners at all. Or have I lost my grip? Does this look like a case to you?”
Grace shook her head. “Looks like a case of desperation to me.”
“Exactly.” He turned to look at her. “But if you think I would have stayed with this case if I had a better chance of winning, you’d be wrong.”
“I don’t. I’ve seen you try a case successfully with less.”
Her father sighed. “Yes. But was it the right thing to do?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I know you can’t practice according to whim. That everyone—even the criminals—are entitled to a fair trial. But I can’t do that. And this isn’t even fair.” She picked up a few papers and let them drop. “It’s just machination.”
“Yeah. You start out in this world so altruistic, so fired up, and then you win a case, then another, and it becomes so tempting to win. You get seduced by the idea of winning. The lines get blurred, what’s important begins to shift. You’ve made a promise to do best by your client, but one day you wake up and realize you’re not working for your client, you’re not even working for justice, but for the win. And you know you’ve gone off the rails. Because that’s not what the law is about.
“This case gave me my wake-up call. You figured it out long before your old dad did. I wished I had listened.”
Grace had never heard her father speak like this. He never brooked an argument except for the sake of finding the weak spots, never from the heart. But this was different. She was still wary. She’d spent too many years around him to think that he’d changed overnight. And yet . . .
She stopped. “But are you really ready to give it all up. Just because of this?”
His brows knit. “Yes, I think I am. I still work ten, twelve hours a day. It’s time I let someone else take over.”
“I’m not going back to the firm,” she said.
“No. I can see you’re happy with what you’re doing. The other partners can buy me out. I’m done.”
Grace shook her head. “I think you should give this more thought. I mean, what are you going to do, play golf every afternoon?”
“If I want. God knows we have enough money to enjoy my retirement and even leave you a decent inheritance.”
Grace held up her hand.
“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on kicking off just yet. I may even take your lead, do some volunteer counseling.”
“Pro bono work?” Grace stammered.
“Why not?”
“Dad, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”
“I know. I am, too. But it’s the right thing to do. Oh hell, Grace. I don’t expect you to believe that I’m serious about this. I can be a mean SOB, stubborn, but I like to think I’m an honorable man. And this case pushed me beyond that. There have been others, I’m sure. There are bound to be in this business. I just didn’t notice, or I chose not to look too closely.
“It’s a fine line we lawyers walk. Trying to balance justice, legalities, and humanity all at once. But this case— Hell, the Cavanaughs have been a thorn in my side since they walked into our offices five years ago. I can’t do it. I can’t represent the guy. Flimsy defense or no, I’m afraid I might win.”
Grace shut her eyes, trying not to think about her part in letting Harrison Cavanaugh go free. “Like I did.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You were bright. We egged you on. We did our best for him and got him off, then he threw it back in our faces. And we got him off again. But this time he’s gone too far.”
He reached over and tugged her hair, something he hadn’t done since she was ten at least. She turned into him and he wrapped his arms around her. And she fell into this deceptively soft, teddy bear of a man. He could be ruthless, often was, but for some reason she believed him now.
“I’m sorry if I misjudged you,” Grace said. “I was just defensive. I wanted your respect, your approval, all my life. But I was afraid you would never forgive me for walking out.”
“You’ve always had it. Well, I was pretty angry for a while. I know how to hold a grudge.”
“Yeah you do.”
“So do you.”
“I learned it from the best.”
“Yeah, well. Your mother put me straight—eventually. And after that . . . it took a while to get up the nerve to try to change things.”
He kissed the top of her head and eased her away, keeping hold of her shoulders. “Your mother will be here any minute and we still haven’t gotten the turkey.”
Grace stepped back. “I’ll go get the turkey. I think you two should be alone when you tell her that you’ve resigned.”
“Retired.”
“Retired. You’re on your own.”
“Can I tell her that everything is okay between you and me?”
Grace hesitated, picked up her bag. “Yeah, tell her that everything’s fine. I’ll come by in the morning and take you to breakfast.”
“You don’t want to come back later for dinner?”
“No, thanks. I have something I need to do. See you tomorrow.”
Her father walked her to the front door and watched until she reached her car. She made a U-turn and waved as she drove past the house toward Shore Road.
When she reached the exit from Little Crescent Beach, she stopped, deliberating about what to do next. Get the turkey or call Jake?
Hell, the turkey wasn’t going anywhere, but Jake might. He might decide she was too high maintenance and take a hike. But she wouldn’t know until she asked.
Besides, she’d just faced her father without losing skin, surely she could face someone who wanted to be her boyfriend. A smile crept onto Grace’s face. Boyfriend. Did people really call themselves that these days? And was he serious?
There was only one way to find out. Heart clanking, she turned left toward Jake’s house.
Chapter Twelve
“NOT HERE,” SEAMUS said. “Just missed him. Now if you’ve got something good to say to him, I’ll tell you where he is. If it isn’t good, maybe you could wait until after Thanksgiving.”
“It’s good,” Grace said. “At least it’s good for me. I hope it’s good for him.’
Seamus cackled. Raised his eyes to heaven. “Can you believe these two?” He looked back at Grace, trying to compose himself. “That’s the kind of thing you say in the intimacy of your—”
“Oh.” Grace clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant. I swear, for full grown adults, the two of you are the most . . . words fail me. He had to pick up a few last minute things at the store. You coming tomorrow?”
“My parents are here.”
“Bring them, too, might as well see what they’re getting into. Now, get out of here before you two pass each other in the night.” Seamus heaved a sigh, shook his head and closed the door.
Grace practically ran to her car. She felt giddy and stupid and completely maladroit. And she didn’t care.
She had to exert iron control not to speed through town toward the Cove Market and breathed a thankful sigh of relief when she saw Jake’s truck parked in the lot next to it.
She grabbed a basket and pushed it into the store, nearly running into a cart filled high with bags and hiding whoever was pushing it.
“Sorry,” Grace said. She swerved out of the cart’s path and headed down the aisle.
He was standing halfway down the second aisle, frowning at a display of canned cranberry sauce. Grace slowed down, suddenly fe
eling like a teenager about to face the captain of the football team.
Nervous? A bit. But mainly happy and slightly silly. She’d been a responsible adult for as long as she could remember. Margaux and Bri used to kid her about it when they were still kids. Even though Grace was several years younger, she’d bossed them from the get go.
It had been fun then. When had she stopped having fun or allowed herself to relax and think about starting a relationship? Except for a few false starts, she’d never bothered to cultivate a long-lasting relationship. Her work took up too much time. And work always came first.
Jake was still frowning at the cans when she rolled her cart up next to his and gave it a bump.
He jumped. “Sorry.” He started to move his cart aside and saw her. He broke into a smile that told Grace everything she needed to know.
“Everything okay?”
Grace nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. If she answered, she might burst into song like a demented Disney character. She pulled herself together. “Yes. My father retired. My mother is on her way, she told me to come buy a turkey.”
“Oh,” he said, looking disappointed. “I was hoping you’d be able to have Thanksgiving with us.”
“Seamus invited all three of us. But I’m not sure you’re ready for my parents.”
“It’s more a question if they can handle us. Two of my brothers and their wives and children and my oldest sister and her brood. The others live too far away. Even so, it’ll be a zoo. But a friendly zoo. And the store only has frozen turkeys left, it will never defrost in time.”
Grace deliberated. Her reconciliation with her father was still too fresh to know what would be best. But it was also time for her to start thinking about her own happiness.
“Plus I’m betting that your father and mine together will be worth the price of admission.”
Grace made a face. “Oh, what the hell.” She fished out her cell phone, rang her mother.
“Hi dear, I just got here, I’m so happy you two have made up.”
She sounded happy. Grace wondered if he’d hit her with the retirement part yet.
“Did you pick up the turkey?”
“They only have frozen ones,” Grace said, “and actually, we’ve been invited to Thanksgiving dinner by a friend of mine.”
“Margaux?”
“Actually, Jake McGuire and his father.”
“McGuire,” her mother repeated, obviously trying to put a face to the name.
Jake shook his head. “Tell her—”
Her father’s voice came loud and clear in the background. “The boyfriend.”
Grace blushed.
“Boyfriend? You’ve got a boyfriend?”
Jack made a face, walked several feet away, trying not to laugh.
Grace gave him a look.
“Mother, they’re friends of mine.”
“Tell them we’d love to come.”
Grace winced. This could turn out to be a disaster. Jake was holding his sides and shaking with silent laughter.
“Fine.” She hung up and turned on him. “I can’t believe you told my father that you were my boyfriend.”
“He said it first.”
“We’re never going to live that down.”
“What else could I say? Certainly not what I was thinking. What I’m thinking now.”
Grace felt a rush of heat. “And what would that be?” she asked cautiously.
He turned a smoldering, heated look on her. “Whether I should get jellied or the kind with the berries in it.”
Grace laughed. “You are so your father. Get both.”
A Crescent Cove Christmas
Chapter One
IT WAS SNOWING hard. Brianna Boyce hunched over the steering wheel and squinted through the windshield, trying to keep the car on the road. A road that was quickly disappearing beneath drifts of white. They shouldn’t have stayed at the mall so long. It was only a little after five but already it was pitch-black except for the blinding curtain of white.
She glanced at the backseat where her two newly adopted daughters were asleep in their car seats. Ming Li and Li Fan, Mimi and Lily. They’d fallen asleep before Bri had negotiated her new secondhand SUV out of the parking lot.
Bri knew how to shop, but she normally avoided the mall. But today with the weather being so fickle, she’d decided to give the girls a treat. And the trip had never given her so much pleasure. They’d taken in everything, stopped at every window to gaze at the clothes, the appliances, the bath products. At the toy store, they stared open-mouthed at a pink plastic fairy castle, and Bri decided to go back and buy it for their Christmas.
They didn’t ask for a thing as Bri pointed out things in her pigeon Chinese. They had no toys like this in the orphanage where they’d spent their young lives until a few weeks ago. They had never heard of Disney. Didn’t understand that these things could be bought and taken home. Could be theirs for their very own, not just some fairy-tale land to be visited with their new mother.
They were afraid to sit on Santa’s lap, which was a bit of a disappointment. She’d had fantasies of sending out Christmas cards with them smiling, each on one knee. Bri tried to see the mall Santa through their eyes. He was pretty good, a huge man, well padded in his red suit, a white curly beard, and a Santa hat with big white pompom that hung over his forehead.
They’d taken one look and cowered against her. His “Ho ho ho” scared them. Bri smiled, bittersweet. Maybe next year when they were more accustomed to living here.
When Bri had started adoption proceedings, they’d been three and two. Now Mimi was five and Lily almost four. It seemed like eons before she was finally allowed to bring them home at the beginning of November. And Bri was thankful. She had a lot to be thankful about.
She looked back at the road, slowed as she came to the curve a quarter mile from their home, an old horse farm she’d bought when she returned to Crescent Cove eight years before.
The SUV took the turn easily. She would never drive too fast again. She’d learned that lesson many years before.
Up ahead she could see something standing by the side of the road. A deer? She slowed even more. But as the SUV got closer she could see that it was a man, his arm lifted in the air. A hitchhiker. In this weather.
Bri’s first thought was to slow down and give the poor man a ride, no one should be out in this weather. She might have done it in her younger years when she was fearless and thought she was invincible. She might even have picked him up a few weeks ago, and taken her chances that he wasn’t a psychopath.
But she had someone other than herself to think of now. To protect. So she gave him a wide berth and left him to his lonely, frigid trek toward town.
A quarter of a mile later she turned into her driveway. Drove right up to the side of the old clapboard house and stopped at the kitchen door. Mimi roused as Bri lifted her out of the car, and she sleepily clasped her little arms around Bri’s neck. She was light as a feather. Any qualms Bri might have had about taking care of two young girls while being hampered by her gimpy leg had fallen by the wayside the minute she’d given them her first hug.
Some things were a bit dicey, like carrying them through the snow to the house. One of the reasons for parking right at the door. And it was awkward getting up the steps. But nothing she couldn’t handle and nothing she begrudged. She couldn’t help but give Mimi a little squeeze as they reached the warmth of the kitchen.
She went straight through to the great room, the warmest room in the drafty old house, where they spent most of their time. She deposited Mimi at one end of the funky overstuffed sofa, then went back for Lily.
Lily didn’t even rouse as Bri laid her at the opposite end of the couch. She covered them both with the colorful afghan she’d purchased at the town flea market the summer before, and went back outside to collect h
er mall purchases.
As she beeped the SUV locked, a gust of wind whipped through the air and she shivered as she hurried into the house. She dumped everything on the kitchen table, pulled off her hat and gloves, shrugged out of her coat, and took out her cell. Punched in a number she had on speed dial.
“Hey, Bri. What’s up?”
“Hi, Nick, no emergency. Just that I saw a hitchhiker on our way home from the mall.”
“You didn’t pick him up?” Nick Prescott was the interim sheriff of Crescent Cove and had just married her best friend Margaux.
“No. Of course not. But I did feel sorry for him. I thought maybe one of Crescent Cove’s finest might give him a ride to where he’s going. Not you, but Finley or Joe.”
“Sure. One of them is bound to be out that way. We’ve got plenty of calls coming in. The weather isn’t letting up much. The snow is supposed to pass through by the morning, but the temperature will drop. Is your heat working okay?”
“Yes. Thank you. Though we’ve pretty much moved downstairs to keep the heating bill down.”
“If you want to come stay with me and Margaux and Connor until it warms up, you’re welcome.”
“Thanks, but we’re fine so far. We’re coming over tomorrow for a play date. Will we see you for dinner?”
“I hope so. Uh-oh, gotta go. I’ll put someone on your hitchhiker. See you tomorrow.”
He hung up. Bri dropped the cell on the table and opened the fridge to see what she could make for dinner.
DAVID HENDERSON HAD had enough. Not that he’d expected the car to pick him up. He’d learned that people weren’t as giving or as tolerant or trusting as they had been when he left the States over ten years before. Except for a few quick holiday trips, he hadn’t been back, and he was having trouble adjusting now.
But he’d made a promise. A promise he would keep. One that had kept him going for the last few months. Some days he wished he’d never gotten involved with the troubled soldier who had been in charge of bringing supplies to the Afghan village where they set up a medical triage tent for the local inhabitants.
Holidays at Crescent Cove Page 9
