If the Shoe Fits (28 page)

“No!” she exclaimed, and she tripped over her thoughts. “Well, yes. I mean … no.”

“Confused much?” Suzanne remarked.

“Never more than now,” Julianne muttered.

She and Suzanne finished their coffee in relative silence. Julianne spent the time staring at the gorgeous dress hanging over the door to her home office. The steel-blue color of the fabric drew her eye, complemented by a thick rhinestone-encrusted empire waist and a flared knee-length skirt supported by a stiff crinoline petticoat. Shimmering crystal beads adorned the sheer ivory bolero-type jacket, and the shoes Suzanne had purchased separately seemed like a perfectly executed match for the vintage party dress.

“Make sure to get pictures,” Suzanne remarked, and the silence shattered into a million shards beneath it.

“Sorry. What?”

“Pictures. After you get dressed for the gala.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Suzanne told her as she carefully pushed up to her feet without disturbing Charming. “I’m not packed yet.”

Julianne set her cup on the end table and rose from her chair to deliver a grateful hug. “Thank you so much for the shoes. And the support.”

“Anytime.”

As Suzanne reached the front door, she turned back and smiled at Julianne. “Ivory shimmer.”

“Pardon?”

“Your stockings. You should wear ivory shimmer stockings with that dress.”

“You just can’t resist, can you?”

“What! They’d be fabulous!”

“Good-bye, Suzanne.”

She stood in the doorway watching as her friend walked toward her car.

“Fashion control freak!” she teased.

“And?” Suzanne called back to her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Julianne chuckled, waving one more time before she closed the front door.

Settling back down into the leather club chair, she picked up her coffee mug and sipped the last of it as she gazed at the beautiful dress again.

What a shame
, she thought.
Wasting such a spectacular dress on a phony-baloney date. That kind of dress belongs on the arm of a real-deal Prince Charming
.

And that’s when it hit her like a burlap sack full of bricks and mortar.

Julianne picked up her phone and pressed #1 on the speed dial.

“Hey, Will,” she greeted his voice mail as she mindlessly twisted the thin silver ring around her thumb. “It’s me. Listen, I have something I want to ask you, and it’s pretty important. So will you give me a call when you get this?”

The instant she disconnected, her iPhone jingled. Caller ID designated the origin as the Hamilton County Courthouse, and she shot a glance at the clock.

Nearly six o’clock. She had nothing pending; no juries out, no rulings in play. Surely she wasn’t being summoned for another pro bono order this late in the day!

“Julianne Bartlett.”

“Miss Bartlett, it’s Bridget Ferguson. Judge Hillman’s bailiff.”

“Yes, Bridget. How are you?”

“I’m well. Thank you for asking. Judge Hillman has requested the pleasure of your company.”

“Has he? Can you give me a clue?”

“I wish I had one for you. He just asked me to call you and invite you to his chambers sometime before the end of business tomorrow. How does ten-thirty work for you?”

She couldn’t very well turn down a judge’s request, but especially not one from Judge Hillman, after what he did for her with the Veronica Caswell connection.

“Ten-thirty it is. You’re sure you don’t know what it’s about?”

“It’s a mystery.”

“Well, I don’t mind a good mystery every now and then,” she replied. “I just hope there’s a satisfying ending to this one.”

“Here’s hoping,” Bridget answered. “I’ll let him know to expect you at ten-thirty.”

Still wondering about the mystery at hand, Julianne’s thoughts drifted to Will. In an effort to think about something else, she decided to order a pizza and curl up with a couple reruns of
NCIS
for the night.

After a small pepperoni and mushroom arrived and she’d changed into her favorite pajamas—pink flannels with metallic hearts embroidered on the sleeve of the top and the hem of the matching capris—she grabbed a diet root beer from the refrigerator and propped a few cushions against the arm of the sofa. A couple of hours with Charming and Mark Harmon should do the trick!

Yet even Mark Harmon’s piercing blue eyes and salt-and-pepper crew cut couldn’t dissuade the nervous nellies from chirping out Will’s name as they bounced around inside her belly.

Just seven simple words
.

All she had to manage was seven simple words. Surely, she could utter them without somehow flubbing the line, right?

Will you take me to the gala
?

They seemed simple enough. But for the first time, Julianne realized that simple and uncomplicated were very, very different concepts.

“It’s all about the timing, my young friend,”
the fairy told the maiden
.
“You must hurry to greet the prince
before the time runs out
.
Watch the hourglass, and plan your arrival with care.”

The maiden imagined the scene in full and bright, colorful detail
.
A beautiful dress … adorned in sparkling jewels …
and the magical shoes that the fairy had brought to her
.
How could the prince resist?
(Especially when they were clearly God’s perfect couple!)

“Ms. Bartlett
. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Only half an hour!

“No, Your Honor. Not too long.”

Judge Hillman rounded the corner of his massive desk and sat down behind it, adjusting his robes as he did.

“I heard that you and Miss James worked together without incident.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Everything is settled then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bartlett. It came to my attention after I asked you to co-counsel with her that the two of you are not exactly … girlfriends.”

Julianne snickered. “No, sir. We are not.”

“Making it all the more appreciated that you worked with her so efficiently to tie up loose ends.”

He stared at her for a moment, almost expectantly, with his very blue eyes sparkling.

“Is that … all, Your Honor?”

“How is it working out with Veronica Caswell?” he asked, out of the blue.

“Oh. Really well, sir. Will and I are so grateful that you—”

“I didn’t do anything,” he interrupted sharply. “That might not be considered appropriate. I merely introduced you to someone I’ve known for a very long time. You did the rest, Ms. Bartlett.”

“Well. Thank you, sir.”

The block of silence that followed initiated discomfort, and Julianne squirmed a bit in her chair, repositioning as she cleared her throat.

“So. If that’s all, sir—”

“Yes,” Judge Hillman cut in. “There is just one additional issue I wanted to discuss.”

Julianne arched her eyebrows and waited curiously. When he didn’t continue, she cleared her throat again.

“Yes, sir. And that issue would be …?”

“Yes. Of course. Well, Ms. Bartlett, it would appear that I am in need of legal counsel.”

“Really.”

“Yes. And I’m hoping you might be willing to …”

She waited, but the judge had stalled once again.

“Represent you?” she finished for him, and he nodded, clicking his tongue as he did.

“Yes. Well. Represent someone.”

“Someone. And that someone isn’t you?”

“No.”

Julianne sighed. “Judge Hillman, you obviously called me here because you trust me to handle a delicate issue.” She leaned forward and placed both arms on the edge of his desk as she looked at him squarely. “You can trust me.”

“I have a reputation, Ms. Bartlett.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Tough, but fair.”

“Well, I hope people also know that my courtroom is dignified, and that I hold myself to a high standard of integrity.”

“Of course they do, Your Honor. Can you just tell me what’s happened?”

“My son was arrested.”

“You have a son, sir?”

“Yes. Jason. He’s twenty-three years old.”

“And what are the charges?”

Judge Hillman turned away for a moment; gathering his nerve, Julianne supposed.

“Sir?”

He glanced back at her and sighed. “Indecent exposure.”

“Oh. Dear.”

“Precisely.”

“So Jason is out on bail,” Julianne said as she took another bite of her turkey sandwich that Phoebe had brought in from the deli downstairs. “But his trial date isn’t until the twenty-fourth, and Judge Hillman is worried that someone like that Melanie Larsen is going to pick up the news and run with it. I’m planning to petition for a speedier court date, but beyond that I think all we can really do is pray that someone else does something far more newsworthy in the meantime.”

Will nodded as he set his roast beef on rye atop his desk and wiped a dribble of Thousand Island dressing from the corner of his mouth.

“Indecent exposure,” he commented. “Do I want to know the details?”

Julianne waved her hand as she told him, “He and his girlfriend were steaming up the car windows over in Eden Park.”

Will cringed. “I can see where that might be an embarrassment for Hillman, but with that charge it could have been a whole lot worse.”

“Well, that’s the point. If someone reports on the charge without supplying the details …”

“Yeah, I get it.” He gulped a mouthful of soda. “So when Hillman thinks of an attorney, he thinks of you. That’s saying something.”

“He’s taken a liking to me for some reason, I guess. And you know, he’s not nearly as scary as people think he is. He has a real kind side to him.”

“Sure he does.”

“He does! Look what he did for us with Veronica.”

Will shrugged. “I guess.”

Julianne swallowed around the lump in her throat. Now was the time.

Will you take me to the gala?

Those seven words had been bumping into one another and making her head ache for nearly twenty-four hours now.

Just say it and get it over with!

“Will, I wanted to mention something to you.”

He took another big bite from his sandwich and spoke around it. “Yeah.”

“Well, ask you something really. It’s about the gala.”

He grunted and pulled a face that she didn’t understand. “I finally got around to asking Alison to go …”

“Oh. Alison?”

“… and she turned me down …”

“She did?”

“… because she has a weekend thing with a bunch of third-graders.”

“Oh. That’s … a shame. So I guess you’re without a date then.”

“Nah. Lacey asked me to take her awhile back, and I said I had to get back to her on it.”

Julianne tossed her sandwich to the napkin spread out before her. “Lacey! Will, you wouldn’t.”

“Well, yeah, I would. She doesn’t have a date, and like you said, a nominee for Person of the Year can’t exactly go without a date.”

“Yes, but—”

“Jules, I know she’s not your favorite person. But Lacey’s just … Lacey. Like you said about Hillman. She has a really warm side to her.”

“Warm for
you
, maybe. But the rest of us are just your leftovers. You hear the way she talks to me, Will.”

“I know, and I had a chat with her about it. If I agree to take her to the gala, she has to call a truce. No comments, no digs, no arguments.”

“I don’t think she has it in her,” Julianne told him, her heart pounding so wildly that it took effort to draw in a sharp, deep breath. “She can’t help herself.”

“Well, that’s the deal I struck. If she can’t do it, she’ll have to find herself another escort.”

“About escorts … Maybe you could … you know, take me instead.”

Will stared at her for a long moment, the dill pickle spear from which he’d just taken a big bite left dangling from two fingers. Finally, he dropped it to the paper sandwich wrapper that he’d constructed into a place mat, and he blurted out a hearty laugh.

“You’ll do
anything
to keep me from going with Lacey!” he cried.

“No,” she objected. “It’s not that. I really mean it. I was thinking about it last night, and I thought I’d really like it if you took me.” She swallowed hard again and screwed up those seven little words. “Will you take me to the gala? Please?”