Home Fires (31 page)

“Cecilia Rose? Sweetheart, where are you? We’re waiting.”

“Coming, Mom.”

She gave the phone a thoughtful eye as she passed, remembering Andy’s words of earlier and how he expected an answer by tomorrow. Mike’s visit, with the angry words shouted between them, had proved fruitful. At least now she finally knew exactly where she stood.

She had a major decision to make in the next twenty-four hours. And with one less person to worry about in her life, the decision would be all that much easier.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

REWARD INCREASED

____________________________________

The James Bay Journal

____________________________________

JAMES BAY—The Chamber of Commerce and Downtown Development Authority (“DDA”) have banded together to post a $5,000 reward to anyone providing information ultimately leading to the capture and successful prosecution of the person(s) responsible for the series of arson fires. Anyone with information should contact the police department or Assistant Fire Chief Michael Gallagher.

____________________________________

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, my dear.”

Rose shifted in the plush upholstered chair. The Judge’s phone call earlier inviting her to his offices tonight had been providential. She’d planned on paying him a visit anyway. Rose soberly eyed the Judge across his massive mahogany desk. The damning paperwork contained in Mike’s file weighed heavy on her heart. The roster of back taxes left unpaid, the defaulted bank loans, the gambling markers.

Someday, possibly in the very near future, Mike would have enough evidence to arrest this man she had loved all her life. The Judge would be charged with crimes against their community. Turning her back on him now, when he needed her most, went against everything she believed, everything she had been taught. Her mind was made up. She would stand by his side, provide a legal defense to see him through his troubles… and then she would leave. There was nothing left for her in this town.

Mike had seen to that last night.

What a waste of time, indulging herself in such silly daydreams by imagining the two of them could make a life together. How could she have been so foolish? She’d allowed him to tangle her up in an emotional web that could have proved her undoing. For hours, days, weeks, Mike had had her under his spell. Until last night, anything and everything had seemed possible.

Now it was gone. Disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“I worked on this today. I hope you will find it agreeable.” The Judge slid a neatly clipped sheaf of papers across the desk.

The heading marched across the page in capital letters. Her spirits sank as she flipped through the partnership agreement tying her fortunes to his. How could she sign this legal document? She didn’t dare, especially now that she had seen Mike’s file. What was she supposed to do? The Judge seemed oblivious to her dilemma, which offered no easy out. Either she signed or admitted the reason she couldn’t… or wouldn’t.

Damn Mike for the incriminating evidence he held against her old friend. Damn him for putting her in this position.

“I think you’ll find the paperwork in order.” The Judge settled back in his chair and eyed her with an affectionate gaze. “As you can see, my initial offer is still good. There is no need for you to make a monetary contribution. Your shares of the partnership—equal shares, my dear—have already been allocated. I have them here, already assigned, with your name on them.” He tapped a closed folder to one side of the desk.

“You’ve certainly made it difficult for me to say no.”

“I don’t expect you to turn it down,” he said with a confident smile. “I need your signature on those papers, Cecilia Rose. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that happens.”

Why was it so important she sign the partnership agreement? Why was he offering her an equal partnership in his firm? All she could provide was some experience and her law degree. A degree obtained with financial assistance courtesy of the Judge.

“You hesitate, my dear. I had hoped this would be an easy decision. Surely you don’t intend to disappoint me?”

Rose felt the telltale blush creeping up her cheeks. She kept her eyes trained on the paperwork. How could she look him in the eye and admit she was loath to sign this document—any document—that tied her future to his? How could she confess what she’d seen in Mike’s files? All the telltale evidence of the Judge’s mounting debts. His lies, his deceit. How he’d played them all for fools.

How could she sit here in this chair and pretend to listen as her old friend rambled on, when all she wanted was the answer to one burning question.

How many fires have you set?

“Something obviously is troubling you, my dear. I had hoped to make the offer generous enough to set aside any worries you might have, but I see that is not the case.” He rose from his chair. “Perhaps if I show you something, it will help convince you to think otherwise.”

“What is it?” Rose eyed him warily. Did he mean to provide a written confession?

“A small memento, something I had planned to give you and Jeff long ago. I think perhaps you and I might put it to good use instead.” His fingers closed around the car keys on his desk.

“You’re leaving?”

“I won’t be long. What I want is at home. Wait here in my office.”

The Judge leaving would buy her what she needed… precious time alone. Rose eyed his computer, humming softly on the ornate credenza behind the massive desk. What had he been working on when she had showed up tonight? Had he been drafting a simple warranty deed for some real estate deal? Or had he been on the Internet, perusing the Vegas score sheets, checking the latest gaming statistics before he placed another bet?

Two or three quick clicks of the mouse and the information on the monitor behind him would be displayed for view. Would it be so wrong? She wouldn’t be snooping, searching for incriminating evidence. His computer could very well contain valuable information that could be used to exonerate him.

But it could also contain files that led to his guilt. She had to be prepared if she wanted to discover the truth.

I have to know, one way or the other.

“Would you mind if I checked my email while you are gone?”

“Certainly you may. What’s mine is yours, my dear.” The Judge waved her into his seat and started for the door.

Rose settled in his chair, still warm from his considerable bulk.

“You look good in this office, my dear. Even that chair seems to suit you.” The Judge cast her an affectionate smile from his stance in the doorway. “You know, that chair has seen me through many a long night studying case law. Sign our partnership agreement and I promise it’s yours. A little gift from me to you saying W
elcome to the firm
. We’ll put it in your new office next door to mine.”

Rose fought down a wave of rolling nausea as he disappeared through the doorway. How low could she sink, actually contemplating snooping through his private files? Yet she couldn’t shake the thought of how important it was to him that he obtain her signature on the partnership papers. Why was it so urgent? She stroked the chair’s soft black leather. The Judge thought it so important, he was even willing to part with his beloved chair.

Enough! She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Rose spun around and faced the computer. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, deft strokes that opened her firm’s secure website and her own email account to life. Her in-box was nearly as empty as the last time she had checked her incoming mail. Clients had been forewarned for weeks prior to her absence, and her Out-of-Office Assistant was on. Quickly she scanned the few new messages.

A recent post from her secretary, Debbie, pasted a wistful smile on her face. Debbie and her husband had been trying for years to have a baby, and the news of an unexpected and most welcome pregnancy was a sweet answer to prayers. Rose hit reply and fired off a congratulatory email. At least something was going right in someone’s life.

She swallowed down a nagging thought as she checked her remaining email. Both she and Debbie were nearly thirty, and Debbie hadn’t had an easy time in her efforts to conceive. Precious years had been squandered on the fertility battlefield, but Debbie had finally won the war. The desire to cradle an infant close was one particular battle Rose had never aimed to wage. But being home again had opened her up in all sorts of ways she had never expected. A man in uniform labored on the front line, part of the fire brigade.

Twenty-four hours had passed since her frustrating encounter with Mike. Her heart still felt bruised and shaken as she remembered how he had stomped down the porch steps without a last good-bye. Sitting here in these offices only added to her misery. She and Mike had fought over the good name and character of the man in whose chair she sat tonight.

Rose straightened up. Better to focus on client emails and the firm bulletin board. At least those things could be controlled with a quick reply or a smart tap of the delete key.

Fireman Mike wouldn’t be so easy to wipe off the monitor of her heart.

She scrolled through the emails trailing down the screen. Admonishments from the firm to partners and associates alike. Bill more time, push delinquent clients for payment, refuse work from those consistently overdue.

Delete, delete, delete. The action produced a small zing of satisfaction. She’d been away from the office so long, she’d nearly forgotten the pleasure that came from controlling her own little section of cyberspace. Her idea of normal had been altered this past month. Home brought its own rewards. No more rising before the dawn, roused to her feet by the shrill beep of an electronic alarm. The hot hazy days melted one into another with a dress code labeled casual shorts and t-shirts. Easy comfort versus a tailored three-piece suit.

Her world away from home was dictated solely by clients. It was a world of corporate meetings and cool rational heads, overriding impracticality and matters of the heart. The men and women in her firm were hardworking people and committed to their clients, but one motivating factor spoke the loudest truth.

Money moved it all.

She had loved working for the firm once upon a time, but five years spent with time sheets, accounts receivable reports and collection notices had muddled things in her mind. Billing enough hours would eventually render a partnership and commandeer a plush office space removed from distractions and annoyances, including people. But was it distance that she truly craved? Being home again had only served to remind her of how city life changes things. How it changes people.

Everyone was so busy, bent on achieving their personal goals. People at her firm rarely deigned to take the time to offer a smile or chat in the carpeted hallways. But what did working so hard gain you in the long run? Did it really matter how much money you made? Or what floor of the building your office was on? What type of car you drove?

A quick flush rose to her cheeks as she remembered the flashy sports car parked in her mother’s garage. It had been hers after three years of long, grueling hours spent sweating at her desk. Three years of consistently high billings for the firm.

But when all was said and done, it was the firm’s name, not her own, embossed on the vehicle’s certificate of title. She didn’t even own her car.

Rose shivered in the cool air-conditioned comfort of the Judge’s office. If she refused his offer and stayed with the firm, would that be her fate? Never to own her own car? Always striving for the latest model? Doomed to end her days as one of those prancing practitioners expert at shrugging off others’ selfish and boorish behaviors while blissfully ignorant of her own?

Had she forgotten the simple rules involved in the art of human kindness? It truly was an art form, one seldom practiced by members of her profession. Perhaps it was drilled out of them in law school. Practicality in all things. Close one file, open another. Keep your eye focused on the end result. Kindness doesn’t count toward billable hours.

Did she really want to go back to working for the firm? Rose’s hopes dimmed in the bright glare from the computer monitor. Was that what she wanted out of life?

A geographic cure offered another way out. But working with Andy in Washington D.C. would force other issues to the table. Andy was a seasoned attorney, dedicated and driven. The two of them had been an efficient moneymaker for the firm, due to Andy’s brilliance and her own ability to work late most nights. Unless she was firm with him up front about her feelings, no doubt many late nights would again be involved.

Late nights when Andy would expect her to say yes.

The heavy slam of a door downstairs and the sound of raised voices sent her bolt upright in the chair. The Judge was back. Time was up. Rose stared at the partnership papers. He expected to see her signature on the dotted line. And Andy waited in Washington. She owed him a phone call and an answer before the day was through.

Resolutely she locked out thoughts of a fireman. She wouldn’t think of Mike any longer. He’d made his choice. He no longer factored into if she should stay or go. Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and she heard the Judge shout out her name.

The time had come for a decision. Once there was a time when she’d known exactly what she wanted. Could she say the same today?

The Judge staggered through the office door, his face stained red, his black eyes bulging in panic. “We have to get out. That fool has gone and set the building on fire.”

“Fire?” Rose jumped to her feet. “What are you talking about?”

The Judge halted inside the doorway and a soft puzzled look crossed his face. He stood there a moment, then gave a short gasp, yanking at his tie as he struggled for breath.

“Are you all right?” The words were automatic, accompanied by a sharp pang of fear as she rushed around the desk. Obviously he wasn’t all right. His face was ashen gray. Something was very wrong.