If the Shoe Fits

by Sandra D. Bricker

  “You certainly did.”

  “I didn’t,” she gently insisted. “They hadn’t painted the title on the door yet, and I asked you if this was Dean & Dean. That’s where my interview was supposed to be, but I couldn’t find the office.”

  Julianne inhaled sharply before narrowing her eyes. “Dean & Dean.” Like Pastor Dean?

  “And you stood up and shook my hand,” she reminded her. “You said how happy you were that I came in, and you asked for my résumé. You told me you didn’t see much office experience on it, and I told you that I’d worked at the real estate office.”

  “Yes, I remember that. But I know I’ve told you at least twice how glad I am that Pastor Dean recommended you. You never thought to correct me?”

  Phoebe sighed, massaging the edge of the desk with her thumb.

  “Phoebe, why did you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t,” she insisted, tipping her head to one side and looking like she might burst into tears. “I just didn’t correct the assumption you made. I needed a job so badly, and you seemed so nice. I was sure I could learn what I needed to know and make you glad you hired me.”

  “Well, you certainly have done that,” Julianne admitted.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Phoebe, we’re very happy with you. So happy, in fact, that I made the effort to thank Pastor Dean for sending you our way.”

  “Oh,” she said, cringing. “I was afraid that might happen.”

  “Were you ever going to tell us?”

  She considered the question before answering. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Not anytime soon anyway. I love this job. I wanted to give you the time to really see what I could do.” A glaze dropped over her face, and Phoebe tried to smile. “I’m sorry, Julianne. I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me.”

  She hadn’t even noticed Will in the doorway until he spoke up.

  “Fire you?” he said, and he stood behind her with his hands on both of Phoebe’s shoulders. “We wouldn’t fire you. Would we, Julianne?”

  “We need to talk.”

  They used to joke about those four words. Nothing further needed. And Will got the message, loud and clear.

  “Let’s go then.”

  Julianne stood up and looked at Phoebe. “Will and I are headed out. We’ll talk this over, and you and I will meet first thing in the morning. Okay?”

  Phoebe nodded, and she made no move to get up from the chair. Julianne grabbed her jacket and purse. When she turned back, she noticed Will give Phoebe a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

  They didn’t speak again until the elevator doors closed on them.

  “Your dad?”

  “Home and resting.”

  “Shall we go check on him together? Maybe make some dinner?”

  “No need,” Will replied. “Your mom has that handled.”

  “Oh. Let’s walk then. Can we go to our spot and talk? We have a lot to talk about.”

  “I’d say we do,” he remarked. “Let’s start with why you scared poor Phoebe into begging for her job.”

  “No, let’s start with your dad, and we’ll work our way around to Phoebe.”

  They meandered, arm-in-arm, through the crowded city streets as Will recounted the events of the morning that led up to driving his father to the emergency room.

  “The CAT scan was normal, and his labs are being forwarded to Dr. Donnelly. It looks like a little advancement of the Parkinson’s.”

  “Oh, Will. I’m so sorry.”

  “Things were really looking up since that last physical. But you know, you just can’t predict anything with this disease.”

  They made their way to Yeatman’s Cove and followed the winding concrete walk. Their usual spot on the third step from the top of The Serpentine Wall gave them a perfect perspective to watch one lone riverboat paddle its way up the sparkling waters of the Ohio River.

  “Now tell me about Phoebe. What happened?”

  “I think it’s really more my fault than hers,” she began, and Will poked her with his elbow.

  “Are you about to beg for your job?”

  “Very funny.”

  More than an hour later, they still sat on their step, the sun dipping low beyond the river as they went over the events of the day and sorted out the weight of their world—dispensation for Phoebe, a course of action for Veronica, continued tolerance of Lacey, concern for Davis—Julianne felt the pressure lift the way it always did when she shared her concerns with Will. When they finally landed on the details of the trip to the pig farm, he placed his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

  “Who knew, when we opened our practice, that we’d be defending a pig killer, huh?”

  “Oh, I had an inkling,” she teased. “I just didn’t want to scare you.”

  She didn’t want him to remove his warm embrace, but Will pulled his arm away anyhow. As they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment that felt somewhat eternal, Julianne noted a slight quiver inside her stomach, and she struggled against the oddest urge. An urge she hadn’t felt in many years. A flash in Will’s dark eyes made her wonder if he’d felt it too.

  Just about the time that the thought took full form in her head, Will peeled his gaze away from her. She turned away, too, staring at the smooth water reflecting the pinkish sky.

  “So,” she said to fill the suddenly uncomfortable silence. “How are things going with Alison?”

  “Good,” he replied in a short snap. “Paul?”

  “Good.”

  “You had two reference letters with you. Those were genuine?”

  “Yes, of course!” Phoebe defended.

  Julianne leaned back in her desk chair and folded her hands. “Will and I talked it over, and we feel like you’re a valuable asset here, Phoebe … part of our team. We take that very seriously.”

  “So do I,” she said softly. “I should have told you right away that I wasn’t the person your pastor had sent over.”

  “Yes. You should have.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Julianne smiled. “Phoebe, you don’t have to keep apologizing. It’s done. But going forward, there’s no room on this team for deception of any kind.” With a chuckle, she added, “At least between the three of us. I mean, we are lawyers, after all.”

  Phoebe giggled.

  “So there won’t be any more discussion about it. We just need you to be the best executive assistant you can be.”

  “I will. I’ll prove myself to you, I promise.”

  Julianne leaned forward and reached across the desk with an open palm. Phoebe shyly set her hand into it. “You’ve already proven yourself. We rely on you, and we’re happy to have you here.”

  Phoebe’s dark eyes glazed with emotion. “Thank you.”

  Julianne gave the girl’s hand a shake before she released it. When the front office door opened, Phoebe hopped to her feet and hurried into the reception area.

  “Hi. How are you?”

  Julianne froze. She knew that voice …

  “Oh,” Phoebe said. “You must be Miss Bartlett’s … sister?”

  “Uh, no,” the woman replied. “But I get that a lot. Is Will around?”

  Julianne stood up and closed the space between her desk and the open office door. Just one look confirmed her suspicion.

  “Holly? What are you doing here?”

  Holly brushed her blonde hair away from her peaches-and-cream face and looked up at her with wide blue eyes. “Hello, Julianne. I came to see Will.”

  “Does he know you’re coming?” Because I think you’d be the last person on earth—

  “No. I was in the area, and I thought I’d take a chance.”

  “Davis is just out of the hospital,” she told her. “He’s looking after him this morning.”

  “Oh, no. What happened?”

  Julianne resented the concern she saw evident in Holly’s expression. She knew how illogical the emotion was, but it burned in her just the same. Holly Corb
ett had given up all rights to concern over anything or anyone in Will’s life the day she left the diamond ring on the table and walked out the door, leaving Will devastated in her wake.

  “Davis has Parkinson’s.”

  Holly twisted something around her finger; the long tassel hanging from her camel suede purse occupied her focus as she glared at the floor in search of her next words.

  “Okay,” she said when she found them. “Would you tell Will I stopped in? Ask him to call me?”

  “I can ask,” she said. “But I don’t think he’s going to call you, Holly.”

  She raised her eyes until they met Julianne’s. “I know you’re his mighty protector and all that, Jules …”

  Don’t call me that. Will is the only one who calls me that.

  “… but he is a big boy. He gets to choose whether he talks to me or not.”

  “You’re right. I’m just telling you that I think I know what his choice will be.”

  “No disrespect, but you’ve always thought you knew what Will’s next move was going to be. Sometimes you’re wrong.”

  Julianne bit the corner of her lip. “All evidence to the contrary,” she finally replied.

  Without another word, Holly turned and left, thumping the door shut behind her. After she’d gone, Julianne stood frozen for a few seconds before she inhaled sharply and looked at Phoebe sitting quietly behind her desk.

  “I’ll bet there’s a story there!” Phoebe said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Will’s former fiancée. Left him in the dust. Nothing else to tell. Would you write him a note to tell him that Holly Corbett stopped by, and put it with his messages?”

  “Sure.”

  Julianne retreated to her office and pushed the door partway shut before sinking into the chair with a deep sigh, reconsidering whether a quick note with all of his other messages was actually the best way to go. She didn’t want him blindsided. But to call him with a report, to make a big deal of Holly just stopping by the way she had, maybe that would—

  “You’ll never guess who I just saw in the lobby!” Lacey James suddenly exclaimed as she pushed past Phoebe and shoved Julianne’s door wide open. “Holly Corbett, that’s who!”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Is William here? Did he talk to her?” she drawled.

  “No, thankfully,” Julianne said with a sigh as she leaned back into the leather chair. “What are you doing here, Lacey?”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute, hon. What on God’s pretty green earth was she doing here in this office after all this time?”

  “Lacey—”

  “He sure does have a lot of blondes in his world, doesn’t he?” she remarked as she folded into the chair across from Julianne. “You, Holly, me …”

  “Well, I think Will’s days of collecting blondes are over,” she said with a crooked grin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The girl he’s seeing now is a brunette.”

  All the color drained immediately from Lacey’s made-up face, and she gasped. “What do you mean, the girl he’s seeing now? William is dating someone? Is it serious?”

  “Yes, he is. And I don’t know. Now do you want to tell me what you’re doing—”

  Lacey jumped to her feet and placed both hands on her hips as she looked down at her. “How could you let this happen, Julie? How could you leave the floodgate open like that? I mean, William is a handsome, eligible guy, and—let’s be honest, hon—our only real hope was that his little heart was broken over that awful Holly. Now that he’s dating again, the women are going to rush in like one of those tsunamis in Asia! Is that what you want, Julie? Is it?”

  “First: My name isn’t Julie. It’s Julianne. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that. Second: I am not a candidate to date Will. He’s my best friend. Third, and most importantly,” she said as she scribbled a note of reminder to call her brother Travis to wish him a happy birthday, “Will is a big boy, as was recently pointed out to me.” She looked up. “He’ll decide when to date and when not to, who to see and who not to.”

  She peeled the sticky note from the pad and stuck it to the last open inch on the frame of her computer screen.

  “Oh, don’t be daft, hon. What kind of woman lets a man make all of his own decisions?” Lacey sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned against the back of the chair, shaking her head. “That’s just crazy talk.”

  “And your reason for barging into my office again?”

  “Oh. Well, I thought we could make some quick work of this collaboration Judge Hillman has ordered, and then move on to some talk about the gala. What are you wearing? Do you have a dress yet? Because if not, I want to put in my dibs for the color pink. I found a beautiful pink taffeta, one shoulder, and I don’t want to share the color spotlight. It’s just too beautiful.”

  “That’s uncanny,” Julianne replied, deadpan and straight-faced. “I just bought a pink dress with one shoulder.”

  “No.” She took such depraved pleasure in Lacey’s expression of horror as she tapped one shoulder and asked, “A big magnolia flower, right here? With pearl beads?”

  “Yes!”

  “Nooo!” Lacey cried.

  After a moment, Julianne broke into a grin and admitted, “No.”

  Lacey’s eyes narrowed. “No?”

  “No. I was just messing with you.”

  An exasperated scream blew out of Lacey as she exploded to her feet and looked down at Julianne with fire blazing in her eyes.

  “You are hideous!” she cried, and she spun on one heel and headed for the door.

  “Oh, come on. I was joking. Come back here. I thought we were going to talk about the case,” Julianne called after her, but Lacey let out another angry groan just before the outer door slammed shut behind her.

  With a shrug, she picked up the phone and punched in Travis’s cell number.

  “Hello.”

  “Trav!” she exclaimed, yanking the sticky note from her screen and crumpling it in her hand. “Happy birthday, big brother.”

  “Listen to them,” the prince remarked. “They’re like clucking hens. They never quiet down.”

  The prince’s equerry gave a hardy laugh. “They’re clucking over you, Your Highness.”

  “Me! Whatever for?”

  “You’ll soon choose a wife, sir. And every one of them wants your consideration for the role.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t want a wife who clucks like a hen,” he replied. “If they can’t see that, then they’re daft! All of them!”

  “As you know, Queen City Magazine is one of the sponsors of the Bar Association gala this year, and we’re doing an in-depth feature on each of the lawyers nominated for awards. Since you’re a Person of the Year nominee due to your charitable fund-raising, I thought we might spend some time talking about that. Can you spare me a few minutes this week?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “It won’t take more than a couple of hours. We’ll do a sit-down, take a few pictures, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Julianne’s stomach lurched slightly. “Melanie, I’m going to transfer you to my assistant. Phoebe has my calendar and will be able to set something up for you.”

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  Julianne placed the call on hold and hurried out to Phoebe’s desk. “I don’t know how to transfer! Can you just pick it up from there if she’s on hold?”

  Phoebe chuckled and nodded. “Yes. Who is it?”

  “It’s that reporter from Queen City Magazine. She wants to set up an appointment to come and interview me this week. Don’t just give her the pick of all of the open slots dominating my calendar, okay? Give the impression I have a little something going on.”

  “All right.”

  “And try to put her off to the end of the week so I have time to shop for something to wear. She’s bringing a photographer.”

  “You got it.”

  Phoebe knew just the right
button to push, and she answered in a professional voice that did Julianne proud.

  “This is Phoebe Trent, Miss Bartlett’s executive assistant. I’ve got her calendar in front of me. Why don’t you tell me which day you had in mind and I’ll see if we can accommodate you.”

  Julianne’s hand flew to her chest, and she sighed. “Perfection!” she whispered, and she turned back toward her office. “Sheer perfection.”

  While Phoebe handled Melanie Larsen, Julianne dialed Suzanne on her cell.

  “What are you doing?” she asked without greeting her friend.

  “Coming out of a sales call. Why? What’s up?”

  “I need you.”

  “Outfit, shoes, or both?”

  “Both. I’m being interviewed by Queen City Magazine this week, and they’re taking pictures.”

  “I’m out in Kenwood, and I have one more stop to make. But I’m starving. If you bring sustenance, I can meet you in front of my closet in an hour.”

  “It’s a date!”

  After she hung up, Julianne emerged from her office to quiz Phoebe.

  “We set it up for Friday morning at eleven,” she said before Julianne had the chance to inquire. “Not too early so you have the morning to get ready, but early enough for you to still be fresh.”

  “Thank you!”

  “I’ll make sure everything is tidy, and set out some pastries and fruit in the conference room …”

  “You are—”

  “… make coffee and tea, restock the fridge.”

  “—an angel! I could almost kiss you.”

  Phoebe beamed.

  “I’m going to meet Suzanne for help in choosing something for the photo shoot. Something that says Person of the Year.”

  “You’re a shoo-in.”

  “When Will gets in, give him the heads-up about Friday? They may want to talk to him, too.”

  “Of course.”

  “And tell him about Holly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, and can you remind him we’ve got a table for the gala? If his dad is feeling up to it, I thought he might like to come along as my mom’s date.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Phoebe replied as she scribbled a note.