The High Tide Club
“Your client is dead,” Gabe said. “Your obligation to her has expired. I suppose you can raise the matter with her heirs, when and if we track them down, or learn the truth about C. D.’s claim.” He leaned in closer to her, his voice low in her ear. “Have dinner with me tonight, Brooke. Please?”
“Tonight? I can’t, Gabe. I haven’t seen Henry in two days. I’m already feeling guilty about leaving him with Farrah for this long. Maybe we can catch up tomorrow, after you make your filing? We can compare notes.”
He sighed. “Okay, if lunch is all you can do. But, Brooke, I didn’t mean for this to be a business meeting.” He searched her face for a reaction.
Her face grew hot, and she could feel herself blushing.
“Never mind,” he said quickly. “Call me tomorrow if you want, and we can meet. Strictly professional if that’s how you want it.”
He turned and walked hurriedly toward his car.
43
Marie waited until they were in the car. “What was that all about?”
“What?” Brooke felt heat creeping up from her collarbone.
“That whispered conference back there with Gabe.”
“Oh, you know, just legal stuff. He’s going to stay over at Sea Island tonight so he can be at the courthouse here first thing in the morning to petition to become administrator of Josephine’s estate.”
“This is your mother, Brooke. I know something else was going on back there.”
Brooke sighed. “I think maybe Gabe just asked me out on a date.”
“Maybe? You’re not sure?”
“Okay, so yes, he asked me to dinner. But I totally blew it and embarrassed both of us.”
“What did you say?”
“The first thing that occurred to me. Which was that I’d been away from Henry for two days, and I couldn’t possibly go out to dinner. Then he asked me to have lunch with him, and at that point he made it very clear that he wasn’t talking about a business meeting when he asked me out for dinner.”
“Ohhhh. So how do you feel about that? About seeing Gabe socially?”
“I don’t know,” Brooke wailed. “God, I suck at this boy-girl stuff. I never was good at it. Maybe that’s why after I started dating Harris in college, I decided he was the one. It was such a relief, you know, to not have to go through this whole bizarre dating ritual.”
Marie laughed. “How did I raise such an odd duck as you? Brooke, honey, this is not all that tricky. Take it slow. Break it down to the basics. A nice man asked you out to dinner. He’s single; you’re single. Now. How do you feel about Gabe? On a personal basis?”
“Don’t you think he’s way too old for me? I mean, the last time we went out to dinner, somebody mistook him for my dad! It was super embarrassing.”
“Gabe Wynant is much younger than Gordon and, just between us girls, much better looking. Anyway, why do you care what I think or what some stupid waiter thinks? What do you think? That’s the only thing that matters.”
Brooke took a deep breath. “He’s a nice guy. When we worked together, he never talked down to me, never hit on me like some of the other, older partners in the law firm. We used to run together, you know? He really listened to me and respected my opinions.”
“What else?”
Brooke shrugged. “I guess I like how he treats women. He never said anything negative about his wife, ever, even though she must have put him through hell. He’s old-school like that, but not an old fogey, like Dad.”
“And?”
“Okay, I guess he is kind of hot, in a silver-haired-fox kind of way. He’s fit, but not obsessed with himself. Does that make sense?”
“Yes. And I’d agree with everything you said.”
“Then maybe you should go out to dinner with him.”
“He didn’t ask me,” Marie said. “Or I would. Now, what are the negatives?”
“Like I said, he’s way too old for me. What do we even have in common?”
“Hmm. You both like to run. You’re both interested in the law. I don’t know. That’s the reason you go to dinner with somebody. To figure that stuff out. It’s part of that whole ‘bizarre dating ritual thing’ that you seem to think you suck at.”
“I do suck at it,” Brooke insisted. “Anyway, the big thing is, it’s creepy. It’s like that whole Woody Allen obsession with younger chicks thing.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Marie said sharply. “You’re not an impressionable teenager. If you’re not interested, just say, ‘No, thanks.’ Gabe’s no dummy. He won’t pursue it if you decline.”
“But I don’t want to hurt his feelings! I like him. I like him a lot!”
“Then go to dinner. Or lunch. Or meet him for a drink. Or coffee. But if you think you have even a little interest, say yes. That’s the one thing I’ve learned, getting older, going through a divorce, reinventing myself. Say yes to the possibility.”
Brooke pulled the Volvo into the driveway of her house. “You sound like you have some personal experience in this whole game. Are you saying you’ve been dating?”
Marie’s smile was sphinxlike.
“Mom! You have been dating. Why didn’t you say so?”
The front door to the cottage opened, and seconds later, Farrah stood in the doorway, waving at them as Henry hurtled through the yard and into his mother’s arms.
44
“Hey,” Farrah said as soon as Brooke walked into the office on Monday afternoon. “We need to get over to the jail. There’s a situation with Brittni.”
“We?” Brooke asked. “Did you graduate from law school and pass the bar exam over the weekend?”
“No, but Brittni’s mom called me a little while ago. Britt got locked up again yesterday and she’s in deep shit.”
“Her stepfather still owes me for Brittni’s last scrape with the law,” Brooke pointed out.
“I told Aunt Charla that, and she’s gonna meet us at the jail with the money she owes you, plus another check for $5,000 as a retainer. Happy?”
“What exactly did Brittni do?” Brooke asked as they were getting into the Volvo.
“Aunt Charla was kinda hysterical when she called, but she kept using words like kidnapping and aggravated assault. Also criminal trespass,” Farrah said.
* * *
Brittni Miles had bleached-blond hair, two black eyes, and an orange jumpsuit. She glared at her visitors from the other side of a plexiglass divider in the visiting room at the Carter County Jail.
“I told Mama not to call y’all,” Brittni said sullenly.
“Too bad,” Farrah said. “Since your mama is the one who’s payin’, she gets to do the sayin’.”
Brooke looked down at the copy of the arrest report she’d been given, but the police officer’s handwritten narrative was nearly unreadable. “Brittni, if I’m going to represent you, I need you to tell me what happened. This says the victim’s name is Kelsy Cotterell. Is she the cashier from the SwiftyMart? The one you threw the ice at?”
“She doesn’t work there anymore,” Brittni said smugly. “Got fired for gettin’ arrested for what she done to me.”
“Which was what?” Farrah asked.
“Put a big ol’ bag of flaming dog poop on my mama’s doorstep Friday night,” Brittni said. “Only she didn’t know Mama put one of those motion-activated video cameras on our front porch. The dumb ho looked right at the camera while she was doing it. The bag caught the whole porch on fire, and Mama called Aunt Jodee, and the cops looked at the video and arrested her, right there at the SwiftyMart.”