His thoughts drifted to Savannah, her blonde hair and blue eyes, her silly giggle. He sighed. That baby girl is my heart. A frown flitted across his face. Suppose Maggie doesn’t like her? Or she doesn’t like Maggie? Bobby’s hands paused midway through shampooing his hair, his stomach performing a half-gainer. He pushed the thought away and finished his shower.
Better to find out now before I’m in too deep, he told himself as he dried off. He used the towel to wipe the mirror and caught his eyes in the reflection. “You’re already in too deep, bayou boy.”
* * *
Maggie let herself into Michael’s apartment late that afternoon, a container of kosher chicken noodle soup in a bag hanging over her left wrist and balancing her purse and brief case in her right hand. “Hello, Michael, it’s me.” There was no response so she placed the bag on the kitchen counter and headed into the living room. She was puzzled to find it empty so she made her way down the hallway to the master bedroom where she knocked lightly. “Michael?”
“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse.
She ventured further into the room. The drapes were closed, blocking out most of the light. Maggie could just make out his curled form under the blankets on the bed. She crossed the room and sat on the edge beside him. “Rough day?” she asked gently.
“You could say that,” he answered dully.
Maggie lightly stroked his arm. “I’m so sorry, Michael. What can I do for you?”
“Put a bullet in my head?”
She frowned. “That’s not even funny. I brought you soup. Would you like it here or in the kitchen?”
“I don’t want any.”
“Nope. Not one of your options. If I don’t see you moving I’ll bring it to you in here.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Michael grumped with a bit more energy.
“That’s why you love me,” she quipped. “Are you getting up?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he groaned, pushing himself to a sitting position.
“Good. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”
“Hey, Mags?” he called. She turned and looked at him. “Thanks.”
* * *
Bobby was thoughtful as he watched the elevator numbers creep to twenty-one. It was late, after 11:30, and he’d chatted with Maggie on his way home, knowing that she’d probably already be in bed. She’d told him that Michael had had a bad day, and he’d heard the worry in her voice. When he offered to stop in and check on him, Maggie had sounded relieved. He hadn’t mentioned to her that he occasionally stopped at Michael’s anyway. If he did he’d have to fess up about providing him with beer and junk food.
He continued to ignore the nagging little doubt in the back of his mind, the one that said that there had to be more to Maggie and Michael than either of them had admitted. Deanna’s blindside had created a certain amount of paranoia. That’s all it is.
Michael was up and seemed glad to have his company so Bobby stayed for about half an hour, shooting the breeze and helping him drink some of his good bourbon before he said good night and headed for his own apartment.
It had been a long day and he was ready to fall into bed, but first he wanted to send a text for Maggie to find in the morning. He smiled thinking of the way she never failed to reply. He always signed off with one kiss, and she replied with two. It was cheesy, he knew, but it was becoming his favorite part of the morning. He typed a little good morning message and plugged in his phone before turning off the lights and heading to his bedroom. Just as he reached his door the phone rang and he hurried back, answering before he checked the screen. “Hey there, cher.”
“It’s me,” said a female voice on the other end.
Bobby’s eyes widened. He’d assumed it was Maggie. He didn’t try to disguise his irritation. “What do you want, Deanna? It’s late.”
“Not who you thought, am I?” she said drily. “Listen, Savannah is sick. She can’t come see you this weekend.”
“What do you mean, sick?” Bobby asked.
“Strep throat. She’s on two different medicines. Besides, she doesn’t feel good. I’m not putting her on a plane.”
“You weren’t putting her on a plane, she was flying up here with her grandparents. Did you call my folks?”
“I called you.”
Why do you have to be such a pain? Bobby squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and mentally counted to ten.
“Okay, Deanna, here’s what’s going to happen. My parents will meet you half-way. I’ll fly to Lafayette late tomorrow night after I get off work.” She didn’t answer. “It’s Easter. It’s my turn to have her for a holiday. This way I get to spend time with my daughter, and she doesn’t have to fly. Compromise, right?”
He heard the sigh at the other end, and he rolled his eyes. “I guess that’ll be okay. Will your mother be able to give her the medicine?”
“My mother raised five children, I think she can handle it,” he responded with more patience than he felt. He couldn’t resist adding, “Besides, Savannah’s father will be there.” Thankfully, she didn’t raise further objections, and they disconnected.
He’d been tired when he’d gotten home but now he was restless, his adrenaline pumping from his aggravation with Deanna. When he’d lived ten minutes away she’d been easy to work with. Now that he was all the way in New York, she seemed to go out of her way to make life difficult. He shook his head. It’s the only thing that makes sense. If Savannah can’t come here, I’ll just have to go see her. Nothing is going to keep me from my daughter.
His mind drifted to Maggie. She’d been so reluctant about meeting his family, but she’d come around. Just today she’d suggested that they all go see Aladdin because she thought Savannah would enjoy seeing a live Broadway show. She’s going to be disappointed. Or pissed off. Bobby shook his head thinking of the sweet good morning text he’d sent. I don’t want to tell her in a text. We’ll talk about it over lunch tomorrow.
In spite of the time, he wanted to touch base with his parents before they drove all the way to Dallas. His father’s voice was sleepy. “Hello?”
“Hey, Pop, sorry to wake you,” Bobby apologized.
“Who is it? What’s wrong?” his mother said in the background.
“It’s Bobby,” his father answered his mother.
“Ro-bert, what’s wrong?” his mother asked, having taken the phone from her husband.
He sighed. “Deanna just called. Savannah has strep throat and can’t fly up here. I told Deanna to meet you half-way and that you’d bring Savannah back to the house. I’ll fly out late tomorrow night, be there when she wakes up. Will that be okay?”
“Of course it is, bébé,” his mother said. “We’d be happy to have that sweet baby here. And you, too, you know that. Don’t worry about a thing. I’m sad we won’t be going to New York, though. I wanted to meet your girl.”
“I know, maman, me too, but we’ll make it another time.”
Chapter 6
Bobby woke up annoyed, his foul mood from the previous night carrying over into the new day. He wasn’t unhappy with Savannah. She couldn’t help getting sick. But Deanna had known all day and had waited to call him until after midnight. She could have called his parents and made those arrangements, too, but she’d dumped it all in his lap.
Maggie’s morning text lifted his spirits somewhat, and he replied to her that he’d meet her in front of the courthouse when she came out for her lunch break. He kept it light and positive, dreading the conversation they’d need to have over lunch. He felt he was letting her down, and that bothered him.
He spent a few minutes packing for his trip, having made his flight reservations the previous night after he’d spoken to his parents. He planned to take his small duffel bag with him to work and leave for the airport from there.
That chore completed, he found himself with about an hour to kill before Maggie might reasonably be ready. An idea formed in his head, and the more he thought about it, the more h
e liked it. After all, she watched him work on a regular basis. It would be interesting to watch Maggie work. He dressed quickly and headed out.
Bobby easily found the right courtroom but couldn’t enter since court was in session, so he stood leaning against the wall opposite the wooden double doors. Maybe this was a dumb idea. I probably won’t even be able to get in. At least I’ll be here when she comes out. About a minute later, though, the doors were pushed open and a man walked out of the room. “Judge gave a ten minute recess,” he said to a security guard standing next to the doors.
Bobby took the opportunity to slip into the courtroom. The gallery was about a quarter filled. Some people were dressed professionally, as if they were lawyers or law students. And undoubtedly media, he thought. The rest of the spectators seemed to be lookie-loos, people with nothing better to do and who viewed litigation as entertainment. A small group of people were clustered in the front row on the right side of the room. Family of a victim, maybe.
And there was Maggie. How could he miss her bright red hair in a sea of grey and black? She was speaking quietly to the group immediately behind the prosecution table. Then she turned back and crossed to the end of the table.
From the aisle he let his gaze travel from her long red hair falling loosely around her shoulders, which were bare in a sleeveless pale pink silk blouse. The blouse was tucked into a formfitting ecru lace skirt that ended at her knees. His eyes continued down her shapely calves to her pale pink high heeled sandals.
At just that moment she looked up and saw him. Her eyes widened in surprise as he ducked into a seat on the aisle. “Hi!” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t hear him from halfway down the gallery. She smiled and lightly touched her fingers to her lips.
* * *
Maggie surreptitiously glanced down at her watch for what must have been the fiftieth time. She rolled her eyes when she saw that only two minutes had passed since the last time she’d checked. This is the longest morning in the history of time. Bobby had left his usual good morning message, and when she’d returned it, he’d replied with his plans for meeting her for lunch. He’d be near the courthouse around noon waiting for her to let him know that she was on her lunch break.
She sighed and tried to focus as the defense attorney worked to wrap up his closing statement. Nineteen year old Brenda Margolis had been arrested for strong-arm robbery after she’d allegedly knocked over an elderly woman and snatched her purse.
Maggie had initially been sympathetic to the younger woman, offering a deal in which Margolis would plead guilty and receive a stint in rehab for her heroin habit rather than prison time, an olive branch that the young defendant had defiantly refused, stating that she was never even in the area of the crime.
Madeline Foster, the eighty-three year old victim in this case, had been hospitalized with a broken hip and a skull fracture. Given the severity of Mrs. Foster’s injuries and the repeated stonewalling from the defendant, Maggie was working hard to see that Margolis was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
When the defense finished their closing, the judge granted a ten-minute recess, stating that afterward, the prosecution would present their closing. Maggie was ready to finish up. She hoped there would be a verdict by the end of the day so that tomorrow, the day before the long holiday weekend, she could work from the office.
Maggie felt stiff from sitting all morning and took advantage of the break to stand up and stretch her legs. She spoke briefly and reassuringly to Mrs. Foster’s family, who were seated directly behind the prosecution table. She wondered if she should text Bobby and tell him that she’d probably be finished up in about half an hour. Turning toward the back of the room she saw a familiar figure slip into the gallery and make his way to an empty seat next to the aisle. Bobby grinned at her as he sat down, and she felt the smile spread across her own face. “Hi!” he mouthed to her. She briefly touched her fingers to her lips, turning as the room was called to order again.
The judge turned the proceeding over to her, and for the first time in a long time Maggie felt a twinge of nerves as she approached the jury. She could feel Bobby’s eyes on her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside all thoughts except her closing statement. She knew it by heart. That was the advantage of working for the prosecution. There was no need to spin or exaggerate. The facts were the facts, supported by irrefutable evidence. Margolis had been foolish to turn down the deal. Now she’d go to prison.
Half an hour later, the judge having dismissed court for a ninety minute lunch recess, Maggie gathered the files and documents from the table and slid them into her case as the gallery emptied. She looked up to see Bobby and his lopsided grin on the other side of the bar. “Mighty impressive, counselor. Can I take you to lunch?”
“I would love to go to lunch with you, bayou boy,” she smiled.
* * *
Across a table set with white linens, they made small talk after the server took their orders. Bobby’s smile was in place but there was an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “What’s going on, Bobby?” Maggie asked. “I feel like something’s wrong.”
He sighed heavily. “Deanna called last night.”
“Did she?” Maggie felt gut-punched. She’s sorry and she wants to try again for the sake of our daughter. I’m going back to her. She looked down at her hands and waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Savannah’s sick. She can’t come this weekend.”
Maggie looked up quickly and she released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, feeling simultaneously relieved and alarmed. “That’s terrible,” she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Strep throat. She’ll be alright, she’s on medication and all, but she and my folks won’t be coming. My mom and dad are meeting Deanna in Shreveport, halfway between Dallas and Lafayette.” He glanced at his watch. “They’re probably there about now.” He looked back up at Maggie, his expression grim. “I’ve got to go home to Louisiana. I’m flying out tonight after the show so I can be there when Savannah wakes up tomorrow.”
Maggie blinked, taking in the information. The server approached the table, deftly placing their plates in front of them. “Fresh ground pepper?” he asked, and Maggie mutely shook her head.
“I think we’re good, thanks,” Bobby replied, and the server left them. He turned back to Maggie, blue eyes wide with concern. “Are you upset, cher?”
She shook her head again. “Of course not. Your child is sick. And you haven’t seen her in a while.” She looked up to see a twinge of pain in his eyes. She reached across the table and took his hand. “You have to go. That’s all there is to it. I absolutely understand.” She looked down for a moment. “It’s just...well...” She met his eyes and smiled ruefully. “I sort of got myself all mentally geared up to meet your family, you know. Game face and all that. It’s a bit of a let-down, that’s all.” She grinned. “Well, that and the fact that I won’t see you.”
Bobby gave a relieved smile. “I really wanted them to meet you. But we’ll do it another time. As long as you’re not breaking up with me.” He arched an eyebrow.
“What?” Maggie spluttered. “God, no!”
“Good then,” he laughed. “So I’ll call you from Louisiana?”
“You’d better call me, bayou boy.”
Chapter 7
“Daddy!” Bobby opened his eyes just in time to see a tiny blonde missile launch herself onto the bed.
“Hey there, June bug,” he cooed, wrapping his daughter in his arms. “How are you feeling?”
Jerilyn smiled in at them from the door. “She seems a little better than yesterday.”
“Better, huh?” He sat the little girl across his stomach. “What do suppose we’d have to do to talk Nana into making us some of her famous pancakes?”
She held out her hand to Savannah. “Come on, cher. Let your Daddy get up. We’ll go fix him some pancakes.”
Freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a navy polo, Bobby followed his nose to the giant kit
chen of his parents’ home. With six bedrooms and ten acres backing up to the marshes, Justin and Jerilyn Beaulieu had more than enough room for their five children, their spouses, and currently seven grandchildren.
“Here, Daddy,” Savannah said, indicating a stool beside hers at the breakfast bar.
Jerilyn placed a plate stacked with pancakes in front of Bobby. “Want some coffee?”
“Please,” he replied. It had been after 3:00am when the cab had dropped him off. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was now 7:30. Beside him, Savannah prattled to no one in particular as she nibbled on her pancakes. “Where’s Pop?” Bobby asked.
“He went out fishing early this morning. You look tired, bébé.”
He smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine, maman.” He checked his phone and felt a wave of contentment. Maggie had replied with her morning text.
“Good morning, Bobby. Hope you had a good flight and that Savannah is feeling better. Enjoy your time with your family. I miss you. xx”
Bobby smiled as he typed in a quick note in return. “I arrived safe and sound. Savannah seems better. I’m glad to be here but I miss my ‘tite cher. x”
When he glanced back up, his mother was watching him intently. “Was that your little girl?”
“Her name is Maggie, maman.” He couldn’t help grinning. “And yes, it was.”
Jerilyn shook her head. “Lord have mercy.”
* * *
Maggie smiled as she reread Bobby’s reply. He’d arrived in Louisiana, and Savannah was apparently feeling a little better. That was good news. Maggie wondered if he’d have time to talk later. She supposed that there would be all kinds of family Easter festivities, and she definitely didn’t want to interfere with Bobby’s time with his daughter. Heaving a sigh, she returned to the stacks of files on her desk.
“Hi, Maggie.” She looked up to see Rance leaning against her open doorway.
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