Connie sighed over the line. “I need to talk to Craig about this instead of negotiating with you. He’s the voice of both defendants—”
“Craig’s a shark, but he knows who his meal ticket is.” The sun sank below the horizon, and David watched the last flash of orange wink out. “Trust me. We don’t want any more delays, and I can make the enclosure idea work. Sue will agree. She wants this done as fast as I do.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice tentative. “Then, I guess it’s a deal. I’ll draw up the proposed settlement order and file it with the court. We have a hearing tomorrow afternoon to discuss our mediation progress with Judge Nichols anyway. This is perfect timing.”
“Good.” He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He wasn’t used to being nervous, but then, he never used to care about a woman’s rejection. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow to celebrate.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Do it anyway.” It was a fucking fantastic idea, but he wasn’t going to argue semantics. He held his breath.
“Just one dinner,” she warned. “Just to celebrate a mutually beneficial resolution to our case.”
“I love it when you talk legalese to me.”
“David…”
He couldn’t stop the grin from tugging at his cheeks. “A celebration dinner. Nothing more,” he said. Connie’s idea of a celebratory dinner and his probably differed in a couple of key respects, but he was confident he could bring her over to his way of thinking. And like the good salesman he was, he knew the moment to shut up was when he got an agreement. Never give a person a chance to change her mind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Connie. Have a good night.” And without waiting for a response, David hung up.
Tilting his head back, he watched as stars emerged in the darkening sky. A date with Connie Wilkerson. He never thought it would happen. But now that it had, he was going to make sure it was more than a one-time celebration. Two single adults, living in the same small town? Connie might not know it yet, but she was as good as his.
Chapter Twelve
Allison placed a grilled chicken Caesar salad in front of Connie. “Here you go.”
Connie eyed the plate that took up most of her counter space, and looked back at Allison. “I thought I ordered the lunch-size.”
“That is the lunch-size.”
Connie picked up her fork. “If you say so.”
Allison poured herself a cup of coffee and walked around the counter, taking a seat next to Connie. It was one thirty in the afternoon, and unusually quiet for The Pantry. “When do you have to be at court?” she asked.
“Forty minutes.” Connie took a sip of water. “Court’s in session at 2:30, but I want to be there a bit early to talk with opposing counsel.” She’d tried reaching Craig all day, but his secretary said he was either out of his office or unable to take calls. The woman did confirm that David had met with the attorney early that morning to discuss settlement, and that at least had reassured Connie. Based on previous history, when David wanted something, he got it. He’d told her he was tired of the construction delays, and she believed him.
A shiver traced down Connie’s spine. Did he want her? Would he come after her with the same focus? Or was tonight’s dinner a half-hearted attempt to get laid?
“So how’s the case going?” Allison leaned back on her stool, resting her elbows behind her on the counter. “Please tell me you’re going to tear David a new one.”
Connie pushed a piece of chicken across her plate. “It’s going well. I’m hoping it will be resolved soon.” Her first case could be over in less than two hours, with a compromise her clients could live with. It was as good an outcome as she could have hoped for.
Allison shook her head, her platinum corkscrew curls swinging. “You’re not giving me hope that Carelli Construction is about to go bankrupt.”
Pete, the local tow truck driver and cab service, raised his coffee mug in the air across the restaurant. “Hey, sweetheart, do you think you can stop your gabbing and get me a refill?”
Allison pinned him with a glare. “You’ve got legs. Get up and get your own coffee. I’m busy.”
Grumbling, Pete stood and walked behind the counter. Connie felt her cheeks warm when he smiled at her. As Pineville’s only taxi service, Pete had picked Connie up on more than one occasion in his blue tow truck when she’d had one too many to drink. And one horrible night, one she wished she could forget, she’d puked in the passenger seat of his truck. He’d been very nice about it, but the humiliation of tossing her cookies in front of him still stung. It was after that night that she’d decided to stop drinking. So maybe the embarrassment had been worth it.
Allison turned back to Connie. “At least tell me you’re going to make Carelli cry. Just a little. I’m not asking for much.”
Connie shook her head and chuckled. “He’s not that bad.” At some things, he was quite good. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she remembered just how good he could be, and her body heated up.
“Uh, uh. Not buying it.” Allison spun around on the stool. “Something happened to that boy that turned him to the dark side.”
Connie shifted on her seat, the cushion hissing. David had been her Darth Vader ever since she could remember. The town jerk it was easy to hate. But jumping on the bash-David bandwagon made the Caesar salad sit heavy in her stomach.
Allison leaned close. “Can you believe he was nominated for Citizen of the Year?” She snorted. “What a crock.”
“I hadn’t heard that.” Why would David want that award? And there was no doubt he’d put someone up to nominating him. That wouldn’t happen naturally. Her shoulders hunched. Now she was being just as judgmental about him as everyone else. There could be someone in Pineville who thought he was a good enough guy to nominate.
“I wonder who he bribed.” Allison slid from her stool and cleared the empty plate of a customer, placing it in a rectangular bucket behind the counter.
Digging through her purse, Connie came up with some bills and laid them next to her half-eaten salad. She stood. “Why would he do that? I’ve never even seen David at the Founders’ Day Parade, much less express an interest in its award ceremony. What would he stand to gain?”
“Who knows with him?” Allison picked up a coffee pot and walked with Connie across the black-and-white checked floor toward the front door. She stopped at Pete’s table and topped up the mugs of his friends.
“What the hell, Allison?” Pete nudged his cup toward her. “Why didn’t you make them get their own coffee?”
“Because they didn’t rudely interrupt my conversation.”
Connie smiled and pulled the door open, the bell above it tinkling. The weird knit scarf on the light pole across from the entrance had grown since her last visit. The red and white stripes now stretched to over her head.
“Allison, what’s going on with this”—she waved her finger at the pole—“knitting project. Did you do that?”
“Don’t you read the Pineville Gazette?” Allison joined her at the door. “That’s the handiwork of Pineville’s rogue knitter.”
“The what now?”
Allison shrugged. “Someone has made it her mission to beautify our city one knitting project at a time. The sign for the parking lot over on Fourth is covered in a yellow knit cozy. It looks like a sun. There are a few other things that popped up around town, too.” She dropped her voice and waggled her eyebrows. “And no one knows who’s doing it!”
“Some people have too much time on their hands,” Connie said.
“You know it.” Allison stepped back inside. “I’ll see you around.”
Connie strode to her Jeep and pulled out her portfolio, but left the vehicle parked at the curb and walked to the courthouse. Now that she was paying attention, little knit projects peeked out at her from many places. A mailbox had knit booties on each foot. A bicycle stand had a green yarn serpent winding around its
metal bars. The adornments were bright and whimsical, and Connie couldn’t help but smile. Only in Pineville.
She picked up her pace and hustled up the steps to the courthouse. Ivy clung to the red brick building, but the rogue knitter had enough sense not to deface county property. So far.
She hustled to the courtroom and peeked her head inside. A couple of members of CCWP were sitting in the gallery, and she waved to them, but none of the defendants had arrived. Clutching her portfolio to her chest, she paced in front of the courtroom doors until it was two minutes before the hearing started. She went inside and settled behind the plaintiff’s table.
Joe Rodriguez leaned across the gate between the gallery and her table. “Are you sure this is the best deal we can get? We won’t be able to win outright?”
“No.” This was a part of being an attorney she was finding out she didn’t like. Telling clients the hard truth. “The chances of us winning the lawsuit are low. I think this is the best deal we can expect.”
He nodded, and sat back down, not looking happy. Well, the bar owner would be even less happy if his patrons had to listen to dogs barking next door as they sat on his patio. This deal would prevent that.
Connie pulled out her settlement papers, and arranged her notes for the hearing.
Leon the bailiff poked his head through the back doors that led to the judge’s chambers. He saw the empty defendant’s table, and frowned. He disappeared back into the other room.
A couple minutes later, David, Sue, and Craig burst into the courtroom. David clenched his jaw tight, and Connie couldn’t decipher the look he shot her way. They arranged themselves behind the defendant’s table, and Sue flopped into her seat.
Leon looked in, leaned back to say something to the judge, and stepped into the room. “All rise. The Honorable Judge Nichols presiding.”
Everyone in the courtroom stood. Judge Nichols hopped up the steps to the bench, and flicked his robes back as he sat. “Take a seat, everyone.” He shuffled through some folders on his desk, his brows lowering. “Ardele, I’m not seeing the latest filing. Do you—”
“It’s at the top of your desk. No, to your right.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose. “I didn’t have time to attach it to the case folder, yet.”
“That’s fine.” He scanned the document. “I saw this last night.” Lowering the papers, he smiled at Connie. “I’m glad to see the parties used their mediation session well.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Connie said. “I know this was filed last minute, but I wanted to get it in before today’s hearing.” She glanced across at the defendant’s table. “I don’t know if Mr. Evers has had a chance yet to sign and return his copy to you?”
“Good morning, Your Honor,” Craig said. “I haven’t signed the agreement, and I won’t be. After my last discussion with Ms. Wilkerson, I’m not sure why she thought I would.”
Condescension dripped off his words, and Connie’s lungs seized. She stared at David, but he faced forward, refusing to acknowledge her. Her clients muttered behind her in the gallery, the words a faint buzz.
Connie squeezed her pen. “I had a verbal agreement, Your Honor. It was decided—”
“Not with me, you didn’t.” Craig crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’d like to lodge a complaint that opposing counsel entered into negotiations with my client instead of me.”
David’s body twitched, and he slowly turned to face Craig. His glare made even the slippery-tongued attorney falter for words.
“She…uh…she—”
Judge Nichols flapped a hand at the man. “Mr. Evers, in a town this size, you know we can’t follow the same restrictions as larger jurisdictions. We’re all neighbors here, we run into each other at the market. Conversations will occur. And besides, there’s no formal rule in the Michigan bar against contact with the opposition.”
Heat raced up Connie’s throat to her face. Contact with the opposition. If only the judge knew. She glanced at David out of the side of her eye and caught his gaze. A knowing smile flirted with his lips, and she knew he was thinking of their kiss, too.
Judge Nichols rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his elbow braced on his bench. “Is there anything that the two sides did agree on?”
“No, Your Honor,” Craig said.
Connie waited, hoping David would say something, but knowing that was foolish. He wasn’t supposed to speak up in court. That’s why he hired an attorney. And she shouldn’t have negotiated with him, either. She knew better.
“Well, that’s disappointing. But not entirely unexpected.” Leaning back in his chair, Judge Nichols laced his fingers and rested his hands on his belly. “If there’s going to be no agreement, are we ready to set a date for trial?”
Craig flashed his teeth. “Your Honor, seeing as how we’ve produced a new variance, signed by three out of the five members of the planning commission, I would think that a trial would be unnecessary at this point.” He held up a paper and waved it at Leon, who put down his book and came to get it. “I have a dismissal order—”
“Your Honor, this second variance was obtained without following the proper procedure,” Connie cut in. Her compromise had gone belly up; she couldn’t let the rest of the case slip away, too. Her heart pounded, but she focused on her argument. “The zoning board didn’t hold a required public meeting. This was yet another backroom deal, and another instance in which the defendants circumvented local rules.”
“The zoning board meeting wasn’t required to be public,” Craig argued. “City regulation provides that meetings held solely to make a decision in adjudicatory proceedings aren’t subject to public notice.”
“Which will be a nice argument for you to make at trial,” the judge said. He glanced down at the court reporter. “Ardele, what’s the calendar look like in three months? I assume three months is enough time for discovery?” he asked Connie and Evers.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
They set a date, and Connie entered it into her phone’s calendar. She turned to the members of CCWP in the gallery, and talked with them as the courtroom emptied. Emptied of everyone except David. He stood by the exit doors, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, and waited.
Connie didn’t want to hear it. She stayed with her clients and left the courtroom in the middle of their group, avoiding his gaze. But she couldn’t avoid a man determined to be heard. At the stairs to the courthouse, he grabbed her elbow.
She shook him off. “Trying to give your attorney more ammunition in an ethics charge against me?”
Joe paused at the bottom step. “Do you have a problem here, Connie?” His eyes narrowed as he stared at David.
“Tell them to go away,” David said in a low voice. “We need to talk.”
Connie’s hackles rose at doing anything David said, but damn it, she did want to talk to him. Yell at him, really. She smiled at her client. “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
With one last hard look at David, Joe nodded and walked to the parking lot. Connie climbed down the steps, making David follow her if he wanted to talk.
Keeping pace, he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought I could get Sue to agree. I was arguing with them right up until we arrived at court.”
Connie’s shoulder blades pressed together. “The great David Carelli couldn’t make someone bend to his will? I don’t believe it.”
He clenched his hands. “I thought Sue would see reason.”
“You shouldn’t promise things you can’t deliver.” She stopped and spun to face him. “Just like you shouldn’t expect that everyone will fall in line with what you want. And here I thought—” She cut herself off, and looked back at the courthouse, away from David.
He stepped closer. “What did you think?”
“It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t. What mattered was her fledgling career. Whether it be here or in Detroit. She bel
onged in the courthouse, and she couldn’t let poor judgment ruin her chances at being a successful attorney. What mattered were her clients, depending on her to keep their neighborhood nuisance-free. Figuring David Carelli out, trying to reconcile his sweeter side with his arrogant one, shouldn’t even take a second out of her day.
She lifted her chin. “Next time you want to discuss the case, go through Evers. We won’t be having separate negotiations again.” She left him, with hands on his hips, looking as pissed off as she felt.
“So I guess our date is off?” he hollered at her back.
She responded with one finger. Pineville was getting too darn small for her liking. Detroit was looking better and better.
Chapter Thirteen
Sweat streamed down David’s back, making his college T-shirt cling to his skin. His knees were caked with dirt from kneeling in Connie’s yard, and he realized that his three hundred dollar jeans had now become work pants.
The damn wire fencing kept wanting to roll back up, resisting his efforts to hammer it into the fence post. He reached behind him for the terry cloth he used to wipe his face, but felt nothing but dirt. Looking at the spot on the ground where he’d thought he’d left it, David frowned.
“Well, well,” a male voice drawled. “This isn’t something I thought I’d ever see. David Carelli kneeling on the dirt with a hammer in his hand.”
Connie’s father stood on the back porch of her house, a steaming mug cupped in one hand. He leaned against the railing, seeming content to enjoy the show.
David pushed his work glove down his wrist and checked his watch. “It’s eleven o’clock. You just getting up now?”
The older man shrugged, and sipped his coffee.
Lazy bastard. His daughter worked her tail off, and he lounged around all morning. Joel Wilkerson had always been worthless, always looking for the next big deal that would set him up for life. Looking for easy money. The break never came. The deals always fell through. And the man was fifty-something with nothing to show for his life. Except Connie. How she could have come from such a man baffled David. She must have inherited her work ethic from her mother’s side, before the woman had up and left her young daughter and husband to search for a better life.
Why Did It Have to Be You? Page 13