He was incredibly handsome. His evenly defined features and straight hair gave him the aristocratic bearing of a robber baron.
"You have that elegant, aloof air about you. Like Gatsby," Kendall had once told him teasingly.
She wanted to go on dancing with him for hours, but guests were vying for a dance with the bride. Among them was Judge H. W. Fargo. She all but groaned when Matt relinquished her to the judge, who demonstrated no more grace on the dance floor than he did in the courtroom.
"I had my doubts about you," Judge Fargo remarked as he swung her into a turn that almost caused her a whiplash.
"When I heard they were hiring a female to be this county's public defender, I had serious misgivings that you could handle the job."
"Really?" she said coolly.
Fargo was not only a terrible dancer and a lamentable judge but a sexist to boot, Kendall thought. Since her first appearance in his courtroom, he'd made no effort to conceal his "misgivings."
"Why were you apprehensive, Judge?" she asked, struggling to keep her pleasant smile in place.
"Prosper's a conservative county and town," he said expansively. "Damn proud of it, too. Around here, folks have been doing things the same way for generations. We're slow to change and don't like it when we're forced to. A lady lawyer is a novelty."
"You think women should remain at home to cook, clean, and care for children, is that it? They shouldn't aspire to be professionals?"
He harrumphed. "I wouldn't put it like that.
"No, of course you wouldn't."
Such a candid statement might cost him votes. Everything he said in public was self-censored. Judge H. W. Fargo was a consummate politician. If only he were as effective a judge.
"All I'm saying is that Prosper is a clean little town. You don't find the problems here the other cities have. We nip corrupting influences in the bud. myself and other public officials i intend to keep our standards high."
"Do you think I'm a corrupting influence, Judge?"
"Not at all, not at all."
"My job is to provide legal counsel for those who can't afford their own attorney. The Constitution grants every U.S. citizen legal representation."
"I know what the Constitution grants," he said testily.
Kendall smiled to take the sting out of her mild insult.
"Sometimes I must remind myself. My work brings me in close contact with an element of society we all wish weren't there. But as long as there are criminals, they will need some one to plead their cases in court. No matter how unsavory my client, I try to plead every case to the best of my ability."
"No one's questioning your ability. Despite your involvement in that nasty business back in Tennessee . . ." He bro ke off end smiled unctuously. "Well, why bring that up today?"
Why indeed? The judge's reminder of her past difficulties had been deliberate. Kendall resented him for thinking she was stupid enough to believe it had been a blunder.
"You're doing a fine job, a fine job," he said ingratiatingly.
"I'll admit that having a woman arguing points of law with me took some getting used to." His laugh sounded like a bark. "You know, until you showed up for your interview, we thought we were hiring a man."
"My name can be misleading."
The board of directors of the Prosper County Bar Association had decided to form a public defender's office to relieve their membership of handling defense of indigents. Even on a rotating basis, these cases could be costly in time and lost revenue.
The board had been stupefied when Kendall arrived wearing three-inch heels and a dress instead of a suit and tie. Her resume had been so impressive that they had responded promptly to her correspondence and were almost willing to hire her sight unseen. The interview should have been a mere formality.
Instead, she had been placed in the hot seat. Knowing ahead of time that she would be going up against a wall of good ol'-boy mentality, she had carefully rehearsed her sales pitch.
The speech was worded to combat their prejudices and assuage their uncertainties without offending them.
She had desperately wanted the job. She was qualified to do it, and since her future hinged on her getting it, she had pulled out all the stops.
Obviously she had done well, because the board had offered her the job. That one blot on her professional record hadn't factored to their decision nearly as much as her gender. Or perhaps they believed that because of her sex, she should be cut some slack. She had made a mistake, but it was forgivable because she was, after all, only a woman.
It didn't matter to Kendall what they thought or how they had reached their decision. In the eight months that she had been in Prosper, she had proven her capabilities. She had worked hard to earn the respect of her peers and the general public. Her skeptics were eating crow.
Even the publisher of the local newspaper, who, upon the announcement of her placement, had written an editorial questioning if a woman could handle such a difficult job, had undergone a change of heart.
That publisher moved up behind her now, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck. "Judge, you've monopolized the prettiest girl at the party long enough."
Fargo chuckled. "Spoken like a bridegroom."
"Thanks for rescuing me," Kendall said, sighing as Matt danced her away. She laid her cheek against the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and closed her eyes. "It's bad enough that I have to fence with that redneck-in-robes in court. It's above and beyond the call of duty to dance with him at my wedding."
"Be nice," he chided.
"I was. In face, I was so charming I nearly made myself sick."
"The judge can be a pain, but he's an old friend of Dad's."
Matt was right. Besides, she wouldn't give Judge Fargo the satisfaction of blighting her wedding day. She raised her head and smiled up at Matt. "I love you. How long has it been since I told you?"
"Ages. At least ten minutes."
They were nuzzling affectionately when a bellowing voice interrupted them: "Hey, kid, this is quite a bash!"
Kendall turned to see her maid of honor creeping past THE window in the arms of a local pharmacist. The mousy, self-effacing man seemed bewildered to find himself in the embrace of such a vivacious, abundantly endowed woman.
"Hi, Ricki Sue," Kendall said. "Having fun?"
"Do bears shied in the woods?"
Ricki Sue Robb's tall beehive hairdo was bobbing in time to the music. Her face was shiny with sweat above the collar of her pale blue dress. It had been a challenge for Kendall to choose a bride's maid gown that would flatter her friend.
Ricki Sue's complexion was an uneven blend of sallow skin and rusty freckles. Her hair was the color of fresh carrot juice, but, far from downplaying this distinguishing feature, Ricki Sue preferred the most elaborate styles she could devise. Her coiffures were engineering marvels worthy of architectural study.
The wide gap between her front teeth was constantly on display because she was always smiling Her full lips glistened with fire-engine-red lipstick, an unfortunate choice considering the color of her hair.
In a voice with all the subtlety of a reveille trumpet, she blared, "You said your husband vitas a handsome devil, but you didn't tell me he was also rich as sin.
Kendall felt Matt stiffen with disapproval Ricki Sue didn't mean to be offensive. In face, she thought she was paying him a compliment. But in PrOsper, personal wealth wasn't discussed in polite company. Not out loud, anyway.
After Ricki Sue and the dazed pharmacist waltzed out of earshot, Kendall said, "It would be a polite gesture for you to ask her to dance, Matt."
He grimaced. "I'm afraid she'd trample me."
"Matt, please."
"Sorry."
"Are you? At the rehearsal dinner last night you made it glaringly apparent to me that you had formed an instant dislike for Ricki Sue. I hope she didn't notice, but I certainly did."
"She's not at all the way you described her to me."
"I told you she was my best friend. That should be description enough."
Since Grandmother's declining health had prevented her from attending the wedding, Ricki Sue was Kendall's only guest. If for no other reason than that, she had hoped Matt would make an effort to be friendly and cordial to her. Instead, Ricki Sue's boisterous conversation had caused him and Gibb to cringe. They'd been embarrassed by her unrestrained, bawdy laugh, which seemed to originate in her massive bosoms.
"I grant you that Ricki Sue isn't a genteel Southern lady."
Matt scoffed at the understatement. "She's coarse, Kendall.
Common. I expected her to be like you. Feminine and soft spoken and beautiful."
"She's very beautiful on the inside."
Ricki Sue was the receptionist at Bristol and Mathers, the law firm where Kendall had previously been an associate. When they'd first met, Kendall had been unable to see beyond the redhead's brashness.
Gradually, however, she came to know and like the sensitive woman beneath the flamboyant exterior. Ricki Sue was unpretentious, practical, tolerant, and trustworthy. Especially trust worthy.
"I'm sure she has some admirable traits," Matt conceded grudgingly. "And maybe she can't help being fat. It's just that she comes on so strong."
Kendall winced over his using the word fat, when other adjectives would have served just as well. Better, he could have refrained from using any derogatory adjectives.
"If you'd give her half a chance"
He laid his finger vertically against her lips. "Are we going to quarrel at our wedding reception in front of all our guests over something so insignificant?"
She could argue that his rudeness to her friend wasn't insignificant, but his point about this not being the time to quarrel was valid. Besides, there were several of his friends she wasn't particularly fond of either.
"All right, truce," she agreed. "But if I were going to pick a quarrel, it would be over all the women here who've glared daggers at me. If looks could kill, I'd be dead a dozen times over."
"Who? Where?" He whipped his head around as though searching for the brokenhearted ladies.
"Not on your life," she said in a growling tone, clutching his lapels possessively. "But just out of curiosity, how many hearts did you break by marrying me?"
"Who's counting?"
"Seriously, Matt."
"Seriously?" He pulled a sober face. "Seriously, I'm one of the few bachelors in Prosper between puberty and senility. So if you see a few long faces in the crowd, that's why. The mature single women here have come one statistic closer to getting struck by lightning."
His flippancy served its purpose. She began to laugh.
"Well, whatever, I'm glad you waited for matrimony until I came along."
He stopped dancing and drew her closer, tipping her head back and lowering his lips to hers. "So am I."
It wasn't easy to be inconspicuous while wearing a wedding gown and veil, but half an hour later Kendall was able to slip unnoticed into the house.
She didn't like Gibb's house, particularly the large living area where dark paneled walls provided a fitting backdrop for his hunting and fishing trophies.
To Kendall's unappreciative eye, one fish mounted on a walnut plaque looked as pathetic as another. The blind stares of deer, elk, wild boar, and other game evoked sympathy and repugnance. As Kendall moved through the living room, she cast a wary glance at the head of a ferocious razorback, preserved forever with tusks bared.
Hunting and fishing were Gibb's stock-in-trade. His sporting goods store was located on Prosper's main street. In this mountainous Blue Ridge area of northwestern South Carolina, he did a thriving business and continued to cultivate a loyal clientele. Customers traveled for miles to spend their money with him.
He was good at what he did. Hopeful hunters and fishermen valued his opinion and whipped out their Visa cards for whatever gadget, scope, or lure he suggested that might make their forays more successful. Frequently they returned with their kills or catches, dragging carcasses right into the store, to gloat over their skill with rifle or trap or rod and reel.
Gibb was generous with his praise and took no credit for the advice he gave. He was admired as an outdoorsman and as an individual. Those who couldn't claim to be his friend would have liked to.
When she reached the half-bath that served as Gibb's powder room, the door wa s closed. She capped lightly.
"Be out in a sec."
"Ricki Sue?"
"That you, kid?"
Ricki Sue opened the door from the inside. She was using a damp hand towel to mop her perspiring cleavage. "I'm sweating like a pig. Come on in."
Kendall gathered up her Brain and veil and joined Ricki Sue in the small bathroom, closing the door behind her. Although it was crowded, she welcomed the quiet moment alone with her friend.
"Was your room at the motel okay?" Motels were scarce in Prosper. Kendall had reserved the best room available for Ricki Sue, but it had few amenities.
"I've slept in worse. Screwed in worse, too," she said, winking at Kendall in the mirror. "Speaking of which, is that handsome stud of yours as good as he looks?"
"I never kiss and tell," Kendall retorted with a coy smile.
"Then you're shortchanging yourself, 'cause telling is half the fun."
At Bristol and Mathers, Ricki Sue had kept the associates and clerks enthralled with her sexual exploits. She added an episode to the ongoing soap opera of her life every morning at the coffee machine. Some of her Bales were too farfetched to be believed. Amazingly, however, all were true.
