Long Time Coming

by Rochelle Alers

  “Her mother said she wanted silver and black with red accents, to coincide with the holiday season.”

  Simone nodded. “I like that. The colors would reflect somewhat of an Art Deco look.”

  Faith picked up a quilted pot holder and removed the top to the pot; she fluffed up the couscous and ladled it onto the middle of a serving platter. She tested the kabobs for doneness, then placed them on the platter around the couscous.

  “Let’s eat.”

  The three women sat down at the table and talked while they ate. Retrieving their PDAs, they entered a timeline for the Sanborn-Cohen wedding: final dress fittings, approval of a cake design and filling, bridal bouquet and floral arrangements, musical play list, the band, photographer and souvenirs.

  Tessa’s gaze shifted from Faith to Simone. “It’s not as bad as I originally thought it would be. We don’t have to concern ourselves with a place to hold the reception or get a caterer to prepare food for one of the busiest nights of the year. And there’s only the bride’s gown and her maid-of-honor dress, so that eliminates a lot of diva attitudes from bridesmaids.”

  “What about the mothers?” Simone asked as she tapped the keys on her PDA. “Are you going to supply their dresses, too?”

  “No. I don’t have the time to alter four dresses.”

  “You’re going to have to let us know when you’re going to meet with baby girl,” Simone teased.

  Tessa nodded. “As soon as I know, I’ll let you know.”

  Faith turned off her PDA. “E-mail, call or page me as soon as you set a date to meet with baby girl.” Smiling, she reached across the table and affected a high-five with Simone.

  Faith, like Simone, had little use for spoiled, self-centered brides, while Tessa appeared to have the patience of a saint when dealing with their mood swings, virulent outbursts and tearful apologies.

  Raising her water goblet to her lips, she took a long swallow. “I’m going to be busier than usual.”

  “Don’t tell me you got a boyfriend,” Tessa said, smiling.

  “I told you before that I’ve sworn off men.”

  Tessa waved her hand. “We’re your cousins, Faith. You can…” Her words trailed off when the telephone rang.

  “Excuse me,” Simone said as she pushed back her chair and stood up. “I’m expecting a call from a customer.” She picked up the receiver on the wall phone before the third ring.

  Tessa and Faith exchanged a knowing glance when they heard Simone refer to her caller by name. “I thought she’d stopped speaking to him,” Faith whispered.

  “I don’t want to even get into that,” Tessa whispered back. “Only Simone will know when enough is enough.” She’d tired of her sister’s on-again, off-again relationship with her ex-husband.

  Faith stood up. “I don’t know about you, cuz, but I’m ready to roll out.” She pantomimed that she was leaving to Simone, who was so engrossed in her telephone conversation that she hadn’t noticed her cousin and sister leaving. Normally they would’ve stayed to help clean the kitchen, but not tonight.

  * * *

  Tessa double-parked along a cobblestone street in front of a landmark building in Greenwich Village. Shifting, she glanced at Faith, who’d fallen asleep during the ride from White Plains to Manhattan. She shook her gently.

  “You’re home, Faith,” she said in a quiet voice so as not to startle her.

  Faith opened her eyes, blinking and trying to get her bearings. She placed her hand over her mouth to smother a yawn. “I haven’t felt this tired in a long time.”

  “You’ll be all right in a couple of days if you don’t go online, turn off your phone and don’t answer your doorbell.”

  “That would be all right if I didn’t have to go into the shop tomorrow.”

  “No, you don’t have to go in, Faith Vinna Whitfield. Did you forget that you pay people to run Let Them Eat Cake when you’re not there?”

  “No, you didn’t go there and call me by my born name,” Faith teased, smiling.

  “I’ll call you more if you don’t get some rest. You look as if a strong wind will blow you away.”

  “You know I don’t eat when I’m working,” Faith countered defensively.

  “Then stop working so hard and eat.”

  Unsnapping her seat belt, Faith leaned over and kissed Tessa’s cheek. “You sound like Aunt Lucinda.”

  Tessa gave her a cheeky grin. “That’s because I’m my mama’s child.” She pressed a lever, releasing the hatch on the SUV so Faith could retrieve her luggage. She waited until Faith opened the door to her building and disappeared inside before shifting into gear and driving toward Brooklyn.

  Vehicular traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge was lighter than usual, and within half an hour of dropping off Faith and parking her vehicle in an indoor garage Tessa walked the three blocks to her home.

  She opened the door and was met with light from a table lamp, heat coming from the baseboard heating and the ringing of the telephone. Quickening her steps, she made it into her office, flicked on a wall switch and reached for the receiver before it switched over to the voice-mail feature.

  “Hello.” Her greeting had come out as a breathless whisper.

  “Did I wake you?”

  A dreamy smile crossed Tessa’s face as she sat down at her desk. Why, she thought, did Micah’s voice sound so sexy on the telephone? “No. I had to run to answer the phone. Did you call to cancel this weekend?” she asked when there was a moment of silence from the other end of the line.

  “No. We’re still on. I called to tell you that Bridget is finished with jury duty. She says they stayed up all night and finally agreed on a verdict this afternoon. She’s going to take a few days off before she meets with you.”

  “Tell her I’m free all day Wednesday. Micah, please try to stress to your sister that we’re working with a very small time frame.”

  “I’ll make certain she shows up.”

  Tessa smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  Her smile widened when she heard his sensual laugh. “Then I’ll look for you and Bridget Wednesday.”

  “Good night, Tessa.”

  “Good night, Micah.”

  Tessa was still smiling when she ended the call. The reality that she would see Micah again filled her with an unexpected anticipation she’d never thought she’d experience again. The truth was she felt more comfortable with him than with any other man with whom she’d become involved.

  * * *

  Micah found himself squinting as he read what seemed like the umpteenth file from the stack in a cabinet behind his desk. Although an incoming A.D.A., he’d been assigned to Gang Busters because as a rookie police officer he’d successfully gone undercover to bust several members of a violent street gang. In Brooklyn, cases involving violent gang activity were given the highest priority, and the senior prosecutors assigned to the Gang Bureau Rackets Division tried the cases so that they received the attention they deserved. The prosecutors sought out the highest bail possible to ensure the defendant’s availability for trial.

  A tapping on the door shattered Micah’s concentration. “Hey, Sanborn, you have a visitor.”

  “Who is it, Townsend?” he asked without looking up. Vaughn Townsend, a senior prosecutor, had also graduated Brooklyn Law School, but at the bottom of his class, and had had to take the bar exam twice before finally passing. In the short time Micah had been with the D.A.’s office Vaughn had become the bane of his existence. Although quite knowledgeable, the never-married middle-aged man talked incessantly.

  “Someone who claims she’s your sister.”

  Micah put down the file and stood up. He ignored Vaughn’s reference to Bridget’s claim that she was his sister. “Where is she?”

  “I told her to wait in the waiting area.”

  “Thanks.” Micah put away the file, tightened his tie and reached for his suit jacket. Bridget had called to tell him that she would come to Brooklyn to meet him
rather than have him drive to the Bronx only to return once they concluded their meeting with Tessa Whitfield.

  Vaughn glanced at his watch. There was another hour before quitting time. “Leaving already?”

  Staring at the rotund man with thinning brown hair and a sallow complexion, Micah met his questioning stare. “Yes, I am.”

  He wanted to tell Vaughn that he’d worked until ten the night before and had come in at seven, but because Vaughn Townsend wasn’t his supervisor he didn’t want to establish a precedent reporting to him.

  “Have a good evening, Townsend,” he said instead.

  “Uh…uh, you, too, Sanborn.” Vaughn nervously cleared his throat. “I hope you don’t think I’m out of line, but you and your sister don’t look anything alike.”

  Micah smiled and angled his head. “You’re right. But let me assure you that she is my sister.”

  A slow flush crept up Vaughn’s neck. “She’s very pretty.”

  “I’m certain her fiancé would agree with you.”

  Vaughn turned even redder. “I guess I’d better quit while I’m ahead.”

  Suddenly Micah felt sorry for the man who hadn’t had a date in years. In a moment of compassion he thought of calling one or two single female police officers who were looking for a “nice friend” but thought better of it. He’d tried matchmaking once, and when the relationship ended badly, he’d blamed himself and in the end lost two friends.

  He left his office and made his way to the waiting area. Bridget sat on a wooden bench, flipping through a magazine. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her scrubbed face enhanced her youthful, fragile look.

  “Bridget.” Her head came up and her shimmering green eyes grew wide. There was no doubt he’d startled her.

  Rising to her feet, a grinning Bridget Sanborn approached her eldest brother, arms outstretched. “You look wonderful.”

  “Thanks.” Micah hugged his sister before he kissed her cheek. A slight frown furrowed his forehead when he saw the dark smudges under her eyes. She looked tired. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good.”

  Reaching for her hand, he cradled it gently. “Have you eaten?”

  Bridget nodded. “Seth came over early this morning and brought me breakfast.”

  “That’s only one meal, Bridget. And don’t look at me like that,” Micah warned when she glared at him.

  “You should be the one getting married and starting a family, because you sure sound like you’re rehearsing to be a daddy.”

  A swift shadow of annoyance swept over Micah’s face before he schooled his features into an expression of indifference. He’d replayed his conversation with Tessa about his reluctance to marry, realizing his rationale for remaining single wasn’t as meaningful as it’d been.

  He’d told women he wanted to put in his twenty years as a cop, go to law school and, instead of arresting the bad guys, wanted to prosecute them before he thought about settling down to become a husband and father.

  Professionally Micah had accomplished everything on his wish list, yet his personal life hadn’t changed. He dated and had a couple of relationships that ended amicably. He’d never told a woman that he loved her because he feared her professing the same. The one woman that he’d loved unconditionally had told him that she loved him before abandoning him. The loss had scared him for an eternity.

  His brothers were happily married fathers, and now his sister was planning to share her life with a man with whom she’d fallen in love. Would he, he mused, love and trust a woman enough to share his future?

  “Are you all right, Micah?”

  His gaze shifted to Bridget. “Yes. Why?”

  Bridget looped her arm over the sleeve of his suit jacket. “You had this look on your face as if you’d just zoned out.”

  Micah winked at her. “I have a few things on my mind.”

  “Are they PG-13 or R?”

  “X-rated.”

  Bridget wrinkled her nose. “Ouch.”

  “It serves you right for trying to get into my business.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “You don’t have any business, Micah Sanborn. Mom says all you do is work.”

  Bridget waited until she was seated in the low-slung car, then told her brother about the trial that had dominated her life for the past two weeks. She fell silent when Micah maneuvered into an empty space with a No Parking sign and placed placards bearing insignias of the NYPD and the Kings County district attorney’s office in the windshield.

  “I should hang out with you more often,” she teased as he opened the passenger-side door for her.

  Reaching for Bridget’s hand, Micah pulled her gently to her feet. He closed the door and set the alarm with the remote device. He held up his hand when Bridget opened her mouth to say something. “Not another word, Bridget,” he warned in a soft tone. “You’ve kept Ms. Whitfield waiting long enough.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Tessa opened the door, and within seconds of seeing Micah with his sister twin feelings of warmth surged through her. The emotion was one she always felt when meeting a prospective bride for the first time, and the other was one she couldn’t explain except that she was glad to see Micah again.

  She’d spent the past three days trying to remember everything about him, from the way he angled his head when listening to something she’d said to when his expressive eyebrows lifted or lowered, indicating surprise or disapproval. Tessa also remembered the deep-set dark eyes that seemed to photograph everything he saw within seconds.

  Opening the door wider, she smiled. “Please come in.”

  Bridget preceded Micah, her green eyes taking in the tasteful furnishings in the foyer. She waved her left hand, and the overhead light shimmered off a large emerald-cut engagement ring with baguettes. “This place is beautiful.” There was no mistaking the awe in her voice.

  Tessa closed the door and turned slowly to find Micah staring intently at her. “Thank you, Bridget.” She extended her hand to his sister. “Tessa Whitfield.”

  Bridget shook her hand, smiling. “We finally meet. I’m Bridget.”

  Tessa nodded, and the curls falling over her forehead shook as if buffeted by a soft breeze. “Yes, we do finally meet.”

  Her professional eye cataloged Bridget in one sweeping glance. She was prettier in person. Her thick dark brown hair was the perfect complement to a flawless complexion with pink undertones. Her wide-set emerald-green eyes, straight nose and full pink mouth made for an arresting face. She estimated Bridget stood about five-four and weighed between one hundred fifteen and one hundred twenty pounds; the book editor was probably a six in the hips and an eight in the bodice.

  Her gaze shifted to Micah. “Hello.”

  He angled his head and smiled. Tessa had affected the flyaway hairstyle he preferred. She looked different from the time he’d first come to her home. Today she wore a tailored white blouse with a pair of black cropped slacks that flattered her slender figure and a pair of low-heeled leather slip-ons.

  “Hello, Tessa.” Leaning down and resting a hand in the small of Bridget’s back covered by a tan barn jacket, he said, “Call me on my cell when you’re finished here.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” Tessa said quickly.

  Micah shook his head. “I don’t need to hang out here and listen to you ladies talk about—”

  “Please, Micah,” Tessa crooned softly, cutting him off. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that most men don’t want to become an observer or a participant in planning a wedding.” She and Bridget exchanged a knowing glance. “If you follow me, I’ll show you where you can hang out while your sister and I talk.”

  Turning on her heels, she made her way down the hallway, coming to a stop at the room she referred to as her parlor. It was where those other than the prospective bride or groom waited while she conducted her orientation.

  “Please make yourself comfortable,” she said to Micah as h
e stared mutely into the space where he would spend the next couple of hours.

  “Very nice,” he crooned, smiling, the warmth of his smile echoing in his voice. The inviting room beckoned him.

  The fire blazing in a fireplace behind a decorative screen countered the chill of the autumn afternoon. Plush armchairs and love seats covered in pale hues, a flat-screen television resting on its own stand on a table, muted and tuned to ESPN, and a credenza filled with china, silver, crystal, bottles of water, soft drinks, crystal decanters of wines and spirits and warming trays from which wafted tantalizing smells was the perfect setting to dine and relax.

  He walked in, slipping out of his suit jacket. “This is better than nice.”

  Tessa stared at his broad shoulders under a white shirt. “Enjoy, and please make yourself at home.”

  Bridget laughed softly. “You may come to regret that invitation. All you have to do is put a Sanborn man in front of a television with a sporting event, offer him some food and drink, and he’ll never leave.”

  “We’d better get started,” Tessa told Bridget as she led her down the hall to the room where she’d taken Micah seconds before the lights had gone out. It hadn’t been a week, yet she felt as if she’d known him much longer than that.

  “Hey-y-y,” Bridget sang when she saw the setup Tessa had prepared for her: a table filled with an assortment of crudités, petits fours, herbal teas, sliced seasonal fruit, cheese, crackers, a crunchy vegetable salad with chopped chicken and bottled water.

  “You’re incredible, Tessa, and definitely top-shelf. I’ve been to quite a few weddings, but the one you coordinated for Jadya was truly spectacular. I told Seth that I just had to have Signature Bridals do ours. Daddy gave me a blank check, so I can pay for whatever I like or what you suggest.”

  She is a baby girl, Tessa mused. Bridget Sanborn was pampered and spoiled. She held out her hand, palm up. “May I see your ring?”

  Bridget complied, grinning smugly as Tessa examined the three-carat flawless diamond in a platinum mounting. “I had no idea that Seth was going to give me a ring when he said he wanted to surprise me with a special gift for my birthday.”