by Donna Fasano
He went quiet, but it was clear that he didn't like it.
"You might have fun with Norma Jean," she said. "It's good to have friends. She's someone to do things with. Go places with." She lifted a mushroom slice between her chopsticks. "You've been alone for a long time, Dad."
"Okay, okay," he said gruffly. "Are we done now?"
"We are if you promise me that you'll at least think about accepting Norma's offer."
He sighed as he scooped up a forkful of beef and rice. "I'll think about it."
She smiled. "Good."
"If you'll think about what I said."
Sliding the soft mushroom into her mouth, she nodded. She suddenly felt all warm inside. It was nice to know that her father loved her, worried about her. He really did care.
His empty fork was poised over his plate. "I am glad to see that you're softening just a little here lately."
She just looked at him, completely baffled by the statement.
"Your blood boiled because Greg gave away his time, helped some people for free—" he stirred rich, brown sauce into his rice "—and now you're doing the same thing."
Lauren balanced the chopsticks on the edge of her dinner plate and picked up her glass of wine. "What are you talking about?"
"Norma Jean told me all about it." He chuckled and chewed. "You've hired that Shaw boy to work out at the barn so he can earn back the money his daddy paid you. If that's not doling out charity, I don't know what is."
Her spine went rigid and she nearly sloshed wine onto the tablecloth. "It's not the same thing at all."
"Ah, ah, ah." He waggled his finger at her. "Don't give me lip for making an observation."
The deep rumble of his laughter had her glowering at him over the rim of her glass.
Oh, yeah. He loved her. He worried. He cared.
But he still enjoyed getting in the last dig.
Chapter 11
It is only the wisest and the stupidest that cannot change.
~Confucius
"I don't want to see you in my courtroom again, young man," the judge said. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." Scott Shaw, Jr. nodded sharply. "I'll stay out of trouble. I promise."
"I'm going to hold you to that, Mr. Shaw. And if you break that promise, you'll be one very sorry pup." Judge Owens smacked her gavel against the sound block. "This court is adjourned."
Lauren gathered her paperwork and tapped it on the tabletop.
"Thanks, Ms Flynn," Scott, Jr. said. "I'm grateful for all your help. And your advice. I-I can't believe I thought about coming to court without you."
The sincere appreciation the young man expressed had Lauren shooting him a smile.
Scott's father approached them from where he'd been sitting in the gallery seating. "Lauren, what did the judge mean about moving Scotty's case? I mean, Scott's case. Does this mean his trouble's not over?"
"It's over as long as he doesn't find any more. Trouble, that is. Judge Owens moved the case to the Stet Docket." Lauren slid the papers into her briefcase and snapped it shut. "It's a docket of inactive cases." She started for the door and both Scott and his son fell into step with her. She looked at the younger Shaw to her right. "Your case will remain on the docket for a year. If you keep your nose clean, this will all go away for good."
The teen fisted both hands and raised them overhead like a winning prize fighter as his father held open the door of the courtroom.
"If you break the law," Lauren warned, "any law, the penalty for disturbing the peace and resisting arrest will be added on top of any other penalties or punishment you might incur."
Scott lowered his hands to his sides and his smile waned.
Lauren jabbed the elevator call button. "Yes. It's that serious. You'd better mind your Ps and Qs, Scott."
"I will. I will."
The three of them stepped into the elevator and the doors slid closed.
"You were amazing in there," Scott, Sr. told her. "Your arguments made it seem like carrying that blow-up contraption down Main Street was the most logical thing in the world for Scotty to do."
"Just doing my job." Lauren shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other.
Scott looked at his son, his mouth flattening soberly. "Scotty. . .Scott, you need to stay out of trouble, son. I mean it."
Lauren was happy that Scott was taking her advice to heart. He was trying to break the habit of juvenilizing his son's name.
"I will, Dad," the teen said solemnly. Then his whole demeanor changed when he grinned at Lauren. "I couldn't believe it when you challenged that dude to admit he'd like to have a five foot penis of his own to parade up Main Street. And you did it without cracking a smile. I thought his head was going to implode."
"That 'dude' was an Assistant State's Attorney," she told him. "I'm sure he didn't appreciate my making him look a fool in front of the judge, and that certainly wasn't my plan, but he was going on as if you were some kind of ax murderer instead of a college kid who'd made a simple mistake." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd have never gotten away with that had we been in any other courtroom besides Judge Owens'. A male judge would have called me on the carpet, I'm sure."
The doors of the elevator slid open and they stepped out into the hall.
"Dad, I gotta run," Scott said.
His father looked disappointed. "I thought I'd take everyone to lunch. To celebrate."
"I have class. Sorry." The young man looked at Lauren. "Thanks again. For everything."
"You're welcome, Scott. You're working at the barn on Saturday?"
"Sure thing," he said and then took off toward the front entrance in a loping trot.
Lauren's gaze was drawn from Scott to the double glass doors beyond him where a tall, red-haired woman entered the courthouse. She looked awfully familiar, and when she lifted her face, Lauren smiled. Jo Leigh Stapleton stopped to peruse the large index board hanging in the vestibule.
"Well, well, well," Scott Sr. said in a smooth, sing-song tone, "looks like it's just you and me for lunch, Ms Flynn. What do you say? Can I take you across the street to the diner for a little celebration?"
When Lauren looked into his handsome face his blue eyes were flashing with delightful anticipation.
"Scott, I'm sorry." She darted a glance at her watch. "I've got to get back to the office."
Over Scott's shoulder, she watched Jo Leigh head for the staircase that led to the basement.
"Lauren, I have to confess that I can't figure you out. I've never had this much trouble reading a woman before. She likes me, she doesn't like me. I feel the urge to buy a daisy and start plucking the petals to try to find an answer." The humor tingeing his voice didn't quite cover his hurt feelings.
She had sent him mixed signals. She'd smiled in response to his compliments, and their flirtatious banter had been nothing but pure fun. He'd made her feel good about herself again; he'd made her feel desirable.
"Scott, I'm really sorry. I tried to explain that I didn't think it was a good idea for us to go out while I was representing your son." But after working at the barn with him she'd had the feeling that he might be just the man she needed to help her move on with her life. So why was she still ducking his advances and turning down his invitations?
"The case is over."
She nodded. "It is." Something kept her from saying more, and she was at a loss to figure out what it was.
His words were clipped when he asked, "Can I at least walk you back to your office?"
Lauren grimaced apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I just saw an old friend head downstairs and I want to go say hello." She took a backward step into the waiting elevator and hit the button marked B. "But I have your number."
He brightened; clearly, he hadn't expected to hear her say that. "You'll call me?"
Before she could answer, the elevator doors whispered shut.
* * *
"Hey, lady," Lauren said, coming up behind the tall redhead, "you look
lost."
Jo Leigh whirled around to face her. "Lauren!" They hugged, and Jo Leigh whispered, "You look great."
"So do you."
The woman smiled her thanks and then admitted, "I am lost."
"This courthouse is my second home. Maybe I can point you in the right direction."
"I want to apply for a business license."
Lauren pointed down the east wing. "Licensing and Permits. Third door on the left."
"Thanks, thanks. So how have you been?"
"I'm well, thanks." But her smile felt suddenly plastic. What else could she say? My husband made some financial decisions that nearly put me in poor house? I was so pissed I filed for divorce? My dad's moved in with me? I've been flying solo for so long I've forgotten what it's like to get naked with a man?
"I've been doing just fine, Jo Leigh. How about yourself?"
"I'm great, Lauren. Just great." Jo Leigh hitched her purse strap up onto her shoulder. "After Jim died, I thought my life was over."
Lauren reached out and touched her friend's forearm. "I heard about Jim. I'm sorry."
Appreciation shined in Jo Leigh's eyes. "But things have really turned around for me and Tracy. She's my daughter. We're doing well." Her smile broadened. "I'm starting a business, Lauren. A day care center. I'm going with a bumblebee theme. I'm calling the place Babee Day Care." With a well-practiced reach, she slid her fingers into a side pocket of her purse and then thrust a business card at Lauren. "With two e's instead of a y. See?"
A fat, animated black and yellow striped bee smiled from the upper left corner of the card, and bold, block lettering spelled out the name of the day care.
"Cute," Lauren exclaimed.
"This is my dream, Lauren. Something I've always wanted to do." Jo Leigh's smile grew even bigger, if that were possible. "And Greg is helping me do it. This wouldn't be happening if it weren't for him."
Lauren nodded. "He told me he was doing some work for you."
Jo Leigh looked relieved. "I think it's great that you two are on speaking terms. So many divorced couples aren't, you know?" She flashed another smile. "Anyway, Greg's renovating my three car garage. Giving it a real overhaul. He put in duct work for heat and air conditioning and insulation and drywall."
A funny feeling nudged at Lauren. Greg had told her he was merely putting in some cabinets at Jo Leigh's. Why would he downplay the important role he'd taken in getting her business off the ground?
"He even installed a powder room, Lauren. He is such a talented guy." Palpable excitement rolled off Jo Leigh and she looked about ready to hop up and down right where she stood. "And I'm getting all this for free. Can you believe it?"
Lauren couldn't have been more stunned had she taken an unexpected punch to the diaphragm. Inhaling was difficult; responding was impossible.
The tinny elevator bell rang. The doors slid open and half a dozen people exited onto the basement level. The two women had to slide to one side of the hallway and the much needed distraction gave Lauren a few seconds to gather her wits. No wonder Greg hadn't been more forthcoming with her about his job at Jo Leigh's. Once again, his priorities were skewed. Sure, Jo Leigh could use some help. Life had to be hard for a widow starting a new business, but couldn't he have charged her less than his normal fee rather than not charging her at all? This kind of behavior was exactly what got him into trouble to begin with. Would the man never learn?
When they were once again alone in the hallway, Jo Leigh said, "Listen, Lauren, Greg told me that your divorce was final."
Lauren nodded, the corners of her mouth tightening. Everyone in the entire world seemed to view divorce as an awful thing, an event that required some sort of condolence speech that was usually followed by words of encouragement. Since taking Greg to court, every friend and colleague she met wanted to commiserate with her. She braced herself for Jo Leigh's expression of sympathy.
Jo Leigh met her gaze. "Would you mind if he and I see each other?"
* * *
"She was a friend of mine back in high school," Lauren explained to Norma Jean. "She'd come to the courthouse to apply for a business license."
Clients had been waiting when Lauren returned to the office so she hadn't been able to tell Norma how she'd unexpectedly met up with Jo Leigh until now. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was officially 'after business hours.'
Norma slid a file into the cabinet drawer and closed it. "What kind of business?"
"A day care center. She was so excited." Lauren's brow tensed as her gaze trailed to the far side of the room. "Jo Leigh looked good. She really did."
She looked better than good, Lauren decided. She looked happy. Ecstatic, really. During their conversation Jo Leigh couldn't stop smiling.
"Lauren, sweetheart."
She blinked her way out of a thoughtful fog.
"You're saying all the right words about this friend—" Norma Jean teasingly tapped her index finger against her jaw "—but why does my gut tell me you're not really feeling it?"
The quip was meant to make her smile, but Lauren couldn't seem to rustle one up.
"Greg lied, Norma Jean," she said. She explained how Greg's version of the work he was doing for Jo Leigh didn't jive with what she'd learned this afternoon.
After hearing Lauren out, confusion flattened Norma Jean's mouth. "Why do you care what Greg is or isn't doing for this woman?"
Lauren shook her head. "It's not that." At least, Lauren hoped it wasn't. No, no, she was sure it wasn't. "Jo Leigh said she's getting, and I quote, 'all this for free.'"
The words chafed like course-grit sandpaper.
Immediately, Norma seemed to understand her feelings; her head tilted and her shoulders sagged as she tucked her hands into her lap.
"I thought the bankruptcy had taught him a lesson," Lauren said, quietly. "I thought losing the hardware store had changed him, Norma Jean. He lost everything. His business, his home, his marriage. Everything." Myriad emotions had her shaking her head slowly from side to side and she couldn't say if it was sadness or irritation. "The man is willing to live in a barn so that he can give away his talent. It just doesn't make sense to me."
"I thought you made him move out of the barn."
"I did, I did." Lauren pulled a pencil from the cup on her desk, shaking her head. "I was just making a point. He told me he'd found a place to live, but for all I know he's living in his truck."
"Oh, he wouldn't do that." The phone rang and Norma Jean held up her index finger. "Hold on just a sec while I get that." She slipped out into the reception area.
The yellow pencil twirled as Lauren slowly rolled it between her flattened palms. Norma was probably right. Greg wouldn't live in his truck. But then Lauren would never have guessed that he'd stoop to living in a barn.
It ticked her off royally to learn that he was continuing to work for free. Sure, he'd always had a big heart. Had always gone out of his way to help people in need. Helping people was all well and good, but he should consider his own well-being, his own financial security, his own future.
She stuffed the pencil back into the cup. No matter where he was living, no matter what choices he made for his business and career, she had to remember it wasn't her problem anymore. He wasn't her problem.
Planting her hands on the armrests and pushing out of her chair, she stalked to the window and stared across the twilit parking lot without actually seeing a thing.
"Would you mind if he and I see each other?"
The question had stunned Lauren. She'd hemmed and stammered, all the while attempting to deal with the emotion that had exploded inside her.
She'd been chatting with Jo Leigh, seeing her as a long lost friend, and suddenly the woman turned into some kind of rival right before her eyes. Lauren had felt covetous and wary, and she couldn't figure out if she was jealous of Jo Leigh, or if she was angry and hurt that Greg was casting aside all the years they'd had together to march forward into a future that no longer included her.
; The conglomeration of ugly emotion had swelled inside her like a huge, unmanageable balloon until she'd become completely unnerved. Finally, she'd offered Jo Leigh a tight smile and assured the woman that she and Greg could do as they pleased.
But the flare of utter commotion she'd experienced had shocked her, overwhelmed her, and it continued to completely discombobulate her even now.
She was the one who had asked Greg to move out. She'd been the one to press for a divorce. It was what she'd wanted, dammit. She didn't care if he was seeing other women. Why shouldn't he? He was as free as a bird. As free of her as she was of him.
So why had Jo Leigh's question sent her reeling?
The mere implications filled Lauren's thoughts with thick, gray storm clouds. She didn't want to think about it—refused to think about it. In fact, there was nothing to think about.
Turning away from the window, she marched over to the file cabinet and tugged open the draw labeled S-T. Her fingers walked determinedly across the plastic tabs until she came to Scott Shaw's file. She pulled out the manila folder and flipped through the forms and pages of hand-written notes until she found what she was looking for.
Scott's father's contact information.
"You okay? You still need to talk?" Norma Jean breezed back into her office.
Lauren palmed the business card, surreptitiously sliding it into the pocket of her trousers and then returning the Shaw file where it belonged before shutting the drawer.
Now why would she do that? Why sneak around about calling Scott? Norma Jean was her friend. One of her biggest supporters. She'd be the first one to shout a happy cheer when she heard that Lauren was going to contact the man.
This atypical behavior was freaking her out. But not enough to have her opening up to Norma about her plans.
"I'm good," she told Norma. "I'm fine. Thanks for listening. I'm totally over it. If Greg doesn't earn another penny in his lifetime, it's a-okay with me." Changing the subject entirely, she asked, "Who was on the phone?"
Norma reached up and tugged at the short wisps of hair behind her ear, her brown eyes shining. "That was Lew. I called him at lunch today and invited him to come with me to the Boys and Girls Club tomorrow. You know I volunteer there a couple Saturdays a month. They've set up a new computer center and need people to come in to show the kids how to operate them. I thought that would be right up your dad's alley."
