If the Shoe Fits (11 page)

Before she knew it, Suzanne had guided her arms into the sleeves and slipped the jacket up and over her shoulders. The waistcoat fit her like a glove all the way to the waist, where tarnished silver metal clips held it shut before the silhouette flared over her hips.

“It’s very military steampunk,” her friend observed. “And just perfect for your figure. You should wear those navy platforms of yours—the ones with the cool straps. Do you have a bag?”

“Stop, Suz. You’re wearing me out. I want him to like me … not just what I’m wearing.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready. I have a great bag that—”

“I have a purse. Stop.”

Julianne slipped out of the coat and folded it over the corner of the bed before slipping down into the floral chair again. As she unbuttoned the blouse, Suzanne dropped to the bed and grinned at her.

“What else?”

Suzanne Nichols excelled at cutting straight through to the heart of a matter. In the ten years they’d known each other, she always had.

“Will has a date tonight, too.”

“Does he? Good for Willie. Who’s it with?”

She slipped out of the blouse and handed it to Suzanne. “Someone from our church set him up. Alison Something. She’s a teacher.”

“And this bothers you, why?” she asked, folding the blouse and placing it atop the waistcoat.

“It doesn’t,” she replied immediately, but Suzanne’s grimace reflected even Julianne’s own disbelief. “Well, it shouldn’t.” She shrugged and sank deeply into the chair. “But for some odd reason, it does.”

“Maybe you’re afraid he’ll move on and forget you?”

“No,” she snapped. As she thought better of it, she sighed. “Will would never forget me, exactly. But I guess … I don’t know.”

“You guess,” Suzanne finished for her, “he might not make you A-number-one-top-priority anymore? And that makes you feel a little bit abandoned?” Julianne’s eyes locked into her friend’s as Suzanne wrinkled her nose and held up her hand, showing only the slightest bit of room between her index finger and thumb. “Little bit?”

She managed a tired smile of surrender. “Maybe a little. Yeah.”

Suzanne glanced over her shoulder as Gus’s metal cage rattled from the other room and the bird tweeted out a stern objection to his sudden incarceration. Returning to their conversation, Suzanne dropped both hands to her lap and said, “Or else it’s that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The thing where you and Will are made for each other, and you’re both too ignorant to see it.”

“Oh, that thing.”

“Yeah. That one.”

“No. It’s the other thing. The one where I’m afraid of being left in the dust while he rides off into the sunset with Alison the schoolteacher.”

Suzanne nodded.

“That’s actually what they’re doing, you know.”

“What is?”

“They’re going horseback riding at sunset.”

Suzanne contorted her face slightly and moaned. “Really? That’s almost a little too adorable.”

“I know, right?!”

And with that, Gus suddenly winged his way into the bedroom, flew a couple of circles around Julianne’s head, and tweeted out a happy little tune as he landed on her shoulder.

“What is with you and my bird?” Suzanne exclaimed.

Julianne rested her chin on her own shoulder, whistling softly at the parakeet until he ruffled his bluish feathers and pressed his beak against the corner of her lower lip.

“The true boy of my dreams, that’s what you are. Aren’t you, Gus?”

Alison Reece was a knockout, and Will watched her fly past him on Alec’s favorite horse, a Morgan named Hershey because of his very dark brown, shiny coat. Alison’s hair almost matched the color and sheen of Hershey’s coat, in fact, aside from the horse’s ebony mane.

“Come on, slacker!” Alison called out over her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”

Will snapped Christie’s reins, and the mare took off after her. Alison’s melodic laughter wafted head-on into him as he trailed her up the hill, and both animals slowed as they circled the top of the ridge.

“Over there,” Will called out, pointing toward the white-trunked elm tree; the one where he did most of his best thinking.

The last time he’d parked beneath its branches, Will had prayed for God to help him move past his lifelong mindset about Julianne. Minutes later, his iPhone rang and Beth Rudd suggested he call Alison for a date.

Hershey whinnied as his rider stepped down from the saddle and tickled his long snout. “Good boy,” she sang, and the low-hanging sun set the red-gold strands hiding in Alison’s dark hair ablaze. When she smiled at Will, a soft breeze caught her long hair and it danced over her shoulder.

“Are you dismounting?” she asked. “Or are you planning on eating up there in the saddle?”

Will laughed and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, hopping down and leading Christie closer to the tree. “Distracted. It is beautiful.”

He lifted the insulated leather bag from the saddle horn and flung it over his shoulder while Alison grabbed the picnic blanket from atop Hershey. She spread it out and unpacked their meal while Will secured the horses nearby.

When he turned back toward her, she looked like a picture postcard sitting with the orange sun at her back and her long legs crossed at the ankles.

“I love this time of year,” she said as Will sat down across from her. Leaning across the edge of the blanket, she threaded her fingers into a tuft of bright green grass and observed, “It’s like velvet.”

He brushed his open palm over the tips of the grass and nodded. “So Alison, tell me more about yourself. Did you grow up here in Ohio?”

“Kentucky,” she replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Just an hour or so across the river. But I was accepted to UC and came up here to go to college.”

“And now you teach?”

She nodded and smiled. “Third grade at a private school in College Hill. What about you? Beth told me you’re a lawyer. What kind?”

“Until recently, a corporate attorney with a conglomerate housed on two floors of the Carew Tower, Benson & Benhurst.”

“Until recently?” she asked, twisting the lid on a glass bottle of lemonade. “Disbarred, were you?”

Will laughed as he took the bottle she offered him. “I went out on my own.”

“Really! How exciting, Will. All on your own?”

“No, I’m the Hanes part of Hanes & Bartlett.”

“And who is Bartlett? He sounds grumpy.”

Will spouted again with laughter. “Good call. But he’s a she.”

“Ohh,” she said on a giggle as she unwrapped the mile-high turkey subs he’d picked up from the deli around the corner from the house. “Sorry.”

“Julianne Bartlett. We’ve known each other since we were kids, went to law school together. She went to work for the public defender, I accepted an offer from B&B, and then we each started to lose our separate minds over time.”

“And a bouncing baby law firm was born,” she summarized, handing him a plastic fork and a small cardboard bowl of pasta salad. “So how’s it going?”

“Too soon to tell,” he admitted. “We haven’t gotten much further than hiring an admin and setting up shop. Ask me again once the paint’s dry on the office walls.”

Will took a bite of his sandwich and watched Alison as she did the same. Before she’d completely chewed it, she nodded. “Mmm. Good!”

“I’m glad. I was hoping you weren’t going to tell me you’re a vegetarian.”

She chuckled and swallowed the mouthful. “Nope.” Raising one hand to shield her words from the horses, she whispered, “Completely carnivorous. But don’t tell them.”

“I promise.”

“So you go to church with Beth and Jimmy,” she said.

“Yeah.” He nodded, wiping his mouth with a folded napkin. “Jimmy and I serve on the deacon board together. Are you a churchgoer?”

“I am,” she replied, her dark eyes sparkling. “I attend Gracepointe Christian.”

“By Northgate.”

“Yes. I don’t live too far from there.”

The conversation flourished in easy ebbs and flows. Alison told Will about some of her students and regaled him with tales of recent home ownership, and he explained how he’d sold his house to move in with his dad after the Parkinson’s diagnosis. They moved on to talk of college days, skipped over a few childhood dreams, and landed on Alison’s years of equestrian competitions.

“Your Palomino actually reminds me a little of the quarter horse I learned to ride on,” she told him, and Christie whinnied, seeming to follow along. “I was only six when I mounted Nilla Wafer for the first time—”

“Nilla Wafer,” he teased. “Name him yourself?”

“Her,” she corrected. “And yes, I did. Nill and I fell almost instantly in love, and it was the start of a lifelong passion for me.”

“I can see that,” he observed. “You have horse rapport.”

“Is that the technical term for it?” she asked him, and one corner of her full reddish lips quivered with amusement. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Very technical. And you, Alison Reece, have got it. Horse rapport.”

It wasn’t until much later, as they sat beside each other watching the sun sink into the horizon in silence, that Will realized he hadn’t thought of Julianne’s date with the ditch digger even once.

Clad all in black
, the musician with the oiled ponytail and dazzling, deep-set eyes masterfully set an exotic Spanish mood as his hands moved in a blur over the sound hole of his acoustic guitar.

“I’ve heard this guy play before,” Paul said as he leaned toward the center of the wobbly wooden table that separated him from Julianne. “He’s rather a genius. I only wish I could do that.”

“Do you play?” she asked him.

Paul’s steely blue-green eyes actually twinkled as he grinned at her. “Not like that.”

Julianne nestled comfortably into the padded bench seat, cupping her glass with both hands as she watched him. Not the musician, but Paul.

Threads of gold ran through his wavy light chestnut hair, and the perfectly sculpted lines of his face made her momentarily imagine him as a superhero in disguise. All he needed was a pair of Clark Kent’s signature glasses. His black sweater had a silver zipper up the front, and Paul had it closed all the way to the base of the small turtleneck. It wasn’t too tight, but tight enough to see that he had a few muscles on him. His broad shoulders set the frame for his athletic torso and arms and, despite all of that physical perfection, Julianne spied a soft kindness in his eyes.

“Is this one of your regular haunts?” she asked him, and he peeled his gaze away from the musician.

“I like to come here on weeknights sometimes to listen to the music when it’s not too crowded. They’ve had some amazing performers. I’m not much of a drinker or a party guy anymore. I mean, those days are behind me now that I’m getting older, you know?”

Julianne nodded happily. “I’ve never been a
party girl
… unless you count Friday night dance parties in the basement with my girlfriends. I was raised in the church, so clubbing and the like seems kind of foreign to me.”

“What do you mean, raised in the church?” he asked. “Were your parents pastors or something?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just mean we lived sort of … biblical lives. What about you?” she asked with hope. “Do you go to church?”

Paul chuckled and shook his head. “No.” Looking around the back room, he pointed out, “It’s jam-packed tonight. I don’t usually come on the weekends so I can avoid all this.”

“You made an exception for me,” she surmised, swallowing her disappointment. “I appreciate it. Now that you’ve shown me a little about your world, maybe I can show you more of mine. I’ve been attending a really interesting Bible study on—”

“Are you good?” Paul interrupted, gulping back the last of his tea and setting the glass on the table. Tapping the rim with his finger, he nodded toward her glass of diet Coke and asked, “Or would you like another?”

“No. I’m good.”

He paused for a long and somewhat frozen moment before scuffing his chair closer to the table and leaning toward her.

“So … why did you want to get together with me, Julianne?”

Astonished at the directness of his question, she looked into his eyes for an instant before replying. “You seemed like someone I wanted to get to know.”