Why Did It Have to Be You?

by Allyson Charles

  Pushing out her lower lip, Connie tilted her head to the side. She tried to run that one through her head again.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Miss Eugenie rounded on her friend. “It wasn’t Bigfoot.”

  “I say it was.” Mrs. Garcia wrapped her arms around her middle, her hands clasping the opposite wrists. “You’ve seen the footage. You can’t deny it.”

  “Footage?” Connie asked. She probably shouldn’t have.

  Mrs. Garcia whipped a tablet out of her purse. “After the theft was discovered, we went on Google Earth. Look.” Shoving the device into Connie’s hands, Mrs. Garcia tapped the screen to start a slideshow. Aerial shots of Miss Eugenie’s house, enlarged to show the flowerbeds in her front yard, skipped across the screen. Mrs. Garcia pointed a thick finger at one patch of dirt. “There are the begonias…wait for it…and now there’re gone. And there it is!” she crowed, her nail stabbing at the corner of the picture.

  Connie angled her head. Squinted. All she saw was a dark blob leaving the frame. Were those four legs? She snapped the cover closed on the device. “Nope, looks like human thieves to me.” She ignored Mrs. Garcia’s crestfallen expression.

  “That’s what I say.” Miss Eugenie huffed, and muttered Bigfoot under her breath with a roll of her eyes. “I called the police, but Officer Davis didn’t seem interested in investigating disappearing flowers.” She sniffed. “Well, I’ll be keeping an eye out for my plants around town. And if I find them, those landscapers are going to be sorry. They stole from the wrong woman.” She slapped the clippers into the palm of her other hand.

  Connie stopped her own eye roll. Like the woman would be able to tell her begonias from someone else’s. She paused. Well, this woman probably could tell. She’d probably DNA tested all her plants for just such an occasion.

  Placing the clippers on the top of the green bin, Miss Eugenie wiped microscopic flecks of dirt from her small hands. “Now, if you ever want help with your front yard, you let me know. Your curb appeal, or lack thereof, reflects on all of us in the neighborhood. At least you’re hidden away down a long drive. Most people don’t have to see your house.”

  Connie bit her tongue. Long-ingrained manners about how to speak to her elders kept her from telling the woman what she could do with her insulting offer of help. What was with everyone trashing her house today? She looked around the yard. Surrounded by towering pine trees, her backyard looked more like a forest than a garden. Nothing wrong with that.

  Taking off her gloves, she tossed them on the green bin. Except she wanted a pretty yard, too. A garden she could sit and read a book in. She’d have to find more time to work on it.

  “Well, we’d best be getting back,” Miss Eugenie said. “I have a peach pie in the oven. It’s Judge Nichols’s birthday, and I know that’s his favorite.”

  “That’s nice of you.” Surprisingly nice. “I didn’t know it was his birthday.”

  The older woman’s cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink. “There was a feature in the paper about him last month that mentioned it.” She tugged at the brim of her hat, pulling it low over her eyebrows.

  Mrs. Garcia frowned. “What do you mean? You’ve always known when his birthday was. Ever since we were teenagers—”

  “We’d best be going,” Miss Eugenie interrupted.

  “And when you text Judge Nichols to tell him his pie is ready, remember not to add any food emojis.” Mrs. Garcia planted her fists on her wide hips. “We don’t want any embarrassing repeats of that eggplant emoji incident.”

  Face crimson, Miss Eugenie rolled the edge of her blouse between her fingers. “I’d made him eggplant parmesan. How was I to know?”

  Mrs. Garcia shook her head. “I swear, you make that man more food than I did for my Sergio when he was alive. And I adored my husband. You gave the judge a cobbler last week, and now a pie—”

  “Yes, well, your Sergio didn’t get us out of serving time in the big house, now did he?” Miss Eugenie jutted out her chin. “We owe that man more than just pastry.”

  “Not at today’s butter prices,” Mrs. Garcia muttered.

  Nodding at Connie, Miss Eugenie turned to leave. “Let’s go, Shep.” The dog heaved to his feet and swayed after the two women. Instead of walking up the drive to the road, they headed for a break in the trees where a faint path led to the other house. The sound of their bickering faded into the woods.

  The second they disappeared from view, Milo poked his head around the corner of the house.

  Shaking her head, Connie huffed out a laugh. “Yes, they’re gone.” She began collecting her gardening tools. She’d had enough for the day, and had made some good progress. Her stomach growled. And besides, she’d only had a couple bites of her lunch.

  Strolling to the large pile of ivy that would have to wait for next week’s green bin, Milo took a large mouthful and backed away. Half the neat mound followed.

  “Hey! Stop that.”

  He ignored her. Connie took a step toward him, not exactly clear on what she’d do to stop a goat from disorganizing her ivy. It didn’t matter. With a toss of his head, he took off, ivy falling by the wayside all around him. His path followed her neighbor into the woods.

  “Yeah, try that with Miss Eugenie!” Connie yelled. “She won’t be as nice to you as I was.”

  Ignoring the new mess, she dragged her feet up the porch steps and hoped that was the last she’d seen of the goat. She pushed into her living room and let the spring-loaded screen door slam shut behind her. She fell face first on her sofa.

  The way her luck was running, she knew Milo would be back.

  Chapter Five

  David ran his fingers through his damp hair. He shouldn’t have swum those last twenty laps. Sue wouldn’t be happy that he was late to the mediation with CCWP. Threading his way through the parking lot at his attorney’s office building, he rubbed at the ache behind his temple. It didn’t seem like a lot made the shelter’s manager happy. After the shit week he’d had, he’d needed to blow off some steam in the pool.

  His gut clenched as he thought about everything that could have gone horribly wrong. His punk nephew would be all right. The stab wound had been shallow and located in the fleshy part of his side. If a person had to get stabbed, all in all not a bad place to get it. And from the warden’s account, Zeke had been mouthing off to a much larger and much meaner inmate.

  No, things could have been much worse. But it was the disgust he’d seen in his nephew’s eyes and the disrespect Zeke had shown him when he’d gone to see the boy at the infirmary that hurt David more than he could have imagined.

  The air-conditioning sucker-punched him when he stepped into the lobby of the building. Not stopping at the reception desk, he headed for the main conference room. He knew his way. He’d used this law firm for years.

  Walking down the hallway, he could see into the glass-walled conference room at the end of the corridor. A large group was assembled, every chair but one filled, with other members of CCWP standing along the walls.

  Pushing through the door, he wended his way around the table to the open seat next to his attorney. Sue sat on Craig’s other side, looking bored.

  Craig’s gaze flicked to him before turning to the group with a shit-eating grin. “Now that we’re all here, we can get started.” He held up a large platter, with just two muffins and a lot of crumbs, toward Connie. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? My assistant can run back to the bakery if you’d prefer something else.”

  Settling into the butter-soft leather chair, David faced Connie across the table. Her dark brown hair was tucked up in the tight bun she’d been favoring these past couple of months, not a strand out of place. He liked it better when she wore her hair down, or in that sleek little ponytail she jogged in. The bun pulled at the skin on the sides of her face, emphasizing her high cheekbones. Making her look altogether too serious. But hair up or down, she still looked sexy.

  David frowne
d. None of that bullshit should matter. His time to lust after Connie Wilkerson had come and gone. Right now, she stood in his way.

  Connie smiled, the curve of her lips pleasant, but her eyes flat. She shook her head. “No thanks. We’re all busy people here. Why don’t we get started?”

  “Of course.” Craig flipped open an embossed leather portfolio and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He slid one across the table to Connie. “This is the variance. Signed by three of the zoning board’s members. They held a special session.” Lacing his fingers together, he leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. “I know we’ve been ordered by the court to mediate, but there isn’t a whole lot to work out here. The shelter is going forward.”

  Connie scanned the document. “This meeting was held in private? Without giving the public notice?”

  “Notice and consent aren’t needed for internal meetings.” Craig shared a sympathetic smile with the assembled crowd, as if he was just the bearer of bad news, not the one who’d orchestrated it.

  David raised an eyebrow. The man really was a douche. But he got results.

  “It’s debatable whether last night’s meeting qualifies for the notice exemption. And I will debate it in front of Judge Nichols.” Connie smiled. “Vociferously.”

  “You can try, but you’ll lose.” Craig spread out his hands. “Look, you’ve formed a nice little group. Citizens uniting together is admirable. And I hear your concerns. But you’re worrying for nothing. You won’t even know the shelter’s there.”

  “We didn’t come here to be patronized!” The man seated to Connie’s right leaned forward, his eyes flashing. Joe Rodriguez had formed CCWP. The group held their meetings in his wine and whiskey bar on Willow Street.

  Connie touched Joe’s forearm. David followed the movement, the back of his neck growing hotter each second she kept her hand on her client. “And we didn’t come here to waste our time,” she said. “Now, do you have any real interest in negotiating, or are you just here because you were ordered to come?”

  Craig looked at Sue. “Well, we’re happy to negotiate the attorneys’ fees you owe us. I’m sure we could come to some sort of arrangement.”

  “So we came down here for nothing.” Connie stood and placed her files back in her portfolio. “I’ll be sure to inform Judge Nichols that you were only willing to discuss your fees.”

  Sue placed her elbows on the table. “Be reasonable. Pineville needs an updated animal shelter. This NIMBY crap is pathetic.”

  A man in faded Wranglers stepped forward, a worn cap twisted between his fingers. David recognized the face but couldn’t place the name. “There’s plenty of empty land outside town that’s ready to be built on,” the man said. “Cheap land. Much cheaper than the lot downtown. We don’t understand why you’re trying to force this into the commercial district. Shelters are zoned as industrial use, and that’s how it should be.”

  Heads nodded, and the man’s grip on his ball cap tightened. “Paul would be your neighbor on one side.” He pointed to a man in a lime-green polo shirt. “I can smell his flower shop all the way down the street.”

  Sue let out a lusty sigh, but the man pressed on. “And Cora here would be on the other side. She runs a quiet bookstore. Her customers at The Book Nook don’t want to be hearing dogs barking as they have a cup of coffee and read their newest find.”

  “We’ve been over this.” Tucking a frizzy lock of red hair behind her ear, Sue leaned back in her chair. “You wouldn’t hear or smell anything.”

  “She’s right.” David spoke to Connie. Her dark eyes gleamed under the lights. He’d always thought they were beautiful. All her emotions were reflected in them as clear as day. Of course, it was usually irritation and disgust he saw when she looked his way. “The new construction materials we’re using are soundproof, and our ventilation system is state of the art.” Even the cheaper ventilation system currently in the designs was top-notch. He didn’t mention there was an even better alternative.

  Connie arched a dark eyebrow. “And when the animals go into the yard in back for their daily exercise? How are you going to sound- and odor-proof the outside? We did look at the plans you submitted, you know.”

  Sue grunted in disgust. “I thought the people of Pineville had bigger hearts than this. That you would deny poor, orphaned animals—”

  “Don’t give us that,” Joe yelled amid a round of grumblings. “I have three cats and a Rottweiler mix that I love.” He pointed at the man in the Wranglers. “Cesar here has four rescue dogs. We would happily support a shelter if it wasn’t smack dab downtown where it doesn’t belong.”

  Connie stood and rubbed Joe’s shoulder, speaking to the man in low tones. David gritted his teeth. When did lawyering get to be so touchy-feely? This was Connie’s first case, but she needed to learn that it was inappropriate to fondle the clients. A level of professionalism—

  Craig patted Sue’s hand, his palm lingering over hers, his thumb tracing a slow pattern on her skin before they shared a quick laugh.

  David’s scowl deepened. Maybe he was the only goddamned professional left. Pushing to his feet, he made sure to knock his chair into the back of Craig’s. “Are we done here?”

  “I think so.” Craig snapped his portfolio closed. “Another successful mediation,” he said dryly, making Sue’s smile widen.

  David’s insides twisted. They’d never had any intention other than to toy with the members of CCWP. They knew they were going to win, and Sue was pissed off enough over the delay to be vindictive. David glanced at Connie. She was listening quietly to her client, her small, white teeth biting into her lower lip. She was just so earnest, so hardworking, so decent. And she was going to lose her first ever case as an attorney. Sometimes life sucked, but that was a lesson Connie had already learned. This time it was unnecessary. He could build the shelter somewhere else, but Sue had the downtown location fixed in her mind. And she was his client.

  Gathering his things, David tried to shake himself out of his funk. This was business. No use feeling sorry for the opposing attorney. But lately business had become a grind. He’d fallen into a rut, and the successes he’d once enjoyed now felt as hollow as the cheap, plastic baseball trophies he’d won as a kid.

  If he got the ballpark project, that would change. A build like that would be a challenge. Something he could be proud of. It might even interest his nephew enough to join Carelli Construction. Assuming he was out on parole by the time ground broke.

  Craig nodded goodbye to David and escorted Sue from the conference room, a smirk etched across his face. Maybe David needed another change, too. He’d been using Evers for a long time. Yes, the man was successful, but his attitude was starting to wear on David. Maybe it was time for a new attorney.

  He made his way around the conference table, keeping Connie in the corner of his vision. Her firm wasn’t one of his fans. They’d lost too many cases against David. But with the amount of business he could throw them, he was sure they wouldn’t hold a grudge.

  Connie was smart and tenacious, both good qualities in a lawyer. And she’d damn sure be nicer to work with than Evers. Nicer to look at, too. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little more time with her, make sure she was up for the job.

  He waited in the parking lot by her piece of crap Jeep, his shoulders relaxing when she broke away from a group of her clients with a farewell wave. She was digging around in the large sack she called a purse and didn’t see him until she’d almost plowed into his chest.

  “Oh.” She pushed a pair of sunglasses to the top of her head, the black frames only a couple shades darker than her mahogany hair. “It’s you.”

  Idiot that he was, his heart kicked up its pace at her nearness. “No need to sound so excited about that fact. It’s a small town. You can see me as often as you want.”

  “Too damn often,” she muttered, and tried to step around him.

  David stepped with her. “Now don’t be rude. If you
want to be a successful attorney, you’ll need to be more diplomatic than that.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t take legal tips from you.” She stepped the other way, but he blocked her again. A cute little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows, and she rested her hands on her hips.

  “You should.” Placing his hand on the top of her Jeep, he leaned forward, into her space. “I’ve worked with some of the best of them.”

  “That I believe.” Her tone didn’t make it a compliment.

  He drummed his fingers on the roof, the metal hot from the sun. Her attitude, like he was shit on her shoe, was getting old. “And I’m considering working with you, so I’d suggest you play nice.”

  She leaned a hip against the Cadillac parked next to her, and crossed her arms. “Run that by me again.”

  “I’m in the market for a new attorney.” Saying it out loud, David realized how badly he could screw things up. If Craig found out he was shopping around, the attorney could make things difficult. He wouldn’t sink the case since he had too much at stake himself. But Evers was an asshole. He would think of some way to make David pay.

  He eyed Connie. She didn’t like him; she made that very clear. But she was ethical. She wouldn’t blab anything that was meant to be confidential. David thought he could trust her. It would be a switch doing business with someone like that. He was used to working with people like himself, always looking out for number one. David scraped his fingers along his jaw. Frankly, it was exhausting doing business with people like him. Finding an attorney he respected and trusted would be one of the smarter things he’d done. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  “I can’t represent you, David. I’m already representing the people who are suing you.” She spoke slowly, and with enough snark to make his blood heat. He must be a masochist, because he’d always loved her sassy mouth, even when it was directed at him. Especially then. Her brows lowered. “And if this is some pathetic attempt to bribe me, I’ll—”