“DID YOU FORGET BETH went to court today?” Kathryn entered the office and dragged the chair sitting in the corner across the desk from Tori.
“What?” Tori looked up from the stack of papers she was supposed to file but had yet to alphabetize. “Oh, my God, I did forget. What happened?”
“Well…”
“Wait. Don’t sit in that chair. The leg is broken.”
Kathryn frowned. “It was fixed, Tori. Day before yesterday. You were here when I replaced the washer and nut, remember?”
“Oh.” She exhaled, feeling foolish. “Right. I forgot. Tell me what happened with Beth.”
“Are you all right?” Kathryn settled into the chair and peered at Tori with concerned eyes.
She smiled. “Of course.”
“You haven’t been yourself all week. Ever since the benefit, in fact. I hope you aren’t still upset with me for singling you out on the program.”
“I was never upset with you for that.” Tori hadn’t been thrilled about being mentioned, but she’d had more troublesome thoughts to worry about since Saturday night…namely Jake.
Kathryn sighed. “I can tell you I’ll never do that again. One of the other two volunteers I listed wasn’t overjoyed with the attention, either. I honestly thought it would be nice to recognize those of you who’d gone above and beyond.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal. Tell me what happened with Beth.”
“That blowhard husband of hers didn’t even bother to show up. Poor Beth was so nervous I thought she was going to either pass out or hyperventilate. Every time the courtroom door opened, she just about flew off her seat.”
“Did he send a lawyer to represent him?”
“Nope. Just didn’t show up, and defaulted. You should have seen Beth. Her back straight as a board, her chin up, she was flying so damn high because he’d actually kowtowed to her.” Kathryn grinned. “It was awesome. Today was one of those days that was worth a hundred bad ones.”
“Damn, I wish I’d been there.” Of course she’d been at work, throwing herself into learning every aspect of the business. She’d absorbed more in one week than she had in the past month. “Hey, what were you doing there? You don’t usually attend hearings.”
Kathryn sighed. “My friend who was handling Beth’s case had a personal emergency. She didn’t want to ask for a postponement because she was pretty sure Clyde wouldn’t show up. I offered to pitch in. I’m still a member of the bar. I just don’t practice.”
“Why did you quit?”
“Simple. I wasn’t happy.”
“But all those years of law school.”
Kathryn shrugged. “It’s not as if I wasted my time. No one can take away what I learned.”
Tori shuddered. “I can’t imagine what your family and friends had to say.”
“Oh, my mother tried heavy-duty guilt to ‘make me see reason.’ My husband, or I should say my ex-husband, went ballistic when I told him I was giving up my practice. He thought I’d gone totally crazy.” She paused, a thoughtful look on her face.
Tori shifted uncomfortably. This was more personal than they usually got. “I hope you don’t think I’m prying.”
“No, I was just thinking about how I’d almost allowed his reaction to sabotage me. I started second-guessing myself, wondering if it was just a phase I was going through, but in the end I wasn’t satisfied. I had to make a decision. So I asked myself: did I want to be happy?
“Good thing I woke up and smelled the coffee. The stupid son of a bitch left me for his prepubescent secretary. The stupid twit could barely spell law.”
Tori laughed.
Kathryn smiled. “I don’t mean to sound bitter. I’m really not. It’s been four years since I quit and not only have I not regretted it for one second, but I couldn’t be happier or more fulfilled with what I’m doing now.”
“It shows.” Tori thought about it for a moment. “Even when all hell breaks loose around here, you never lose it. You stay calm, keep a smile on your face.”
She couldn’t say the same about herself. Sometimes it was an enormous effort to smile at the office. Even after she left each day it took a couple of hours to wind down, shake the doldrums.
“Believe me, I don’t always feel calm inside. And sometimes I could strangle a few people whose names I won’t mention.” Grinning, she got to her feet. “But when all is said and done, I wouldn’t trade my job for anything. I put on a pot of coffee before I came in here. It should be done. Want some?”
“No, thanks. A soon as I leave here, I’m crawling into bed and sleeping like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Good. You look tired. In fact, take off now if you want. The phone hasn’t rung for three hours.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
As soon as Kathryn left, Tori’s gaze went to the phone. Just like it always did when she wasn’t distracted enough to keep from thinking about Jake. Wondering if she should call. Wondering if he ever would call again.
No. Better this way, she knew. Whatever they had was over. Great while it lasted, but over. Finito. No more worrying about hurting his feelings or letting him down easy. Everything was out in the open, and anyway, he was the one who’d walked.
This was good.
Really.
“DON’T FORGET TO LEAVE my truck keys.”
“Why?” Jake had just unloaded the last of the groceries he’d brought to his father.
“Because I’m going to work tomorrow, that’s why. You think I should walk?”
“The doctor said to wait until Monday.”
“I can’t wait. Anyway, I’m fine.”
Jake shook his head and started stowing the frozen things in the freezer. “Monday will come soon enough.”
“I need to see what kind of mess that garden is in. You think I don’t know you haven’t been there, that you’ve been sending that Mexican kid instead.”
Jake’s temper had about reached its limit. He was tired from lack of sleep and with an off-and-on headache that had lasted three days now. “His name is Hector.”
“Not him. I know Hector. Good kid. His cousin isn’t worth a damn, though.” He tossed his cane aside and sank onto the couch. The springs creaked, grating on Jake’s nerves. The house, the furniture, everything was old and worn-out and still his father refused to move.
“Hector has been the one taking care of the Whitfords.” Jake frowned. “Did they complain?”
“Nah, Harrison would never do that. I just know that things aren’t being looked after like they should. You know Mrs. Whitford has a garden walk coming up. Everything has gotta be in tiptop shape.”
“Harrison?” That sounded awfully familiar.
“You know, Mr. Whitford.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’d never heard you refer to him by Harrison.”
“Normally I don’t, except when he and I are alone.”
Jake snorted. Right. Like Harrison Whitford had time for someone like his dad. “When is that?”
He frowned at him. “You’ve been out in the sun too long, boy? He’s my boss, isn’t he?”
They were both grouchy, his dad from being cooped up for so long, and Jake from smarting over Victoria. Not that he spent every waking minute thinking about her. But she never seemed to be far from his thoughts.
The oddest things reminded him of her. Commercials for shampoo, any shampoo, had the damndest ability to carry her vanilla scent to him. So strong that he could swear she was sitting beside him, watching the tube, which he seemed to be doing a lot of this past week.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong, son?”
He finished putting away the canned goods before opening a beer. “You want one?”
“No, I want you to come sit with me.”
“Oh, brother.”
“What? You can’t give your old man a few more minutes of your time?”
Jake sighed and took his beer to the couch. He sat down and put his booted feet up on the coffee table.
His father pushed a mechanics magazine over. “Put your feet on this.”
Jake stared at the badly scarred wood. No shine. Couldn’t even see the grain anymore. He shook his head but did as his father asked.
After a lengthy silence, his dad said, “We used to be able to talk, son. I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”
Jake stretched his neck out from side to side, trying to loosen the tension. “It’s this place. You still working for the Whitfords. You don’t need the money anymore. I don’t get it.”
“I should have known better than to ask for your help with the garden.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t been on your high horse and bugging me about quitting for some time now. This damn back of mine has got you thinking again.”
“Listen to yourself, Pop. The garden. You always refer to it like that, as if it’s the damn be all and end all.”
“That job has been a godsend to me.”
Jake sighed and took a swig of beer. “Here we go again.”
“Now, you listen to me. You’re not some hot-headed kid anymore who used to gripe because someone next door had more toys than you did.”
“I never complained about not having—”
“Figure of speech, son,” he said, holding up a silencing hand. “I only meant you always had a burr up your butt about the Whitfords, and part of that is my fault. I know now that you don’t tell a kid that something is off-limits without a reason and not expect him to feel resentment.
“The truth is, this was a tough neighborhood for you and your sister to grow up in. All these big mansions and fine cars…if it hadn’t been the Whitfords, it would’ve been someone else irritating you.”
Jake thought about that for a moment. He had to admit he’d had more than one scrape with kids at school defending his old beat-up VW bus. He’d been so proud of the way he’d fixed it up and they’d laughed in his face.
“But the thing was, after your mother died, I couldn’t have found a more ideal job. Not only did it provide a home nearby, but you kids could come see me after you got home from school. I’d know you weren’t out carousing. I could give you small jobs in the garden to keep you busy and out of trouble, and manage to keep an eye on you.”
Jake hadn’t considered those perks. “But, Pop, it’s been a long time since sis and I needed baby-sitting. You don’t have to keep this job.”
“That’s the other side of the coin.” He smiled. “I love what I do. I love making plants and flowers grow. It’s not work to me.”
“Fine. We’ll buy you a house with enough yard for a small garden. You can putter all you want.”
“You think I’d trade what I have for some small patch of land that would bore me in three days?”
“That’s the thing, Pop,” Jake said gently, mindful of his father’s pride. “The garden isn’t yours. No matter how much sweat you pour into it, or how many awards the roses win, it’s not yours.”
“You’re wrong. Mrs. Whitford may stand up and accept the applause and ribbons, but that garden is still mine.” Eyes twinkling, he chuckled. “You come by your hardheadedness honestly, son. When I was younger I was just like you. Almost quit a year after I started. I could’ve strangled that damn Marian Whitford.”
“No kidding.” His reply had been casual but his reaction was anything but. Jake had never heard a negative word about the Whitfords leave his father’s mouth.
“The garden had made the cover of one of those magazines she’s so fond of, thanks to me, and all of a sudden she was an expert. She’d come out with her big hat and gloves, not that she ever so much as stuck her little finger in the dirt, and start telling me how to prune and where to plant and how much fertilizer to use.”
Jake couldn’t help laughing. The old man had gotten worked up just thinking about it.
“Made me so damn mad I called Harrison up that night and told him if that blasted woman ever came near me again I’d hand her my shovel and pruning shears and I was outta there.”
Jake shook his head. Hard to imagine his mild-mannered father speaking up like that. “What did he say?”
“He brought over a twelve-year-old bottle of Scotch that night and we drank a good third of it, and then we made a deal. He said she’d never set foot in the garden as long as I was on the grounds. I could plant what I wanted, where I wanted.” His lips curved in a mischievous grin. “Seems she was a real pain in the ass and as long as she was socializing with those garden club people she stayed off his back.”
“Harrison Whitford actually sat here in this house and drank with you.”
“That wasn’t the only time, either. Sometimes he stopped on his way home from work. Still does occasionally. Nice fellow.”
Jake felt as if he’d stepped into a parallel universe. None of what his father had said seemed real. He sat, totally speechless for a few minutes and then asked, “Did you ever tell him about Victoria?”
His father’s gaze narrowed. “What about her?”
“How she’d run away and you picked her up.”
He frowned. “How would you know about that?”
Jake finished off his beer. He shouldn’t have brought her up. The old man didn’t need to know about Jake seeing her.
“Did she tell you about it?” Leaning back against the cushions, he frowned speculatively at Jake. “Had to be her. I never told a soul.”
“Yeah, she told me.”
“When?”
Jake muttered a curse that earned him an annoyed look. “A couple weeks ago.”
“Didn’t know you’d seen her. I believe she just got home from school about two months ago.”
Jake didn’t say anything. He thought about getting another beer, but he had to drive. In fact, it was time he headed back to his apartment.
“Yep, I sure felt bad for that kid.” His father shook his head. “Sure made me feel less guilty about you kids not having a mother. Here she had both and I never saw a little girl more lonely and scared.”
“Victoria? Scared?”
His father eyed him with curiosity. “She didn’t think she fit in. Thought she was adopted and unwanted because she didn’t like to do the things her mother wanted her to do. Like I said, Harrison is a nice enough fellow, but as a father, I don’t think he’s worth a damn. There was no reason for that bright, pretty little girl to think she wasn’t good enough.”
Jake’s gut clenched. His thoughts swirled back to conversations they’d had at the beach. To memories of her as a kid standing at the window, looking lonely and miserable. Was that what Victoria was still trying so desperately to do? Fit in?
“I had to practically drag her back home. She kept begging to stay here. Nearly broke my heart.”
Jake cleared his throat. He had to get out of here. Be by himself for a while. “Well,” he said getting to his feet, “seems she turned out okay.”
“You leaving?”
“Yeah, I have stuff to do.”
“Thanks for the groceries, son. And don’t forget to leave my truck keys.”
Jake sighed, and dug the keys out of his pocket. “On one condition. Hector goes with you tomorrow.”
After a resentful frown, his father’s mouth slowly curved. “Why don’t you go with me?”
No way could he show up there. “I’m gonna be busy.”
“Think about it.”
“See you, Pop.”
He got out the front door and lingered on the front steps for a moment, took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. Tried to shake the feeling he’d been run over by a steamroller.
By the time he’d driven the twenty minutes it took to get to his apartment, his thoughts were in such turmoil it felt as if he’d run a marathon.
He went straight to the refrigerator, got a beer and headed for the couch—almost new, made from fine Italian leather. Most of his furniture was contemporary, expensive. He bought what he liked without regard for trend or price.
His apartment was okay, two bedrooms but small in a moderately nice neighborhood. He’d never once asked Victoria here. Not because he’d thought she’d turn him down, he realized. He’d been afraid she might’ve accepted the invitation.
That steamed him. It was a perfectly nice place. Good enough for him even though he could now afford better. Jeez, why did he have to gauge everything in his life by her standards?
He swung his feet up onto the couch and took a gulp of beer.
Damn good question.