Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Cara stabbed at her spaghetti, twirling her fork into the pasta. “What is this? A hot meal served with extra helpings of guilt?”

  “Oh come on, Cara,” protested CiCi. “Surely you see Drake around the courthouse enough to know how miserable he is.”

  Cara extracted her fork from the spaghetti and let it hover over her plate. “Yes, and I share that misery. I wish I could forget about the judicial ethics complaint, but I can’t. It’s still out there, haunting me. As well as Drake.”

  “Well, when you get the appointment, I guess everything will finally work out and you two can start acting like lovebirds again instead of pretending to be strangers.”

  Cara cast her eyes down at her food. “Not necessarily.”

  “What? But if you get the seat, surely you two could—”

  “If I get the seat but the complaint is still pending, I’ll have the same problem, just a different job. The evidentiary problem I explained to you doesn’t go away. That will only die when the complaint dies.”

  “Surely they’ll clear up the complaint before you get the seat. Makes no sense that’s gone on so long. And I can’t believe Garner actually admitted to you he was involved in spreading the rumor.”

  Cara put her fork down, tired of CiCi’s rants about Garner.

  “CiCi, I get that you don’t care for Garner. But I have to say that I don’t know whether he’s still worthy of your dislike. He was a broken and changed man when I saw him. And I consider him a friend now.”

  CiCi looked uncomfortable, averting her eyes toward the windows, then back to Cara. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so unfeeling. It’s just that what happened between Nina and him—well, it’s still too fresh.”

  Cara almost asked CiCi what kind of car Nina drove. Her suspicions that it had been Nina lingering in front of Garner’s house that day she had visited him had only grown stronger over time. Garner’s reaction and his use of the pronoun “she” to refer to the driver were still striking to her after two weeks. She could still remember his shock and relief to see the vehicle, shortly followed by his disappointment upon seeing the car depart.

  The two friends ate in silence for the next several minutes. CiCi cleared her plate quickly.

  “Want seconds before I dive in?” she asked, rising from the table and returning to the kitchen. “We’ve got plenty.”

  Cara declined, and CiCi returned to the table with a plate as full as the first.

  “Didn’t eat breakfast,” CiCi said.

  After CiCi polished off her second serving, both women cleared the table. CiCi then produced a pie from the fridge as Cara retook her seat.

  “Chocolate pecan from The Windmill,” she said eagerly as she returned to the kitchen to retrieve plates, forks, and a knife. CiCi did the honors and carved a large piece for Cara.

  “That’s way too big!” Cara protested.

  CiCi took an equally large piece for herself and sat as Cara stared at her own piece. “You can take some home if you can’t eat it,” CiCi declared.

  Cara took a bite, and it was magnificent. But the look on CiCi’s face was almost as wonderful. The woman across the table looked like a kid on Christmas morning as she speared a large bite onto her fork and popped it into her mouth.

  But just as soon as the fork slipped through her lips, CiCi’s eyes widened in apparent terror. She grabbed a paper napkin from the table and spat the bite into it.

  “Something wrong?” Cara asked.

  “It’s bourbon chocolate pecan! I told Walker to get the plain!”

  “Since when do you have a problem with bourbon, Mrs. Master Distiller?”

  CiCi reddened.

  “CiCi! You?”

  CiCi’s expression turned from shock to joy.

  “Yeah,” she said, tears in her eyes as she put her fork down.

  Cara hurried to CiCi’s side where she flung her arms around her friend.

  “Have you not told anyone yet? Was I the first to figure it out?”

  “Other than Walker’s family, you are the first. And how perfect is that a stupid piece of pie gave me away! Can’t believe I can’t eat this for the next umpteen months!” she said, pushing her plate away with one hand and wiping more tears with the other.

  Cara peppered her with questions as she retook her seat and learned that CiCi was due the following summer.

  “I won’t tell a soul, honest,” Cara said. “I’m sorry to have outed you.”

  “We weren’t going to tell for a while because—well, we’ve had a lot of problems. A lot. In fact, we gave up.”

  “Apparently you didn’t.” Cara immediately put her hand over her mouth, embarrassed at her remark.

  CiCi snickered. “Well, we obviously didn’t give that up. But with my age and history, we’d resigned ourselves to the sad fact that it just wasn’t going to happen for us. We’d tried various procedures. Nothing worked. We had given up hope.”

  Cara recalled that time at Jorrie and Mack’s wedding when she’d seen CiCi and Walker looking so glum. Perhaps the source of their unhappiness hadn’t necessarily been Nina’s plight but their own struggle.

  “Sorry to dump that on you,” CiCi said.

  “No worries. And again, I won’t tell.”

  “Thanks. We just found out about ten days ago, and we’re not ready to go public. And truth be told, I’m trying not to get too excited. We’ve had so many disappointments that I’m not going to relax until Miranda tells me I’ve passed the serious miscarriage threat.”

  “So how’s Walker?” Cara inquired.

  CiCi beamed. “Goofy. Deliriously happy. Already talking about a nursery. I can’t believe he didn’t notice the pie was made with bourbon! But that’s been him—totally out of it since we learned we’re expecting.” CiCi looked at the pie, still in the box and on top of the table. “I think I’d better give you the pie. Too much of a temptation for me to keep it around.”

  “Is it that much of a threat that you can’t have your favorite pie with a bit of bourbon in it?”

  “Don’t know but won’t risk it. If something goes wrong, don’t want the thought that what I ate had something to do with it. I know that Rachel, Hannah, and Lila all avoided bourbon in sweets—and that’s saying something, especially for those Davenport women. So I can follow suit. It won’t last forever.” She cast a mournful look at the box, stamped on top with The Windmill’s distinctive logo.

  Cara finished her dessert as CiCi tidied the kitchen and boxed up the pie. CiCi urged Cara to take it with her.

  “If you freeze it, you could serve it for Thanksgiving. It would be scrumptious with a big dollop of Cinnamon Garnet. I’m sure Drake would love that.”

  “Well, he probably won’t be a guest at—”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not even willing to break bread with the man on the one day of the year when people are expected to stuff themselves silly.”

  Cara made a feeble defense for her decision, leaving CiCi in a snit.

  “I know it’s not a good situation, but—”

  Feeling her cellphone vibrate in her pocket, Cara pulled it out and checked it.

  The caller was the only other man besides Drake Mercer with the power to make her heart beat so fast and furiously.

  “I… uh… gotta take this,” Cara stammered.

  CiCi pointed Cara to the area in front of the fireplace. “I’ll leave you alone. Gotta go pee anyway. That’s becoming a thing for me.”

  CiCi disappeared, and Cara answered the call.

  “Judge Forrest?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Please hold for the governor.”

  When she heard the governor’s voice, it was almost as though she were having some kind of out-of-body experience. Was this really happening? Or was she watching as it was happening to someone else?

  No. This was it.

  She was the appointee.

  She graciously accepted the appointment and remembered to thank him. The call was over in less than a minute.

&
nbsp; CiCi reappeared.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. “You’re sickly pale.”

  “That was the governor,” Cara said, completely out of breath. “I got the appointment.”

  CiCi thrust her hands up into the air. “Yes!” She hurried to Cara, still standing before the fireplace, and pulled her into a hug. “How did you know that was the governor’s office? You had the number in your phone?”

  Cara nodded. “From the last time I got a judicial appointment,” she admitted. “Not a call you want to miss.”

  CiCi took Cara’s hand and pulled her from the room and into the front hall of her house, where their coats hung on a rack. “We gotta get back to the courthouse and start spreadin’ the news!” Cara demurred and said she needed to call her mother, her attorney, and Drake in that order. “You do that while I call Hannah and Harriet, if that’s all right with you,” CiCi said.

  Cara agreed as CiCi found her phone in her purse and went to the kitchen. After passing on the happy news to her mother, she called Elizabeth.

  “That is fantastic, Cara,” Elizabeth gushed. “Do you have plans for getting sworn in?”

  “No, but I guess I’ll call the Chief Justice after I call Drake.”

  “Just remember to be careful,” Elizabeth reminded her. “That damn complaint is still out there.”

  “I know.” Cara sighed.

  “And also remember that my advice to you hasn’t changed. Keep your distance if you can, Cara. I know it can’t be easy, especially at this time of year. But that complaint will come to an end. What I’d hate to see happen is for someone to file to run against you, using it as some kind of weapon in a judicial campaign. Have you heard of anyone that might want that seat, now that Garner is out of the equation?”

  “Not a soul.”

  “Doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. And as long as the complaint is there, it’s a threat. Sorry to keep repeating myself, but—”

  “But that’s what good lawyers do. I get it, Elizabeth. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

  Her call with Elizabeth over, Cara sat with her phone in her lap, looking at the device and trying to figure out what to say to Drake besides relaying the news of her appointment.

  “I know, I know!” CiCi cried from the kitchen, momentarily distracting her. “Wait, I’ll ask,” she said and dropped the phone. “Hannah wants to know when you’re getting sworn in.”

  “I don’t know yet. Gotta call the Chief. I hope to have an answer for her—and everyone—by the end of the day. I haven’t even called Drake yet.”

  “Then do it!” CiCi exhorted and returned to the call with Hannah.

  Before she could lose nerve, Cara punched the number for Drake. She held her breath as the phone went through several rings and then to voice mail. Not wanting to leave a message considering the importance of her news, she hung up.

  Her next call was to the Chief Justice’s office, where she learned that the Chief had already scheduled a small ceremony for her swearing in the Wednesday before Thanksgiving—just days away—and that Cara and others should adjust their schedules accordingly.

  “That was some lunch,” CiCi said as she shut the front door to her house behind them and slipped her arm into Cara’s. It was still snowing, and the two women huddled against each other as they walked arm in arm back to the courthouse.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Cara assured CiCi.

  “But your news is definitely not a secret. I can’t wait to get back to work!”

  As they crossed the street in front of the courthouse, CiCi spied the sheriff and Rachel and Brady, the three of them crossing at the walk a block farther down, the trio apparently walking back from a lunch at Over a Barrel.

  CiCi waved to them exuberantly and started yelling the news across the block, just like a town crier. Kyle held up his cellphone as they converged in front of the courthouse.

  “We already know,” he said, giving his phone a shake. “Hannah just called us. Congratulations, Judge.” He held out his arms for a hug. Cara hugged the sheriff, then exchanged embraces with Rachel and Brady.

  “When’s the big day?” asked Rachel.

  “The day before Thanksgiving in Frankfort,” Cara revealed. “I called the Chief’s office, and it was already all set up. I’m supposed to show up and do as I’m told.”

  “Day before the holiday? That’s a great excuse to cancel court next Wednesday and start the long weekend a little early,” Rachel said.

  “Lots to be thankful for this year,” CiCi said, grinning at Cara.

  “Does Drake know yet?” Kyle asked.

  “No, I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer.”

  Brady pointed behind her, in the direction from which she and CiCi had walked from CiCi’s house.

  “You can tell him right now. He’s coming this way.”

  Everyone turned to wave to Drake, with CiCi again being the most demonstrative of the group.

  “Hello, all,” Drake said, his eyes traveling over the group and coming to rest on Cara. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Tell him!” CiCi urged, gripping Cara’s upper arm through the thickness of her coat.

  “I was about to!” Cara protested, then turned to Drake. “I got the call from the governor’s office about fifteen minutes ago. I got the appointment. Tried to call you, but you didn’t answer, and—”

  She didn’t finish the sentence.

  Drake pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. Cara found herself responding at once, and the world melted away, the clapping and laughter of her companions drowned in the sensation of Drake holding and kissing her for the first time in weeks.

  She broke away, looking at him with what she knew was a flushed face, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she thought the whole world must feel every beat.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t help myself.”

  “Not complaining,” she whispered, still holding his hands.

  “When does it happen?”

  “Wednesday in Frankfort.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said.

  “Along with the rest of Craig County!” CiCi cried.

  Drake kissed Cara on the cheek. She supposed it was acceptable for him to go to her swearing in—how could she tell him to stay away? She’d achieved her goal, and he’d been there with her for that journey a lot of the way. But as they stood there in front of the courthouse, her sense of unease grew as she began to wonder whether Drake thought that everything was now resolved.

  Because the complaint surely wasn’t.

  The group began to move toward the front doors of the courthouse, and when Drake asked her to go to dinner that evening to celebrate, she was sure they weren’t on the same page.

  “Not tonight,” she said as they lagged behind the others.

  “So when?” he asked, still holding her hand.

  She heard the courthouse clock chiming and realized she was late for court.

  “Not sure,” she said, quickening her pace. “But soon.”

  He stopped, and since they were still holding hands, her advance toward the building was halted.

  “So when?”

  “I don’t know, Drake. Probably after the complaint is resolved.”

  “But surely now that you’ve got the appointment—”

  “Drake, can’t you see that just because I’ve got the appointment that the problem isn’t over until the complaint goes away? Put on your lawyer hat.”

  “I’m wearing another hat right now. That guy-who’s-in-love-with-you hat.”

  They stood staring at each other for a few seconds until Cara started to tear up.

  “Will you come to Thanksgiving dinner at our house?” she asked before she could lose nerve.

  “I guess we won’t have much of a chance to be alone under those circumstances.” She knew he was joking, but his sad smile gave his heart away.

  “Probably not. But will you be there?”

  “Yes. And on Wednesday for your swearing i
n,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss either for the world.”

  20

  Cara had always enjoyed Thanksgiving Eve. The day, while not nearly as busy or sacred as Christmas Eve, was always a time of grand anticipation for her. This was last stepping-stone before completely diving in to the holiday season, culminating with New Year’s Day and its incongruous combination of new beginnings and yet bleakness as the short days and long nights of January loomed ahead.

  She loved the simple theme of gratitude and the chance to be with family. Preparing the meal was not too overwhelming since the group was small. Todd’s parents had divorced and moved away shortly before they had married, and they had rarely seen them during the holidays or other times. Now with Drake coming to dinner, she felt like it was going to be the first real family Thanksgiving dinner she’d had for years.

  As they drove the hour or so from Bourbon Springs to Frankfort, Cara kept replaying in her mind everything she needed to get done to prepare for the meal once her swearing in was over. She knew she should try to enjoy the day a little bit more, but her natural inclination toward action, which manifested itself in a penchant for list making, either on paper or in her head, kept her preoccupied. It was not lost on her that she was distracted from her own success on one of the most important days in her legal career.

  In addition to the complication of her swearing in being the day before a major holiday, the day happened to be bitterly cold. Despite the frigid temperatures, the drive itself was gorgeous. No clouds kissed the sky, and the blue was so deep it looked as though a river had been painted in the heavens. Once at the state capital, they readily found a parking place. It appeared there were not that many people at work that day before the holiday, thus leaving Cara with her choice of spots.

  When they reached the western entrance of the capitol building, Drake was already waiting there in a long gray coat, looking dashing with that great smile. Nate broke from her grasp and sprinted toward Drake, arms wide open. Drake squatted in anticipation of Nate’s attack and picked up the boy and hugged him tightly.

  “Missed you, little man. How’ve you been?” He kissed Nate on the cheek, grinning widely. Nate babbled as Cara and Vera caught up.