“Excuse me, ma’am?” The police officer suddenly said, standing behind her.
Avery gasped, turning around. “Yes, Sir?”
“Are you Avery Rose Beauchamp?” The officer questioned, looking at his notebook verifying her name.
“Yes, Sir. Is something wrong?” She swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.
“Miss Avery Rose Beauchamp, you’re under arrest for stealing two Rolex watches from Paula and David Johnson. In addition, you’re under arrest for possession of stolen goods and trying to sell the previously stated stolen goods.” He handcuffed her and read her her Miranda rights.
Avery knew enough about the law to keep her mouth shut and go with the officer without a fight.
Chapter 2
Preston was annoyed with the commute from his new house. It was only thirty minutes but with the chores and fixing up his house needed, he found himself increasingly tired — waking up earlier was putting a strain on him. He had been at Dixon and Gordon Law Offices for over ten years and had established himself as a skilled attorney with a good reputation. He didn’t like having to drive to Nashville from his house in Old Hickory, but it was necessary at this point. He would just have to that get used to it, like everything else in his life.
He stretched his long legs out of his Mercedes, standing to his full height. He adjusted his dark suit, pulling on the length of his sleeves so the correct amount of dress shirt was visible past the hem of the jacket. He reached into the car, pulling out his briefcase. He quickly ran his fingers through his dark hair, fixing it after his drive in with the windows open. He inhaled the fresh spring air, looking up he couldn’t see a cloud in the sky and there were geese flying overhead announcing with their honking that they were home for summer. A new beginning — for him and for his house.
He’d always wanted an old house, one with orchards, barns, little buildings and shacks with the possibility of horses, dogs, and chickens. He couldn’t believe his fortune when a fellow lawyer’s sister who was a real estate agent found this beautiful house from the 1860s that had great potential. The elderly couple that had owned it had been there their whole marriage, and none of their children wanted to move back home to keep the house. The wife had been born and raised in that house. There were antiques everywhere. The attic, barns, out-buildings and sheds were filled with old tools, china, stoneware, tables, stoves, trunks, dresses and much, much more. He really needed to go through all those buildings and categorize the items, figure out what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to sell. But, again, with the job he had it was difficult to find the time. He struggled with simply cleaning the house, let alone organizing and categorizing everything else. The elderly couple obviously had found it difficult to keep up with the housekeeping near the end, and when he’d first moved in he’d actually found himself dusting and vacuuming more than looking for antiques. He needed to enlist the services of a cleaner, someone who had the knowledge and ability to clean in an organized manner.
He looked down at his watch. He had twenty minutes to get to his office, organize his paper work and make it to court. He waved to the security guard, swiping his badge in the badge reader waiting for the door to open. He made his way to the elevator while Brittney, the receptionist, waved to him from the front desk. She flirted with him often and he found himself thinking again that he should probably ask her out, but she just wasn’t his type. She was tall and willowy, lithesome with wispy strawberry blonde hair, and a smattering of freckles on her nose — and very bubbly. Just not his type.
“Hi Preston” Brittney said, jumping up from her chair behind the modern, silver reception counter. “You have a message from Judge Morton’s office, Sir.”
“Hi Brittney. How are you today, sweetheart?” Preston reached for the little pink message slip. He directed his attention to the note, turning toward the elevator and pressing the up button several times, ignoring the fact that Brittney was openly staring at him.
“You have a good day, Preston!” Brittney waved from behind the desk, her cheeks flushed.
Absent-mindedly, Preston turned and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. You too, Britt.”
The elevator dinged, and he stepped in, deep in thought.
The note from Judge Morton indicated that he had a new case that had been added at the last moment, scheduled first on the docket this morning.
Damn!
This didn’t go with his plans for the day. He liked orderly schedules without inconvenient interruptions. He looked at his watch again. He had ten minutes to get to the Judge’s chambers.
The elevator doors opened and his legal secretary was standing waiting for him, “You received the message from Judge Morton, I’m assuming?”
He walked past her quickly, talking over his shoulder. “Yes, I got it. Thank you, Liz. I don’t have much time, but how was your weekend?”
“Good! The grandkids came to the house and we spent our whole weekend dealing with diapers, squabbles, naps, paint, crayons, and the Cartoon Network.” She followed him into his office. “And I have to tell you Preston, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Preston stopped, shuffling through his papers and giving her a smile. “I’m so happy for you, Liz. It sounds wonderful.” When he looked at her, he could see a younger version of the Liz before she’d come to work for him, before wrinkles and age had dulled her. Even now she still had a vigor to her spirit and people were gravitated to her. She had a listening ear and a helping hand for everyone who came into her path. She’d be retiring soon and he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do when she left.
“Preston, sweetie.” Liz tilted her head. “Your day is coming. You’ll find a woman someday and before you know it, you’ll look over your shoulder finding yourself with a house full of noisy grandkids, too.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Liz,” He said, laughing. He grabbed the files he needed, and shoved them into his briefcase, closing the latches. “I have to find a woman and make her my wife first.”
He rounded his desk, briefcase in hand. “I hate to be rude, but I have—” he looked at his watch “—five minutes to get to Judge Morton’s chambers. I’ll see you soon.”
* * *
Sitting on a hard wooden bench, Avery was nervous, her stomach growling. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. The gold name plate on the door to her right read “Judge James Morton.” Thankfully it wasn’t a name she was familiar with, but she was probably just far enough away from her hometown that she wouldn’t know who these judges were. Hopefully, two hundred miles was far enough away to keep her Daddy out of the chaos.
The judge’s administrative assistant stood up from her desk and walked over to Avery. “Miss? Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? Water?”
“Uhm, water would be great. Thank you.” She watched the woman over to the corner of the room where a small college fridge was doubling as a plant stand. She returned with a bottle of water, handing it to Avery with a polite smile before returning to her computer.
Avery’s right leg bounced up and down with nerves. She pushed her dark brown hair behind her ears. She really needed a haircut. It was way past her shoulders and she usually kept it shorter than present, but money was tight and she just couldn’t get one right now. Cleaning houses didn’t pay much, but it did pay for rent and the car note for her poor little dilapidated vehicle. She knew when she grabbed those Rolexes she would be in trouble.
Now she was sitting in front of the judge’s chambers for stealing and intent to sell stolen property. Being the daughter of a Judge, her father wouldn’t be happy if he heard of her arrest. She desperately hoped he hadn’t been notified of her indiscretion.
Deep in thought, she almost missed the tall handsome guy who strode into the room. It sounded so cliché, but he truly met all the requirements for tall, dark, and handsome. Six foot three, two hundred pounds of pure muscle with black wavy hair that feathered nicely on the sides.
“Hi, Samantha. Is Ju
dge Morton in his chambers? I was told to meet him here before court at nine o’clock this morning.”
“Yes, Preston. He’s waiting for you. Let me buzz him, and you can go right in.”
Avery loved the sound of tall, dark and handsome’s voice. She loved a man with a deep voice. Her imagination started to fly — imagining him whispering to her. How would he sound in bed? Would he be the type to talk during sex or would he be the strong and silent type? How would all that confidence be in bed? Would he take charge in the bedroom?
She looked at him again, admiring how he looked in his suit. He filled out a suit very nicely, looking like a commercial for men’s cologne. His white dress shirt was showing a quarter inch past the sleeve of his dark blue suit and when he raised his arm to see what time it was, he had sapphire blue and black jeweled cuff links. His tie was cobalt blue and made his blue eyes sparkle. Judging from the breadth of his chest and shoulders which filled out the suit nicely, as well as the toned muscles in his thighs, this was a man who worked out regularly.
At that moment, Judge Morton opened his door “Preston, I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.” The Judge then turned and looked at Avery. “Miss Beauchamp, we’ll be with you momentarily. Are you okay?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m fine, thank you.”
As the two men walked into the Judge’s chambers, Avery got a great view of Preston’s tight ass. The man definitely filled out a suit well.
Avery worried about what they were saying about her in the Judge’s chambers. Her father was very influential in their small town. Granted she was in Brentwood, Tennessee, which is why she was having such a hard time making rent. An affluent suburb of Nashville, Brentwood had the best schools and homes for the professionals who wanted the fifteen minute commute to their high-paying jobs in Nashville; it was a great town to be a cleaner for all the rich socialites who didn’t have time to clean their houses. She would know, she grew up that way too. She never paid the cleaners any mind. They came daily to her house, which she knew now was rare; most families had them come only once or twice a week. She worked independently and not for a cleaning company which normally worked out very well. But that also meant she was responsible for all the supplies and health insurance for herself, besides her car payment and rent. She wondered if the police had called her father or if her father’s assistant, Lloyd, would’ve seen her arrest record and contacted Judge Morton himself.
* * *
Judge Morton, as with most judges, was past middle age but he was one of the nicest judges in their district court. Preston looked up to him. Judge Morton wasn’t pretentious or condescending, yet he was firm. He didn’t believe in letting things slide. He believed he should come down on the criminals hard the first time in the hopes he’d discourage them from ever appearing in his court room again. Preston respected that theory and believed in it himself. He felt that principle could be applied to all aspects of life. His mother used to tell Preston as a teenager, “I’m a prayin’ momma. I ask God to let you be caught the first time. That way your Daddy and I can straighten your butt out and prevent a reoccurrence.”
It was that tenet that the Judge carried out in his courtroom.
“Preston, have a seat.” The Judge indicated the chair in front of his desk. “I have a sticky situation here today. The sweet girl out there that you saw is Miss Avery Beauchamp. Does that last name ring a bell with you?”
“No, Sir. I don’t think so. Should it?”
Judge Morton leaned back in his chair, grabbing a pointer and tapping Memphis, Tennessee on the large map on his wall. “Judge Grayson Beauchamp is a well-known, wealthy and respected Judge in Memphis and that young lady out there is his only daughter. I received a call from him early this morning telling me that she’d been arrested trying to sell Rolex watches at a pawn shop.”
“Did she say why she was doing it?” Preston asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“She said she needed the money to pay her car payment and knew she could get the money on the street for them.”
“What? Wait a minute.” Preston tilted his head, suspecting there might be something else going on here with this case. “Her Daddy is a prominent, well-respected and wealthy judge and… she can‘t make her car payment?”
“She left home six months ago trying to make it on her own. She didn’t want to follow the rules of the house,” Judge Morton said. “The Judge wasn’t willing to compromise his rules or the peace of the house. He gave her two month’s rent, helped her find an apartment and hasn’t seen her since. She’s apparently rather strong-willed and stubborn.”
“Sounds like she gets that from her Daddy. He made the right decision in my mind. How old is she?”
“She’s twenty four and has a Bachelor’s in International Relations. Couldn’t find a job in her degree, so she’s started cleaning houses in Brentwood. According to her credit history, she pays her bills on time and makes pretty good money. She was smart enough to know where to live to clean houses. She just made the mistake of getting an apartment in Brentwood and lives paycheck to paycheck paying that rent. I’m guessing her pride and stubbornness have prevented her from calling her Daddy for help thus far.
“So what does Daddy want us to do?”
The Judge rubbed his forefinger on his top lip, hesitating. “He wants us to waive the criminal charges, no probation, and no record. He said we can impose a fine. But what he really wants is for us to lecture her, convincing her to drag her little tail home, preferably tucked between her legs — or work out an arrangement for her to work off her fine to the State.”
“God, you know I hate shit like this. A spoiled rich kid — with a Daddy in a high place — who has no understanding of boundaries and limits. She needs to pay the price. If you ask me—” Preston laid a hand on his chest “—and I’m assuming that’s why you asked me here this morning, I’d recommend having her work off her fine for the State. Have her pick up trash; work in a soup kitchen or women’s shelter. She apparently needs the discipline and structure. She left home because she didn’t want limitations and structure. Now she’s broken the law, due to no consistent boundaries while growing up and now if we don’t impose a punishment, she gets off again.”
“I had a feeling that you’d feel that way, and you know I support that thinking, right?” Judge Morton raised his eyebrows, nodding in agreement. “I’m sure we can get her to agree when we apply the right persuasion. Her father, I’m pretty sure, will agree to whatever we propose — as long as she’s left without a record.”
Preston Harrison came from a family that believed in discipline and he in turn was a proponent of punishment fitting the crime, using what’s available, finding what the “currency” is for the one being punished. Once you determined what they would avoid at all costs, you had the upper hand. He thought about how Miss Avery Beauchamp hated rules and boundaries to the point that she resorted to a job of manual labor due to her lack of skills and experience. This might just work.
Preston’s eyebrows raised. “So you say she’s a cleaner, right?”
“Yes, working on her own, not part of a cleaning company. Why?”
Preston rubbed his forefinger along his top lip, formulating a plan. “Well, I was thinking. She cleans — and I just bought this property that needs so much cleaning, I don’t even want to think about it. More than enough to keep a girl busy. Since it was her inappropriate behavior while cleaning that got her into trouble, it would seem that being required to clean and behave responsibly might be a good punishment.”
“What’re you proposing, Preston?” Judge Morton pulled his glasses off and leaned forward.
“Well, the fine is eight to ten thousand by my calculations, which would be about six months of work. She would have her own bedroom and keep her cell phone. I would require that she not drive or leave the property unless she’s accompanied by me. In addition to that rule, I would require that she follow other house rules — no alcohol, drugs, or smoking. She would hav
e to work responsibly as evidenced by the progression of rooms cleaned during her stay. If she doesn’t comply, she will add weeks to the time served to meet the fines.”
Judge Morton nodded. “We’ll have to run this by Judge Beauchamp first and get his approval. Then we’ll have to deal with Miss Avery Beauchamp.”
“She’ll agree. I have no doubt. Let’s contact her father and get him to sign off on it.”
Chapter 3
Judge Morton appeared at the door of his chambers and beckoned. “Avery Beauchamp, come this way please.”
Avery stood on shaky legs and made her way to the doorway. He held the large cherry door open and she stepped into the stylish room. She was stunned by the huge desk, and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled to bursting with various law books. The handsome lawyer she had seen earlier rose from his seat as she entered.
As she approached the desk, he thrust his hand out toward her. “Miss Avery Beauchamp, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Preston — Preston Harrison.”
At a loss for words, she put her hand out to shake his. “Hi, how are you?”
She felt self-conscious, still wearing her jeans and red sweater with sneakers. She didn’t even want to think about the fact that she hadn’t showered or brushed her teeth since yesterday morning. “I’m sorry about how I look. Please forgive me. I haven’t had a shower or anything.”
He paused, looking at her, seemingly sizing her up. “Not having a shower appears to be the least of your concerns today, young lady. Am I correct? It’s been a pretty rough twenty-four hours for you.”
“Yes, Sir. It has.” She looked at the floor noticing that Judge Morton had a beautiful oriental rug in his office.
Judge Morton sat down in his large leather chair behind the desk. “I talked to your Daddy last night. He heard about your arrest. Mr. Harrison and I talked to him again this morning too.” Avery rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. Of course, he would do this. He always had his finger in everything.
Finding Submission (Service & Submission Book 1) Page 2