If the Shoe Fits (29 page)

“Oh, come on,” he exclaimed. “You’ve got the pretty ditch digger to take you. Isn’t he one-night-only, nonrefundable?”

“Nice, Will,” she replied softly.

“Sorry. But I can see straight through you, Jules. If I hadn’t mentioned Lacey, this subject never would have come up.”

“You don’t know as much about me as you think you do then.”

“Right. You’re going to ditch the digger so you can go with me.”

“I thought I might,” she said defensively.

“Pardon me if I don’t believe you, huh?”

“Will.”

“I’m due for a deposition out in Northgate,” he said as he pushed off from the desk and rose from his chair. “See you later.”

Will maneuvered over the large yellow dog with the massive plastic cone collar and left, leaving Julianne sitting on the other side of his desk for several minutes after he’d gone. Mentally kicking herself for choosing the perfectly wrong time to utter those seven treacherous—and not simple at all!—words that she’d rehearsed for hours on end, she wrapped the last of her sandwich and wiped some pickle juice from the desk with her wadded napkin. After tossing it all into the trash can, she patted her leg. Charming groaned as he got up and followed her out of Will’s office, across reception, and straight into her office without a word (or a lick) for Phoebe.

“Oh, come on, George. You and I both know you’re grasping at straws here. If Jason didn’t have the last name of Hillman, would you even be offering this kind of deal?”

All the D.A.s in all the city, and this case had to land on the desk of George Flannigan.

“What do you mean?” He sniffed, feigning shocked offense. “That seems to indicate that I would offer an even tougher plea if he wasn’t the grown son of a sitting judge? That doesn’t make sense, Julianne.”

Julianne couldn’t avoid staring at the three locks of hair he had left, combed over his shiny bald head. They gave his skull the look of a crooked road map leading from one overgrown wooded section to another, with large, mouse-like ears holding it all in place.

“You know very well that Judge Hillman would be embarrassed by this getting out, so you’re offering a plea that you think we’ll be desperate enough to grab in exchange for getting this thing taken care of. But are you sure you want to play that game, George? You have a lot of cases that come before His Honor, don’t you? Including that fraud scandal over at the health department? That one’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So I would think you’d be interested in a show of good faith toward Judge Hillman’s only son rather than alienating him this close to trial time.” She leaned back in her chair and lifted one side of her mouth in a crooked, ate-the-canary smile. “And you know, I’m obligated to tell him whether you’ve done your best to show good faith, or whether you’ve used his predicament to advance your own win rate. Which story do you want me to tell Judge Hillman, George?”

Flannigan deflated. “Okay, look, I’ll knock the charge down from indecent exposure to creating a public nuisance.”

“Keep talking,” she said, and she scratched Charming’s head as he pushed it against her knee.

“You bring your dog to work?” he said, his nose wrinkled up as if he’d just gotten a whiff of stale onions.

“Couldn’t do that at the public defender’s office, could I?” she commented.

“And what’s wrong with him? He looks pathetic, like he’s been through the war, Bartlett.”

“He’s recovering from surgery after an accident. All right, so the nuisance charge is a third-degree misdemeanor. Let’s say no jail time.”

“But a fine,” he clarified, and Julianne shrugged one shoulder. “Five hundred dollars, and twenty hours community service.”

“Let’s say three hundred, and twenty hours.”

Flannigan groaned as he tossed himself back in the chair. “Fine. It’s done.”

“And one more thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes to convey the seriousness of what would follow. “You are going to do everything humanly possible to keep this out of the news. No sound bites, no legal comment, no reporting back to all of your colleagues. No nothing, George. That’s a nonnegotiable. I don’t think either one of us wants to embarrass Judge Hillman with this through a rumor mill or, worse yet, a front-page story on CincyBiz.com.”

“Someone should talk to his son then,” he cracked. “By the way, nice picture of you on there recently.”

Julianne bit back her reaction. Instead, she simply smiled and asked, “Are we agreed?”

“Yes,” he conceded with a sigh. “Fine. We’re agreed.”

“Paperwork by end of business tomorrow?”

“Fine.”

Julianne stood up and offered him a handshake across the desk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, George.”

He sneered at her as he shook it briefly.

“So will I see you this weekend at the Bar Association gala?” she asked him.

“Naturally. The D.A.’s office has three tables.” His sour face puckered up as he added, “Congratulations on your nomination, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“I suppose you’ll be on Hanes’s arm.”

Julianne disguised her own sour face as she replied, “No, actually. Will and I both have dates.”

Flannigan let out a laugh that sounded like something from the horn section of the Cincinnati Symphony. “No kidding! Won’t that be the talk of the town.”

“I would hope our legal community has more to talk about than who I’m dating.” Although she knew better.

“C’mon, Julianne. This is big local news. Even you must know it.”

Yes. Even I know it. Why do you think I’m investing five hundred dollars?

“Have a good day, George. Thanks for coming over. I’ll let Judge Hillman know how agreeable you’ve been, and how much you wanted to work with us to keep his name out of the gossip mill.”

The moment she heard the outer door close, Julianne dialed Bridget Ferguson.

“It’s Julianne Bartlett. Is Judge Hillman available?”

“He’s waiting for your call. Can you hang on until he finishes up? It shouldn’t be more than five minutes.”

“Sure.”

The hold music over at the courthouse left a lot to be desired. Julianne pressed the speaker button on the phone base and replaced the handset. She snapped her fingers to call Charming back over to her, and she raked through the fur at the base of his ear as an elevator version of
My Cherie Amour
vibrated through the speakerphone.

“My Char-ar-ming amour,” she sang along, “pretty little dog that I adore, you’re the only dog my heart be—”

“Ms. Bartlett.”

She snatched up the handset. “Judge Hillman, thank you for taking my call so quickly.”

“You’ve got news for me then?”

“Yes, sir. The charges will be bumped down to creating a public nuisance with a three-hundred-dollar fine and twenty hours community service.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, sir. You like?”

“I do indeed. Thank you, Ms. Bartlett.”

“You’re very welcome, Your Honor. I’m flattered that you brought your son’s case to me, out of all of the lawyers you could have called. And happy I could do something to help.”

“I owe you, young lady.”

“Not that I could actually collect,” she said, mimicking his words from the last time he’d expressed his gratitude.

“Correct.”

“Because that would be wrong.”

The judge laughed softly. “Also correct. And Mr. Flannigan’s discretion?”

“I have his word, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you this weekend, Ms. Bartlett.”

“You’re attending the gala, Judge?”

“I’m the master of ceremonies for the awards portion of the evening.”

“I didn’t know,” she replied. “I’ll see you there then.”

“Uh … Julianne?”

Julianne
. It was the first time he’d ever used her first name.

“Sir?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Judge Hillman.”

“Where did you go?
… Julianne, where did she go?”

Julianne rushed across her mother’s expansive kitchen with a miniature ice cream scoop in her hand, and she adjusted the laptop so that the webcam on the desk counter faced her mother. “You have to stay in the frame, Mom,” she said, pointing at the small photo box on the lower right corner of the screen. “If you move, Austin can’t see you.”

“Oh. I see. Sorry, honey. Can you see me now?”

“Yes. Thanks, Julianne.”

She leaned over her mother’s shoulder and waved the metal scoop at her brother before returning to the counter and picking up the half-empty bowl of cookie dough.

“What’s she doing with a cookie scoop?” Austin cried from the computer screen. “Mom, you’re not letting Julianne make my birthday cookies, are you? You know she ruins everything in the kitchen.”

“Hush, Austin!” Julianne exclaimed. “I do not.”

“She’s not making them, honey,” Amanda reassured him. “I put them together and she’s just scooping them out onto the cookie sheets. I’ll oversee the baking, don’t you worry.”

“Are they the ones I like? The peanut butter ones? Travis said you sent him oatmeal raisin for his birthday last week. You know I don’t like raisins, right?”

“Yes, honey. No raisins. Peanut butter cookies, just like you like them.”

“You big baby,” Julianne muttered.

“What did she say?” Austin called out. “Mom, what did she say?”

“She said to wish you a happy birthday, honey. Do you have any plans to celebrate?”

“Robin and I are going to dinner at a steakhouse we discovered downtown.”

Julianne knew from his wife’s latest email that the steakhouse in downtown Boston would serve as the backdrop for twenty of their friends from the university and the community where they lived a few miles away to gather and yell, “Surprise!”

“Well, you have a nice time, Austin. And give my love to Robin when she gets home, huh?”

“I will, Mom.”

“I love you, honey.”

“Love you, too.”

Julianne heard the beep indicating that the online call had disconnected, and she reached around her mother to shut down the computer.

“I’ll never get used to technology,” Amanda told her, reaching for the cookie scoop. “Why don’t you give me that and I’ll finish up.”

“You’re just afraid my kitchen mojo will ruin your precious boy’s birthday cookies.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, but she got up from the chair and headed straight for the bowl on the counter. “I thought I’d wear my green chiffon to your big function Saturday night. Would that be all right?”

“I love that dress,” she said, curling her legs beneath her on the chair and leaning on the table. “You look pretty in green.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. It’s not a full-length or anything.”

“That’s okay. Neither is mine.”

Amanda turned around and gazed at her. “You’re not wearing an evening gown?”

“No. It’s more like a party dress. I found it at a vintage shop in Clifton. It has this very full skirt with crinoline underneath. It’s very pretty.”

“I’m sure anything you wear will be lovely,” she said, returning her attention to the cookies. “You always know just the right thing.” After several beats, she tried on her most offhanded tone of voice as she asked, “Are you still going on the arm of the boy who doesn’t want to see you anymore?”

“Yes, Mother,” Julianne droned. “And I hope you’ll be nice to him in spite of his obvious lack in judgment.”

“Julianna Margaret Bartlett. I am always nice.”

She giggled. “Yes, you are. I’m sorry.”

“I should hope so.”

“And if it makes you feel any better, I did ask Will if he would take me instead.” Her mother reeled around, cookie scoop in the air and hopeful anticipation in her smile. “But he turned me down.”

“Oh, he did not,” she said, pivoting back toward the cookies.

“No, he actually did. He’s taking that horrible Lacey James instead.”

“Well, why would Will do that? Unless, of course, he’s finally given up on you.”

Julianne’s stomach turned over, leaving her wondering if she’d eaten too much raw cookie dough.

“What do you mean, given up on me? Will’s never had anything but friendship in mind for me, Mom. You know that. Besides, I’m still waiting for the fairy tale.”

“The shining prince on the white steed,” Amanda remarked.