When Lightning Strikes Twice

by Barbara Boswell

  Which in a way, it had. Back then, he had been carefree and uninvolved with no intentions of changing. Now he was actually plotting where to take Dana Sheely on a serious, honest-to-God romantic date.

  But he wasn’t the only one caught in a bizarre cycle of change. The Tildens were facing criminal charges, his aunt Eve had been dangerously disrespectful to the chief of police, and Shawn Sheely was Misty Tilden’s newest best friend. It was as if Lakeview had been transported to the Twilight Zone. Could things get any stranger than this?

  Rachel had never been a proponent of drop-in visits, though she acknowledged they were occasionally necessary. This morning seemed to be one of those times. Her answering-machine tape played yesterday’s numerous calls from Wade and Aunt Eve, alluding to the Tildens and a visit to the police station. There were no details, but Rachel’s curiosity was definitely piqued.

  She had tried to call both her cousin and her aunt, last night and this morning, but was unable to reach either one. Where could they be? Neither had mentioned any out-of-town weekend plans, but if they were in town, they weren’t bothering to answer their phones.

  Which was a distinct possibility. And if they didn’t want to be bothered, she shouldn’t intrude on them.

  Rachel replayed the messages and tried to put together a likely scenario. Meet the Tildens at the police station to discuss a criminal complaint? Not even a psychic could make sense of that! Her curiosity expanded from merely piqued to all-consuming.

  She decided she had no choice but to pay a visit to her aunt, though she knew Aunt Eve would not be pleased. Eve Saxon took advance precautions against drop-ins by grabbing her coat before she opened the door and then telling the uninvited guest that she was just getting ready to leave so there was no time to visit.

  Rachel drove to her aunt’s well-tended colonial-style brick house, half-expecting Eve to greet her at the door, holding her coat. But her knocks went unanswered, and the newspaper was still in the driveway where it had been tossed by the carrier earlier that morning. Clearly, Aunt Eve was not at home.

  At Wade’s apartment, she leaned steadily on the buzzer to rouse him, just in case he’d spent a hardy night carousing, before concluding that nobody could sleep through the infernal buzzing din. Wade wasn’t home, and she still had no idea what had happened with the Tildens.

  She wondered if Quint did. She suddenly remembered his call Friday night, claiming he wanted to discuss the Tilden case. But he hadn’t mentioned anything about it yesterday, during the entire day they’d spent together. And neither had she, which seemed to portend something. Rachel didn’t let herself think what.

  She arrived at Quint’s door, aware that her heart was beating a little too fast in anticipation. This visit fell into the professional realm, she reminded herself, and tried hard to focus on legalistic strategy instead of the thrill of seeing Quint again.

  Quint opened the door holding Brady in his arms.

  “Mom-mmee!” Brady squealed and launched himself at Rachel. She caught him and he wrapped his arms and legs around her like a little monkey.

  “I know why Brady calls you Mommy.” Suddenly Dustin was there, standing between her and Quint, stuffing a chocolate donut into his mouth. “It’s ‘cause he doesn’t have a mother and you’re Quint’s girlfriend. My mom said so,” he added importantly.

  Rachel’s eyes met Quint’s, and she carried Brady inside.

  “C’mon, Brady, it’s our turn to be It.” Dustin tugged on Brady’s cotton overall-covered leg. “Austin is hiding and we have to find him. C’mon, count. One, two, three.”

  “One, two, free,” Brady repeated, wiggling in Rachel’s arms. “Down,” he ordered, and she set him on his feet.

  Dustin took his young uncle’s hand and the pair scurried out of the room, trailing donut crumbs in their wake.

  Rachel and Quint faced each other.

  “Carla is stressed and needed another break?” Rachel surmised.

  “Carla and her mother are both suffering from migraine headaches and need a quiet day of rest, thanks to Frank Cormack, who blew in at dawn, drunk and reeking of perfume—not his own,” Quint said, his voice as impassive as his expression. “Carla’s mother told him to leave and when he refused, she—uh—evicted him at gunpoint. Frank retaliated by throwing a rock through the front window and banging a garbage-can lid against the hood of Mrs. Polk’s car. The police were called.”

  “And so were you?”

  He nodded. “The police suggested that Frank be locked up to sleep it off in the Lakeview jail, and, for a change, Carla didn’t balk. I think her mother would’ve clobbered her with the garbage-can lid if she had. The boys were dropped off here at nine A.M.”

  He seemed remote and dispirited, and Rachel forgot she’d come to grill him about the Tildens and those mysterious phone messages. She felt the urge to put her arms around him and recognized that the impulse was not a sexual one. She just wanted to hug him, which was unusual for her; she’d never been hug-prone except for Snowy and now, little Brady.

  Rachel gazed at Quint, so strong and capable, the invincible man. His dark eyes were hard and cold, the way they’d been when he argued a contentious point in the Pedersen trial. He certainly was not vulnerable and cuddly-sweet like Snowy and Brady, yet somehow he was evoking the same emotional reponses within her that they did. Maybe it was because she could imagine how he’d felt this morning, seeing his father drunk, listening to Carla scream, worrying about the effect on his little brothers….

  Compassion flooded her. Poor Quint; he tried so hard, and the Cormacks’ crises seemed never-ending.

  She stopped analyzing and took action, closing the small gap between them and wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her face into the soft cotton of his shirt and closed her eyes. Instantly, Quint’s arms enveloped her, and they stood together, leaning against each other. For those few quiet peaceful moments, Rachel felt closer to him than she’d ever been to anybody in her life.

  The insight jarred her. Scared her, too. That she couldn’t maintain her usual cool, aloof self around Quint gave him tremendous power over her. And they hadn’t even made love yet. Rachel gulped. The yet made it seem all but inevitable.

  “The kids and I will be leaving shortly for the Phillies game,” Quint’s voice sounded above her. She could feel his warm breath rustling her hair. “I thought we’d eat lunch along the way. Do you want to come with us?”

  She drew back a little, to look up at him. Saw his arched brows and half smile. The hot gleam in his dark eyes. She could feel his body hardening against her, in response to their closeness. Rachel forgot to be scared. The issue of power seemed irrelevant.

  “Do you have enough tickets?” she asked, shifting slightly to trap his right thigh between hers.

  He retaliated by sliding his hands under her pale pink cotton sweater. “You don’t follow baseball, do you?”

  Rachel shivered as his fingertips kneaded along the delicate length of her spine. “What makes you think that?”

  “A baseball game in May won’t be sold out,” explained Quint. “We can get the tickets we need at the gate.”

  He slipped his fingers around to the front clip of her bra and unfastened it. Rachel understood the gesture for what it was. A possessive claim. By not rebuking or pulling away from him, she had granted him that right. She understood that too, and remained in his arms.

  “Ha, ha, you didn’t find me!” Austin’s voice bellowed from the kitchen. “I get to hide again and you’re It again.”

  Rachel and Quint automatically drew apart. She reached under her shirt to fasten the clip, her cheeks burning. She knew Quint was watching her, his dark eyes hot and intense.

  “Want to hide with me, Brady? That loser Dustin will never find us!” Austin chortled loudly.

  “I’m not a loser, I’m telling Quint!” bawled Dustin. “Quinnnnt!” The seven-year-old arrived in the living room, his face contorted with fury.

  “You’re not a loser,” Quint sa
id before Dustin could voice his complaint.

  “I’m tired of being It all the time.” Dustin scowled. “Rachel, will you help me look for them? We can be a team.” He slipped his chubby little hand in hers and tugged on it.

  “Feel free to say no.” Quint looked amused.

  “I want to be on Dustin’s team,” Rachel assured the boy. She was as free to say no as Quint had been when he’d gotten that phone call at dawn from Carla. Her eyes met his in mutual understanding.

  “We’ll find them, Dustin,” she said, following the boy out of the room. “And then it will be your turn to hide.”

  “And you won’t help Austin find me ‘cause you’re on my team. Besides, Austin is the champion finder. He doesn’t need any help,” Dustin added, half-admiringly, half-resentfully.

  Rachel smiled. There were times when the young brothers’ relationship mirrored the one she and her cousin Wade had as children. Friendly enemies—or rivalrous friends.

  Twenty minutes later, the group piled into the station wagon. Austin and Dustin pulled out their GameBoys and prompty went into a video-game trance.

  “Where Snowy?” Brady asked plaintively. He stared at the empty space next to him, where her car seat had been during yesterday’s trip to the festival.

  “Snowy is at her house,” Rachel explained. “Although I wish she was with us.”

  “We can swing by there and pick her up,” offered Quint, steering the car out of the driveway.

  Rachel knew he meant it. If she asked, he would include her niece in the outing.

  “You’re a born rescuer,” she murmured.

  “And does Snowy need rescuing?”

  “Not today. Her father is taking her to spend the day with his parents. Laurel isn’t going with them,” she added.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yes.” A chill crept through her. “Last night Laurel and Gerald were in the middle of a terrible fight when I arrived with Snowy,” she confided, unable to keep it to herself any longer. “Laurel was shrieking at the top of her lungs. I didn’t want to leave Snowy there; I wanted to take her home with me.”

  Quint reached over and took her hand in his. He didn’t have to say anything, words weren’t necessary. She knew that he knew exactly how she felt.

  “I’m worried about their marriage,” Rachel blurted out. “Apparently, Laurel was gone all day yesterday and got home just before I brought Snowy back. She refused to say where she’d been but—she smelled of alcohol. Gerald accused her of being drunk, and maybe she was. I don’t know what to say to her or how to talk to her. She is acting completely unlike herself.”

  “What a person does is exactly who they are, Rachel.” Quint carried her hand to his thigh and placed it there, resting his own on top of it.

  “But Laurel was acting like a spoiled, self-centered, nasty …” Rachel swallowed hard. “She isn’t like that.”

  “She is bored and restless in her marriage, certainly a difficult situtation. But what a person chooses to do in difficult times shows their true character far more clearly than whatever is done in easy or so-called normal times.”

  “You sound like a fortune cookie!” Rachel jerked her hand away from him and tightly clenched her fingers in her lap.

  “And you’re getting mad at me instead of Laurel because you don’t like what you’ve heard. That’s a shoot-the-messenger reaction, Rachel.”

  Rachel thought about that. “I don’t want Snowy to be hurt,” she murmured at last. The prospect made her ache.

  “I know. But all you can do is to be there for her, Rachel. Let her know that she can always count on you. You can’t control either Laurel or her husband.”

  “You speak with such authority on the subject.” Rachel smiled wryly. “Because you wrote the book on Coping with Dysfunctional Relatives?”

  “Because I speak with authority on any subject, Rachel, warranted or not.” He laughed. “A skill that comes in handy when I have to speak extemporaneously in court.”

  She gazed at him, remembering how very effective he was in the courtroom. “Quint, would you promise me something?”

  “Maybe. What is it?”

  “I was hoping for an outright promise. I guess I should’ve expected you would add some qualifying points,” she said wistfully.

  He didn’t dispute it. “I guess you should’ve. I make very few outright promises, Rachel. And never without carefully thinking it over first.”

  He steered the car into the parking lot of a restaurant with a western motif, some kind of a steak house. The children cheered.

  Rachel glanced nervously at Quint. “If Gerald and Laurel do get a divorce …” She trembled. If? She’d handled divorce cases where the couples weren’t nearly as hostile and hateful toward one another as Laurel and Gerald had been last night.

  “Quint, I want you to promise that you won’t represent Gerald if he should ask you to. Because he’ll sue for custody, I’m sure, and it would kill Laurel to lose Snowy.”

  “It would kill you for Laurel to lose custody of Snowy,” Quint amended.

  Austin and Dustin had unbuckled their seat belts and were busily extricating Brady from his car seat. Quint opened his door and started to get out of the car. Rachel caught his arm, halting him. “Please, Quint.”

  “Laurel certainly would be well represented by Saxon Associates,” he pointed out.

  Rachel was seized by panic. Saxon Associates hadn’t handled a custody case that had gone to trial since she’d joined the firm. They had been successful in settling custody issues out of court, which was certainly better for the children involved and their parents, too, because a custody battle could be nastier and more complex than a murder trial.

  Poor little Snowy. The thought of her high-spirited little niece being fought over like some kind of game trophy made Rachel feel sick. Quint would have no qualms about fighting for a father’s right to full custody—after all, he was living proof that such arrangements could work well. Her stomach twisted queasily.

  She watched Quint walk the three boys into the restaurant, then head back to the station wagon where she sat frozen in the front seat. He pulled open her door and held out his hand.

  “The hostess is seating the kids. Come with me, Rachel.”

  She hesitated, staring at his proffered hand. “You know, right now I actually understand why Carla took that ambulance hostage. When you feel completely impotent in the face of an insurmountable problem, you have to do something to try to gain a little control.”

  “I hope you aren’t planning to take my car hostage,” drawled Quint.

  “If I had the keys, I think I just might.” But since she didn’t, she put her hand in his and let him help her out of the car.

  “What’s the insurmountable problem, honey?” he asked, his tone indulgent.

  She stared at him, askance. Didn’t he know? Hadn’t he been listening to her? “Wade and I would lose a custody fight in court to you, and I don’t have much hope that Aunt Eve could beat you either, Quint.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “She’s a very good lawyer, but you’re a better trial attorney than she is. So if Gerald sues for custody of Snowy, I want you to be the one representing Laurel.”

  Quint heaved a sigh. “Aren’t you jumping the gun here, Rachel? They haven’t even separated. Hopefully, they won’t.”

  Rachel thought of what she’d heard and seen last night. “I’m not very optimistic, Quint. Do you want a retainer? That can be arranged.”

  “Suppose I demand a retainer other than cash, Rachel.” He smiled wolfishly and hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side. “Could that be arranged? How far will you go to retain my indomitable courtroom prowess?”

  “I can tell you aren’t taking this seriously,” Rachel reproved.

  “I can’t believe that you are. Hiring me to represent Laurel in a potential divorce when she has three lawyers in the family?” He laughed at the notion.

  Rachel didn’t. “I want to keep you from representin
g Gerald,” she said flatly. “I’ll do whatever has to be done. And stop looking at me that way! I know that look. It’s the one you give Carla when you think she’s being irrational.”

  “And you’re not being just a tad irrational, Rachel?” He walked her into the restaurant and guided her to the table where Brady, Austin, and Dustin were already drawing on their place mats with the crayons provided.

  Brady made several stripes and a wobbly circle. “That Mommy,” he said proudly, pointing at his work.

  “Yeah, we could tell.” Austin snickered. “Looks just like her.”

  “It’s wonderful, Brady,” Rachel assured him, and Brady beamed. She took the seat beside his high chair and tied the plastic bib around his neck.

  Quint watched her every move, and she tried not to feel self-conscious under his intense unwavering scrutiny.

  They were halfway through their meal of barbecue, salad, and fries, when Quint leaned over and said quietly, “I promise I won’t represent Laurel’s husband in a divorce if he asks to hire me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that an unlimited promise? You won’t take Gerald’s case, no matter what?”

  “I promise I won’t, no matter what.”

  Relief surged through her. She felt she’d spared her small niece from a terrible disaster. Certainly her fledgling relationship with Quint had been saved; opposition regarding Snowy would’ve been the death knell. Looking at him across the table, she acknowledged how very much that would’ve hurt.

  Rachel gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you, Quint!”

  He blinked. “Now you have to promise me something, Rachel.”

  Her smile dimmed a little. “I should’ve known this was coming. Okay, what’s the catch?”

  “There is no catch. I want you to promise that you’ll always remember we aren’t enemies, Rachel. We might be professional adversaries from time to time, but it does not extend to the personal level. Ever.”