Next Year I'll be Perfect

by Laura Kilmartin

  Which, of course, was the only reason she had accosted me at all.

  “And just who do we have here?” She asked, pointing a perfectly manicured nail at Morgan.

  I supposed I was expected to make introductions at her prompt, but where Cory Latham was concerned, social graces were just not something I cared about. I'd already been a player in her games and lost.

  After waiting a moment for me to say something – anything – Morgan finally stuck out his hand in reply and introduced himself. I pretended to ignore the confused look he gave me.

  “Oh, you're the fresh meat that Frank Murphy hired, huh?”

  I did bite my lip to hold in the chuckle at that choice of terminology and the glare that ghosted across Morgan's face, transmitting his distinct displeasure. “Frank hired me, yes. I don't know quite what you mean by ‘fresh meat’.”

  “Oh, you know.” The young woman responded, clueless to her new acquaintance's change in mood. “Frank has a reputation for hiring inexperienced law students and working them to death. Right, Sarah? You should know.”

  I wanted nothing more than to be able to jump to Frank's defense, but unfortunately Cory's characterization wasn't entirely untrue. Frank did like to hire interns right out of law school. He worked them hard, and therefore most did not stay with him for long, but he also gave them amazing opportunities that they would never have in a larger firm. Not wanting to engage Cory in any way, I just shrugged and became incredibly interested in gnawing at the cuticle on my right thumbnail.

  Morgan gave me a pointed glance, again waiting for me to properly introduce the annoying redhead.

  Wasn't going to happen.

  “I don't believe I know your name.” He was finally forced to say.

  “Oh, sorry. I'm Cory Latham, a secretary in the District Attorney's office. I work with Livvie DiMarco, and I've heard all about you.” The last sentence was said with what could only be called a come-hither glance.

  I took a look around the clerk's office, calculating the number of bailiffs and deputies in view and decided Frank was right. A murder – this time I was contemplating Cory's untimely demise – should wait until I was in a room with a slightly less visible show of law enforcement.

  “Oh, I remember Livvie. I met her at your diner a few months ago, right?” Morgan turned, desperately trying to engage me in the conversation. He looked a bit like cornered prey, and he wasn't far off the mark.

  By the time Cory commented, “Oh, I haven't been to the diner in ages!” I decided it was time to come to Morgan's aid.

  “If I remember correctly, Uncle Jeremy told you that you weren't welcome at the diner, which would be why you haven't been there in ages. Well, we really must be going.” I pulled at the arm of Morgan's coat and yanked him out of the danger zone. “Bye, Cory.”

  Cory glared at me for ratting out her forced expulsion from the diner but flashed all of her pearly whites as she said goodbye to my companion. “It was awfully nice meeting you, Morgan. Any time you want a tour of the DA's office, you just give me a call!”

  We bolted for the clerk's office, and it wasn't until we were safely behind closed doors that Morgan turned and asked, “What in the world was that?”

  “That was Cory Latham,” I replied. “She works for Livvie in the DA's office and is just the laziest, most inappropriate, mildly crazy, indiscrete, gossipy wench that you will ever meet.”

  Morgan nodded, apparently agreeing with my characterization despite only a brief encounter. “Why doesn't Livvie fire her?”

  “She can't. The state office of Human Resources hired Cory, and unless she does something outrageous, it's impossible to get rid of her.”

  If only Morgan knew how hard Livvie had tried.

  “You seem to get along well.” He smiled at his own joke.

  “We share a bit of history,” I admitted. I wasn't sure how much of my history with Cory I was willing to share with Morgan. He and I had definitely made some progress, but I didn't know if I fully trusted him yet, and some things should stay buried.

  “That was pretty obvious.” His lips quirked in a smile. “I was a little jealous for a moment there. I mean, I thought you reserved that kind of intense nastiness just for me.”

  I stopped short and turned to face him, glaring. “Morgan Donovan. Did you just make a joke at my expense?”

  He looked a bit nervous, but nodded his head. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  “Well good for you.” I smiled and continued toward the clerk's office to again stand in line. “I probably deserved that.”

  Morgan grinned, pleased at my reaction. “So, are you going to tell me about your history with Cory? Or why your uncle banned her from his diner?”

  “Not today.” I worried my lip between my teeth for a moment. “Probably not never, but not today. Okay?”

  Morgan gave me a reassuring smile. “Sure. I was just looking for some tangible reason to dislike her.”

  “Listen, not for anything, but you might want to watch out for Cory.”

  “Don't worry,” he assured me. “She's not my type. She's a little too predatory for my taste. Besides, I like my women a little smarter, with a little bit of an edge. You know, women like you.”

  Women like me?

  Women like me or women like me?

  My face flushed a bit as I tried to decipher the inflection in Morgan's tone while he cleared his throat and looked away quickly, apparently as surprised at his words as I was.

  “Hey,” he said at a volume probably louder than intended, an obvious attempt to quickly change the subject. “Weren't you about to start my lessons for being a good co-worker before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  Thankful and more than willing to go along with the the abrupt change in direction, I smiled and responded, “Yes, I was. Lesson one. If you find an error in my work or think I should make a change, bring it to my attention first.”

  “Done. Next?”

  This might actually be kind of fun. We shuffled closer to the clerk's desk. “Lesson two. Hard as it is to believe, I really am a decent person. If you ever end up working at a bigger firm, make sure you document any instructions you get from your boss or co-workers. Never underestimate the importance of CYA.”

  “CYA?” Morgan tilted his head to the side. “What's that?”

  “You've never heard of covering your ass?” I linked my arm through his and led him up to the clerk's desk, unable to hide my amusement. “Morgan, I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  February

  “NOT THOSE.” I INSTRUCTED DAVID as he pulled the most expensive lasagna noodles off the grocery store shelf and put them into our cart. “Get the store brand.”

  My friend rolled his eyes and instead continued to walk down the aisle plucking various canned ingredients from the shelves, expecting I would just follow behind.

  Which I did.

  “I'm not getting the store brand, Bennett.” He called back over his shoulder. “They taste like cardboard. If money's the issue, I'll pay the difference.”

  From my vantage point, I couldn't see David's cocky grin, but knew all the same it was there. All David had to do to win an argument was take a shot at my pride. “You're not paying the difference, Thornton. If you're going to be a baby about it, I'll make your father's birthday lasagna with the noodles you like.”

  “…but the store brand would have been perfectly fine.” I muttered under my breath as David's attention turned to Livvie, who had rounded the corner with a loaf of bread in each hand.

  “French or Italian?”

  “French.” “Italian.” David and I spoke together in one breath. Livvie stood by silently waiting for a final ruling while David and I conducted an unspoken conversation. Sighing, I nodded, again acquiescing to my friend's wishes.

  “French!” He joyfully reported to Livvie.

  “French bread with lasagna?” I whined, punching David lightly on the arm. “You've got no couth, Thornton.”

 
; Ignoring the children's antics, Livvie peered into the cart at the ingredients we had gathered while she was in search of bread. “Man, Sarah, this is going to be one fantastic dinner. I'm glad you're not on a diet anymore.”

  “I haven't given up on my diet.” I was taken aback by my friend's assumption. “This is just a special occasion because all three of my favorite men are home at the same time for Jeremy's birthday.”

  Feeling insulted and needing to defend myself, I proudly reported that I had even lost seven pounds during the month of January. Amid the sincere congratulations of my friends, I somehow failed to mention that I'd actually gained six pounds between Christmas and New Year, so really I had only netted a loss of one pound.

  Hey, seven pounds was seven pounds, right?

  “So who is coming to the big birthday shindig?” Livvie asked as we continued through the store. “I ask, because I haven't been officially invited yet. I'm only assuming I'm on the list because it would be pretty crappy of you to have me help shop for dinner I'm not allowed to eat.”

  I laughed at Livvie's backward request for an official invitation. I forgot sometimes that for all her bravado, Livvie wasn't at all the rabid pit bull she projected.

  Also realizing Livvie's presence had been only assumed and not actually requested, David bent on one knee in front of the fresh kale. “Ms. DiMarco, would you please accompany me to my father's birthday dinner tomorrow night?”

  Livvie put out her hand and adopted the accent and coquettish manner of a southern belle as she answered, “Why Mr. Thornton. This is just so sudden. I simply don't know what to say.”

  “Eddie is making cheesecake.”

  In an instant, Scarlett O'Hara left the building. “Oh yeah. I am totally there!”

  “Who else is coming?” David turned, knowing that I would be on top of most of the details.

  “Jeremy invited about a dozen of his cronies from the force and a few of the diner regulars. I thought I'd invite Frank, too.”

  I avoided Livvie's loud huff at the mention of my boss.

  “Have you invited Gloria?” David asked.

  “I wasn't planning on it. Do you think I should?”

  His lips quirked in a knowing smile. “I have a feeling Dad already has. Since they're dating each other and all…”

  “No way!” Livvie and I pounced for details. “He hinted a few months ago that he was seeing someone. Are you sure it's Gloria?”

  “Yup.”

  “How do you know?”

  David straightened his shoulders and buffed his fingers against the collar of his jacket. “Because I am clever, cunning and have keen deductive skills.”

  We waited a beat for the punch line.

  “Yeah, okay.” David slouched into a more natural, relaxed pose. “I caught an earlier flight home yesterday than Dad expected and walked in on them having dinner.”

  “Good for them,” Livvie replied.

  We strolled through the frozen foods for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts of considering this seemingly unlikely match when Livvie asked, “Since it looks like the rest of your office is coming, should you invite Morgan? Now that you're getting along it would be too bad to piss him off.”

  David jumped in before I could answer. “No. This guy has never met my father. We're not going to just invite him to a family party.”

  While surprised by David's vehement response, I agreed. “No. I don't think it would be appropriate.”

  Livvie just clicked her tongue at the both of us and kept walking.

  “Since you mentioned Morgan, did I tell you that he and I ran into Cory at the courthouse a few weeks ago?” I asked, pushing the cart lightly into the back of David's thighs to stop his dawdling and prod him down the aisle.

  David winced at the name. “I take it you behaved yourself? My father didn't call and ask me to wire bail money, so I assume you did.”

  “I was the picture of charm and grace,” I replied, ignoring the chuckles of my friends. “Okay, let's just say I didn't kill her.”

  David turned to Livvie. “Tell me something. With all of that hot Italian blood of yours, how do you work with her day in and day out knowing what she did to Sarah?”

  “It isn't easy.” We turned into the wine aisle where Livvie immediately zeroed in on her favorite brand of Chianti. She selected two oversize bottles from the shelf, then thinking better of it, went back for a third. “Most of the time I try to ignore her. When I can't do that, I make a game out of insulting her in ways that go over her dumb, pretty little head.”

  “That can't be hard,” I commented.

  “Nope. Not hard at all.” Livvie gave her most wicked grin and I was reminded anew that people who counted Olivia DiMarco as a friend were very lucky.

  Those who counted her as an enemy were pretty much screwed.

  Without a list and with barely a word exchanged, we continued to walk through the store silently, a well-oiled, three-armed machine. Aside from David's continued and snobbish insistence on the most costly ingredients, there was barely a misstep between us as we landed at the checkout line.

  For some reason I could not explain, my mind kept returning to Cory and our most recent exchange at the courthouse. “Do you know what I really don't understand about Cory?” David and Livvie, both standing slightly in front of me in line shook their heads in the negative. “I think sometimes she honestly wants to be my friend and can't figure out why I won't play nice.”

  “Wanting to be your friend is a lovely idea in theory, but the last time I checked the friendship manual, there was a rule against sleeping with your friend's boyfriend.” Livvie announced, loudly enough that the cashier paused mid-scan and glared at me, probably assuming I was the offender and not the onerous Cory.

  “Well, we did say Cory was dumb,” I said, digging through my purse for my wallet. “I actually feel sorry for the men of Portland.”

  “Speaking of, how are things on the manhunt front?” David asked, casually slipping his debit card to the cashier before I had a chance.

  “Not so great. The drive-thru dating was horrible. I took a brief hiatus, but now I'm back in the saddle and hoping to meet someone at the singles party next Friday night.”

  “Oh yeah. Tell me about that,” David commanded. “How on earth did you talk my father into turning his diner into a whorehouse for the evening?”

  Not even bothering to address the ‘whorehouse’ insult, I replied, “If you remember, Mr. Thornton, the diner is also half mine. At least for the moment. I have every right to use it as I see fit.”

  David pinned me with a knowing look that said there was no way I would do anything at the diner without Jeremy's approval and he was well aware of that fact. Having another person know your every thought could be a bit disconcerting at times. Oddly comforting, but disconcerting.

  “Okay, fine,” I explained as we walked out of the store and began loading the groceries into the back of the Jeep David rented for the trip from the airport. “I talked Uncle Jeremy into letting us throw a singles party at the diner the Saturday after Valentine's Day. It was Livvie's idea.”

  “Nice. Pin it on me, why don't you?” Livvie complained with no heat. Turning to David, she explained, “I did talk Sarah into it and I think it's a great idea. We put up posters all over town. A few trays of munchies, soda, coffee. No overhead and no cover charge. The only rule is that each woman who attends must bring at least one single man.

  “Who are you bringing, Livvie?”

  My friend had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Donnie.”

  David stopped loading and just stared. “You're bringing your ex-husband to a singles party? You two really do have a very odd relationship.”

  Livvie shrugged. “I needed a single guy. What do you want?”

  David turned my way, “How about you, Bennett? Who is your single male ticket to this party?”

  “Morgan saw me hanging up posters and volunteered to be my single man. Of course, that was before I knew you'd be in
town for your dad's birthday.” I smiled suggestively and let the unasked question hang in the air.

  “No.” David slammed the trunk shut. “No way.”

  “Why not?” I whined

  Ignoring my lament, he deflected attention. “How about my brother? He's in town, too. Why didn't you ask him instead?”

  “No thanks,” I shook my head. “He already has enough single, attractive men on his team. The last thing I need is for Eddie to infiltrate our ranks and actively try and recruit new members.”

  David laughed – one of his rare, deep laughs. “I'm sure he'd be flattered by the faith you have in his powers of persuasion.”

  We hopped in the car and rode in amicable silence for a few blocks until David mused, “You know, a room full of single girls might be interesting.”

  “Those single girls live in Portland, Thornton. Have you forgotten that you live in New York? What would be the point of meeting someone here?”

  David grinned, “I know you find this hard to believe, DiMarco, but there are jobs available in New York. Perhaps with my dazzling smile and charming personality I could convince someone to relocate for me.”

  I considered this possibility and poked my friend in the shoulder. “A peek at your fat bank book probably wouldn't hurt.”

  “Thanks, Sarah. That's very flattering.” My friend took a left at the light and continued on toward the diner. “Or…I suppose I would consider moving back to Portland if I met the right girl.”

  I was shocked. David never mentioned such a possibility. “You would? I thought you loved New York.”

  “I do. I just like to keep my options open.”

  I knew David sensed my shock when he grabbed my hand as it lay loosely in my lap. “Don't look so freaked, Sarah. I'm just kidding. Don't worry. I won't crash your little party.”

  I smiled and squeezed his hand back, but couldn't respond, knowing my friend and I were not on the same page. It wasn't the idea of David crashing a singles mixer that bothered me, but instead his casual suggestion that he would consider moving back to the Portland on account of a woman.