A Promise to Remember (15 page)

She looked at the scene of the Fair. It was worth fighting
for.

Tires squealed in the driveway Andie looked out her open
window to see Christi emerging from her car.

Poor Christi.

Andie knew she had a company dinner this weekend, yet
she always felt she needed to make sure Andie was okay. Today
should reassure her. She leaned toward the window. "Hey. Come
on through."

Christi's eyes scanned the windows. "Where are you?"

"In my studio."

Christi looked toward the window, cocked her head. "Your
studio it is."

Andie heard the back door creak open, followed by footsteps-which stopped in the kitchen. The sound of running
water soon followed. What is it about control freaks? Let them
control their own lives. I don't need one in mine. "Christi, will
you quit cleaning my kitchen and come on back here?"

Christi laughed. "Maybe if you did it yourself, I wouldn't
have to."

"Why should I, when I have a friend like you to do it for me?"

"Annoyance. That's a good sign." Christi's voice grew closer
in the hallway. "How'd you know what I was doing, anyway?"

"Experience."

"What's that smell?" Christi rounded the corner to the studio
door and stopped in her tracks. She stared at the canvas, mouth
open. "Wow! I'm speechless."

"That's a first."

"My, aren't we feisty today?" She walked up closer. "I'd be
offended, but I'm too enthralled with this masterpiece to think
straight."

Andie squinted, leaned forward. The lines weren't quite right,
the colors a bit off. "Do you really like it?"

"You've got to know this is beautiful."

It needed work. A lot of work. "It's been too long since I've
done anything. It looks amateurish."

"Are you kidding? I can't believe how talented you are. Why
aren't you painting all the time?"

Andie shrugged and laid her brush aside. "Blair doesn't like
it. It's wrong to spend time on art when there are people out
there who need help."

Christi folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes.
"Honestly, he can be such a pain sometimes."

"Well, he is right. There are more important things I should
be doing."

"Humph. Maybe we'll show him-and you-how to combine
your art and other things. We're going use this painting of the
Fair for the Fair."

Melanie took another sip of coffee, still trying to sort through
the week's events. Things were not looking good for Alfords.

"Morning, Mom." Sarah poured herself some orange juice
and plopped at the kitchen table. "I called Beth and told her I
didn't need a ride this morning."

Melanie turned the page of her Sunday paper. "Really?
Why?"

"I told her I'd ride with you. It's silly, really, for her to pick
me up when you're going anyway."

"Well, I ... I have an appointment this afternoon."

Sarah's smile dropped slightly. "With that lawyer, right?"

"Yes." What was she thinking? Her teenage daughter actually wanted to go somewhere with her. Okay, so it was church,
and Melanie had planned to stay home and catch up on the
housework. And she did have an appointment with Les Stewart
at one o'clock.

You said this afternoon. You're still free this morning,
right?"

She couldn't tell Sarah no. "I guess I better hurry and get
ready." She put her coffee cup away and went to her room.

She pulled out her khakis again-they were the only pants
that would work-then stared at the sparse row of shirts hanging in her closet, as if just the very act would make additional
choices appear.

"Mom, aren't you dressed yet? We need to leave soon." Sarah
leaned around the doorframe, her long blond hair hanging like
a golden waterfall.

"I wanted to at least wear a different shirt this week. Everything I own is so out of style."

Sarah leaned over so far she fell onto the floor. She pulled
her knees into her stomach and began rolling from side to side,
groaning.

Melanie dropped the two shirts from her hands and ran to
her daughter. "Sarah, are you all right?"

Only when she knelt over the bent and writhing frame did
Melanie realize the truth. Sarah wasn't groaning. She was
laughing!

"Young lady, what exactly do you find so funny in all of this?"

"You." Sarah sat up and wiped her eyes. "You've never-"
Another round of laughter stopped her midsentence.

Melanie stood up and retrieved the two shirts she'd dropped
in her panic. "Okay, if you can't speak, you can at least point.
Are either of these appropriate to wear to your church?"

Sarah snorted and wiped her eyes. "You were there last
week-you know people wear a little of everything."

"I know. But that's not how I was taught. What little I did learn
about church in my childhood was that what people wear is second in importance only to staying awake during the sermon."

Sarah stood and put her arms around Melanie's shoulders.
"I forget about all the stuff you went through when you were a
kid. Jeff and I are so lucky to have a stable mom like you." She
swallowed hard. "Jeff's nineteen years were better than most
people who die of old age can claim." Sarah's voice caught on
the last words. She pointed at the yellow shirt in Melanie's hand.
"Wear this one. The yellow color brings out your pretty eyes."
"Like anyone will notice my eyes."

"Jake Sterling told me you had the most fantastic brown eyes
he'd ever seen. Said he wondered how I got such light blue ones,
when yours were so much to the other extreme."

It had been a long time since anyone noticed anything about
Melanie. Did Jake Sterling really say that? Likely not. He probably
asked Sarah how someone with such beautiful eyes got them from
a mom with such plain dark ones. "Sarah, you're exaggerating."
"Am not. Those were his exact words."

A tiny spark of warmth lit, then quickly died inside of Melanie. There was nothing to it.

"Okay, Mom, we've got to go."

"Wait just one minute. I want to check my hair one more
time."

Melanie shuffled out of the car, regretting that she'd let Sarah
talk her into coming back. Then she remembered that Sarah was
the main reason she'd come last week. She needed to remember her priorities, needed to do whatever it took to make certain
her daughter was protected.

A crowd of people milled around in front of the glass doors.
Melanie took a deep breath and prepared to breach the whale's
mouth once again.

"Melanie, Melanie!"

Melanie searched through the dense crowd for the person
attached to the shrill voice. A flash of blond curls emerged
from the throng. Trish rushed over, waving. "I was hoping you'd
come back!"

Sarah stopped walking and eyed the other woman with
amused interest. "Trish, this is my daughter-"

"Oh, you don't have to introduce me to Sarah-I've known
her for years."

"You have?"

"I was her Sunday school teacher back when she and Jeff
first started coming here."

A mild shock coursed through Melanie. "Last weekyou knew
I was Jeff's mom?"

Trish seemed surprised by the question. "Of course."
"And you still sat with me?"

Trish drew in her chin and scrunched up her lips. "Jeff was
one of the dearest young men I have ever known. Why would I
not want to sit with the woman who raised him to be so?"

"I thought everybody here was mad at me."

Trish's eye flashed. She leaned forward and kept her voice
low. "Don't think that the rantings of a few misguided people
represent the spirit of this church. We loved Jeff, we love Sarah,
and we love you as part of their family and as a child of God."

Melanie grew uncomfortable. She wasn't certain that she
qualified as a child of God, but she didn't want to bring it up.

A crowd of teenage girls giggled and chattered their way
over. "Sarah, come on. We've saved you a seat over- Oh, hi,
Mrs. Johnston."

Sarah looked at her friends and hesitated. "I, um, I came
with my morn today."

Melanie watched her daughter look at the group of friends,
then hack to her. It was as if she had the impression that Melanie needed her help, and she couldn't abandon her. Melanie
didn't want to hold her back-that'd ruin everything she was
trying to accomplish.

"That's all right, Sarah. Go sit with your friends. I'll see you
after the service."

Trish linked her arm through Melanie's. "Don't worry, I'll take
good care of your mother."

"Well, if you're sure."

Melanie nodded. "Positive."

Sarah meandered off with her friends but kept looking over
her shoulder as if to be certain that Melanie didn't make a break
for the car. "I guess we'd better go inside and be seated so that
Sarah can see I'm not planning to run away"

Trish laughed. "I was just thinking the same thing."

They walked in and sat toward the back again. The Dirty
Dozen took up their posts and the music began. It almost
felt... normal.

Several hours later, Melanie parked in the city lot behind
Les Stewart's office. The white stucco walls and red tile roof
of this building had graced State Street for almost a century.
Les occupied a small office on the second floor.

As she climbed the staircase, questions rang through her
mind, echoing and clanging against each other. It was too much.
Too much to think about, too much to understand.

She walked into his office and saw him on his small balcony,
talking on his cell phone. She sat in one of the wingback chairs
across from his large mahogany desk, which filled about half
the office space. A bookshelf lined one wall, spilling over with
bound legal volumes and thick notebooks. Other than that,
there was no sign that anyone worked here. Nothing on the
walls. No pictures on the desk. Nothing.

He waved at her, flipped his phone closed, and came inside.
"Sorry about that. Let's see, where were we?" He reached inside
his desk drawer and removed a legal pad and pen. "Oh yes.
Demurrer hearing next week."

Somehow it seemed too soon to jump into talk about the
lawsuit. She wasn't ready yet. Maybe some small talk first. "Why
do you have this office?"

He looked up, his eyes unfocused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"This office. I mean, I'm your only client. You don't have any
kind of signage to let anyone know you're here. Why don't you
just work out of your house?"

He pressed his lips in a straight line, but the corners curled
up as if against his will. He leaned back in his chair and dropped
his pen on his desk. "You don't miss much, do you?"

"It's an obvious question."

He rubbed the bottom of his chin and allowed the grin to
cover his face. "I know you like direct honesty, so okay, I'll give
it to you. I have vivid memories of my first visit to your house.
Your reaction; Sarah's reaction."

"Big estate in Montecito, huh?"

"Not big by Montecito standards, but I thought this might
be more to your liking."

Melanie leaned forward. "You must think I'm an idiot."

He shook his head and offered an ingratiating smile. "I know
a lot of people don't like displays of wealth. I want to be sensitive to that."

"No, you don't understand. You must think I'm a fool if you
think I don't have some idea of what the rent would be for an
office like this, even though it's small. It faces onto State Street
with a balcony You think that's any different?"

He laughed outright. "I give up. From here on out, I'll lay it
all on the line. Deal?"

She stared into his eyes and didn't respond.

He held her gaze for almost a minute, then looked down and
picked up his pen. "You look nice. Breakfast date this morning?"
His attempt at humor fell as flat as the rest of the facade he
tried to create.

"Not that it's any of your business, but my date involved no
one but me and a church."

He smiled and shook his head. "Brilliant. It will look good
before a jury."

Melanie bit back a response. The man was doing his job.
"What were you saying about the hearing?"

"Right. It's this Thursday-no need for you to attend. I expect it to be sustained and we'll go forward from there. I'll have
twenty days to file an amended complaint."

"This could drag out forever."

"I'll serve the complaint much sooner than that."

"Then what?"

"We wait for their response. Things ought to start moving
along after that."