If the Shoe Fits

by Sandra D. Bricker

  “The resemblance.” Looking to Will, she said, “They could be sisters.”

  “Who could?” he asked.

  “Holly and Julianne.”

  “What? No!” he declared. “They don’t look anything alike.”

  “Are you kidding?” Alison grinned at Julianne and tilted her head slightly. “You look so much like her.”

  “Holly?” She looked from Alison to Will and back again. “I don’t understand. How do you know Holly?”

  “I just met her a few minutes ago.”

  Julianne’s heart began to pound against her chest. “Will. You ran into Holly?”

  He nodded, and then shrugged.

  She wanted to ask him if he was okay, if the meeting had gone well, or if he needed to run screaming from the park. He hadn’t seen Holly since she broke their engagement, and he’d barely spoken her name ever since.

  Poor Will! It must have been—

  Alison leaned toward Will and touched him gently on the arm as she whispered something to him softly. Whatever she’d said, it evoked a smile from him, and Julianne felt a slight flutter in the pit of her stomach.

  “Well, we’re going to … go find a spot,” Julianne announced.

  “Okay,” Will called over his shoulder. “Have fun.”

  “You, too.”

  “Nice to meet you, Julianne.”

  She wanted to return the compliment, but she wasn’t entirely sure it had been such a pleasure meeting Alison.

  She and Paul wandered a few yards up the hill and sat down together on the grass. While feigning interest in the colors overhead, Julianne used the moments in between to get a good look at Alison.

  Dark auburn hair … dark brown eyes … dark skin … long, suntanned legs. The woman could have been a model! She seemed like the negative version of Holly, opposite in every way.

  Opposite of me, too, she realized. Completely different, in fact.

  “I like your offices. They’ve got personality.”

  Julianne smiled as Phoebe set a cup of coffee on the conference room table in front of Veronica Caswell. “Cream and two sugars.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re sure I can’t get you something?” she asked Julianne.

  “Nope. I’m good, thanks.” Phoebe headed for the doorway as Julianne added, “You haven’t heard from Will yet?”

  “No, but I texted him and left a message on his cell.”

  Veronica picked up the conversation where they’d left it. “The lobby has that retro feeling that you don’t find too often out where we are. I noticed even the elevator has those little details like the mosaic tiles.”

  “We’d seen about a dozen offices that day on our search,” Julianne told her. “But the minute we pulled up outside, Will and I both knew this was the place.”

  “Well, it suits you.”

  Veronica had a polite and amiable smile, and Julianne found herself wondering if it was authentic or just practiced. After all, she’d built a mini-empire consulting people and businesses on how to build and sustain a certain image. Maybe calm and cordial was part of the appearance she’d constructed for herself, along with a subtly highlighted bob, a sensible manicure, and coiffed tailoring.

  “I’m really sorry about Will,” she offered. “I’ve never known him to miss a meeting. Something unforeseen must have come up.”

  Will had skipped church the day prior and gone to visit Gracepointe Christian with Alison. It had been the first Sunday they hadn’t spent together in she didn’t know how long. And now he hadn’t shown up for their meeting with Veronica. Julianne didn’t like the way everything seemed to change so quickly.

  “Well, maybe we can go ahead without him?” Veronica suggested.

  “Absolutely. I’m familiar with your company’s reputation, but why don’t you tell me a little more about the nuts and bolts of what you do, and about your expectations for outside legal counsel.”

  “Good,” she replied, pausing to take a sip from her coffee. “You know then that we’re business consultants, but how that translates seems to be mysterious to the general public.”

  Julianne chuckled. “Of which I am one.”

  “We’re fairly diversified in the services we offer, but our main division handles image for corporate business. We go into large companies and conduct seminars for their leadership called The ABCs of Corporate Image: Attitude, Behavior, and Connection. For the smaller businesses, we help them cut back to the bare bones to determine and establish their brand, we plug them into a good public relations regimen, and we coach the players on the front line to the customers.”

  “Like their customer service agents?”

  “Yes. And their sales and marketing teams, even their human resources group if it’s warranted. We’re all about helping to shape businesses and individuals to perform at a level that will achieve the desired endgame results.”

  “And where does legal counsel play into that plan?”

  “We need someone on retainer for consultation, to handhold the collections group when they’ve done everything they can to collect a fee. There’s also the threat of lawsuits, which is almost a monthly occurrence in this corporate culture. Every CEO wants miracles for the price of a magic hat.” Veronica ran her index finger around the rim of her cup before continuing. “We’ve just completed a three-month cycle at Owens Farms.”

  “The poultry people with the contamination outbreak earlier in the year.”

  She nodded. “Right. We went in and took over their front line completely. We did damage control, our in-house PR firm took the reins, and in the course of a few weeks, we were able to turn the situation around completely. The problem is, once that happened, it wasn’t even thirty days before there was another instance of salmonella.”

  Julianne cringed. “That made your job a lot more complicated.”

  “Like you can’t believe. And now they’re threatening to sue us because we didn’t do the job in repairing their image to the consuming public.” Veronica sighed and dropped her hands into her lap. “You can only do so much, you know?”

  “Even if they follow through with legal action,” Julianne reassured her, “that’s not one they can win.”

  “So you see why we need you.”

  Julianne smiled. “Who’s your current counsel?”

  “We’ve had an in-house team for the last few years that was working out very well. But the lead decided to venture out on his own, and he took his four associates with him.”

  Cringing, she asked, “Was he under contract?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “He happened to be my ex-husband’s brother.” She paused for a moment before glancing up at Julianne and biting her lip. “Did I mention that my ex is also trying to take half of the company from me? Dividing up Caswell Consulting is like cutting King Solomon’s baby in half—neither side can win, and the baby is dead in someone’s arms.”

  Julianne reached over and touched Veronica’s hand, and every bit of composure drained from the woman’s face as she asked, “Can you help me, Julianne?”

  “Mr. Hanes, follow the light as closely as you can without moving your neck.”

  Will stood back and watched as the doctor examined his father. He tried not to allow his thoughts to jump ahead to the possible diagnoses, but his imagination had a mind of its own.

  “How long since you were diagnosed with Parkinson’s?”

  “About a year,” Davis told him, trailing the ray of light.

  “And you said the new meds have been effective.”

  “They have,” Will chimed in. “His tremors have subsided quite a lot, and Dr. Donnelly told us that the limited movements were bradykinesia associated with the Parkinson’s. But this morning was very different than it’s been before. He tried to get out of the chair and fell right back down to it, two different times. His mouth looked a little misshapen, and it looked like one corner turned downward. When I tried to help him up, he be
came very confused. I don’t think he even recognized me for a good two or three minutes.”

  Davis didn’t seem to have anything to add. As the doctor flipped off the light and slipped the ophthalmoscope into his pocket, Davis lowered his eyes and stared at the floor.

  Will touched his dad’s arm until Davis looked up. “How do you feel now, Pop?”

  “Like everyone’s making much ado about nothing much.”

  Will chuckled. “That’s the way he is, Doc. Not a big fan of the fuss.”

  “Every now and then, a little fuss is called for, Mr. Hanes,” the doctor said. “Your son did the right thing bringing you in. I’d like to get a CAT scan and do some labs, just to make sure this is related to the Parkinson’s and not something else hiding behind it, like a mild stroke or dehydration. Is that all right with you?”

  Davis shrugged.

  The doctor patted his shoulder as he nodded at Will. “They’ll come and get him in a few minutes. Just sit tight.”

  Will helped his dad get settled before excusing himself to call Julianne.

  “Where are you!” she exclaimed. “Veronica Caswell just left the office, Will. You missed the whole meeting!”

  “Hang on, Jules. I’m with my dad at the ER.”

  She seemed to choke on whatever she nearly said next. “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. They’re running some tests, and I don’t know how long we’ll be tied up here, or if they’re even going to keep him overnight.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I’ve got a couple of items on the calendar today. Will you ask Phoebe to reschedule lunch with Lloyd for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you be all right going on the pig trip without me this afternoon?” he asked seriously.

  “Yes, Will. I think I can survive a pig farm on my own.”

  “I meant Rand. Can you survive Rand without me?”

  Julianne giggled. “I’ll try.”

  “How did the meeting go with Veronica Caswell?”

  “We have a new client.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “Details.”

  “Later. Give my love to your dad?”

  “Of course. I’ll call you later.”

  “That one looks just like Wilbur,” Emily cried, and she hurried across the barn and fell to her knees in front of the circular fenced enclosure.

  The little Wilbur look-alike wobbled toward her and pushed its flat nose against her outstretched hand and squealed. In the next few seconds, several others joined him. Julianne supposed that, if she happened to be in the market for a six-week-old pot-bellied pig, she would choose the black one with the glossy gray eyes.

  “But I don’t think I should get one that looks like Wilbur, should I, Gramps?” Pastor Alden knelt down beside her and scratched a pink piglet with his index finger. “I mean, it might feel like I was trying to replace him or something, you know?”

  “I think that’s very wise, Em. What about the little black one?”

  Emily reached over the fence and rubbed Julianne’s choice behind the ear. “I like the white spot on the tip of her tail. It looks like God dipped it in paint.”

  Julianne glanced at Rand, standing in the doorway to the barn, looking about as uncomfortable and out of place as his shiny leather oxfords.

  “Rand,” she whispered as she joined him at the door. “Maybe you could just pretend to be interested?”

  “Why?” he asked. “She wants a pig. I’m buying her a pig. She didn’t say I had to know which one she picks, or that I had to pretend to care.”

  “Tell me again why you’re getting a divorce.”

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry. But still. Could you force an effort at just general human kindness, please?”

  Emily rushed toward them, the black piglet squirming in her arms. “Julianne! Look at her. Isn’t she adorable? I’m gonna call her Shena.”

  “My granddaughter loves that singer, Shena Gomez,” Pastor Dean commented with a smile.

  Julianne tickled the pig’s fuzzy chin and giggled. How flattered the pop star would be if she knew a pot-bellied pig had been named after her.

  “So that’s the one, huh?” Rand asked in monotone, and Julianne suppressed a laugh.

  Well, at least he tried.

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded.

  “All right then. Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute,” Emily chided. “You still have to pay.”

  “Right.”

  “And we have to talk about that other thing,” she added, looking more like Rand’s mother than the child who had negotiated a new pig and some gun restriction.

  “What other thing?”

  Julianne leaned toward him and ribbed him with her elbow. “The gun thing.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “You didn’t get rid of it, did you?” Emily asked him, one arm wrapped around Shena and the other bent, her hand on her hip. “You have to get rid of it. Doesn’t he, Julianne?”

  “It was part of the deal,” she reminded Rand, and the look on his face made her laugh right out loud.

  He didn’t stamp his foot, but Julianne confidently expected him to do just that from the expression on his unhappy face. Instead, he nodded for Emily to follow him through the barn door.

  “How much?” he asked the farm owner.

  Pastor Dean placed his arm around Julianne’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It’s a good thing you’ve done here.”

  Julianne shrugged, and then shot him a smile. “She’s a very cool little girl.”

  “I think so.”

  “And speaking of cool girls … thank you so much for sending us Phoebe! She’s a gem.”

  “Phoebe?”

  “Yes. Phoebe Trent. She’s running the place like she invented the concept of a law office. Will and I couldn’t be any happier.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and he removed his arm from her shoulder and turned to face her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Phoebe.”

  “Yes, so you said. Who is Phoebe?”

  “Phoebe—”

  “Trent. Yes. I heard you, Julianne. But I don’t know anyone by that name, and I didn’t send her to you.”

  “That’s not … possible. She …”

  The brakes of Julianne’s thoughts screeched to a stop as she pored over the facts, trying to make sense of things, struggling to remember how she’d come to believe Phoebe had been recommended by her pastor.

  “You didn’t send her.”

  “I did not. I referred Carmen Juarez.”

  “Who?”

  “She’s the daughter of a friend. But by the time she got to you, you’d already hired someone.”

  After several beats, Julianne tried to swallow around the dry lump in her throat. “Then why would she … How did we …”

  “I’m ready to go home, Gramps,” Emily called out to him from the doorway of the barn.

  The pastor rubbed Julianne’s arm. “I hope you get it sorted out. And I want to thank you for what you’ve done here.”

  Julianne absently nodded as she scratched her head. “Mm-hmm.”

  Pastor Dean headed toward his car with Emily, the young girl chattering away. “He won’t get rid of his gun, Gramps. But he promised to lock it away in two different places, the gun in one place and the bullets in another place. We neg-ertiated it.”

  “That’s a very good compromise,” he commented.

  “Bye, Mr. Winters,” she called. “Thank you!”

  “Yeah. Bye, kid.” Rand stood in front of Julianne, glaring at her. “What’s with you?”

  “I …” No sense in sharing it with Rand. “I have to go.”

  “Yeah, okay. Glad this is over. Just have your girl send me the bill.”

  Julianne’s neck snapped. “What?”

  “Your girl. Tell her to send me the bill.”

  “Oh. Yes. I will.”

  “You look like you need a drink, Bartlett.”<
br />
  She blinked. “Rand, you know I don’t drink.”

  “You look like you should start.”

  “Go,” she said. “Get in your car … and go.”

  “Yeah. See ya.”

  Julianne pushed through the office door to find Phoebe on the phone. She stood in front of her desk, still unsure of what she might say, knowing full well that she had to say … something.

  “Yes, the initial consultation is free, so if you’d like to set up an appointment to talk it over with one of the law partners …”

  Julianne pointed at her office and nodded before heading in. She slipped out of her jacket and hung it on the wall hook next to the door before proceeding to her desk chair and sinking into it.

  So. You lied and I bought it.

  No. She couldn’t say that.

  Who are you, really? Is Phoebe Trent even your real name?

  That either.

  Phoebe appeared in the doorway with one of her big old smiles, blinding Julianne. “Did you want to see me?”

  “Yes. Come in.”

  She sat down in the chair across from her desk, and Julianne narrowed her eyes and wondered if this was her first good honest look at the executive assistant from who-knew-where. Her dark curls framed an almost-angelic face: Turned-up little nose, full lips glossed with deep pink to highlight that bright white smile, chocolate eyes fringed by dark, full lashes. If she remembered right, she was around twenty.

  “Where are you from, Phoebe?”

  “All over the place,” she replied.

  “I think I remember your résumé saying you moved here from Florida after working for a realtor for three years? That’s where you learned your office skills? Typing, filing systems, organizational things?”

  “Yes.”

  Julianne leaned back in her chair and stared at the girl.

  “Is … something wrong?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Phoebe swallowed hard. Her pretty eyes rounded and she silently looked back at Julianne without blinking. “What is it?” she finally asked.

  “Well, I’m trying to think back to the day you came into this office with your résumé in hand, Phoebe … and how you told me that Pastor Dean had recommended you for the position.”

  She looked down at the floor for an instant before lifting her head and looking Julianne directly in the eye. “I didn’t say that.”