“Cookbook man?” Ren asked, as they exited the bar. He inhaled deeply, the brisk delta breeze a welcome change from the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke.
Bo growled. “When I was taking your damn pictures the first time, the best view was from the cookbook aisle.”
Ren studied his friend in the light from the neon Budweiser sign. Bo was a successful investigator who traveled all over the world, but in his private life he was a recluse who favored fishing and satellite TV over dating. Obviously, these women had somehow touched him. Ren didn’t question his friend’s loyalty, but he wondered if his decision to pursue the paternity issue would change their friendship.
They walked in silence. Ren used his remote to unlock his car. The double beep-beep pierced the quiet. “Bo, this isn’t malicious,” he said somberly. “I wish there were some other way, but I sure as hell don’t know what it is.”
Bo looked skyward. “Yeah, I know.”
Ren waited a minute, then asked, “Do you have that background information on Sara yet? I’d like to read it before I see Armory on Friday morning.”
Bo unlocked his car the old-fashioned way. The door gave an unhappy groan when he opened it. “It’s at home. I wasn’t expecting your surprise appearance tonight, remember?”
Before Ren could reply, Bo climbed into his car. Ren watched him start it and pull away. Obviously, Bo didn’t understand the primal urge that had pulled Ren through the bookstore door. Ren wasn’t sure he understood it himself.
He glanced up the street. A yellow glow spilled from the windows of the bookstore. Why is she still there? She should be home, tucking Brady in bed. Ren longed to walk back to the store to make sure she was okay, but the lawyer in him warned against it. You’re poised to change her life forever. And she’s never going to forgive you.
SARA EASED BRADY’S sleeping form to her left shoulder to better manipulate the key. She’d waited as long as she could for Claudie to return, but still had a long drive ahead of her.
“I’ll do that,” someone said behind her.
Sara recognized her friend’s voice and immediately gave a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God, you’re okay! I was worried about you,” she said, giving the younger woman a quick, one-armed squeeze. The smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke made her recoil. “You are okay, aren’t you?”
Claudie kept her head down as she took the key and finished locking up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had one too many at Jake’s, is all.”
Sara’s brows went up. “How come? You never drink.”
Claudie handed her the keys with a look of profound weariness. “I drink. Just not when you’re around. How else do you think someone like me lives with all this shit?” The last word was part whisper.
Sara put her arm around her friend’s slim shoulders. “I didn’t mean to sound condemning. I was just surprised. I know you’re doing the best you can—so am I. That’s why we’re friends, remember?”
The two walked down the dark alley toward the employee parking lot. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Sara asked.
Claudie held her tongue until Sara had Brady strapped in his car seat in the back seat of her Toyota wagon. When Sara closed the door, Claudie melted to the curb like a marshmallow over an open flame. “I suck, big time,” she wailed.
Sara sat beside her. “You don’t mean that literally, do you?” she said, purposely injecting a spot of humor. Sara knew her friends liked to think of Sara as angelic, so her occasional forays into the ribald always cracked them up. This time the jest went over Claudie’s head.
“I told the cookbook man you were gay,” Claudie cried.
Sara grasped the odd confession immediately, but it took a second or two longer to figure out how she felt about it. Bo, her newest recruit, was a nice guy, but Sara felt no attraction to him. And even though she was attracted to his friend Ren Bishop, she’d never get involved with a judge, so what did it matter?
Sara shrugged. “Did he believe you?”
“No. I don’t think the other guy did, either.”
Sara’s heart took an unwelcome jump. “The other guy? Tall? Wavy hair? Really handsome?”
Claudie looked at her strangely. “You met him?”
“He came into the store while he was waiting for Bo. Where’d you see him?”
“At the bar.” Claudie turned to face Sara. “I ’fessed up like Keneesha told me. And Bo said he never believed me, anyway, because I was a terrible liar so it wasn’t like what I said even counted. But Keneesha said a rumor like that could make trouble for you with Brady. If social services proved you were an unfit mother, they could take him away. They do that, you know.”
Her solemn anguish touched Sara’s heart. Did that happen to you, my friend? Sara wondered. She didn’t ask; Claudine St. James never spoke of her past. Never. “Nobody’s out there trying to take Brady away. Why would you worry about something like that?”
Claudie shook her head. “You know what life’s like, Sara. Every time you get a sweet thing going, somebody comes along to mess it up.”
An odd shiver passed through Sara’s body. She prayed her friend was wrong. Life without Brady was unthinkable.
CHAPTER FOUR
REN SCANNED THE JAM-PACKED reception area located on the second floor of the courthouse. Potential jurors milled about waiting for instructions, praying, no doubt, for a quick release. To pick Bo out of such a crowd was like looking at a Where’s Waldo? puzzle, Ren thought.
“So, what’s the plan, Stan?” a voice asked beside him.
Ren glanced to his right. Typical Bo. Baggy, tan canvas pants. Navy T-shirt with some engineering firm’s logo on the breast pocket. Scruffy running shoes.
“Lunch,” Ren said shortly. “Let’s beat the mass exodus.”
They took the stairs, hurrying past the uniformed guards at the entrance. Neither spoke until they reached the plaza.
“Where do you want to eat?” Ren asked, jogging down the concrete steps to the street.
Bo shrugged. “The noodle shop?”
The thought of food made Ren queasy, but the instant the white hand appeared on the stoplight, he took off—a sprinter in street shoes. Dodging slow-moving pedestrians, he hurried toward the J-street locale, not paying attention to Bo until his friend grabbed his arm and hauled him to a stop in the shadow of the Union Bank building.
“Slow down. Sara doesn’t get back for another hour, and we need to give her time to get Brady down for his nap. Tell me what Mason said.”
“I gotta give him credit,” Ren answered. “He didn’t even blink when I told him about Julia.”
Armory Mason, Ren’s lawyer, had been his father’s closest friend. Telling Armory of his affair was almost as bad as confessing to his dad.
He’d called Bo right after the meeting with Armory. They’d discussed the timing of this upcoming confrontation, and he’d asked Bo to accompany him to smooth the way with Sara.
“I’m a little nervous,” Ren admitted.
“Well, duh. Who wouldn’t be? But you gotta eat.” Bo grinned. “Actually, I gotta eat. I don’t care about you. You want moral support—it’s gonna cost you lunch.”
He started off at a more sedate pace which Ren matched. The four blocks to the café brought them closer to Sara’s bookstore, as well. Sara. He’d thought