by Carsen Taite
“Because we’re both workaholics?”
“I suppose, but I always make time for fun with pretty girls, no matter how busy things get.”
Wynne felt the heat blush across her face. She’d never get used to being called pretty, and she didn’t think she’d ever figure out how to respond to compliments about her appearance without sounding like a dork. She opted to brush past the remark. “I’d love to know how you do that. I can’t seem to carve out time for a personal life.”
“Combine the two. Like tonight for instance. We’re here together and it’s all about us, but bonus—I’m also getting a chance to check out a venue that might help me land a new client. It’s the height of efficiency.”
And super unromantic. Wynne winced at the thought as it shot through her. Since when did she care about anything romantic? Could be she was feeling a bit like everyone was using time with her to do something else, kind of like her trip to ACL with Campbell last week. But that trip had never been billed as a date. Apparently, she had some lingering frustration about whatever it was or it wouldn’t have sprung to mind now.
Focus on the one you’re with. Wynne shoved all thoughts of Campbell to the back of her mind and willed them to remain there. So what if Lane was efficient? There was a time when she would have admired the trait in a date. Hell, she was efficient, and she wouldn’t mind if someone admired that trait in her. Determined to embrace the good things about this evening, she raised the second glass in the flight and injected as much flirtation as she could muster into her voice. “This one’s the Sangiovese. Cheers to trying new things.”
Lane raised her glass and met her gaze, her eyes twinkling with desire. “I’ll drink to that.”
Wynne sipped the smooth red and took a moment to let the liquid swirl on her tongue. She could make this work. Dating someone who had as big a workload as she did was smart. They could cheer each other on, respect each other’s schedules, find a way to carve out time from business together. That they both worked for the same firm was icing on the cake. She took another sip of the delicious red and nodded her approval. This was going to work out just fine.
* * *
Campbell pulled up in front of Justin’s house and smiled when she saw him watering their mother’s rose bushes. When their parents had died, Justin had put his life on hold to be more than a big brother to her and their little sister, Perry, until they both graduated from high school and went off to college. During that time, he’d done his best to keep their home life steady, assuming all the around the house caretaking that her parents had done their entire lives, and he’d elected to stay in the big house even after she and Perry had moved away. She suspected part of the reason he stayed was for sentimentality, not just for what they’d lost, but a desire to re-create the close-knit home life they’d had with a family of his own in the future. In the meantime, they gathered here for special occasions and tonight was one of those.
“The roses are beautiful,” she said, watching while he put away the hose.
“They are, aren’t they?” He reached down and smelled one. “Last year the spring hail beat them down. Barely got to enjoy the blooms.”
She slipped a hand in his. “You do good work, bro.”
“Me and the sun.” He pointed at the box. “What kind did you get?”
He reached toward her and she twisted to get away from his grasp. “You know the rule. Birthday girl is the first one to see the cake. Tradition.”
“You sound like Dad.”
“I confess, it’s true.”
“That’s a good thing.” She took his hand and led the way to the door. “Whatever you’re cooking, I can smell it from here and it smells delicious.” Birthdays at the Campbell house had always been a special occasion, and their mom had always insisted that no matter what plans they might make with friends, they had dinner with the family on the actual day, and the honoree got to pick the meal. She sniffed the air. “Is that mom’s famous sauce? Are we having spaghetti?”
“Bingo. Now get inside because you’re on pasta boiling duty. The birthday girl should be here in a half hour.”
Despite his urging, Campbell took a few minutes to linger on her way to the kitchen. She stopped in the hallway and traced a finger along the frame of the last family photo they’d had made before their parents died. Her mother, Macy, had insisted they have a full family portrait made once a year, and she had the prior year’s version at her house. They’d all groaned at the idea of dressing up for the photo shoot, and it had taken all of her mother’s patience to corral them into the studio. Campbell shook her head. If she could get her parents back, she’d happily show up for the annual photo shoot. Every single time.
Justin was in the kitchen, stirring red sauce in a giant pot on the stove.
“The sauce smells amazing.”
He dipped a spoon in and handed it her way. “I think I’ve finally got it down. What do you think?”
She moaned her response. It was delicious, and the tangy rich sauce brought a cascade of memories. Perry always asked for the same birthday meal—spaghetti. When Perry had been younger, there’d been meat balls, but now that she was vegan, they all deferred to a meatless meal on her special day.
Campbell reached into the cabinet for another big pot and set the water on to boil. When she announced it was al dente, Justin handed her a strainer, and she transferred the noodles to a bowl.
“We’re all set,” he said. “Let’s get the birthday girl in here.” He reached for a remote and powered up the TV mounted on the kitchen wall, and Campbell joined him in front of the television. A few minutes later, Perry appeared on the screen dressed in a wrinkled T-shirt and cargo shorts, and barely suppressing a yawn.
“What’s the matter, kiddo?” Campbell asked. “Did we wake you up?”
“It’s super early here. Can’t a girl sleep in on her birthday?”
“And miss her favorite birthday dinner? Not a chance.”
“It’s tradition,” Justin said. “Besides, I don’t think Campbell is going to let me eat any of your birthday cake until you see it.”
“Please say it’s red velvet.” Perry held both hands over her heart. “Even if I can’t have any, at least I’ll pine away knowing my siblings enjoyed my traditional birthday dinner.”
Campbell opened the cake box and angled it toward the screen. “What are big sisters for if not the cake of your dreams?”
“I miss you guys.”
The admission was huge. When Perry decided to spend her summer between law school semesters with a legal aid NGO in Afghanistan, both Justin and Campbell had tried to discourage her from traveling to the unstable country, but Perry would not be dissuaded. They’d finally settled on regular Skype sessions as a way to keep in touch and keep their worry at bay.
“We miss you too,” Campbell said, coughing to cover up the fact she was choked up that Perry was halfway round the world instead of home on family birthday night. “We made spaghetti.”
“Ha! You mean Justin made sauce and you boiled noodles.”
“Sure, okay. But what about that cake?”
Perry held up a piece of flat bread. “You guys start eating, and I’m going to pretend this roht is a red velvet cake. Distract me from the illusion by catching me up.”
Justin motioned for them to talk while he dished up the pasta. “Things are good,” Campbell said. “It’s been a little crazy trying to get things set up and get new business.”
“Tell me everything,” Perry said. “How are Abby and Grace? How’s the new firm? Did you buy that table you wanted?”
“Abby and Grace are great. And yes, I got the conference table. It’s gorgeous. Our biggest problem right now is finding a secretary who can take a message, and you know, spell, but we’re working on it. I do miss not having to make personnel decisions and remembering to order things like copy paper, but eventually we’ll get someone on board who can handle all those details for us.” She started to tell Perry about the Leaderboard case
but didn’t want to have to explain how she kind of had their business, but not really. It was an in person, not Skype, kind of conversation.
“Glad you’re making it work, but don’t forget to get a life. If you’re just going to work all the time, you may as well have stayed at Heartless and Done.”
“Oh, she’s making time for a personal life.”
Campbell turned at Justin’s announcement and punched him in the shoulder. “Am not.”
“Are too,” he said. “Perry, you should’ve seen this chick she brought to ACL.” He fanned himself. “She was smokin’.”
“You’re the one who’s smokin’,” Campbell said, miming a joint pressed to her lips. “Don’t listen to him, Perry. He’s been spending too much time pretending to be a roadie, and he’s lost touch with reality. Tell us what you’re working on.”
Perry woke up more as she talked, clearly excited about her current adventure, and Campbell was relieved to shift the conversation away from her. As she watched Perry and Justin talk about the rudimentary technology she was having to deal with in the remote village where she was staying, Campbell was struck by how lucky they were to still be so close even after such a devastating loss. She missed her parents with her whole heart, but Justin and Perry loved her and she loved them, and together they could handle anything life threw their way. Did Wynne have a family she could count on?
The question popped into Campbell’s head without warning, like all her other not-very-professional thoughts about Wynne had lately, and she blamed it on Justin bringing up how she’d brought Wynne to ACL. Campbell watched Justin teasing Perry while Perry acted all cool, but Campbell knew she was a softie inside, happy to have a birthday dinner in her honor even if she couldn’t be there to actually eat the food. If Wynne didn’t have this, then she was missing out big time. But the real question was why did she care so much what Wynne did or didn’t have in her personal life? Because if you knew your opponent’s weakness, you could chart a path to their destruction. Sure, that’s it. She knew it wasn’t true the second she formed the thought, but the alternative was going to get her into trouble for sure, so she didn’t even go there.
Chapter Twelve
Wynne walked into the Leaderboard building and looked around the lobby, pleased to see she’d beaten Campbell to the meeting. She gave her name to Prairie and took a seat to wait. She would’ve preferred to conduct this meeting at her office, but everything about this case was determined to test the bounds of propriety, so why should this be any different? Under normal circumstances, the lawyers would have hired the private investigator directly to protect the attorney-client privilege, but she supposed they could work that out with the paperwork she’d packed for the meeting.
A few minutes later, Campbell burst through the door with a bright pink box in her hands, conjuring up memories of her presentation to the board. Was Campbell going to bring donuts to every meeting they had? Did she think sugar was the gateway to all things?
Prairie led them back to a smaller conference room than the one where they’d made their pitches before the board, and invited them to have a seat. “Brax will be with you in a few minutes.”
Wynne sat down, pulled out a legal pad, and started jotting notes for the meeting while studiously ignoring Campbell.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing everyone here call him Brax,” Campbell said.
“Uh-huh,” Wynne said, keeping her eyes on the paper in front of her. She totally agreed, but she wasn’t going to get sucked into idle banter with Campbell. Their interactions from here on out would be completely professional and all about the case. But apparently, Campbell had other plans.
“These are the best apple fritters on the planet. The whole. Entire. Planet.” Campbell shoved the box her way. “Trust me.”
Wynne kept her hands folded on the table and barely glanced at the box. “I’m good.”
“I’m sure you think so, but you will be so much better if you have one of these. Trust me.”
“What if I were diabetic? Would you be pushing your big box of sugar on me then?”
Campbell looked stricken. “Are you? I’m sorry.” She pulled the box back toward her. “I won’t push sweets on you again, I swear.”
Wynne nodded and looked back at her notes, which were really just scribbles because she was too distracted to write anything that actually made sense. After a few moments of silence, she started to feel bad for snapping at Campbell whose only crime was offering her a donut. “I’m not really diabetic.”
“You’re not? Well, that’s good.”
Campbell looked at her expectantly, and Wynne considered making up some other excuse for why she didn’t take Campbell up on her offer. She sighed. “Carbs make me fat. And I know how this goes. If I reach in there and grab a donut, Braxton will walk through the door while it’s hanging out of my mouth. I’ll have sugar all over my face and on my fingers, and I’ll look stupid and he’ll fire my firm and I’ll lose my job, and it doesn’t really matter how fantastically magical those fritters are, they won’t support me when I’m living on the streets.”
She skidded to a stop and took a breath while she wondered where that rambling speech had come from. Now Campbell was going to think she was crazy. She wasn’t sure why she cared, but she did. A beat of silence was followed by Campbell bursting into laughter. Figured. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh, it kind of is. The diabolical fritter plot. If only I’d known how easy it was going to be to steal this account right out from under you, I would have had a dozen jelly-filled wonders sent to your office weeks ago.”
“Oh, no, not a fan of the jelly. Now, if you’d said Bavarian cream, then it would be war.”
“Duly noted.” Campbell made a show of making a note in her phone, and they both erupted into laughter. Wynne couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard, but now she wondered why she didn’t do it more often since it felt so good.
“What did I miss?”
They both looked up to see Braxton standing in the doorway of the conference room wearing a curious expression. Wynne immediately went into serious lawyer mode, but Campbell was still grinning. Wynne stood. “Hi, Brax. I hear you have a PI you’d like us to meet.”
He looked confused. “I do, but I think at least one of you has already met her.”
Now it was Wynne’s turn to be confused, but before she could respond, Campbell jumped in.
“You hired Meg’s firm?”
“I did,” Braxton said. “Very impressive.” He addressed Wynne. “Not that the names Stoltz sent over weren’t impressive as well, but Meg Dunst has done a lot of work on cases in the music industry, and that gave her an added boost.”
Wynne fixed a smile on her face, but her mind was racing. She had no idea who Meg Dunst was, but obviously Campbell did. And apparently, Stoltz had sent over his usual list of old white guys retired from government service whose ideas about investigative work didn’t involve anything related to the digital age. Damn. She would have to get Jennifer to keep her posted on all communications between Stoltz and Braxton and do damage control where she could or this case was going to slip through her fingers. “I’ve heard great things about her,” Wynne lied. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Great. She’ll be right in. I’ll say hello and then leave you all to get started. Just let me know if you need me. Are those Kate’s donuts?”
Wynne followed his gaze and caught Campbell wearing a grin again as she pushed the pink box toward him. “They’re the best donuts in Austin,” Campbell said. “But you must know that since you have her captive here.”
Braxton plucked one of the jelly filled gems from the box and sighed with pleasure as he took a bite. “She’s not a captive, but we are. We have to walk by her every day, and the temptation is crazy.”
“Has she always had mad baking skills?”
“Since we were kids. Used to drive our mother crazy because she could never keep the kitchen clean from Kate’s
experiments.”
Wynne watched the exchange and realization dawned. “Wait, Kate the donut wonder is your sister?” She looked over at Campbell and was glad to see she looked equally surprised.
“That’s where I recognized her from,” Campbell said. “I read a post about her in The Austinot last year. They said her truck was a must-visit, but I’ve never seen her around town.” She turned to Wynne. “Have you?”
“I’m afraid I’m not the person to ask when it comes to where to find the best donuts.” Wynne saw Braxton raise his eyebrows, and she replayed the words in her head. “I mean, I’m sure they’re fantastic. It’s just that I don’t eat a lot of donuts.”
Campbell’s laugh broke the tension. “I think Wynne eats more broccoli than donuts. I should probably be more like her.”
“Shouldn’t we all?” Braxton said.
The door to the conference room opened and a tall blonde strode in. “All I heard was broccoli and donuts,” the woman said. “That’s not a choice at all.”
“Meg,” Braxton said. “Thanks for coming. This is Wynne Garrity and I think you already know Campbell Clark.”
Wynne extended a hand, pleased at the strong, firm grasp, but before she could say anything, Meg released her grasp and turned to Campbell.
“Campbell Clark, it’s been a while, but you look as good as ever. Thanks for recommending me for this gig.”
“Only the best for our best client.”
Wynne wanted to roll her eyes, but Braxton smiled at the sentiment, so she smiled too to cover her irritation. Round one to Campbell. Whoever controlled the investigation would have a leg up on the case since the investigator would likely feel compelled to report to Campbell first. She made a mental note to figure out a way around that.
Braxton backed toward the door. “I’m going to leave you to it. I brought Meg up to speed on things from my end on the phone. If you need me, set something up with Prairie.”