DREAMING OF YOU GO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  He moved back as she stepped inside. "It needed a facelift."

  "It looks very…sophisticated…much like you. Although, I assume you don't always wear a tuxedo to work. I suspect I've caught you on your way somewhere."

  "The Winter Ball. My date is meeting me here."

  "That should be fun. I've heard it's an amazing party."

  He shrugged. "We'll see."

  "Well, I won't keep you." She turned to leave, then paused. "Will you be working here alone?"

  "No. I have a paralegal assisting me—Jackie Carpenter. She'll be starting Monday."

  "I look forward to meeting her." Shari paused. "I understand you're a divorce attorney."

  "I am."

  "Do you represent the women or the men?"

  "It depends on the case, who wants to hire me, and how well I think we'd work together."

  There was an odd look on Shari's face. "That makes sense."

  "Do you know someone who might need a divorce attorney?" he asked.

  "Maybe. I don’t know yet. Do you take on new clients?"

  "All the time."

  "Are you good?" she asked bluntly.

  "Very good," he returned.

  She smiled. "I like your confidence."

  "I think Kate called it arrogance."

  "You did rub her the wrong way. She's been muttering under her breath all week."

  Shari had no idea how much he wanted to rub Kate the right way. He cleared his throat at that errant thought. "I'm happy to offer your friend or you a complimentary consult."

  "Why do you think it's me?"

  "Something about the way you phrased the question. Am I wrong?"

  Guilt flashed through her gaze. "My husband and I are having problems. But please don't share that with Kate. You rattled her the other day about creating too perfect weddings that make the subsequent marriage look boring and result in divorce."

  "She planned your wedding?"

  "I was her second client. And it was a great wedding. I had a tight budget, and she worked within it and still gave me the day of my dreams. My marital problems have nothing to do with the wedding day. Todd and I are just going in different directions. We went to Lake Tahoe over the weekend to try to work things out, but we didn't get very far. I think there might be another woman, but I don't know." She paused, shaking her head in bemusement. "I can't quite believe I just told you all that. We met thirty seconds ago. I haven't even told my parents or my friends."

  "Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know."

  "That's true. I feel like I'll be judged by everyone else. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough, or I should give it more time, or I'm imagining things. That's what Todd says. I don't know. I have a bad feeling."

  "One thing I do know is that trusting yourself is the absolute best thing you can do."

  "Kate said you're also divorced."

  "My marriage lasted fifteen months, and, yes, I also had the feeling that maybe I should have tried harder or for longer, but it wouldn't have made a difference. I'm certain of that now. She's happier without me, and I am happier without her. Some relationships just don't last."

  "Thanks for listening." She paused as the outer door opened. "That must be your date."

  "Or Kate?" he suggested. He hadn't seen her since Monday, but she'd been on his mind a lot.

  "I hope it's not Kate. She'll think I'm consorting with the enemy."

  "I don't think our conversation qualifies as consorting. And I really don't want to be the enemy."

  "Then stop making Kate take down anything that smacks of romance. If you go after the picture of the two swans by the front door, it will be war."

  "I'll keep that in mind," he said, seeing not Kate, but one of his clients, Monica Harding, come through the door.

  "I'll let you go," Shari said.

  "Thanks for stopping in."

  "Sure," Shari said, as she moved out of the office.

  "I know I don't have an appointment, Barrett, and I'm not supposed to see you until Monday, but I have to talk to you," Monica said, dabbing at her red eyes with a tissue. "Do you have some time?"

  "About fifteen minutes," he said, checking his watch. "I'm meeting someone."

  "That's why you're wearing a tux. It reminds me of my wedding. John looked so handsome in his tux. I didn't know it was going to end." She burst into sobs.

  His heart sank. While drama wasn't an unusual part of his job, he'd never been good with tears, and he was already regretting taking Monica on as a client. Her emotions were almost manic in their extremes. One minute she was sad, the next she was angry, and sometimes she even went on a frantic, happy rant about how her life would be so much better once she got her cheating husband out of her life.

  "Let's go into my office," he suggested.

  "How can I hate someone I used to love?" she asked, between gulps for breath.

  He didn't reply. He'd learned a long time ago that that was not a question that had a good answer.

  * * *

  "You were right about the man downstairs," Shari said, as she entered Kate's office.

  Kate raised her gaze from the catering bid she'd been studying. "That he's obnoxious, arrogant and rude?"

  "That he's gorgeous—tall, handsome, and sexy...especially in a tuxedo."

  "He was wearing a tuxedo?"

  "He's going to the Winter Ball. I've always wanted to go to that."

  She wasn't surprised that Barrett had made the guest list. He was definitely in that league. "Barrett might look nice on the outside, but he is not nice on the inside."

  "He was actually pretty friendly."

  "You talked to him?" She felt a little betrayed.

  "I wanted to introduce myself. And don't look at me like I just crossed into enemy territory. We don't want to be at war with our landlord."

  She frowned, knowing Shari made a good point. "What did he tell you to rip down now? If he goes after my swan photo, I swear—"

  "I already told him that's your red line." Shari perched on the arm of the chair in front of her desk. "His office is very modern and sophisticated. I can't believe the renovations were done so quickly."

  "Apparently, money makes things move faster. I'm sure it's nice, but it doesn't sound like it fits this historic old house."

  "Not exactly," Shari admitted. "But it's personal taste. Anyway, I'm going to run some checks down to the bank, and then I'll head home. You just have Jennifer, right?"

  "Yes. She wants to bring her wedding dress by to show me how impossible it's going to be for her to wear it."

  "Why? What's wrong with it?"

  "It belonged to her deceased mother, who was a Southern belle, and the dress is meant to be worn over a hoop skirt."

  "But Jennifer is twenty-one and not really the hoop-skirt type."

  "Yes, but her father wants Jennifer to wear it, saying it would mean so much to her mother, and Jennifer is very conflicted. I suggested she just wear it for the ceremony and then change into a contemporary gown for the reception."

  "That seems reasonable."

  "I hope she goes for it. I think she'll feel bad if she doesn't wear it."

  Shari stood up as the bell attached to their office door rang. "That must be her. Good luck."

  "Thanks." She set aside the information she'd been studying on next week's wedding, so she could take on Jennifer's problem, which appeared to be much bigger than she'd anticipated.

  Jennifer, a willowy brunette, who always looked like she needed to eat, was practically crying as she entered the office with a big garment bag over her arm. "It's awful," Jennifer said. "I can't even walk in it, and I have to go down a long flight of stairs."

  "What if your father walks you down the stairs, instead of meeting you at the bottom?" she suggested, as she got to her feet. The only thing besides the dress that Mr. Phillips had insisted on was that his daughter be married in his home, which unfortunately boasted a long and winding staircase.

  "He said he wants me to h
ave a moment. He thinks it will be beautiful and dramatic. It's the way my mother did it. I want to make him happy. I want to honor my mom, but I don't want to fall on my face in this not very pretty dress." Jennifer gave her a look filled with pain and guilt. She wanted to honor her mother, but she also wanted her own day. It was a difficult situation.

  "It can't be that bad. Let's take a look." She unzipped the bag and pulled out the dress and the petticoat hoop. "The dress looks pretty," she said, trying not to look aghast at the enormous amount of fabric that would completely swamp Jennifer's thin frame.

  "I could maybe wear the dress, but the hoop—no way. I tried putting it on and walking, and I took one step and tripped."

  "Maybe you just need to practice a bit." She pulled the lacy hoop skirt on over her jeans and was surprised by the volume. She could see why it had put Jennifer off. It was one thing to look at it from afar than to look down at it. She couldn't even see her feet.

  "It's awful," Jennifer said.

  "Maybe not. Let's try this on the stairs." She glanced at the clock on her wall. It was after five and Shari had said that Barrett was on his way out.

  "If you want to. But don't blame me if you break your neck."

  "Hey, thousands of women have walked down stairs in hoop skirts. It can be done," she said optimistically, as they headed out of the office. As she looked down the narrow, steep staircase, she had to admit she was a little intimidated. But she needed to give Jennifer some confidence. Once she saw that it could be done, she wouldn't be so worried. "Why don't you wait at the bottom, so you can see my dramatic descent?"

  "All right." Jennifer jogged down the stairs and waited by the front door. "Go ahead."

  She drew in a deep breath and took the first step. After a couple of stairs, she began to breathe more easily. "It's not that bad."

  "You do look sort of majestic. But you only have the hoop skirt on—not the dress, which makes everything bigger."

  "I still think we can make it work." She was almost at the bottom of the stairs when Barrett's door flew open. She took one look at his incredulous face and tumbled down the last three steps, landing in an undignified heap at his feet.

  Jennifer gasped in horror. "Oh, my God, are you all right, Kate?"

  She tried to get up, but her legs were tangled in the hoop, and she couldn't even see over it.

  A man's hand came into view. She really didn't want to take it, but Jennifer seemed to be paralyzed.

  She put her hand into Barrett's, allowing him to help her to her feet. As if his mocking face wasn't enough embarrassment, behind him stood a beautiful blonde, who was close to six feet tall, wearing a tight white dress, and an expression of pure distaste.

  "Are you hurt?" Barrett asked.

  "Only my pride," she muttered. "You startled me. I would have been fine, otherwise." She looked at Jennifer. "Really, I would have been fine."

  "If you call this fine," Barrett put in, "then you might need to redefine that word. What are you wearing?"

  "It's a hoop skirt. It goes under a bridal gown. I was showing Jennifer that she would be able to walk down the stairs while wearing it."

  A smile spread across his face. "You really do go above and beyond, don't you?"

  "Barrett, can we go?" the woman asked impatiently.

  "One second," he said, his gaze narrowing as he saw her rubbing her fingers. "Did you hurt your hand?"

  "It's fine," she said, even though she could feel pain shooting through her fingers.

  He frowned. "You should see a doctor."

  "I just need some ice. Please go on with your evening."

  "Barrett," the blonde said again, tapping her foot with impatience.

  "I'm coming." He glanced at her. "Maybe take that skirt off before you go back up the stairs." He moved toward the door with his date, then paused, looking at Jennifer. "If you don't want to walk down the stairs in that thing, don't do it. It's your wedding. Always remember that."

  She didn't particularly care for Barrett giving her client wedding advice, but she didn't really disagree with him.

  As the door closed behind Barrett and his date, she turned to Jennifer. "I'm sorry I messed that up. He surprised me."

  "I can't do it, Kate. I can't wear it. Maybe I should just call off the wedding. I don't want to hurt my father, but I can't be my mom for him. I can't relive his wedding day."

  "You have to talk to him, Jennifer."

  "He'll hate me."

  "No. He loves you. I like tradition, and I like that you want to honor your mom. It's very sweet. But this is your day. If you want me to speak to your dad, I will, but I think it would be better if it came from you."

  Jennifer drew in a breath. "You're right. I'll do it tonight. I'll tell him how I feel." She paused. "And, if you don't mind, I'm going to tell him about how you fell down the stairs, just to make my point a little stronger."

  "Happy to be the sacrificial lamb," she said dryly, as she got out of the skirt.

  After Jennifer had gathered her things together and left, Kate took a longer look at her hand. Her two middle fingers were swollen, and her entire wrist was aching. She really hoped she hadn't broken something. She and Liz were supposed to spend the evening putting together sample favors to show Maggie and Jessica tomorrow. Hopefully, some ice would help.

  She grabbed her tote bag, threw in some work to take home, and then headed down the stairs. As she passed Barrett's office door, she was reminded of not only him but also the beautiful blonde at his side. Was she a girlfriend? Probably. She seemed to be exactly the kind of woman Barrett Fox would date: sophisticated, stylish, and a little snobby.

  The woman certainly hadn't expressed any concern after she'd tumbled down the stairs. Instead, she'd been impatient and clearly irritated that Barrett was taking any time at all with a crazy woman in a hoop skirt.

  She could only imagine the picture she'd made. At least she'd had on pants underneath the hoop. Her fall could have been even more humiliating.

  She definitely didn't seem able to put her best foot forward when it came to Barrett. And she'd just given him something else to mock about her wedding business. Not that she made a habit of trying on her bride's dresses and parading down the stairs. On the other hand, she was willing to do whatever it took to make her clients happy, and Jennifer had needed to see her go down the stairs. Maybe the end result hadn't been what she'd planned on, but the incident had made Jennifer realize she needed to confront her father's expectations.

  That was a positive step, and one that might not have happened without her help.

  Taking solace in that thought, she locked the front door and walked down the street. Her apartment was about a mile away and up a few rather steep streets, which tonight seemed even more wearying than normal. Her hand was aching and worries about what she might not be able to get done with a real injury were stressing her out.

  When she finally arrived at her small one-bedroom apartment, she immediately headed for the kitchen. She poured ice into a pitcher and then sat down on the couch and put her hand in the ice.

  Pain shot all the way up her arm. She winced but hoped that the throbbing would go away as soon as the swelling went down.

  Her phone buzzed, and she reached for her bag with her good hand and pulled it out. It was Liz, one of her college friends. "Hi, Liz, are you here already?"

  "No, I'm actually at the hospital."

  "What?" she asked in alarm. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine but Michael broke his ankle."

  "What happened?"

  "He was riding his bike after work, and he hit a bump or something, and he went flying. He said it was a total klutz move, and he's furious with himself. Luckily, he had his helmet on, but he broke a bone in his foot, and he's getting a cast, so I'm not coming tonight."

  "Of course not. I'm so sorry."

  "He'll be fine. But I might have my hands full for a few days with the two males in my life. Josh is getting a tooth, so I'm pretty sure he and Michael w
ill be cranky together."

  She smiled to herself. "Do you want some help? Although, I might not be able to hold the baby right now—I hurt my hand at work. Michael is apparently not the only klutz."

  "How bad is it?"

  "Not sure yet. It's encased in ice at the moment. But I can still babysit if you need me."

  "Michael's sister is watching Josh, so he's fine. At least we still have some time to get the favors done."

  "Don't worry. It will all get done."

  "You are the miracle maker, so I have no choice but to believe you," Liz said. "But I hope your hand isn't going to need a cast. Because you're not just planning Maggie and Jessica's wedding, you're going to be in it."

  "I don't think anything is broken," she said, really hoping that was true. "I'll talk to you later. Take care of Michael."

  "I will."

  She set down her phone and pulled out her hand. Her fingers were still puffy, but the pain had diminished a little. She stuck her hand back in the ice and rested her head on the back of the couch, thinking this night wasn't going at all as she'd planned.

  She wondered if Barrett was having a better time in his fancy tux with his fancy girlfriend…

  Chapter Five

  The ballroom of the Worthington Hotel at the top of Nob Hill was packed with people, many of which Barrett knew, many of which he didn't really care to know. He took a long draught of beer, having passed on the endless flow of champagne, and watched his date flirt with one of the lawyers for Fox Management. Elaine was beautiful and had a killer body, but she was not at all interesting—at least not to him. Their conversation in the car had basically been a monologue about the number of social media followers she had accumulated. She'd even taken a few selfies in the car, which had made him nuts. He'd never understood the allure of constantly photographing yourself. And while Elaine's smile was sexy, it was also cold.

  She hadn't cared one bit when Kate had come tumbling down the stairs. She'd practically stepped over her on the way to the door, and while Kate and he were hardly friends, he hoped she was all right. The way she'd been holding her hand had belied her words that everything was fine.