If the Shoe Fits (19 page)

“Yeah, it tends to get awkward when you run into the guy you—” She stopped herself just in time. “Sorry.” After a long pause, she grinned at him. “You know what would make you forget all about Holly?”

“Finishing this article about Quick Response codes that … Never mind. What would make me forget?”

“Taking me to the legal aid benefit tonight.”

Will groaned.

“Oh, come on, Will. I have the tickets already. You don’t want me to go alone, do you?”

“Don’t I?”

“No. You don’t.” When he seemed unconvinced, she added, “It’s at the Radisson. I’ll bet there will be shrimp. You love their shrimp.”

After a long moment’s thought, Will asked, “Can I have yours too?”

“Legal Aid has
developed many programs that help people within the Southwestern Ohio region to resolve critical problems. Specifically, they make every effort to contribute to the solution of community issues, such as the health and well-being of children, secure housing, resources for low-income job seekers, and our greatest effort—providing legal services to those in need.”

It wasn’t that the cause was anything less than worthy, but Will had been to so many of these things over the years that the speeches had all begun to run together. He tapped Julianne’s wrist with the handle of his fork, and she in turn passed him the crystal bowl of chilled shrimp sitting in front of her.

“Careful,” she whispered. “Eat too many of those and you’ll ruin your appetite for the rubber chicken.”

“Hey. I’m here for the shrimp. You think that guy across the table is going to eat his?”

She shot him a disapproving glance before she shrugged and asked, “Can I have your roll?”

While the speaker explained the semantics of the art exhibition and silent auction, Will paused to exchange pleasantries with a couple of familiar faces and to thank the server who poured iced tea into his glass, but he’d finished off Julianne’s shrimp by the time the entrees were delivered beneath shiny silver domes.

“Score!” Julianne exclaimed when the waiter removed the dome from her plate. “It’s not rubber chicken after all.”

Fragrant salmon fillets, garlic mashed potatoes, baby carrots, and broccoli florets.

Score, indeed
.

Julianne looked lovely with her honey-gold hair twisted into sections and pinned at the back of her head with jewel-toned rhinestone clips. Her deep purple dress brought out the indigo of her eyes, and she’d shown off her strappy black shoes no less than three times since he’d picked her up.

“They really are pretty, aren’t they?” she asked him at the door, in the car, and again in the elevator on their way to dinner.

Will could take or leave the shoes, truth be told, but Julianne … now she defined “pretty.”

He looked on as she continued to charm the elderly gentleman seated on the other side of her, and every time she giggled at one of his remarks, Will felt the rumble of it deep within him, like the echo of a beautiful song sent down into a canyon.

“I was surprised to see you with a brunette,” Holly had said to him on the phone that afternoon. “It gave me a little hope, actually. I felt like maybe you’d finally moved on.”

He swallowed her comment along with a large bite of salmon.

Finally moved on
.

He wished she’d meant moved on from her. But he knew what she meant.

I felt like maybe you’d finally moved on … from Julianne
.

Will glanced over at Julianne as she ribbed her dinner companion with her elbow, and the old guy’s steely eyes sparkled with delight. He saw it, too—that indescribable, indefinable
something
that she had. But then he easily moved back to conversation with his silver-haired wife on the other side of him. Will envied the ease with which he made the transition.

“Where’s your mind?” Julianne asked him, and he blinked back to the current moment.

“Huh?”

“You’re a hundred miles away.”

“Oh. No.”

“Are you thinking about your conversation with Holly?”

He twitched. “Sort of.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay. Let’s play the dessert game then.”

Will chuckled. It was a game that had been born out of dozens of these charitable dinners, derived out of a mixture of boredom and Julianne’s quirky, creative mind.

“Anyone else want to play?” she asked the other six people at their large round table. “It’s called The Dessert Game. If you already know what they’re serving, then you can’t play. But everyone puts at least twenty dollars into the centerpiece. We go clockwise around the table, and everyone guesses what they think will be served. The trick is … you can’t repeat what someone else has already guessed. And the winner gets to collect the money and donate it to the cause in their name, or the name of their firm. Who’s in?”

Further proof of her adorability, Will noted, every person at the table tossed money at the centerpiece.

“Will goes first,” she declared.

“Cheesecake,” he called out. These functions almost always had cheesecake.

They went around the table. Everything from berry cobbler to Dutch apple pie to chocolate mousse found its way into the entries. Being last, all of the usual suspects had been submitted, so Julianne settled on an unlikely delicacy. “Bread pudding with warm honey-vanilla sauce.”

Some of their companions pretended to swoon while the others laughed out loud.

“If we all sneak out now, we might find a place that serves it,” the elder to Julianne’s right suggested.

“Ooh, here come the waiters with dessert!” the woman with the flaming red hair seated directly across from him exclaimed.

They all craned their necks, and Will thought the waiter must have thought them to be the biggest collection of eager sweet-toothed philanthropists in Hamilton County.

“What is it?” someone asked.

“Key lime pie,” the waiter replied.

“Key lime pie!” Julianne blurted through laughter. “No one guessed that! This is the first time we’ve played this game where no one has guessed the dessert!”

“Let’s just donate the money anyway, in the name of Table Thirty-Six,” Julianne’s new friend declared, and they all agreed.

“What a fun game,” the woman next to Will sang to him. “I think we want to sit with you two at every one of these shindigs.”

“She’s the fun one,” Will told her with a grin. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“How long have you two been married?” she asked, and Will froze for an instant.

“We’re not married. We’re partners in the same law firm.”

“Oh!” she said with a chuckle. “I could have sworn you were an old married couple.” Leaning around him, the woman caught Julianne’s attention and told her, “I thought you two were married!”

A strange flash in her eye struck Will with a pinch as she replied, “No. Will dodged that bullet a long time ago.”

“Well, if you’re both single, I’d suggest you connect immediately,” she teased. “You were made for each other.”

They finished dessert and coffee, and a small group from the table strolled around the art exhibit together. When they had circled the room, Julianne looped her arm through Will’s and smiled.

“I’m tired. And my feet hurt.”

“So much for your really cute shoes,” he remarked. “Can you still take them back?”

“Why would I do that when they’re so pretty?”

He should have learned that lesson long ago, but he continually fell into the trap. In the same way that paper always covered rock, cute shoes trumped pain every time, he reminded himself.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked her.

“More than.”

They said their goodbyes to a few of their new friends, and the old man who’d been seated next to Julianne gave her an enthusiastic hug.

“You’re sheer delight,” he cackled. He nodded at Will as an afterthought. “Both of you.”

On the drive home, Julianne rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. Will wasn’t sure if she’d actually fallen asleep until he pulled up in front of her small Greenhills building and shut off the engine. Her breathing was deep and unencumbered, and her shoulders rose slightly and fell again with each breath she took. He hadn’t noticed when she’d removed her shoes, but there they sat, overturned in her lap.

“Jules,” he whispered with no response. He jiggled her arm slightly and repeated, “Jules.”

She stirred a bit, and one corner of her mouth lifted in an unconscious sort of smile. Then she sighed before drifting back to sleep.

“Hey. Jules. C’mon,” he said, shaking her arm until she whimpered. “Wake up, girl. You’re home.”

Her lashes looked longer and thicker under the shadow of night, and her blue eyes fluttered as she struggled to open them.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“You’re home. You have to wake up.”

She glanced around, squinting. “I’m home?”

“Yes. Put your shoes on.”

She lifted one of the shoes and looked at it strangely before poking the spiked heel into her twisted hair and scratching her head with it. “Shoes?” she repeated sleepily.

Will couldn’t help himself, and he let out one unabashed laugh. “Yes. Put them on.”

When she stared straight ahead for several seconds, Will sighed, pushed out of the car, and went around to her side. He pulled open her door and stooped down to a squat as he removed the shoes from her lap and placed them, one at a time, on her smooth feet. With a gentle nudge, he led her out of the car and to a standing position.

“Come on, Sleepyhead. Follow me.”

She did as she was told, no doubt out of blind obedience rather than thoughtful choice. When they reached the front door, she leaned against the wall with her eyes closed while Will fished her keys from the outer pocket of her purse and unlocked the door.

“Don’t stop or pass go,” he instructed as he pressed her purse back into her hands. “Go straight to bed.”

“‘Kay.” She stepped inside, and then she slowly turned around to face him with squinted eyes. “Nice of you … taking me tonight….”

“Sure.”

Her lips tilted into a tired little smile, and she plunked both arms around his neck. Will chuckled as he returned the embrace, but when he tried to pull away, she held him there for a moment longer, the fragrance of her vanilla hair coercing him to sigh and enjoy the moment. And when he thought she had released him, Julianne surprised him by leaning in again and pressing her mouth to his in a warm, sweet kiss.

When they parted, he couldn’t do anything but just stand there, staring at her still-closed eyes, his heart pounding at double-time.

“Night,” she said in a sleepy rasp, and she turned away and headed inside.

“Night,” he managed as he watched her walk away, the door still wide open behind her. “Sweet dreams.”

“Me, too,” she muttered, and she headed directly into her bedroom without looking back.

Will staggered slightly in the doorway as his lips tingled and his thoughts ricocheted all over the place. He quietly closed the door.

Julianne leaned on her elbows and sighed. She could hardly drag out of bed that morning, and several cups of coffee later, she still struggled against weariness. Knowing that Paul was on his way, however, buoyed her alertness somewhat.

“We’re all set for Friday morning?” she asked Phoebe before she even made it into the chair on the other side of the desk.

“All set. And I’ve got your meeting with Veronica Caswell pushed to next week like you asked.”

“Good. Any word from Lacey?”

“She called earlier to say that everything is on track, and it looks like the one consult with Mrs. Blanchard ought to do it.”

“Well, Judge Hillman didn’t lie,” she commented. “It really was quick and easy. That’s a relief.”

Phoebe twisted a lock of her short, dark hair around one finger, her eyes averted to the edge of the desk.

“What is it?” Julianne asked, and the girl glanced up at her as a stain of crimson washed over her cheeks and down her throat. “What’s on your mind?”

“I wanted to tell you … about the other day …”

“Phoebe, I told you, we don’t need to speak about it again. It’s water under the bridge.”

“I appreciate that, but I think you need to know—”