“What is?”
“They’re going horseback riding at sunset.”
Suzanne contorted her face slightly and moaned. “Really? That’s almost a little too adorable.”
“I know, right?!”
And with that, Gus suddenly winged his way into the bedroom, flew a couple of circles around Julianne’s head, and tweeted out a happy little tune as he landed on her shoulder.
“What is with you and my bird?” Suzanne exclaimed.
Julianne rested her chin on her own shoulder, whistling softly at the parakeet until he ruffled his bluish feathers and pressed his beak against the corner of her lower lip.
“The true boy of my dreams, that’s what you are. Aren’t you, Gus?”
Alison Reece was a knockout, and Will watched her fly past him on Alec’s favorite horse, a Morgan named Hershey because of his very dark brown, shiny coat. Alison’s hair almost matched the color and sheen of Hershey’s coat, in fact, aside from the horse’s ebony mane.
“Come on, slacker!” Alison called out over her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
Will snapped Christie’s reins, and the mare took off after her. Alison’s melodic laughter wafted head-on into him as he trailed her up the hill, and both animals slowed as they circled the top of the ridge.
“Over there,” Will called out, pointing toward the white-trunked elm tree; the one where he did most of his best thinking.
The last time he’d parked beneath its branches, Will had prayed for God to help him move past his lifelong mindset about Julianne. Minutes later, his iPhone rang and Beth Rudd suggested he call Alison for a date.
Hershey whinnied as his rider stepped down from the saddle and tickled his long snout. “Good boy,” she sang, and the low-hanging sun set the red-gold strands hiding in Alison’s dark hair ablaze. When she smiled at Will, a soft breeze caught her long hair and it danced over her shoulder.
“Are you dismounting?” she asked. “Or are you planning on eating up there in the saddle?”
Will laughed and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, hopping down and leading Christie closer to the tree. “Distracted. It is beautiful.”
He lifted the insulated leather bag from the saddle horn and flung it over his shoulder while Alison grabbed the picnic blanket from atop Hershey. She spread it out and unpacked their meal while Will secured the horses nearby.
When he turned back toward her, she looked like a picture postcard sitting with the orange sun at her back and her long legs crossed at the ankles.
“I love this time of year,” she said as Will sat down across from her. Leaning across the edge of the blanket, she threaded her fingers into a tuft of bright green grass and observed, “It’s like velvet.”
He brushed his open palm over the tips of the grass and nodded. “So Alison, tell me more about yourself. Did you grow up here in Ohio?”
“Kentucky,” she replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Just an hour or so across the river. But I was accepted to UC and came up here to go to college.”
“And now you teach?”
She nodded and smiled. “Third grade at a private school in College Hill. What about you? Beth told me you’re a lawyer. What kind?”
“Until recently, a corporate attorney with a conglomerate housed on two floors of the Carew Tower, Benson & Benhurst.”
“Until recently?” she asked, twisting the lid on a glass bottle of lemonade. “Disbarred, were you?”
Will laughed as he took the bottle she offered him. “I went out on my own.”
“Really! How exciting, Will. All on your own?”
“No, I’m the Hanes part of Hanes & Bartlett.”
“And who is Bartlett? He sounds grumpy.”
Will spouted again with laughter. “Good call. But he’s a she.”
“Ohh,” she said on a giggle as she unwrapped the mile-high turkey subs he’d picked up from the deli around the corner from the house. “Sorry.”
“Julianne Bartlett. We’ve known each other since we were kids, went to law school together. She went to work for the public defender, I accepted an offer from B&B, and then we each started to lose our separate minds over time.”
“And a bouncing baby law firm was born,” she summarized, handing him a plastic fork and a small cardboard bowl of pasta salad. “So how’s it going?”
“Too soon to tell,” he admitted. “We haven’t gotten much further than hiring an admin and setting up shop. Ask me again once the paint’s dry on the office walls.”
Will took a bite of his sandwich and watched Alison as she did the same. Before she’d completely chewed it, she nodded. “Mmm. Good!”
“I’m glad. I was hoping you weren’t going to tell me you’re a vegetarian.”
She chuckled and swallowed the mouthful. “Nope.” Raising one hand to shield her words from the horses, she whispered, “Completely carnivorous. But don’t tell them.”
“I promise.”
“So you go to church with Beth and Jimmy,” she said.
“Yeah.” He nodded, wiping his mouth with a folded napkin. “Jimmy and I serve on the deacon board together. Are you a churchgoer?”
“I am,” she replied, her dark eyes sparkling. “I attend Gracepointe Christian.”
“By Northgate.”
“Yes. I don’t live too far from there.”
The conversation flourished in easy ebbs and flows. Alison told Will about some of her students and regaled him with tales of recent home ownership, and he explained how he’d sold his house to move in with his dad after the Parkinson’s diagnosis. They moved on to talk of college days, skipped over a few childhood dreams, and landed on Alison’s years of equestrian competitions.
“Your Palomino actually reminds me a little of the quarter horse I learned to ride on,” she told him, and Christie whinnied, seeming to follow along. “I was only six when I mounted Nilla Wafer for the first time—”
“Nilla Wafer,” he teased. “Name him yourself?”
“Her,” she corrected. “And yes, I did. Nill and I fell almost instantly in love, and it was the start of a lifelong passion for me.”
“I can see that,” he observed. “You have horse rapport.”
“Is that the technical term for it?” she asked him, and one corner of her full reddish lips quivered with amusement. “I haven’t heard that one before.”
“Very technical. And you, Alison Reece, have got it. Horse rapport.”
It wasn’t until much later, as they sat beside each other watching the sun sink into the horizon in silence, that Will realized he hadn’t thought of Julianne’s date with the ditch digger even once.
Clad all in black, the musician with the oiled ponytail and dazzling, deep-set eyes masterfully set an exotic Spanish mood as his hands moved in a blur over the sound hole of his acoustic guitar.
“I’ve heard this guy play before,” Paul said as he leaned toward the center of the wobbly wooden table that separated him from Julianne. “He’s rather a genius. I only wish I could do that.”
“Do you play?” she asked him.
Paul’s steely blue-green eyes actually twinkled as he grinned at her. “Not like that.”
Julianne nestled comfortably into the padded bench seat, cupping her glass with both hands as she watched him. Not the musician, but Paul.
Threads of gold ran through his wavy light chestnut hair, and the perfectly sculpted lines of his face made her momentarily imagine him as a superhero in disguise. All he needed was a pair of Clark Kent’s signature glasses. His black sweater had a silver zipper up the front, and Paul had it closed all the way to the base of the small turtleneck. It wasn’t too tight, but tight enough to see that he had a few muscles on him. His broad shoulders set the frame for his athletic torso and arms and, despite all of that physical perfection, Julianne spied a soft kindness in his eyes.
“Is this one of your regular haunts?” she asked him, and he peeled his gaze away from the musician.
“
I like to come here on weeknights sometimes to listen to the music when it’s not too crowded. They’ve had some amazing performers. I’m not much of a drinker or a party guy anymore. I mean, those days are behind me now that I’m getting older, you know?”
Julianne nodded happily. “I’ve never been a party girl … unless you count Friday night dance parties in the basement with my girlfriends. I was raised in the church, so clubbing and the like seems kind of foreign to me.”
“What do you mean, raised in the church?” he asked. “Were your parents pastors or something?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just mean we lived sort of … biblical lives. What about you?” she asked with hope. “Do you go to church?”
Paul chuckled and shook his head. “No.” Looking around the back room, he pointed out, “It’s jam-packed tonight. I don’t usually come on the weekends so I can avoid all this.”
“You made an exception for me,” she surmised, swallowing her disappointment. “I appreciate it. Now that you’ve shown me a little about your world, maybe I can show you more of mine. I’ve been attending a really interesting Bible study on—”
“Are you good?” Paul interrupted, gulping back the last of his tea and setting the glass on the table. Tapping the rim with his finger, he nodded toward her glass of diet Coke and asked, “Or would you like another?”
“No. I’m good.”
He paused for a long and somewhat frozen moment before scuffing his chair closer to the table and leaning toward her.
“So … why did you want to get together with me, Julianne?”
Astonished at the directness of his question, she looked into his eyes for an instant before replying. “You seemed like someone I wanted to get to know.”
“Oh.”
He leaned back in his chair, his focus heading toward the guitarist. Then, without any forewarning at all, his gaze darted back to Julianne.
“Why?”
She laughed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why do you want to get to know me?”
“Does there have to be a concrete reason?” she asked him. “I was sort of mesmerized that day when I saw you save the dog. It was such a brave and gallant thing to do, getting out in the rain to rescue him the way you did.”
“Well,” he said as his eyes dropped to the table for an instant, “I couldn’t just leave him out there in the middle of the road like that. I’m not really much of an animal person, you know? But still.”
No church attendance, and not an animal person? It clinked around inside her ears several times before fading away.
“A lot of people wouldn’t have gone to that kind of trouble,” she said finally. “You did. I think you seem like a really kind man, Paul. I enjoy getting to know kind people.”
He nodded tentatively and tossed back a few half-melted ice cubes from his glass.
“I guess I asked because … well … you’re a lawyer and all. Not that you look like any of the lawyers I’ve ever met. You’re more like one of those lawyers on TV, you know?”
“What does my job have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m a little surprised someone like you would want to go out with a contractor from Clifton.”
Julianne smiled at him. “I like Clifton.”
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly before it turned upward into a full lopsided grin. “You want to get out of here?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Let’s go for a walk. Maybe go get something to eat?”
Julianne sighed. “Sounds good.”
She grabbed her purse and Suzanne’s waistcoat, and she followed Paul Weaver through the front door.
Julianne stared at the screen before her. Something had changed. She tapped her pen on the desktop until it finally hit her.
“Phoebe?” she called out.
“Be right there.”
A moment later, Phoebe appeared in the doorway clutching a spiral notebook and a pen. “Do you need tea? Coffee?”
“No, thanks. Can you come in for a minute?”
Phoebe folded into the chair across from Julianne’s desk and adjusted the braided metallic headband holding back her dark curls. She narrowed her brown eyes and cocked her head slightly, waiting for direction.
“Did you change my sticky notes?”
“I didn’t change them,” Phoebe gingerly replied. “I just organized them. The personal reminders are on the left, the professional ones on the right.”
“Oh.” Julianne cocked her head and skimmed over the multicolored squares. “That’s actually pretty brilliant. Thank you.”
“If that’s the form of note-taking that works best for you,” she said, “you could go a step further and color-code them. Pink for personal, green for business, and maybe use the yellow for the really urgent reminders.”
Julianne sighed as she folded her arms and leaned back into her chair. “Thank you, Phoebe.”
Finally, someone who understands the importance of a good system of sticky notes!
“Hey, I was just looking over the end-of-month report from your email this morning,” Julianne said, tapping on the keyboard to bring it up again. “But before I get into that, can you do me a favor, please? There’s an emergency animal clinic out on Old Taylor Mill. Can you track them down and call to check on a dog that was brought in last week? It’s a yellow Lab that had been hit by a car.”
“Your Prince Charming’s dog?”
“Yes. I’d like to find out how the dog fared.”
“I’ll call them right away.”
“Before you do,” Julianne said. “About this report … where did you gather these figures?”
“From the bank statement that arrived on Wednesday.”
“So we only racked up sixteen billable hours last month?”
Phoebe winced. “Sorry. Yes.”
“Has Will seen this?”
“I emailed it to him. But I don’t know if he’s opened it.”
As if following a stage direction, Will appeared in the doorway right on cue. “Have you seen the end-of-month email?”
“We were just discussing it. Come on in.” Julianne guessed this wasn’t a conversation to have in front of their brand-new assistant. She smiled at Phoebe and said, “You can go. I’ll let you know if we have any questions.”
Instinctively, Phoebe closed the door behind her as she left Julianne’s office.
“Were you as surprised as I was?” Will asked her.
“Yes! Even with the leftovers you brought along from B&B, only sixteen hours.”
“Well. It was a short month for us. Just two and a half weeks.”
“Still.”
“Yeah.” Will groaned and sank into the chair across from her. “I’ve got maybe thirty hours left on the B&B business for this coming month, but that’s going to be it.”
“I’ve got a few more hours left on the Bertinni case. And we’ve got Rand for however long that develops. I think that’s it, Will.”
“We’ll have to figure out how to drum up some new clients,” he told her. “We need to make that a priority.”
Julianne spent their silence watching Jonah circle his fishbowl a few times.
“Do you suppose you could talk to any of your regular clients from B&B?” she asked.
“Getting a reputation as a client poacher this early in the game,” he pointed out, “doesn’t seem like a way to establish our new firm.”
“I don’t mean poaching them. Just … reminding them that you’re out here. On your own. Hungry for their business.”
Will’s eyes met hers, and they both laughed right out loud.
“Okay. You’re right,” she said with a sniff. “If you want to go all integrity-driven, sure.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Any coattails you can yank?”
Julianne sighed. “Want to pray?”
Will simply reached his hands across the desk and took hers. “Father, thank You. We are overwhelmed by Your
goodness and love for us. You have guided us to this place and we are so very grateful. Now we lift up our business to You once again. We ask for Your favor and grace in prospering the practice by opening those doors that are meant to open. In Jesus’ name we pray.”
“Amen,” she said with a nod.
“Amen.”
Will had only just released her hand when a soft rap at the office door drew their attention.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Phoebe said through a slight opening. “Judge Hillman’s office is on the line for you, Julianne.”
She scrunched up her face at Will before shrugging. “Thanks, Phoebe.” She snatched up the receiver and tucked it into the curve of her neck. “Julianne Bartlett.”
“Miss Bartlett, this is Bridget Ferguson, Judge Hillman’s bailiff.”
“Yes, Bridget. How are you?”
“The judge wanted me to call and ask you to come to his office as soon as possible this afternoon.”
“Is this in regard to the Bertinni matter? Because that’s—”
“I don’t know what it’s about. He just asked me to call you right away.”
“All right. I’ll head over there in about twenty minutes, Bridget.”
“I’ll tell him.”
She hung up the phone, her head whirling with worst-case scenarios.
“What’s that about?” Will asked her.
“I have no clue. I’ve been summoned to Judge Hillman’s office.”
“That can’t be good.”
“No,” she said, and she pushed to her feet and headed for the door. As she slipped into her suit jacket, she turned back again. “Hey, I didn’t get to ask you. How did your date go Friday night?”
“Pretty great, actually. Yours with Prince Charming?”
“The same,” she replied tentatively. Unclasping the chain of her purse from the hook, she turned back toward Will. “By the way, why did you tell Lacey about Paul?”
He stared at her for a moment before replying. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t know. It was just a reflex. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. But check us out, both of us getting back in the game.”
The drive to the courthouse took all of ten minutes, but about two hours’ worth of speculation filled the space. What in the world could Judge Hillman want from me at two o’clock on a Monday afternoon? And why isn’t he in court like the rest of the judges in Hamilton County?
If the Shoe Fits Page 8