Cherry Blossom Capers

by Gina Conroy

  “What if you could find a firm to work for?”

  “Look at me. I don’t want those strings. Sure, it’s not easy being my own boss, but I control my schedule and which clients I accept. There’s no pressure—” She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he continued. “Okay, no pressure, other than making payroll and rent, to take on every potential client.”

  “I don’t know that we can reconcile that difference.”

  “Then we’ll have to be acquaintances.”

  The thought left her empty and cold. She’d enjoyed spending time with Daniel over the last week. She’d missed his camaraderie, but this difference went to the core of who she was. To her sense of justice and right and wrong. She couldn’t just walk away from what she believed. She swallowed as she searched her mind for another conversation topic.

  The waitress saved her by placing the appetizer between them. Soon they dipped various fried delights in different sauces as they discussed the chaos on Capitol Hill.

  After dinner they strolled the length of Shirlington, stopping to read the list of movies showing at the theater. The eclectic mix of first run and foreign films caught her attention. Too bad she didn’t have more time to see movies or someone to take her. She glanced at Daniel, but he studiously kept his attention on the board. Guess there was no chance this night would evolve into dinner and a movie. What did she expect when she’d so thoroughly shot down what he did?

  This was why she remained single.

  In a city filled with career-driven people, she shoved away the only man who’d held her interest. She should have focused on the way he brought up church and his faith rather than what he did Monday through Friday, but she couldn’t divorce the two.

  Her faith compelled her to work with the clients she did.

  Could it be the same for him? Even if he worked for those wearing black hats?

  “Let it go, Ciara.” Daniel’s voice startled her. “What?”

  “Quit analyzing everything. It might work well in the courtroom, but it doesn’t work here. Sometimes you have to let go and have faith.”

  “Let go? With you?” She clamped her lips together before she started ranting. This coming from the man who couldn’t decide what he wanted. “Thanks for the advice.”

  He stared at her, sadness clouding his eyes, until she felt heat rush up her.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe you should take me home.”

  “Maybe I should. I wish things could be different.”

  As he left her at her front door, she longed to reach out to him. To call him back. To tell him that it didn’t matter, they’d find a way to make things work out.

  But she didn’t.

  Because it did matter.

  Chapter 6

  The days passed with no leads. Dignitaries and others packed Judge Banter’s funeral when it was finally held two weeks later, but Ciara sat in the church alone. She tried not to search the crowd for Daniel, but she couldn’t keep her gaze from traveling to the other side of the sanctuary where he sat. Then he stood and made his way to the front to give one of the eulogies. Tears collected in her throat as she listened to him recount the virtues of a man who gave them both a singular experience at a pivotal time in their careers. As he spoke, his eyes sought hers, and she felt mesmerized by the intensity in his. It felt as if a silent plea to understand who he was traveled across the chasm that separated them. The moment the service ended, she stood and skedaddled to her car, still shaken by what had passed between them in the church.

  She sank into her car, then locked the door. The keys remained tightly in her grasp as she tried to understand what had happened.

  What was left to know? They were too different.

  No matter how much she felt the jolt of physical attraction each time they shared space in a building, she couldn’t open her heart to the possibility that something could happen between them.

  That night she pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt and scooped her hair back with a stretchy headband. She brewed a cup of tea and settled onto the love seat.

  Any other night she’d find herself absorbed in the novel she’d started by her favorite suspense writer, but she couldn’t get lost in the plot and pages.

  She set the book aside. Was she wrong? She didn’t like the thought. She prided herself on reading people well. That was what had stung with Daniel. She’d been so wrong. Right or wrong, she had to reach a resolution she could live with. Soon she’d find herself back at a table next to his in one of the area’s courtrooms. They’d sit on opposite sides of a family crisis, and she had to find a way to live with that. She’d rather not be bothered by his presence at all, but for the moment she’d settle with not falling to distraction when she saw him.

  Was that too much to ask?

  The curtain fluttered against the back of her neck, bringing a kiss of goose bumps.

  She picked up her cell phone and slid over to the calendar. Colored blocks filled the next week, a dizzying mix of client meetings and hearings. Three involved Daniel.

  She set the phone down and wondered if she could declare a desperate need for vacation time. Surely she could claim the chaos of the prior weeks as evidence that her life hadn’t filled normal parameters, and any woman would need a few days, maybe a few weeks, to reorient herself to the idea that she’d found the body of her mentor. The partners might argue she should have asked earlier, but she could always blame a delayed reaction. Surely things like that happened all the time.

  A girl could wish.

  Daniel waited for Alexander Banter to pick up the phone. He couldn’t shake the kid from his thoughts, especially after the funeral. Someone needed to make sure Judge Banter’s son held up okay, but Daniel couldn’t trust others would do it. However, the kid never answered his phone the first or fifth time he called. Must have driven Judge Banter nuts.

  If the kid didn’t answer, Daniel would have to wait and try again after the next client meeting. He hoped Alexander would comply because he could use any reason to delay the inevitable meeting with Ciara and her client.

  He couldn’t shake the quiet desperation mixed with distance that had filled her expression when his gaze collided with hers at the funeral. Neither could he alter the reality that she had dashed out of the funeral before he could get out of his row. If that wasn’t the definition of avoiding him, he didn’t know how the dictionary would describe it. To her it might look like he’d let her leave… again.

  Alexander’s voice mail kicked in. “Leave a message for the man who is now free.” Huh?

  Daniel hit Send again and waited for the message to come up once more. Maybe the kid was in a weird philosophy class, but that message didn’t make much sense. Daniel cleared his throat. “Alexander, it’s Daniel Evans. Wanted to check in. Call if you need anything.”

  He ended the call reluctantly, then stared at a painting hanging across the office. Its rich frame hugged an image of an executive slumped in his office chair after a long day. Jesus knelt in front of him, washing his feet. Most days the image comforted him, especially the idea that Jesus saw how he worked for others, and that even when others didn’t notice, Jesus did.

  Today, though, he felt convicted. As if it reminded him he hadn’t done enough.

  Enough of what and for whom, Lord?

  He kept reaching out to Alexander. He took on the clients others didn’t want, often without regard for whether they’d pay his bill. What had he overlooked?

  The silence didn’t break as he waited.

  The phone sputtered to life. “She’s here. With a client.” Clive’s tone bordered on unkind and left no question who he meant.

  “Show them to the conference room.” Daniel should get up. He should grab his file and move across the hall. But he couldn’t. Not with all the soul-searching still left to do when it came to Ciara. Had he treated her in an unChristlike manner?

  He didn’t want to think too hard about the answer, but she waited in the other room. Clive likely had grabbed a Diet
Mountain Dew for her, one of the few Daniel kept stocked for the times she had to venture to his office. Did she notice the details? Probably not, and why would she? In this forum they were enemies, but he wanted to change that.

  Clive’s demeanor was cold as he led Ciara and her client Julie Stephens to the conference room and handed her a Diet Mountain Dew out of the small refrigerator.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, then turned to Julie. “Anything for you, ma’am?”

  Julie frowned. “A diet cola if you won’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel ancient. My husband’s already done a good job of that by trading me in.”

  Clive had the good grace to color as he retrieved the can. “Here you are, miss.”

  “Much better. Thanks.” Julie sank onto one of the leather chairs pushed against the table. “So you think anything good will happen today?”

  “Maybe we’ll hammer out the settlement.”

  “I was still hoping for a miracle.”

  Ciara considered her a moment. While she wanted to believe in miracles, she hadn’t seen enough of them for her clients. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

  “Not exactly a ringing expectation.”

  “You know me, left-brain dominant, hard rule of my emotions.” What a joke when it came to her personal life, but Julie didn’t know that. Ciara popped the top of her soda and took a sip. And Julie never would understand, so long as Ciara could get firmly behind her wall before Daniel walked in. For once, she didn’t mind waiting for him to wrap up whatever he worked on in the other room. She simply wasn’t prepared to pretend his actions didn’t wound her.

  “Still carry a flame for this guy?”

  Ciara spewed diet soda all over the table. She coughed and searched for a tissue in her pockets. “What?”

  “Come on. Just because my happily-ever-after didn’t work out doesn’t mean I’m immune to sparks the size of the Fourth of July fireworks on the Mall. Watching the two of you skirt the obvious is the only thing making this hideous process bearable.”

  “Then I’m truly sorry.” Ciara stood and grabbed some paper towels from a roll hanging over a small sink. She mopped up the mess, then wet a towel and wiped the table down again.

  The door opened, and Daniel stepped into the room. In an instant the walls seemed to crowd around her, and she straightened, the limp paper towel dripping on the table.

  “Place not clean enough for you?” Daniel’s quirked eyebrow couldn’t hide the twinkle.

  Julie caught her gaze, a knowing light in her eyes.

  And all Ciara wanted to do was crawl under the table, or better yet, out the door.

  Daniel should have felt bad, but he didn’t. Instead, he pictured a hundred and one different scenarios that left Ciara leaning over his table with a tattered paper towel, cleaning up some unknown substance. It was too fun not to poke at her.

  “Where’s my husband?” Julie Stephens skewered him with her eyes.

  “I regret to inform you that he called to say he won’t make the meeting.”

  Julie growled, then turned on Ciara. “I told you this was a waste of time. That man refuses to see how his childish actions impact anyone but himself.”

  Ciara turned on Daniel. “And you couldn’t call us? Tell us not to bother coming here?”

  Daniel held up his hands. “If I’d known, I would have. Clive just now handed me the message when I asked where Lawrence was.” And he’d have to get on Clive for not delivering the message immediately. He couldn’t blame Ciara and Julie for being irate. He’d feel the same if in their position.

  “Then I guess we’ll take this to the judge.” Ciara tossed the towel on the table. “We’d like to resolve this without a nasty, long hearing, but if your client won’t even come to a meeting, he’s leaving us no choice.”

  “Now wait a minute. I’m sure he has a good reason.”

  “Like taking his mistress shopping,” Julie muttered.

  Ciara shot her a glance that told her to keep out of the fray. Daniel doubted it would do any good with Julie. The woman wasn’t much easier to control than her husband, but at least she was here. “Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know, and I will give my client a what-for about it. Is there anything we can accomplish without him?”

  Ciara looked at him like he’d suddenly grown a unicorn’s horn in the middle of his forehead. “I can’t imagine what.”

  “All right. Meet you at motion hour later this week to schedule the hearing?”

  “Thank you.” Ciara grabbed her briefcase but paused as Julie brushed past her.

  Daniel placed a restraining hand on Ciara’s arm. “Do you have a minute?”

  Ciara glanced from his hand to his face. “A very quick one.”

  Now that she’d agreed to hear him out, he didn’t know what to say. Other than the vague impression he’d had in his office, nothing had changed. It was time to do something about that. He didn’t like the status quo, so he needed to act. He took a deep breath.

  “Would you go to dinner with me tonight?”

  Now, he had no doubt she believed he’d grown a horn. “Dinner? Tonight? Are you crazy?”

  “Yes, I’m going crazy not seeing you. Ciara, most of my best days involve you, and I can’t just walk away like we’ve done in the past. I know I’ve somehow hurt you.” He held up a hand as she started to sputter. “Give me a chance. You know guys stink at emotion.” She closed her mouth and crossed her arms. “I don’t want to let you slip away. I want to see if we have a fighting chance.”

  “We seem to do the fighting part well.”

  “Actually we don’t. One of us walks away as soon as the other indicates there’s something deeper to talk about. We have to stop that.” He rubbed his hands over his hair. “Ciara, anything of value is worth a fight.”

  Chapter 7

  How did one prepare for a dinner that might be a date, but shouldn’t register as one?

  She’d call Tara or Susan for advice if she had time, but she barely had time to freshen up as it was.

  A date? Ciara sighed as she weighed what that would mean. Could she take that step?

  After years of not trusting Daniel, she found herself ready to try. He’d shown his character to mirror that of the law clerk she’d fallen in love with. Maybe she’d been unfair to lump him into the same category as so many of his clients. He had a point that they deserved someone to protect their rights… she just wished he wasn’t the one doing it.

  She turned to her closet and stared at the clothes hanging neatly there, uncertain how to dress. Would a silk dress be too nice? Make it look like she cared what Daniel thought? But a pantsuit seemed too rigid; and a sweater set, while feminine, felt too casual. Dinner should not turn into a complicated wardrobe issue.

  With a glance at her watch, Ciara grabbed a floral dress that swirled around her calves in frothy layers. She’d pair it with a rich aubergine cardigan—a compromise between too casual and too formal.

  She hurried through a shower and blow-dried her hair. The soft blond waves framed her face as she added makeup. After a last glance in the mirror, she pulled on a pair of dark purple pumps and clomped down the stairs to the living room and her love seat. She adored her town house’s wood floors, but at times like this, the noise made her feel as graceful as an overweight elephant. She plopped onto the cushion, then grabbed a magazine. Five minutes later, she couldn’t remember a single word she’d read.

  A brisk knock pulled her back to her feet. She stood, opened the door, and stilled at the expression that brushed across Daniel’s face.

  He whistled, low and a note that wrapped around her heart. “Wow! You look amazing.”

  Ciara swept a hand down the length of her skirt. “Thanks.” She turned and grabbed her purse and beige trench coat. “Where to?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He devoured her with his gaze for another minute, then offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  She nodded, and he led her to his car. Soon his sedan pointed down Kin
g Street, soft classical music filling the silence. She stared out the window, mesmerized as the Washington Memorial came into view, silhouetted in stark relief against the dark sky. It always struck her as the gate standing between Old Town and its neighbors. They passed the Metro station, and soon Daniel’s head swiveled as he looked for a parking space.

  “Here we go.” He found a spot on Lee Street. Before she could open the door, he’d slid out and walked around. “My lady.”

  Ciara accepted his hand and tried to climb gracefully from the car. His hand slipped naturally to the small of her back as he guided her back toward King Street. This wasn’t normal. She couldn’t sink into the emotion and protection the simple gesture offered. She tried to add another layer to her wall, but couldn’t.

  Soon they were in the lobby of her favorite Italian restaurant. Its brick walls and wooden floor served as the perfect backdrop to the small tables covered in red-checked oilcloth. The waiter handed them menus, but she didn’t bother opening hers.

  Daniel arched an eyebrow. “Know what you want already?”

  “Yes. The veal scaloppini alla picatta is one of my favorites.”

  “Still tend to stick with your favorites?”

  “Yes, sir. Once I like something, why risk disappointment?”

  “Not very adventuresome.”

  “I went to law school. That was enough adventure for me.”

  Daniel chuckled. His head swiveled slightly as he scanned the room. A cloud collected on his features as his gaze locked on something. He seemed to stare more intently, and Ciara sensed him slipping away from their pleasant evening. She started to turn to see what had captured him, but he squeezed her hand.

  “What is it?”