Gillian's Do-Over (12 page)

“
Are you sure I should go now? Not wait until you’ve had yours?” She shrugged a shoulder toward the upper floor.

“No. You go ahead. I’ll
listen for the phones.”

Ursula grabbed a light sweater and headed f
or the door. “See you in a half hour.”

“Take the full hour, Ursula.
You’re entitled.” His voice was a low growl, even as he grinned at her, knowing she could read how he felt.

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a smart salute and walked outside to her car.

Matt opened the side door that led to the stairs and ran up them two at a time. The housekeeper was sitting with Marnie, singing to her.

“How are the t
wo of you today?”

“We’re fine
now.” The housekeeper slid over on the couch so that Matt could take a seat next to his wife. She must not have allowed the housekeeper to brush her hair today. Her white-blond wisps stood out in all directions, as if she’d fingered a light socket. When Matt brushed his hand against her head and down to the back of her neck, Marnie edged away from him. But she must have changed her mind when she reached for his hand and asked, in a slurred voice, “What you want?”

She must have taken her meds.
“Nothing, sweetheart, but you can’t be coming down to my office during the day. Remember how we talked about this? When the sun is out, you stay upstairs unless you go with your friend here or nurse Patsy.” He motioned toward the housekeeper.

“It was cloudy.”

As if that made a difference.
How could she challenge him like she used to and a minute later, act like she had no idea where she sat or who he was?
“But the sun is still out. It wasn’t dark outside. That’s when we agreed you could come to my office if I’m still there. Not during the daytime.”

He felt
like he was talking to a child, not his wife, previously so intelligent and witty. Now he wasn’t sure how much she understood, or would admit to understanding. He’d managed to stop her from barging in on his meeting with Gillian, but just barely. Poor Ursula hadn’t been able to prevent Marnie from coming down the stairs, wearing an old sweatshirt and jeans that hung on her thin frame.

He took
Marnie’s hands in his own, one whose muscles remained lax, while her other hand retained surprising strength when she repeatedly pulled away and then clutched at her clothes. He leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Promise me, Marnie. No more coming downstairs when it’s daylight unless Nurse Patsy, or Anita, here, comes with you.”

Marnie
gave him a quick sidelong glance, looking almost sly. She sighed. “I will.”

“Good girl.
Now, are you ready for lunch? We’ll eat together.”

The mention of food seemed to rouse her from what
seemed to be a deepening lethargy. Was it those meds that calmed her down, made her sleepy? Over the next several minutes, Matt helped Anita put sandwiches together. He walked Marnie to the table and sat with her while she ate.

His mind was filled with images of Gillian, how her eyes seemed to
act like magnets, pulling his gaze to her during their conference. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Enjoying what he saw, wanting to protect her from the fallout from that indictment, if she was sucked into that case. Was he reading into what she might think of him, his abrupt interruption of their conference, and his inadvertent, totally unprofessional, mention of Marnie? She knew he was married. Somehow, he didn’t think she was a woman who went after married men, even men like him, now married in name only, and barely that.

His wife was
becoming harder to read. Now, the doctor was mumbling about early-onset dementia, a condition that was rapidly destroying what his wife had been. He recalled how she had mesmerized him when they first met, how she had always held her university classes in thrall as she explained the arcane details of anthropological investigation of preliterate cultures. At parties, his wife had been a favorite among his legal colleagues because of her wit and charm. Beauty, too. All that was gone now, and he hated the empty hole that he imagined Marnie’s mind to be. Most of her personality gone. He choked back tears, not wanting the housekeeper to see how Marnie’s condition was affecting him.

Thoughts of Gillian intruded again.
She was so alive, upset at having been fired, to be sure, but she’d moved on, exercising her creativity with her artwork. He’d admired the sketches he’d seen glimpses of at the park. Then there was her desire to take care of children not yet born. She was a woman he wanted to get close to, but couldn’t. Guilt that he should be paying more attention to Marnie and not fantasizing about Gillian ate at him.

J
ust thinking her name generated a tightening in his nether regions that he couldn’t seem to ignore. His continued physical reaction to Gillian mocked what he’d always viewed as his professionalism with clients. He shouldn’t have agreed to accept Gillian as a client. Maybe he’d talk to TJ about a referral, or—if TJ wouldn’t do it—who Matt should call.

He
couldn’t meet with Gillian again, not if he was going to react to her as he had today. Not if his reaction was even stronger, something he couldn’t hide. He raked a hand through his hair and his pulse speeded up. Could she tell he’d wanted to lean her over his desk and take her right there? It wasn’t like him to think such things. But there it was. Unbridled lust. Gillian deserved better. He had to do something. Like not see her again. And spend more time upstairs with Marnie, maybe taking her for a walk instead of asking the housekeeper or the nurse to do it.

Matt
sucked in a quick breath and turned to the housekeeper when he heard a door downstairs open and close. Ursula was probably back.

“Time for your next appointment, Mr. Gordon?”

“Yes. Is Marnie going to lie down now that lunch is over?”

“That’s the schedule, sir. I’ll take care of it. Don’t you worry. I’m sorry she got away from me earlier. It won’t happen again.”

“We’ll both make sure of that,” he replied before he leaned over and kissed Marnie again. “I’ll see you at dinner, love,” he murmured.

She did not appear to have heard him.
Or maybe she didn’t care. At her non-response, he felt despair, a black hole threatening to suck him in, like the undertow of an uncontrollable riptide .

“TJ, who do you know who does lots of trusts? I have to refer out a client.” He fiddled with his drink minutes after meeting TJ at the club.

“You’re jumpy as a flea on a
treated dog, counselor. What gives?” TJ reached for the peanut bowl sitting on the table.

“I met with Gillian
Griffiths this morning.”

“Good for you. How’d it go?”

“I can’t see her again.” Matt emptied his glass and raised it to signal the waiter for a refill.

TJ’s
eyes widened and he held his glass up to be replenished when the waiter stopped at their table. “Same as before. Thanks.”

Matt shifted in his chair. “So, who should I send her to
, assuming you won’t do it?” The thought of another attorney ogling her sent a sensation of jealousy through his gut, but he had to trust that whomever TJ suggested would stick to business. Not something he seemed able to do when it came to the attractive divorcée.

“I have a feeling you’d prefer someone ready to retire,
or a woman.” TJ gave him a sidelong grin. “How about old Neville Bergstrom? He’s gotta be eighty by now. Remember him at the Christmas party last year? White hair, in his cups, barely able to stagger around the dance floor?”

Matt nodded. “How are his legal skills?”

“Good enough. Unless her needs are complicated, he ought to be able to get it done for her.”

“Okay. I’ll call him.”

TJ leaned forward. “
What about the indictment issue? I figured you’d
want
to represent her for that little problem.”

“It might not lead to anything. I want you to take that on. Just call the D.A. and find out if they’re going to name her as a co-conspirator. She seemed to think she was in the clear.”

“You have the hots for your client, counselor? Is that what this is about?”

Matt
returned his best friend’s gaze, knowing it was a question he didn’t have to answer. TJ had been able to read Matt’s mind since law school, when they tested each other in their study group. He squirmed again in his chair, wishing his pants didn’t feel so tight. He reached for his second drink. “I need to spend more time with Marnie.”

“I’m sure you do that already. How is she?”

“No better. Maybe a little worse in some ways. She managed to get downstairs by herself this morning.”

“Without falling? I thought you said she’s using the wheelchair more and more.”

“It surprised me, too. Gave Ursula a scare. And the housekeeper.”

“One of the risks
of combining your house and your office in the same building.”

“You
know
why I did it, TJ.” Was he getting on him like Wes had?

“I do, and you know I thought it was a mistake, that distance can sometimes be a blessing.
Even if you hadn’t stayed with your old firm. Maintaining an office away from the house doesn’t mean you don’t love Marnie.”

“I wouldn’t be home as much if I ha
d to go downtown every day. Fighting the traffic each way.”

“I know, I know.” TJ sighed. “You made the decision and now you’re living with it. I just think it’s going to be that much harder for you when … you know … when she
goes.”

Matt’s hands stopped their slow stroking of the drink glass. “You can say it, TJ. When
Marnie dies.” He looked up at the sudden noisy greetings emanating from the front of the club room. “I know it’s going to happen, probably soon.”

“W
hat are you going to do then? Go back to your old firm? Close down your practice completely?”

“No reason to.
Commuting’s a breeze when you live above the store.” He forced himself to smile. “Something my dad always said.”

“Lucky you.” TJ held up his half-filled glass for another toast. “Well, here’s to you getting rid of a client, a client you don’t nee
d to get rid of, if you ask me.”

Matt finished his drink with a gulp. “The way she looked at me. I can’t take it.”

“She was undressing you? So what? According to Allison, women do that sort of thing all the time—probably as much as men do.” TJ beamed. “She keeps reminding me she likes to look, even though she hasn’t seen any one she wants to follow up with touching. Or whatever. Not what I like to think about.”

“
Allison has a level head on her shoulders.”

“
And hormones, too. I worry about her falling for some schmuck who won’t treat her right. Her mother would never forgive me if I let that happen.”

“
Since when does your daughter permit you to tell her who she can date?”

“She didn’t seem to mind my opinions when she was younger, but you’re right. She’s a big girl now, even though she’ll always be
my
little girl.” TJ’s eyes filled and he wiped at them unashamedly. “Hey. We were talking about you and your love life, not my kid’s.”

Matt snorted.
No love life for me.
Not now and maybe never again.
“I need to get back home. I don’t want the housekeeper to have to stay late again.”

TJ rose from his seat and cl
apped Matt on the back. “Give Marnie a kiss for me, will you?”

“Consider it done, pal.” Matt waved to his friend and headed for his car.

Gillian looked at the calendar two days later. “Bianca, I need your help.”

“What is it?”

“I was talking t
o an attorney about some things. His receptionist called and said he wants to refer me to someone else. Could you look up this other lawyer and tell me what you know about him?”

“
You didn’t like the attorney you saw?”

“
No, he was fine.”
In more ways than one.
Especially when he looks at me I want to jump into those soft gray eyes.
Gazes that heated her to her core.

“What’s the legal issue? Maybe I could help you with it—for
free.”

“Oh, Bianca.
I would never ask you to do that.”
Please don’t ask me. I really don’t want to say.

“What’s the attorney’s name?”

“Neville Bergstrom.”

“I’ll
email you what I find.”

“Thank you.”
Gillian put down her phone and waved through her back window at Lauren, who was in her own yard, sweeping the deck. “Come on over, Lauren. Tea’s on.”

Lauren opened the gate between the two yards and clumped onto Gillian’s deck, sli
pping out of her garden clogs and coming in through the sliding glass door. “What’s up?”