by Rebeca Seitz
The elevator dinged and deposited her on Mr. Beasley’s floor. “They’re waiting for you.” Anna motioned her on in.
“Should I be worried?”
“Only if Levi having a heart attack wouldn’t make your day. Beasley’s on cup number two. Levi’s still on one.”
Tandy grinned and entered Mr. Beasley’s office. Levi sat before Christopher like a child in front of a principal, his tall, gaunt frame folded awkwardly into the chair. His mouse-brown hair was thinner on top than it’d been a few months ago, and a dusting of white particles lay across his shoulders.
Beasley sipped coffee, his eyes focused on Levi.
“Gentlemen.” She sat down. “What can I do for you?”
“Tandy, are you sure a press conference is a good idea?”
Tandy groaned inwardly, wondering how many more times Levi would ask this question.
No, Levi, I think it’s a horrid idea. I think the person who suggested it should be fired. That’s what she wanted to say. Instead, she smiled demurely.
“Levi, you have to give them a story, or they’ll make one up. Right now they’re running with the idea that you’re a greedy bureaucrat who stole money from the citizens of Orlando. If we don’t give them an alternative, you’ll be tried and convicted before you ever step foot in a courtroom.”
“You’re right.” Levi wrung his hands. “I know you’re right. But those reporters can be vicious.”
“Only when they smell blood in the water. And you aren’t going to give them that. You’ll go in, tell them you didn’t do this, answer a few questions, and get out of there. No time for an attack. Where’s Theresa?”
“She’s waiting in the boardroom with the kids,” Mr. Beasley said.
“How about you go spend a little time with them before we get this underway?” Tandy pulled Levi from his chair and steered him toward the door. “I’ll be in to check on you in just a few minutes.”
Levi allowed himself to be taken out of the room and directed down the hall to the boardroom.
Tandy looked for reinforcements. “Anna, could you see if Mr. Walker’s family needs anything, please?”
Anna smiled and nodded, prodding Levi on down the hallway. Tandy closed the door to Mr. Beasley’s office. “What happened to our confident client from Friday?”
Christopher held his palms up. “I have no idea. My guess is that the endless stream of phone calls wore him out. He said the phone hasn’t stopped ringing since Friday.”
“Why didn’t he just unplug it?”
Christopher blinked. “I don’t know.”
Checking her watch, Tandy saw they had less than half an hour until the press conference. “I can’t put that man in front of a bank of cameras. He looks guilty.”
“Then go make him look innocent, Tandy.”
She stared at him. Did he know she didn’t actually have the power to manipulate situations to her advantage?
“You’re one of the best attorneys at this firm. If anybody can save him, it’s you.”
Apparently not.
She huffed and left his office, knowing his endorsement of her performance should matter—and puzzling over why it didn’t.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, WHEN the sun had set on another day and the traffic jam on I-4 had thinned out, Tandy turned off her computer and laid her head on her desk. The press conference had been brutal, and, despite her best efforts, she feared the media didn’t buy the story of Levi Walker, humble servant, upstanding family man, serving the citizenry of Florida.
She picked up the phone and dialed Kendra’s number. “Hey, you got my voice mail. Leave a message.”
Tandy hung up instead and dialed Joy. “You have reached the home of Scott and Joy Lasky. We’re sorry to have missed—”
She disconnected the call, dialed Meg. “This is the Fawcett residence. We’re not around right now—”
Tandy hung up and looked around her office. Outside her window, cars clogged Orange Avenue in both directions. In a city of over one and a half million people, she should be able to find a girlfriend or two. How did other women find friends around here? Church? Clubs? Work? She walked back to her computer and looked up the phone number for the scrapbook store.
“Savvy Scrapper,” someone answered.
“Hi, I’m trying to find some scrapbookers around here.”
“We have a class on Thursday night.”
“No, I don’t want to come to a class. I’m just wondering if you know of a group of women who scrapbook together?”
“We have an all-night crop next weekend.”
“Right. I mean something not happening at your store. Maybe some girls who scrap at someone’s house?”
She listened to the hum of the phone line.
“Never mind, thanks anyway.”
She dropped the phone in its cradle. Cooper would need to go out soon. Gathering up her purse and shoes, she couldn’t get the thought out of her mind that there had to be a way to find scrapbookers in her area. Some way to connect with people of like mind. Women who knew how to talk and share and laugh. Whatever it took, she would find a way. She had to. Before loneliness drove her utterly and completely crazy.
Twenty-Seven
Two weeks later the media frenzy surrounding Lieutenant Governor Levi Walker had reached a fever pitch, and Tandy still had not found any scrapbookers. She’d managed to talk to Kendra once and tried to be happy when she learned things were going great between her and Darin. But Darin meant Clay, and it was hard to pretend where he was concerned.
Her intercom sounded. “Tandy, Sebastian on the line for you.”
She sighed, knowing he’d want to discuss Levi’s latest slip of the tongue. Her client looked more and more guilty every day. Either that, or incredibly stupid.
“Hi, Sebastian.”
“Tandy Sinclair. How’s our buddy Levi today?”
“No better for the media wringer he’s being put through. Is there something I can help you with?” She had neither the patience nor the inclination to deal with media today, even if they were old law-school classmates.
“Ouch. Touchy, touchy.”
“Just tired, Sebastian. Did you have a question for me?”
“On the record, can you tell me what Levi’s defense strategy will be?”
“You know I’m not going to give you that. I tend to refrain from handing the prosecution its case.”
“Unless the client is Harry Simons.”
Her headache, which had regressed to a dull pounding the past few days, jumped into high gear again. “Excuse me?”
“The Hope House case. Come on, did you think we wouldn’t find out?”
“Considering there’s nothing to find out, I’m not sure what we’re talking about here. Harry Simons was given a good defense.”
“That’s not what he’s telling media reps.”
She held her sigh in. Harry was just another flare-up in a week full of eruptions. He’d go away when his fifteen minutes were up. “Mr. Simons is free to say whatever he wants to the media, Sebastian, though I’d be careful about aiding and abetting someone intent on defaming someone’s character through libelous or otherwise criminal actions.”
“We’re not carrying it here, Tandy. But those guys over at CNN are starting to make some noise.”
“Thanks for the warning. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Give me an exclusive with Levi. He hasn’t done an interview yet.”
That was because the man had no business being in front of a camera.
“Either he talks, or you get raked over the coals, Tandy. You know they’re going to carry whatever story they’re given.”
“You understand that you are a part of they right?”
He chuckled. “Right, right.”
She thought about it. Either Levi could give an exclusive to Sebastian, with her in the room able to stop him at a moment’s notice, or she could lose control of this story with the media. It didn’t seem to be a difficult
decision. “He’ll be here tomorrow at three p.m. Our offices, not your studios. And I’ll be in the room the entire time.”
“We’ll be there with bells on.” He hung up, and Tandy stuck her tongue out at the phone. She dialed Levi’s new home number and waited for him to pick up.
“Levi Walker.”
“Levi, we’re giving an exclusive to FOX News tomorrow at three. Can you be here at 1:30 to prep?”
“Do we have to?”
“It’s either that or lose control of the story. Up to you, sir.” She tapped her pen against the legal pad on her desk, almost wishing he’d refuse and give her reason to cancel on Sebastian.
“I’ll be there.”
She heard defeat in his tone and noted on her legal pad to work on that the next day. “Good. Chin up, Levi. You’ll get through this.”
“Thanks, Tandy.”
She hung up the phone and pulled up a search engine on her computer. She typed in “scrapbook club Orlando” but got nothing useful. She knew women were getting together; that was just the nature of the hobby. But was no one organizing them?
She fiddled around with the search engine, finding a club listing here and there, sometimes on a church Web site, sometimes at a library. She never ran across one meeting in someone’s home, but she assumed these groups must do that occasionally. Working in a legal world of precedent and over referencing everything, it astounded her that there didn’t seem to be any directory of these groups.
An idea began to form in the back of her mind, and Tandy smiled—really smiled—for the first time since leaving Stars Hill. She leaned over the keyboard and continued running search terms.
* * *
IT TOOK HER three days to get Kendra on the phone and talk about her idea and what she’d found in, of all places, Nashville. Kendra squealed and jumped on board before Tandy had finished describing it.
“You are the smartest woman on the planet!”
“I don’t know about that. But if I have to deal with Levi Walker and his ilk for the rest of my life, I think I might go insane.”
“Have you called Clay?”
“No, and he hasn’t called me. I thought I’d get things settled here, make sure this idea of ours will float, and then go see him. Have you talked to him?”
“No, but Darin says he’s hurting. They went out last Saturday, and Darin said he was just down. Not into anything they were doing.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
“Because, Kendra, I don’t want to get his hopes up and then have to dash them if this thing doesn’t work out. Plus, if I hear his voice, I’m not sure I’ll be able to think straight.” Or think at all.
“Have you talked to your boss yet?”
“Have a meeting set up with him tomorrow. He’s going to flip, but he’ll get over it.”
“Talked to the woman in Nashville?”
“Yep, yesterday. Her name is Jane Sandburg, and she’s more than ready to hand this baby over to us.”
“What about Daddy?”
“I wanted to tell you first. I’ll call him as soon as we hang up.”
“He’s going to be over the moon.”
“He ain’t the only one. Listen, I should get off here and get to packing. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”
“You bet.”
“And, Kendra?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t tell Darin.”
“Mum’s the word, sis.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
She hung up the phone and scratched Cooper’s ears. Why she hadn’t thought of this sooner she couldn’t figure out, but it was perfect. A company she could build and run from anywhere—including Stars Hill. She had two months to prove it before she ran out of money and started hoofing it to Nashville to beg for a legal position.
The excitement hummed through her like juicy news through Stars Hill. She’d found another way to win the battle! Clay wasn’t the only smart soldier around here. And once everything was up and going, she’d have time to scrap with the sisters and go to gymnastics meets with Meg and hang out at Joy’s for five-course meals. And Daddy!
Her cheeks hurt from grinning.
Pulling a box from the heap in the living room floor, she began filling it with books from her bookshelf. “You’re not very much help here, Coop.” He wagged his stubby tail. “You want to go home to Stars Hill?”
“Woof!” He recognized the name of the town.
“Me, too. And the faster we get this stuff packed, the quicker we can hit the road.”
Twenty-Eight
One week later Tandy opened the door of her car and pulled the seat up. Cooper climbed into the back, settling into his place on the seat. This trip would be a whole lot different from the one nearly two months ago. Because she wasn’t coming back. The movers had already left with her stuff, which would hopefully meet up with her in Stars Hill at Daddy’s house. Moving back home at thirty years old had required a ton of ego swallowing, but she had to save on expenses until the company was up and running.
She got into the car and closed the door, waved goodbye to her Florida apartment, and hit the road for Stars Hill. The weight that had settled on her chest when she’d crossed the Florida state line lifted, and she took in a deep lungful of air. The tangy taste of salt soaked the back of her throat.
Ocean air.
None of that in Stars Hill.
She let the thought roll around her mind for a minute, trying it on, testing its impact. Nope, it didn’t hurt. And why should it? The sweet smells of turned dirt, tasseled-out corn, and fresh-cut grass were waiting in Stars Hill.
Her phone rang and she flipped it open. “Tandy Sinclair.”
“Left yet?”
“Hi, Kendra, how are you? I’m fine thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all good. Have you left yet?”
“I’m pulling out of the parking lot now. Does Darin know?”
“Not a word. I think he thinks something’s up, but I haven’t confirmed one way or the other.”
“Keep him in the dark for eleven more hours. I’m stopping at the diner before I get to the house.” The smell of frying burgers. That was another one she’d have in Stars Hill.
“You go, girl.”
“You think he’s moved on by now? It’s been five weeks.”
“Not if Darin’s telling me the truth. The man mopes around like a lost puppy.”
Tandy’s heart hurt at that, but thrilled to it as well. “Let’s hope I can fix that for him.”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it.”
“Your lips to God’s ears, sister.”
“Be careful.”
“Will do.”
She shut the phone and turned up the radio, dreaming about what was at the end of eight-hundred miles.
When she reached the Florida border, her phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Hi, Meg, I’m good. Got everything packed up no problem. Thanks for asking.”
“I’ve got fourteen kids running around here on sugar highs and about thirty more seconds before one of them thinks it’s fun to unplug the phone. Where are you?”
Tandy laughed. “Just crossed into Georgia.”
“Ooh, careful of the Tifton speed trap.”
“Right.” Tandy adjusted her speed. “Why are there fourteen kids at your house?”
“Because I have issues with telling people no.”
“In some universe I’m sure that makes perfect sense.”
“Gabriella! No!”
Tandy listened to the mayhem that was Meg’s house. It sounded as if someone had decided Kool-Aid would make a nifty floor wax. Meg yelled for Jamison and told the kids to stay back. Tandy grinned. She’d get to be part of the pandemonium soon.
“Hey, sorry about that.”
“No problem. Crisis averted?”
“For now. Kendra says you’ve talked to the Nash
ville woman and we’re good to go?”
“Yep. I’ll drive up there tomorrow and sign the papers.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Have you told anyone?”
“No, you said I couldn’t.”
“Just making sure.”
“I need to go referee a scuffle. Be careful, T.”
“Will do.”
Tandy closed the phone and turned up the radio. In a little over six hours, if all went according to plan, she’d be standing in front of Clay. Was he mad at her? He hadn’t called once since she left. Then again, she hadn’t called him either.
The memory of his face had kept her going through the craziness of the past five weeks. She prayed he’d be as excited about this new venture as she and the sisters were. If not, then she was going to feel really, really silly.
Spotting a police officer in a parking lot, she checked her speed and waved. Tifton police officers loved to catch speeding drivers. They were always on patrol here at the border. “Not today, boys. I don’t have time to stop.”
Three hours later the Beamer was awash in a sea of cars and trucks in downtown Atlanta. No matter what hour she hit the city, the roads were always full of people. Her cell phone sounded out the notes for “I’ll Fly Away,” and she couldn’t stop a grin from forming when she answered it.
“Hello?”
“In Atlanta yet?”
“Hey, Ken. I’m in the middle of it right now.”
“Ugh. Call me when you’re out of it.”
“’Kay.”
She closed the phone and concentrated on the cars weaving in and out of lanes in front of her. Nobody in this city used turn signals. It was nuts.
A little while later she swerved the Beamer onto an exit ramp, and Cooper lifted his head.
“Ready for a quick break, buddy?” The BP looked to have the best grassy area for Cooper, so she pulled the car into a parking space there and cut the engine. Snapping a leash on Cooper, she exited the car with phone in hand and tugged him over to the grass.
“Do your business, boy.” She dialed Kendra’s number.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. Mark me down for another successful Atlanta crossing.”