A Case for Love (14 page)

She wanted to believe him—whether it was because she was attracted to him or not was something she’d deal with at another time. This was just one of those step-out-on-faith moments the pastor always talked about, she supposed.

“Okay. Fine. If you can do this for us, I’ll set up a time for you to come meet with everyone who’s interested in participating in the case.” She bit her bottom lip and swallowed hard. Of course, now she had to rely on her family and their neighbors taking Forbes
and
her at their word that he was on their side.

His forehead relaxed and his perfect teeth showed, even though he wasn’t actually smiling. “Great. That’s all I ask for—to be given a chance.”

“The others might not be as understanding as I am about your involvement.”

The booming laugh he emitted wasn’t the reaction she expected. “If this is an example of your being understanding, I definitely have my work cut out for me, don’t I?”

A sharp retort tripped out to the end of her tongue but stopped when his laughter made her realize the idiocy of her statement. She let out a chuckle and rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I haven’t been all that understanding. And I apologize for saying anything that might have been out of line. But just know you’ll be facing that from a lot of folks once they find out who you are.”

“I’ll be prepared; don’t worry.” He cocked his head to the side and gazed at her with hooded eyes. “I convinced you, didn’t I?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth to try to hide the fact that she wanted to devolve into a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl when he looked at her like that. “Only because I know how difficult it will be to find another lawyer who’ll take our case.”

Her phone beeped with an incoming text message, interrupting Forbes, who’d taken a breath to make a reply. She looked down at it—shocked to see that nearly an hour and a half had passed. “It’s the studio.”

“I’ve got to get back to work as well.” He picked up his portfolio and slid his pen into his inside coat pocket. “I’ll call you later to discuss the meeting with the clients—and we need to set up a time to review all the preliminary research you’ve done. I’ll need your notes to see what you’ve discovered so far and what avenues you haven’t yet explored.”

“Okay ... but I should tell you, I did promise my parents that I would keep this out of the public eye as much as I can. It’ll get suspicious if I start coming to your office.” She stuffed her steno pad and pen into her briefcase, then stood and slung the strap over her shoulder.

Forbes rose and motioned her to exit ahead of him. “We already have the perfect cover for getting together at least once a week.”

She stopped and turned, and found herself tilting her head far back to look up into those mesmerizing eyes. “We do?”

“We do. That is, if you’ll agree to be my partner for ballroom dancing lessons for the next six weeks.”

She wasn’t sure if he leaned closer to her or if she leaned closer to him ... but she jerked herself out of the trance and took a step back.

“Dance lessons? You want me to be your partner for dance lessons?” The soles of her feet tingled with the memory of sliding across the parquet floor at Arcenault’s. Not to mention the heady feeling from breathing in Forbes’s spicy cologne from such a close proximity—like now.

He shrugged. “My sister Jennifer talked me into doing it with her, but now she’s had to back out because of ... personnel issues at her restaurant. I had a good time dancing with you Monday night. And if I’m not mistaken, you were having a pretty good time yourself. You’re a good dancer already—I need someone who’s better than me to help me figure it out.”

Alaine crossed her arms to protect herself from the barrage of charm Forbes lobbed her way. “I insist on paying for my portion of the package.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m only agreeing to this because, as you said, it gives us a good excuse to see each other regularly to discuss the case.”

“Right.”

She turned and started for the door again, then stopped and turned so fast, Forbes nearly ran into her. She poked her finger into his chest—his solid, muscular chest. She tingled. “And if anyone asks, we are
not
dating.”

“If you insist.”

She did insist. Why, she wasn’t certain. But for her own sanity, that was the way it had to be.

Forbes slammed on the brakes to keep from running a red light. He wanted to believe Alaine, but all his instincts screamed she was wrong—or at least misled.

The one thing he knew beyond a doubt: His parents would never do something like that. When they’d taken over Grandfather Boudreaux’s commercial real-estate venture thirty-odd years ago, they’d not only championed small businesses, they’d started the Bonneterre Small Business Owners’ Association. Eventually, they’d had to leave it based on the guidelines they themselves had written. But they still supported it by donating the office space in Boudreaux Tower as well as conference-room space in the building for the association’s monthly meetings. The president of the BSBOA came to Dad’s prayer breakfast every week, for crying out loud.

Except ... Forbes wracked his brain. Come to think of it, the guy hadn’t been there for the past few months. But people came and went, turning up some weeks and then not being seen for a few months, then showing up again as if they’d never been gone.

At the next light, he pulled out his phone and called his sister.

“Facilities and Events, this is Meredith.” She sounded harried.

“Mere, it’s Forbes. You got a minute?”

“Just. What’s up?”

“I’m wondering—why did you stop using Delacroix Rentals as a supplier?”

She paused a long time. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Oh ... I had lunch today with an acquaintance who knows the owners and mentioned they hadn’t gotten a lot of business from you recently.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. These things go in cycles, you know. Sometimes a supplier will have what we need, and sometimes we’ll have a spate of events that we use other suppliers for. Why the sudden interest in the running of B-G? Doesn’t that give you hives or something?”

“Just curious, I guess.”

“Well, Mr. Suddenly Curious, I just had eight people walk into my office for a meeting I’m supposed to be leading, so I hope I sufficiently answered your question.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He bade her farewell and hung up.

He’d deal with his family members after he looked into whether or not there was any breach of ethics or actual lawbreaking going on—by Boudreaux-Guidry or by Mackenzie and Son.

He groaned when he walked into his office and saw the stack of files in his in-box. Samantha followed him in, reciting a list of things she needed from him before she had to leave—“And I can only stay until five thirty tonight. I have class at six, and we’re having a test tonight, so I can’t skip. And you can’t stay much later than that, because you asked me to remind you that you have a committee meeting at church tonight at six thirty.”

He rubbed his neck, trying to stop the tightness from forming into a knot at the base of his skull. “I’ll do my best.”

He dived into the work, forcing himself to keep on task, not allowing himself to turn to the computer to search though B-G’s files to see what they’d been up to, legally speaking, in the last six or eight months. He was down to the last file when Samantha reentered his office at 5:25.

“Well?” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“I still need about twenty minutes on this one.”

She closed her eyes and appeared to wilt before his eyes.

“You go on to class. I’ll make the necessary copies and put everything on your desk before I leave. Where’s your logbook?”

She giggled. “It’s all on the computer now, boss. But don’t worry about it. I still have to number them, so I’ll input them into the log tomorrow morning before I hand the copies over to the courier service for delivery.”

“Thanks. Now go on, get out of here. Don’t want you to miss your test.”

She gave him a jaunty wave and disappeared.

Though most of the associates, interns, clerks, and assistants were still hard at work, the silence in Forbes’s office grew oppressive soon after Samantha’s departure. Not even the ’80s music playing softly through his computer from the Internet radio station helped.

At 6:15, he laid the copies of the last file on Samantha’s desk and returned to his office. He glared at the clock. He wanted to stay here and delve into his parents’ company’s files to start answering some of his questions. But he’d already asked the nominating committee to reschedule twice. He couldn’t ask them to do it again—especially not at the last minute.

Frustrated, he turned off the lights and locked the office door behind him. Peeking into files that he hadn’t had any part in by choice would have to wait until tomorrow.

An accident left traffic snarled getting out of downtown on North Street, turning a ten-minute drive into twenty-five and making Forbes late for his meeting. The other six members of the committee showed a mixture of relief and annoyance when he sailed into the room.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” He flung his suit coat over the back of the only empty chair at the table and rolled up his shirt sleeves before digging the legal pad out of the expanding folder marked
Personnel Committee.

He closed his eyes and sent up a quick prayer for calmness.

“Why don’t y’all go ahead and get started on ... workers for Extended Session. I’ve got to run back out to the car and get the correct file.”

The committee secretary launched into the list of names she’d compiled before he got to the door. Of course, she’d never seemed to understand why everyone else on the committee had elected him chairperson over her. Today, he could clearly see it from her point of view. He had to pull himself together and regain control over his thoughts and actions.

He swapped the personnel committee file for the thicker nominating committee file from the brown file box in the trunk of the car and returned to the small Sunday school classroom—just in time to see Jean rise from her seat and lean over the table.

“Just because people aren’t married doesn’t mean that they’re disposable.”

“That isn’t what I said, Jean, and you know it. You’re too sensitive about it. What I said is that we shouldn’t require parents to work in the nursery just because they’re parents. It’s discrimination.”

“Discrimination? To ask people who’re creating the work to do the work? Why should single people be required to work in the nursery when they don’t have kids?”

“But parents come and put their kids in the nursery so they can attend services. The least those without kids can do is to work in the nursery to afford them that opportunity.”

“So people without kids don’t come so
they
can attend services?”

“Whoa, hold on a minute.” Forbes placed his hand on Jean’s shoulder and, with firm but gentle pressure, guided her back into her chair. He set his folder on the table, then settled one hand on his waist, using the other to rub his forehead. “We’ve discussed this before. We can’t require
anyone
to work in the nursery. They have to volunteer, and they have to be approved by the Children’s Department director. Now, if we can talk about this calmly?” He looked pointedly at Jean and her adversary. Both nodded. “Good.”

Forbes sat and led the discussion into safer paths. He finally ended up assigning Jean and another committee member to approach the people on their newly formulated list to ask them about working in the nursery.

Sunday school teacher appointments were easier to agree upon—usually because there was only one volunteer for each slot, and almost always it was the person who already taught that class. When they got through the list, he looked at his watch and, to his profound relief, discovered they’d only run a few minutes over their hour. “That’ll be all for this week. I’ll present these names”—he tapped his legal pad—“at next week’s business meeting. Frank, will you close us in prayer?”

Jean’s adversary nodded, and said a quick, perfunctory prayer. Forbes’s mind whirled. Alaine. His parents. Meredith. Nominating committee. Evelyn Mackenzie. Work. Personnel committee. His younger siblings who still needed their big brother. Board of trustees...

The knot at the base of his skull grew worse. Great. Now all this stress was going to add getting back in to see the chiropractor to his growing to-do list.

After chatting with a few of the committee members, he stepped out of the classroom into the flow of people coming out of the choir room down the hall. He could go back to the office and spend a few hours looking through B-G’s case files—

“Hey, Forbes!”

He turned and searched the crowd for the owner of the booming voice.

Almost head and shoulders above everyone else, the Polynesian man raised his hand to motion Forbes toward him. Forbes excused his way past the dozen or so people still lingering in the foyer.

“Hey, Clay. What’s up?”

Clay Huntoon gave him a quizzical look. “Uh ... rehearsal. Did you forget?”

Quartet rehearsal. They were singing Sunday and hadn’t practiced in more than a month. “I just need to go put this out in the car and get my music.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll tell the guys.”

The heat of the day hadn’t dissipated at all, and the humidity seemed to condense on Forbes’s skin as soon as he stepped out of the over-air-conditioned building. He returned the committee file to the box in the trunk and pulled his music folder out.

As he slammed the trunk, his phone beeped a new text message. He pulled out the PDA and turned it sideways to read the new message:

Forbes tapped back a congratulatory message, though he didn’t necessarily feel the happiness for his friend he would have if this had happened twenty-four hours later. Forbes glanced up at the still-bright evening sky.

“God, you have a sick sense of timing.”

If Carrie LeBlanc had waited one more day to go into labor, Russ would have been the one to meet with Alaine, and Forbes would still be blissfully unaware she had any grievance against his parents’ company. And he wouldn’t be stressing over it.

Before walking into the choir room, he took a deep breath and composed himself very much the same way he did before walking into a courtroom. He needed to get through the next hour or so, and then he could go home and start putting things into perspective by making a list of actionable items to follow up on.

He strode through the door, trying to give the best appearance of someone with no concerns in the world. Major stood beside the piano, warming up the top of his range while George played scales. Clay paced the opposite end of the large chamber talking on the phone—a sports reporter’s work was never finished.

And Anne and Meredith sat in the front row, talking. They looked up when he approached.

“Hey, Forbes ... you look tired.” Meredith’s forehead crinkled with her expression of concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

His sister’s eyes narrowed slightly; then she shrugged. “If there’s anything I can do...”

A list of questions scrolled through his mind. But now wasn’t the right time. “I’ll let you know.” He walked over to the piano. “So what are we singing Sunday?”

“We were thinking about the a cappella version of ‘God of Our Fathers.’” George flipped through several pieces of music on the music rack in front of him. “We know it best.”

“And Sunday is Father’s Day,” Major added.

“Sounds good to me.” Forbes flipped through his folder and pulled out the sheet music George and Clay had arranged and written down for them. The main thing he loved about singing second tenor, even though it strained his voice, was that he usually had the melody—as he did in this piece.

George wasn’t the best pianist in the world—he admitted it himself—but he could at least play the four parts along with them as they practiced, which none of the rest of them could do. Forbes observed the other three men as they sang, each concentrating hard on learning his part so they could sing it without accompaniment.

He needed someone to talk to, someone he could vent his frustrations to, someone who wasn’t involved in family business. With George and Major both married into the family, that excused them from the role of confidante. And while he liked Clay and considered him a friend, Clay was one of the guys Jenn dated regularly—that and Forbes didn’t feel comfortable bringing someone he knew as casually as Clay into such extreme confidence.

Anne and Meredith—and everyone else in the family—he excluded for obvious reasons. He needed an outsider, someone who could be objective but also keep everything he said in confidence.

His voice broke on a high note when the reality hit him. He didn’t have friends outside of his family circle. He steadied his voice and resisted taking a look at Meredith over his shoulder. Was this the realization she’d come to that had led her to start distancing herself from the family over the past few months?

After they practiced enough so that they could sing the piece all the way through a few times without accompaniment and stay on key, they called it a night.

“We’re going to grab dinner,” Meredith said to Forbes, joining her husband at the piano. “Want to go with us?”

His stomach had been rumbling the past half hour. “No. I think I’ll pick something up on my way home. I’ve still got some work to do before I can turn in tonight.” He edged toward the door and his escape.

“Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”

“I’ll try to make it, but I’ll let you know if I won’t be there.” In the few years he and Anne and Meredith and the rest of their siblings and cousins around their ages had been meeting for dinner on Thursday nights at Jenn’s restaurant, he’d only missed attending a couple of times.

He slipped out the door as they started to discuss where they were going to eat. In the car, he turned off the radio and let the silence enfold him. He wanted to pray ... yet he couldn’t find the energy or focus to do so.

At the town house, while waiting for the garage door to open, movement next door caught his eye. Shon stepped out of his front door and acknowledged Forbes with a lifting of his chin.

Shon. The weight that had pressed down on Forbes’s shoulders all afternoon suddenly lightened. If anyone could keep his confidence, it would be his next-door neighbor.