If the Shoe Fits

by Sandra D. Bricker

  Will couldn’t help himself, and he let out one unabashed laugh. “Yes. Put them on.”

  When she stared straight ahead for several seconds, Will sighed, pushed out of the car, and went around to her side. He pulled open her door and stooped down to a squat as he removed the shoes from her lap and placed them, one at a time, on her smooth feet. With a gentle nudge, he led her out of the car and to a standing position.

  “Come on, Sleepyhead. Follow me.”

  She did as she was told, no doubt out of blind obedience rather than thoughtful choice. When they reached the front door, she leaned against the wall with her eyes closed while Will fished her keys from the outer pocket of her purse and unlocked the door.

  “Don’t stop or pass go,” he instructed as he pressed her purse back into her hands. “Go straight to bed.”

  “‘Kay.” She stepped inside, and then she slowly turned around to face him with squinted eyes. “Nice of you … taking me tonight….”

  “Sure.”

  Her lips tilted into a tired little smile, and she plunked both arms around his neck. Will chuckled as he returned the embrace, but when he tried to pull away, she held him there for a moment longer, the fragrance of her vanilla hair coercing him to sigh and enjoy the moment. And when he thought she had released him, Julianne surprised him by leaning in again and pressing her mouth to his in a warm, sweet kiss.

  When they parted, he couldn’t do anything but just stand there, staring at her still-closed eyes, his heart pounding at double-time.

  “Night,” she said in a sleepy rasp, and she turned away and headed inside.

  “Night,” he managed as he watched her walk away, the door still wide open behind her. “Sweet dreams.”

  “Me, too,” she muttered, and she headed directly into her bedroom without looking back.

  Will staggered slightly in the doorway as his lips tingled and his thoughts ricocheted all over the place. He quietly closed the door.

  Julianne leaned on her elbows and sighed. She could hardly drag out of bed that morning, and several cups of coffee later, she still struggled against weariness. Knowing that Paul was on his way, however, buoyed her alertness somewhat.

  “We’re all set for Friday morning?” she asked Phoebe before she even made it into the chair on the other side of the desk.

  “All set. And I’ve got your meeting with Veronica Caswell pushed to next week like you asked.”

  “Good. Any word from Lacey?”

  “She called earlier to say that everything is on track, and it looks like the one consult with Mrs. Blanchard ought to do it.”

  “Well, Judge Hillman didn’t lie,” she commented. “It really was quick and easy. That’s a relief.”

  Phoebe twisted a lock of her short, dark hair around one finger, her eyes averted to the edge of the desk.

  “What is it?” Julianne asked, and the girl glanced up at her as a stain of crimson washed over her cheeks and down her throat. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I wanted to tell you … about the other day …”

  “Phoebe, I told you, we don’t need to speak about it again. It’s water under the bridge.”

  “I appreciate that, but I think you need to know—”

  Interruption came in the form of male voices from the reception area, one of them Will’s.

  “I’ll just go see …” Phoebe said as she gathered her things and headed for the door.

  When she recognized Paul as one of the voices, Julianne glared at the clock.

  He’s early.

  She quickly checked her makeup in the mirrored compact she kept tucked in her top drawer and replaced it as she scuffled to her feet.

  “I’ll be right out,” she called to him.

  Paul poked his head around the corner of the doorway and gave her half a smile. “Can I come in?” She loved the way that one lock of wavy hair fell across his forehead. “I thought maybe we could chat for a minute.”

  “This place is a constant stream of interruptions,” she told him as she grabbed her purse from the hook by the door. “Let’s head out to dinner and talk there, okay?”

  He lifted one shoulder into a shrug and let her pass in front of him.

  Will silently leaned against his office doorway, and she gave him a smile. “I’m outta here,” she told him. “See you in the morning.” His silence struck her as strange, and she thought she spotted something odd and out of character in his expression. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod, and he disappeared into the office and closed the door behind him.

  He must be preoccupied, she thought, and she led Paul out the door and into the hallway.

  Once they stepped into the elevator, Julianne turned to Paul and gave him a broad smile. “What a day it’s been! It’s good to see you.”

  “You, too,” he replied, but he didn’t look at her when he said it.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. You’re going to love The Precinct. The restaurant is set in this old police patrol house. It’s a historic landmark, and—” Paul’s pained expression slammed the train of words into a collision with the back of her throat. “What’s wrong?”

  The elevator doors slid open, but the two of them just stood there, Paul looking through the open doors, and Julianne turned sideways and staring up at him.

  “Paul?”

  “Yeah. Julianne, listen … we have to talk.”

  It felt a little like cheating on Will as they sat there on the top concrete step of The Serpentine Wall, but when someone downtown gave her the “We have to talk” line, it was usually Will, and The Wall was always the first place she thought to go. As she and Paul sat side by side, each of them silent and gazing out at the Ohio River, Julianne felt a lump form in the base of her throat.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind,” she managed.

  Without another moment of silence, Paul tossed it right out: “I don’t think I want to see you anymore.”

  Well, there it is. There’s no mistaking that.

  “Can I ask why?” she inquired. “I thought we were getting along pretty well.” The moment she said it, regret pushed a distant and bitter taste into the back of her throat. Had she really come to believe they had a future?

  Paul shifted toward her and propped one ankle atop the opposite knee. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re a sweet girl …” he began, and the thud of the but that followed hit before he even had a chance to speak it “… but I just don’t see this going anywhere.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Do you?” he asked, his astonishment unmistakable.

  “I guess … well …”

  “How?”

  A puff of a chuckle burst out. “Well, that’s straightforward, isn’t it?”

  “I just mean … How? We have so little in common, Julianne. Believe me, I’m flattered that someone like you—all Reese Witherspoon-ful and a lawyer and everything—would be interested in a carpenter from Clifton. But you don’t like the outdoors, and I rather live for it. You hated the acoustical show when we met at The Lemon.”

  “I didn’t. Really. I just—”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to fix it. I saw that glazed-over look after about ten minutes. But it’s not even just Spanish guitar. It’s everything, Julianne. You like to go to these upscale restaurants and get all dressed up. I’m more of a jeans-and-a-sweater, eating a three-way at Skyline Chili sort of guy, you know? And let’s just put it out there. I’m never going with you to a Bible study. We don’t fit.”

  A bead of perspiration tumbled down the back of her neck, and Julianne’s heart began to palpitate softly. Rubbing her temples, she thought what a ridiculous picture to get in her mind, but there was Lacey James, shaking her big platinum head and clicking her fake-Southern tongue. “They never stick around for long, do they, Julie?”

  Paul cut into her thoughts, running a hand through waves of sandy hair. “I felt real bad canceling on you at the last minute for your
fund-raiser thing last night, but I was beat. I had a long day, and the last thing I wanted to do was tighten a noose around my neck and put on a suit.”

  Her voice felt too thick to make it past that lump in her throat, and she felt suddenly nauseous. It wasn’t usually so warm at this time of day on the river.

  “You understand, though, don’t you?” he asked her. “Deep down, you know we’re not a fit, right?”

  “Well, I understand, of course. And I guess it doesn’t matter what I think if you don’t think we work.”

  Paul looked genuinely pained. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If you still want to go to dinner, I guess we can.”

  She summoned the courage to put full intention behind her fake smile as she let him off the hook. “It’s okay. I had some work to finish up anyway.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she replied, pushing that smile up as far as the stubborn thing would go. “You go on. I’m going to sit here a few minutes and then walk back to the office.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Of course.”

  He lingered for a moment before leaning toward her. “I just thought it was best to be honest, you know?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Yes, of course. Honesty is always best.” Except when it’s not. “I appreciate it, Paul.”

  He pecked the top of her head with a meaningless kiss. “You take care, Julianne.”

  “You, too.”

  As Paul got up and walked away, every thud of his footsteps represented another “I told you so” in Julianne’s mind.

  No date tonight, Julianne? A pretty thing like you?

  You’re not seeing him anymore? You sure do run through them fast, don’t you?

  Well, you always have Will to take you. He usually goes it alone, too.

  Julianne noted the grinding of her teeth and made a conscious effort to relax her jaw. At least when Will and Holly were together, people didn’t see him as Julianne’s reluctant sidekick for charity dinners and legal functions.

  Poor Julianne. But at least she has Will. Oh, wait! That’s right. Will’s getting married. What will Julianne do now?

  Before she knew it, she’d popped to her feet, grabbed her purse, and headed across the cove. Yes, at least she did have Will. And she needed him like crazy. He’d know just the right thing to say …

  But by the time she reached the office again, the place was locked up tight. Will and Phoebe had both gone home for the day. Julianne couldn’t manage the effort to head downstairs to her car, so she backed up to the wall across from the office door and slid down to the floor.

  LAW OFFICES

  OF

  HANES & BARTLETT

  She tried to smile at the perfect letters on the door, but her jaw ached too much to complete the effort. A mist of tears rose in her eyes and stood there, seemingly unsure of whether to back down or push forward, and her temples began to throb again.

  Julianne dug out her iPhone from her purse and summoned the first number on the speed dial.

  “You’ve reached Will Hanes of Hanes and Bartlett. I’m temporarily unavailable at the moment. Leave a message and your phone number, and I’ll call you back as soon as possible.”

  Even his recorded voice brought her a little comfort, but it wasn’t the same as the real thing.

  “Hey, Will, it’s me. I really need you. Call me, ’kay?”

  Will reveled in the exhilaration that came from a brisk ride across the wide-open space at the center of the Ross property. His favorite four-legged pal snorted as she flew through the high grass toward the base of the final hill, a sure sign that she enjoyed breaking loose from the stables and the boring daily regimen of simple trots. Like a premium sports car set out to the open road, Christie shifted gloriously into high gear to show Will what she had in her.

  Alison rounded the curve first, and Hershey trotted up the slope of the first embankment. They were a perfect match, Alison with her dark auburn ponytail and Hershey with his deep brown sheen and gleaming black mane.

  “Hah!” Will shouted, and his blond Palomino sped up, taking the hill at full charge until they galloped past Alison. “Good girl,” he added as they slowed to a halt at the top of the hill, and he patted the side of her neck and gently raked the coarse hair of her mane. “Good girl.”

  “That was fantastic!” Alison exclaimed as she dismounted, sheer joy beaming from her smiling face.

  Will produced two large plastic bags from his saddlebag and tossed one of them to Alison. “Carrots, apples, and sugar cubes,” he told her. “All of Christie’s favorites.”

  “And he packed some for you, too, Hershey,” she cooed, scooping out a couple of small carrots and offering them to him on the palm of her outstretched hand.

  Christie pressed against the side of Will’s face and nuzzled him in thanks before licking several sugar cubes from his hand. “You’re welcome, girl.”

  The soft buzz from his iPhone drew Will’s focus away, but only for a moment.

  “Is that yours?” Alison asked. “You aren’t going to answer?”

  “Nope.”

  Alison grinned and shook her head. “Oooo-kay.”

  Christie pushed a carrot out of his hand and to the ground, and she moved in on the chunks of apple instead. “You prefer the sweet stuff, don’t you?” he muttered. “I know. I feel you, girl.”

  Alison wrapped Hershey’s reins around a low-hanging branch as they’d done the first time they visited the ridge. She inched up on Will and Christie. Patting the horse’s muzzle, she remarked, “You two are good friends, aren’t you?”

  “We are.”

  She picked up the carrot and extended it toward Christie, and she happily crunched into it.

  “You know, I was pleasantly surprised when you called and invited me to come riding again.”

  Will smiled.

  “I thought maybe I’d heard the last of you after the kite festival.”

  “Did you?” he asked as he scooped out a few more apple chunks from the plastic bag. “Why?”

  “Well, after you ran into your ex-fiancée … and my remarks about the similarities between her and Julianne … I don’t know. I just got to thinking …”

  Her words trailed away, and Will glanced at her. “You know what I’ve learned about women, Alison?”

  The corner of her mouth quirked as she replied, “Do tell.”

  “You all think too much. There’s not some deep hidden motive behind everything a guy does. We’re really not all that complex, if you want to know the truth. Sometimes a guy really is just busy.”

  She nodded and stroked Christie’s nose. “Yep. You’re right.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But sometimes you all use busy to avoid something.”

  He thought it over for a moment before looking up into her chocolate-caramel eyes. “You think I’m avoiding something?”

  “Are you?”

  “No. Not avoiding,” he replied. “Just delaying.”

  “Oh? And what have you been delaying?”

  “This,” he said. Placing his hand loosely beneath the curve of her jaw before he could change his mind, he moved toward her and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

  When they parted, Alison narrowed her eyes and smiled.

  “Mm-hmm, yeah,” she said. “That was nice, Will. But what are we avoiding?”

  Avoiding. Please!

  Once they said their goodbyes at the stables, Will climbed into his car to drive home. At the intersection of Winton and McKelvey Roads, he made the last-minute decision to turn right and take the scenic route instead of going straight to his dad’s house.

  His phone buzzed from the backseat, and he glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. Julianne calling, no doubt … excited to tell him what devastatingly charming thing the ditch digger had said, or that he’d agreed to escort her to the gala, or that they’d already decided to get married on a cliff overlooking the ocean or in a hot-air balloon, or maybe in a big glass carriage pulled by s
ix white horses.

  When he finally pulled into the driveway, he noticed Julianne’s car parked next door at her mother’s house. He didn’t bother to flick the garage door open. Instead, he rolled down all of the windows and opened the sunroof before turning off the engine and leaning back against the headrest.

  About ten minutes later, the garage door opened, and Davis scuffled through. He stopped at the front bumper and called out to him. “What’s going on, Son? You coming in?”

  “I was thinking about going for a run,” he replied without lifting his head.

  “Yeah, you look like it. Come on inside. Amanda’s here with some of her fancy bread pudding.”

  Like a shot, Will found himself back at the Radisson, sitting next to Julianne and playing that silly dessert game of hers.

  “Bread pudding with warm honey-vanilla sauce,” she’d guessed, and everyone at the table had a sudden urge for the delectable dessert they wouldn’t find anywhere in the area, aside from Amanda’s active kitchen, that is.

  “You coming inside, boy?”

  “Yeah,” Will muttered, and he flicked the handle and pushed the door open.

  He grabbed the saddlebag from the backseat and, leaving all the windows down and the sunroof gaping wide open, he caught up to his dad and hung an arm loosely around his shoulder as they walked through the garage and into the house.

  Fragrant spices accosted them before they even made it into the kitchen. Cinnamon, nutmeg, blended with a scent so sweet that Will began to salivate.

  “There you are,” Amanda greeted him with a welcoming smile. “Have you had dinner, Will? I kept a couple of plates warm for you and Julianne.”

  “Is she here?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t seen her today.”

  “I saw her car outside.”

  “Is it?” Amanda looked to Davis curiously. “Maybe she’s over at the house then.”

  “I’ll just go clean up,” he told them, and the ps-ps-ps of their whispers followed him all the way down the hall toward his bedroom.

  As he dropped the saddlebag on the bench at the foot of the bed, the hum of his phone sounded once again. He turned away in defiance and went into the bathroom to splash warm water on his face and scrub his hands clean. When he returned, he stood in the middle of the room, straining his ears for the continued buzz to no avail. The phone had gone silent.