Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection

by Pandora Spocks

  Seated in the back of the cab and on their way back to the Village, Maggie filled him in on her day, describing her private office and then telling him about her run-in with Standifer. “Oh my God! You have your own office?” Ben asked.

  “You see why I didn’t want to say that in front of everybody?” Maggie said.

  “And sweetie, you’d better just bitch-slap that cunt, nobody talks to Maggie Flynn like that,” Ben quipped, mischief sparkling in his clear blue eyes.

  She slapped his arm playfully. “Stop!” she laughed.

  In front of Maggie’s brownstone they said their good nights. “Thanks for coming,” she said. “I was glad to have a friendly face there.” She hugged him tightly.

  “They seem nice,” he answered. “But you have to leave the nest and go out on your own eventually, you know. Especially if you ever want to get laid.” She hit his arm again. “How long until you bag Rannigan?” he laughed.

  “Stop it! I work for him, end of story,” she insisted.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He waved and headed down the street toward his own apartment.

  Maggie called after him. “Hug Alex for me.” He waved again and was out of sight.

  * * *

  She arrived about half an hour early the next morning having procured coffee and pastries from a bakery a few blocks from the office. There were bagels in five varieties, danishes, and coffee cakes, in addition to espresso and dark roast with hazelnut creamer. She was arranging pastries on plastic platters when Michael entered the conference room. “Morning, Mags.”

  “Hi Michael,” she smiled genuinely, handing him the cup she’d just poured. “Have some coffee. This is from Two Little Red Hens on 2nd. Tell me this doesn’t beat the shit...crap...out of Starbucks.”

  “I’m not the one you have to convince, Norma Rae,” Michael quipped.

  Maggie stuck out her tongue at him. The others began to file into the room. Standifer was one of the last to come in. “What the fuck it this?” she whined. “Where is my soy mocha latte?”

  “Alright, people, let’s get started this morning,” Michael began. Everyone settled into chairs around the conference table. “We’ve got the Lisa Donovan case today. Standifer and Hodges will be going with me. What else are we working on?”

  The others chimed in with their current cases and their next steps. Finally Michael said, “Maggie Flynn joined us yesterday. She’ll be taking lunch orders until further notice. She picks the restaurant. If you don’t like it, order for yourself. Everybody keep me up to date on what you’re doing. Any other concerns?”

  The meeting ended quickly. Maggie hurried off to begin her other tasks. Michael caught up with her at the door to her office. “Coffee was great today, by the way,” he said.

  Maggie flashed him a satisfied smile. “Glad you liked it,” she answered. “I told you.”

  He looked amused. “Yes, you did. I’m heading to court now. I probably won’t be back all day. Text me if there’s anything important.”

  “Will do,” Maggie nodded.

  * * *

  Maggie found her rhythm over those first few weeks. She’d arrive a little early each morning bearing bags of pastries and cartons of coffee from various local bakeries, some better received than others and she kept track, returning only to those everyone liked. She kept the library organized and when she’d approached Michael with her ideas for making the system more efficient, he’d been pleased. She managed to get lunch delivered everyday by noon and as with the bakeries, she tried to use a variety of restaurants on a rotating basis.

  The only ones not pleased with her performance were Standifer and Hemphill and Maggie avoided them as much as possible. It was easy on the days Michael was in court because they usually went with him. She surmised that their dislike of her stemmed from her first interview when she’d inadvertently exposed their sloppy work.

  The problem was that when Michael was in court all day Maggie missed him. When he was in the office she saw him when she delivered his lunch or when he stopped by to ask her something. Once in a while they might share an elevator at quitting time. On days he was in court she always found an excuse to text him, even if it was something minor. He invariably replied, sometimes even telling her when he was finished for the day and on his way home. But she was happier when he was in the office.

  Chapter 13

  It was a Thursday afternoon. Michael was on the phone talking with his new client, a former NFL quarterback who’d been arrested recently on charges of domestic violence. His version of the truth was that he was in the middle of a messy divorce and the soon-to-be ex-wife was trying to squeeze more money out of him for alimony and child support. The fact was that Michael didn’t care about the actual truth. His job was to provide the best defense for his client that money could buy.

  Maggie knocked lightly on his door and popped her head in, but seeing that he was on the phone she whispered an apology and started to back away. Michael held up a finger and motioned for her to come in. She crossed to the black leather chairs opposite his desk and sat waiting for him to finish.

  “No, I understand, man, she’s just busting your balls,” he said into the phone, rolling his eyes for Maggie’s benefit. “Okay, we’ll make sure that all of that comes out at trial, but I’m telling you, don’t contact her. For any reason. Do you hear me?” He paused, listening to the reply on the other end. “Alright, we’ll talk soon.” He hung up the phone. “What’s up, Mags?” he asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

  “I’m just touching base with you before I take off,” she said. “Now this,” she handed him a folder, “is the brief you asked me to look over. My edits are in pencil. And as for coffee tomorrow...”

  “Wait, what’s going on?” he interrupted.

  “I’m leaving for Martha’s Vineyard tonight, remember?” she said. “I’m in my friends’ wedding on Saturday.” She watched him digest the information. “We talked about this a month ago, and again last week.”

  He sat back and blew out a breath. “Oh yeah. I just didn’t realize that was this weekend.”

  “Don’t worry, everything’s under control. I’ve already ordered the coffee and Dan agreed to pick it up on his way in tomorrow morning. Lunch is ordered and will be delivered by noon.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly.

  “Dan also offered to make sure the books get back to the library. I’ll come in early on Monday or something to make sure everything’s in order,” she tried to reassure him.

  “If the wedding is on Saturday, why are you leaving tonight?” he wondered.

  “Preparations begin early tomorrow for the bachelorette party,” she said grinning mischievously.

  Michael laughed. “Ohhh, I get it.” He crooked an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking copious amounts of alcohol and male strippers?”

  She returned his saucy look. “If I’m lucky.”

  He shook his head as she stood and walked to his door. “Alright, Mags. We’ll try to muddle along without you for a day. We’re going to miss you, though.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, winking at him. “You will.”

  He watched her walk out of his office, aware that she’d left him feeling vaguely unsettled. He recalled their previous conversations about her trip, he just hadn’t paid attention to the details, the when and the where. From outside his door, he heard Maggie say goodbye to Karen.

  “Have a great time,” Karen said. “Meet some handsome stranger who sweeps you off your feet. Isn’t that what weddings are for?”

  Michael heard Maggie laugh. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  “And you’ll post lots of pictures on Facebook? You know I live vicariously through you,” Karen teased.

  “Of course, lots of pictures just for you,” Maggie answered. “Find me on Snapchat, too. I’m GingerGirlLaw. You’ll see all the debauchery. See you Monday,” she laughed and he heard her walk away.

  That was interesting. Maggie and Kar
en are connected on social media? Michael avoided Twitter and the like. It seemed undignified somehow.

  Martha’s Vineyard, he thought. It’s beautiful this time of year. Did she say that she’s a bridesmaid? Suddenly visions of Maggie in frothy low-cut wedding formal wear came to mind. He shook his head and returned to his work.

  * * *

  On Friday, Maggie’s organization proved flawless. Dan brought in the morning coffee and lunch was delivered correctly and on time. Once or twice throughout the day Michael caught himself headed to Maggie’s office to ask her something before realizing that she wasn’t there. She said I’d miss her, he mused. I just forgot she was away. That’s not the same thing.

  That night he went to a gallery opening with Veronica Davis, wealthy widow of Philip Davis, a long-time patron of the arts. At forty, Veronica was a young widow although she was still a couple of years older than Michael. She was a beautiful platinum blonde and when they went out together, infrequently though it was, they never failed to make the gossip columns, which was fine with him. Her crowd kept him in business. She was pleasantly undemanding, too, unlike the younger women he dated.

  Throughout the evening, Michael found his thoughts returning to Maggie. He wondered if the bachelorette party was really as wild as she’d said it would be, smiling to himself as he pictured Mary Margaret Flynn stuffing dollar bills into the g-string of some greased-up muscle-bound stripper. Veronica commented on a painting, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

  On Saturday, Michael spent a couple of hours in the office working on some of his active cases. He met Murph for lunch where they discussed firm business including the possibility of an increase in the office rental for the following year. “Maybe we should find office space that we can purchase,” Murph offered.

  In the afternoon, Michael worked out in the gym in his building. He warmed up on the treadmill before working with the weight machine. As he sat working on his chest and shoulders one of his neighbors, Amanda from the floor below his, began working on the stair climber directly across from him.

  God bless the creator of yoga pants, he thought. It’s like a push-up bra for your ass. She was hot, a leggy blonde with killer tits. But he knew better than to date someone from his building. Before you knew it, she’d be popping in unannounced, demanding to come in and chat. He contented himself with enjoying the view.

  After his workout, he checked his phone and found that Gwen was back in town. He cringed remembering the last time they’d gone out and decided to ignore the message. Besides, his Yankees were playing tonight and spending an evening in watching baseball and drinking Heineken sounded like the perfect Saturday night.

  Three quarters of the way through the game, the Yankees were down two runs to none. Beau Beaulieu, pitcher for the Texas Rangers was doing a number on his beloved Bombers. He considered going to bed but it was only 10:30.

  Glancing at his phone beside him on the huge leather sectional he thought about Maggie. She’s probably still at the wedding. He thought about her parting words to Karen. GingerGirlLaw on Snapchat.

  He found the app quickly enough and downloaded it, followed the start-up instructions and fifteen minutes later had his own account. He quickly found Maggie and thought for a moment, glancing at the empty green bottles lined up on the coffee table. I probably wouldn’t be doing this stone cold sober, he considered. Holding the phone at arm’s length, he held the record button for a few seconds. Quickly, he pressed Send before he changed his mind.

  Chapter 14

  Maggie settled back in her seat beside Ben as the plane reached altitude. The flight to Martha’s Vineyard would be barely over an hour. When the flight attendant came by, she ordered a chardonnay. Ben ordered tequila. He’d seemed moody since they shared a cab to the airport.

  “So what gives?” she asked him. “What’s going on?”

  He stared at the untouched drink on his tray table. “I think Alex is seeing someone else.” His voice was barely audible.

  Maggie placed her hand over his and squeezed reassuringly. “Oh, please, don’t be silly. What makes you say that?” If she was honest, she’d thought it odd that Alex had dropped out of the trip for the wedding at the last minute, but he’d said he had a big project at work.

  “All the sudden he’s working this weekend?” Ben asked bitterly. “He gets texts and leaves the room to answer them. He was late coming home from work three days this week. I think he’s seeing someone he met at the gym.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Maggie said sympathetically. Truthfully she’d always thought that Alex treated Ben rather carelessly. Ben had a tendency to be too nice. She hoped the weekend’s festivities would take his mind off of his worries.

  * * *

  The following day began with a brunch for the entire bridal party. Des and Jacob presided over a long table flanked by their families and friends. Maggie thought Ben looked a little better than he had the day before. She hoped that getting together with the old gang was helping.

  She and Casey had stayed up nearly all night catching up on all the latest since graduation. Though they talked by phone nearly every week, seeing each other face to face was better. Casey couldn’t wait to show off her new engagement ring. She and John were planning a wedding for next summer. Maggie had been glad to let Casey babble on and on about her wedding plans. All the better to distract her from asking about her own nonexistent love life.

  After brunch, Des and the girls were whisked away to a salon for mani-pedis over champagne. Des picked the perfect nude shade to complement the bridesmaids’ dresses. Everyone was chatting about the wedding when Casey zeroed in on Maggie. “So spill about Michael Rannigan. Tell us all the dirty details,” Casey urged.

  Maggie had just sipped her champagne and almost did a spit take. “What dirty details?” she coughed. “I work for the man. What more can I say?”

  Des joined in. “Remember your birthday? He sent three bottles of Bollinger to the table,” she told the others. “And now you see him every day? Is his number in your phone?”

  Maggie reddened a bit. “Of course his number is in my phone. We have to keep in touch when he’s in court or away from the office.”

  “Tell me that you at least flirt with him a little, let him know that you’re interested,” Casey begged. “How else will he know that you want to have his babies?” The group erupted in giggles. Maggie shook her head in embarrassment and was grateful when the conversation moved on to another topic.

  * * *

  The whole wedding party met at the beach that evening at 6:00 for the rehearsal and afterward they went for dinner at the Farm Neck Golf Club where Des’s mother was a member. When the dinner broke up around 10:00 the men took Jacob out while the women headed off for Des’s bachelorette party. Des’s sister Elaine had arranged for them to have a reserved section at Sharkey’s Cantina.

  The music was loud, margaritas flowed freely, and Maggie forgot about her earlier discomfort in talking about Micheal. “I know some people think he’s an asshole,” she slurred to Casey. “But there’s a good guy under that layer. I’ve seen him.” She sipped on her fourth cocktail. Or was it her fifth? She’d lost track.

  “But wouldn’t you rather see what’s under his clothes?” Casey asked reasonably, ineffectively waving a hand to remove a stray hair from her face.

  Maggie looked thoughtful for a moment as she waited for her vision to stop spinning. “You know, I would, ack-shually.”

  Casey gave her a knowing look, closing one eye so she could focus. “You need to begin Operation: Get-In-Michael’s-Pants.”

  Maggie nodded and drained her drink.

  * * *

  By 5:00 the following afternoon, when it was time to make their way to the beach, Maggie’s hangover had finally passed. She’d slept until noon and Casey didn’t get up until an hour later. She had a feeling that she’d said some stupid things the night before but she couldn’t remember what they were.

  Before leaving for the ceremony, she g
lanced at herself in the full length mirror and gave herself a satisfied smile. For her bridesmaids, Des had chosen tea-length dresses of purple chiffon with a sweetheart neckline, spaghetti straps, an empire waist, and a wispy asymmetrical hemline. Maggie had secured her red locks in a casual up-do, the better to battle the ocean breeze.

  She found Ben as soon as they arrived. “Hey there, hot stuff,” she greeted him. “How are you doing?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Hi gorgeous. I’m feeling okay. But I look fabulous, so there’s that.” He smiled thinly.

  “Hang in there,” she encouraged him. “And you do look fabulous.”

  At 6:30 sharp the processional began. The ceremony itself was brief but beautiful. Des and Jacob looked ecstatic and delivered their personally written vows flawlessly. Photos were taken of the bride and groom alone and with the entire wedding party.

  After the photos, the wedding party joined the other guests in the giant white tents erected on the lawn of Des’s childhood home overlooking the ocean. The sun was beginning to set as a dinner of steaks and seafood was served by liveried waiters. Maggie snapped a few more photos to post to Facebook, adding to the ones she’d posted of their time in the salon and at the bachelorette party. She smiled when she saw that Karen had commented on a few of them.

  Des and Jacob had their first dance then invited the bridal party to join them. Maggie danced with Ben and then with the other groomsmen. Later she danced for a moment with Jacob. “Congratulations,” she told him. “You two are perfect together.”

  “We are, you know,” he replied, grinning. “And thanks for being part of our special day. One day it will be your turn.”

  Maggie mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she agreed, and was grateful when Des returned to dance with her groom.

  She made her way back to the table where Casey and Ben were sipping their wine and watching the action. A server came by and topped off their glasses. The music shifted from elegant wedding music to dance music. “Come on you guys,” Casey said. “I want to get back out there.”