Chapter Twenty-Three

For the next two weeks, Charles was kept running with no room to slow down and breathe. He ended up having to fly back to New York to rework the same trust he’d just spent months setting up all because his eighty-three-years-young client had married his fourth wife. That his new bride was only twenty-seven had set off alarm bells throughout the man’s family, and thanks to pressure from them, the old man had gotten up in arms over his estate.

So back to New York Charles went, spending days on end cloistered away with his now bitterly angry client. It had taken every bit of the levelheaded patience Charles had to keep from strangling his client’s heirs.

By the time he made it back to Savannah some ten days later, so much other business had piled up he ended up working from daylight to dark to catch up. He got into the office before dawn most days, and he didn’t leave until well after nightfall.

His mother had tried several times to get in to see him—no doubt to lecture him until his ears bled about having skipped brunch with Evelyn—but he’d not had time to do more than check on her well-being. As long as she was all right—and she was—he would stay busy for the foreseeable future. Maybe it was cowardly, but he hoped she’d give up out of pure frustration.

Then there was Kathy. Before he knew it, nearly two weeks had passed since he’d last seen or spoken to her, and guilt and longing were eating him alive. He’d sent her a quick note thanking her for the cake before he left for New York and a couple of postcards with funny little snippets to let her know he was thinking of her while he was there. He’d have loved nothing more than to reach out to her in a more meaningful way, but fate worked against him at every turn it seemed.

He thought of her a lot, during almost every minute that wasn’t taken up by work and some time that was. She’d sneak into his mind when he least expected it—a flash of her smile or her droll responses to his outrageous teasing. He hadn’t heard anything back from her though, and that lack of response had dented his ego pretty hard, he reluctantly admitted to himself.

As he sat in his office late Friday afternoon, tired to his bones, he sighed. He laid his glasses on his desk and rubbed his gritty eyes. He had at least three more hours’ worth of files to go through, and he didn’t think he had it in him to look at a single paper more.

A tap sounded on the door. “Why don’t you go home, call it quits for the weekend?” Herman came in and took a seat across the desk from Charles. “You’re running on fumes, Kelly, and you’re going to burn out if you keep this up.”

“I’m already there,” Charles admitted. He studied the stacks of papers. “How in the world did I get this far behind?”

“Life. It happens. From what Sally’s told me, you’re almost caught up, enough that you can afford to breathe now.” Herman pulled a silver case out of his pocket and took out a cigarette, but he didn’t light it. “How are things with Kathy?”

Charles snorted. “What things? I’ve not had time to do more than dash off a note to her here and there. Not that she’s responded. She probably thinks I’ve blown her off.”

“I don’t think so. And Kathy might not have responded, but her sister did. Brought this in a little while ago while you were in a meeting.” Herman took a small envelope from his pocket and handed it across the desk.

“What? Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?” Snapping to attention, Charles put his glasses back on and opened the letter then scanned the note quickly.

 

Charles,

I have it on good authority that there might be a certain unattached lady at a little jazz club this evening, someone who is reluctantly accompanying her sister and brother-in-law out for a night on the town. If you find this information useful—and I hope you do—you know what to do with it.

Regards,

Sarah Campbell

P.S. There’s no pressure on you either way. I just hoped you might find this interesting.

 

The address of the club, along with a time, was written below the postscript. He glanced at his watch. It was just before five o’clock now, and if he hurried home, he had time to get cleaned up and make it to the club.

“Good news?” Herman asked.

Charles stood and reached for his jacket then shrugged into it. “I think so. I’m being set up on a blind date of sorts.” He grinned. “I don’t feel so guilty about cutting out of here now.”

Herman laughed as he followed Charles to the door. “Good for you. And you shouldn’t feel guilty. You work too hard. Go have some fun.”

Sarah’s note had energized him more than a double shot of espresso would have, and with something more to look forward to than sterile pages and an empty house, Charles found the night suddenly felt a whole lot brighter.

“I’m still not sure about this,” Owen said. “Are you sure she won’t be angry about you having invited him? You know how much she’s worried the last couple of weeks.”

Sarah sent her husband a level look as she moved his hands out of the way so she could straighten his collar. They were getting ready to leave, and he’d had to change after an unfortunate accident involving John, Ben, a baby bottle, and a jar of mustard. “I’m fairly sure she’ll thank me. Eventually. If he shows up. I really thought we’d see him before now. It worries me that we haven’t.” She smoothed the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders, admiring their breadth and strength.

“You said his partner told you he’d been extraordinarily busy, right?”

Sarah nodded. “He did. He also jumped on board with the plan as soon as I explained it.”

Owen pulled her close for a kiss. “I hope it works. Charles seemed like a nice guy, and you can tell she likes him. They tease each other, and he makes her laugh. She needs someone who can make her laugh.”

Sarah sagged against him for a moment. “I love you to the tips of my toes, Owen Campbell. Did you know that? I’m so glad you’re in my life. So grateful you’re the kind of man you are.”

He ran his hands over her backside possessively. “I think you’ve mentioned that a time or two, yes. I love you too.” After another kiss that was much too short, he pulled back and held out his hand. “Let’s see if we can get out the door this time.”

As they joined Kathy and Eliza in the living room of the cottage they’d rented for the trip, Sarah gave his hand an extra squeeze. Owen didn’t like to socialize much outside of visiting family, usually only when they were on vacation or if they had to go out of town for some reason, but he understood that she needed to get out on occasion. He went out of his way to indulge her on these trips, making the outings all the more precious. It was a balance they’d learned to strike early on in their relationship, and that he made the effort at all made her love him that much more.

I just hope Kathy can find that kind of love, Sarah thought as they got their sweaters. Maybe it made her an optimist or a romantic, but she firmly believed her sister deserved a fair shot at happily ever after, and if there was anything she could do to help Kathy achieve that goal, by God, she’d try it. She smiled as Owen held the door to the backseat open for Kathy. After much cajoling, Sarah’d managed to convince her to join them at the jazz club she and Owen liked to visit when they came to town, and she hoped that endeavor would pay off in more ways than one.

“Ball’s in your court, Charles Kelly. Let’s hope you know how to shoot.”