Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2) (20 page)

Audrey bit her lip, shaking her head.

“Okay,” Becca said, covering the letters, ‘es,’ with her thumb so Audrey could only see the word ‘cape’. “How about just the second syllable?”

“Cape,” Audrey whispered, her eyes lighting up. “Like what Superman wears.”

“That’s right,” Becca said, smiling and moving her thumb to reveal the rest of the word again. “Now, put the two together.”

“Es-cape,” Audrey said, slowly sounding out each syllable.

“Exactly.” Becca nodded. “It means to get away or break free from something that’s trapping you.”

Audrey furrowed her brow, looking back down at the story. “Why would the kitty want to escape?”

That, Becca thought, was one of the questions she was planning to address with the class once everyone had finished reading the story. She had chosen this assignment specifically for Luke, hoping he might draw some lessons from it. Looking around the room, she saw that most of the kids were almost done writing down their answers to the questions on their worksheets. “Is everybody finished?”

When they all nodded and chorused, “yes,” she pushed to her feet.

“Jennifer.” Becca walked to the front of the room and called on an outgoing blonde in the front row. “What’s this story about?”

“It’s about a kitty that runs away from home,” Jennifer answered confidently.

Becca nodded. “Why does the kitty run away?”

“Because its owner, Emily, left the door open by mistake.”

Becca lifted her gaze to where a red-haired boy sat in the back. “Travis, what happened when Emily realized her cat was missing?”

Travis set down the pencil he’d been doodling with. “She tried to find it.”

“Did it take a long time?”

Travis nodded.

“How long?”

“All day.”

Becca walked down one of the rows, pausing beside the desk of a black-haired girl who sat by the wall of cubbies. “Where did she finally find it?”

“In a tree,” Jill Showalter answered.

“Then what happened?”

“She had to call a fireman to come and rescue it.”

“That’s right.” Becca looked back out at the rest of the class. “She had to call a fireman to bring a ladder and climb up the tree and carry the cat back down.” Her gaze lingered on Luke, who was sketching a tree into the margin of the assignment. She felt a pinch of frustration, and briefly considered telling him to pay attention, then reconsidered. “So,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back, “who can tell me what the moral of this story is?”

Travis raised his hand.

“Yes, Travis?”

“If your cat runs away, you should call a fireman.”

Becca smiled and a few of the girls giggled. “I think there’s a little more to it than that.”

“You shouldn’t leave your door open,” another student guessed.

“That’s closer,” Becca said encouragingly, waiting for another hand to go up.

Taylor finally raised her hand.

“Yes, Taylor?”

“You should take care of your animals or they’ll run away,” she said.

Becca nodded. Yes, that was definitely part of the lesson she’d been hoping to impart on her students today. The other part was that running away could be dangerous and it could cause a lot of worry and stress for everyone who cared about you.

When Luke raised his hand, Becca glanced up, surprised. Maybe he had been paying attention. “Yes?” she said, as she walked back up to the front of the room and tried to appear casual, like she hadn’t been waiting specifically to hear what he had to say. “What do you think the moral of the story is, Luke?”

Luke’s plastic chair creaked as he shifted in his seat. “If no one takes care of you, you should run away and someone brave will rescue you.”

Becca stopped walking, and fifteen pairs of eyes followed hers, swinging back around to stare at Luke.

Instead of shrinking in his seat, trying to disappear like he usually did whenever he had to answer a question in class, he sat up straight, looked her right in the eye, and beamed.

Tom Jacobson could
feel a migraine coming on. Digging through his briefcase for a bottle of aspirin, he wondered how much longer he was going to have to wait for the client his partner had asked him to stay late to meet. He’d been called into the office in Baltimore that morning to work on a fraud case. It was close to 10PM now, and he still needed to stop by the D.C. office before he went home to pick up some files for court tomorrow.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, which were starting to throb from spending the past three hours crosschecking one of the prosecution’s key witnesses’ phone records with her testimony from the week before. It was bullshit work that could have been done by any paralegal, but the staff had gone home hours ago, and he couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes in front of the partners.

He’d lost a few cases recently. Easy cases. Cases he should have won. And he’d heard rumors that the firm was thinking of downsizing—cutting back on some of the practice areas they’d built up to diversify after the recession. As one of three fourth-year associates specializing in financial law and vying for partner this year, there was a good chance that he would be laid off if he didn’t make the cut. Bailey, Stromwell, and Goldwater didn’t waste time cultivating mediocre talent. They only wanted the best.

The phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out, blinking against the stars edging his peripheral vision as he checked the name on the screen. When he saw that it was Becca, he hit ignore. He didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now.

The only reason he’d driven all the way out to the island to see her the night before was because he’d felt like he’d needed to do something to get things back on track between them. A few of his co-workers had mentioned recently that it looked better for a man to be married—to be settled down with a wife and a couple of kids—when it came time for the partners to make their final decision about which associates would become permanent members of the family at the firm.

He was only a couple of weeks away from checking that marriage box, but Becca had been so distant lately, he’d wanted to make sure she wasn’t having second thoughts. He’d stopped by Tiffany’s on the way out of the city to find a piece of jewelry to soften her up. He’d hardly been able to believe his luck when he’d seen the charm bracelet in the display case. Telling her that he’d been saving it for their wedding night had been the icing on the cake. Becca was far too sweet, far too trusting, to realize it had been a lie.

He wasn’t sure what her problem was lately. She was usually so supportive, so understanding. But over the past few months, she’d been making comments about how she wished he didn’t have to work such long hours, how she wished he could find time to drive out to the island on the weekends. He thought she knew what he’d signed up for, what they’d
both
signed up for. Yes, he was busy. Yes, he worked long hours. But that’s what he had to do to work his way up in the firm. And he needed her by his side—attending the events they were invited to in the city, socializing with the right people, getting to know the partners’ wives. Every decision they made, including how they spent their time on the weekends, reflected on his commitment to the firm.

He hadn’t told her that his job was in danger. He knew she would try to talk him into working at one of the smaller firms on the Eastern Shore, so she wouldn’t have to move so far away from her father. He couldn’t let her think that was an option. She needed to let the island go so they could begin their lives together. Their future was in D.C.

When the elevator dinged—
finally
—he chomped down a few more aspirin and rose, making his way out to the reception area. He’d never personally met the woman who was coming in tonight, but the firm considered her one of their most valuable clients. If he could make her happy, it might make up for some of the other mistakes he’d made recently.

“Ms. Vanzant,” he said, offering the woman his most charming smile and holding out his hand. “I’m Tom Jacobson. I understand you have a few questions about the paperwork for setting up your new LLC.”

Lydia Vanzant took his hand, but she didn’t return his smile. “Where’s Richard?”

“Richard had to step out at the last minute for a family emergency.” Actually, that was a lie. Richard Goldwater, one of their three name partners and original founders, had been systematically offloading his clients as his campaign had picked up steam. Six months ago, he had shocked everyone at the firm by throwing his hat into the race for governor.

No one had thought the defense attorney would stand a chance in the primaries, but his platform had gained momentum with help from an enthusiastic base of supporters and a campaign manager who had a reputation for transforming even the most unlikely candidates into frontrunners. Richard currently held a double-digit lead in the polls and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he would soon be the chosen candidate for the party that would challenge Nick Foley in the general elections later this year.

“I’ll reschedule,” Lydia said coolly, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Tom said, knowing it was his job to smooth out the ruffled feathers of any client who would have preferred to meet with a partner, especially one as important at Lydia Vanzant. “I work closely with Richard on all of his cases. He asked me to personally see that you were taken care of tonight. Can I get you a glass of water? Some tea?”

She looked back at him, sizing him up. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“You don’t look thirty-two.”

He smiled again, trying to put her at ease. “I have a young face.”

Her light green eyes narrowed as they swept over his tailored suit, silk tie, and Italian leather shoes. “Where did you go to school?”

“Georgetown.”

“Law school or undergrad?”

“Both.”

She continued to study him. “How long have you been working here?”

“Four years. Richard recruited me right out of law school. He and my father are good friends.” That wasn’t exactly true either. Richard Goldwater had hired Tom’s father to take him and his friends out fishing on his charter boat a few times over the years. Richard barely gave Tom the time of day. He probably got a good laugh out of the fact that he was employing the son of a fisherman.

A few more black spots swam into his vision, but the connection seemed to impress Lydia and she turned all the way back to face him now. “Are you from the area?” she asked.

“I grew up on the Eastern Shore.”

“Where?”

“Heron Island.”

Lydia paused, just for a beat. “Heron Island?”

He nodded.

“I take it you’ve been following the news?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I’m on your side about the decision to close the school.”

She regarded him with new interest. “You are?”

He nodded again. As far as he was concerned, the best thing that could happen was for the elementary school to shut down. Maybe, then, Becca could finally cut her ties to the island for good. He didn’t know why she was holding on so hard to the past. He couldn’t wait to escape the island when they’d been growing up. There was no way he could go back there now. I would be like taking a giant step backwards, like admitting defeat.

“Enrollment has been down for years,” Tom said. “Fewer young people are staying on the island to raise children. It doesn’t make sense to keep it open when the funds could be used to support the larger schools in the county. The elementary schools in Easton and St. Michaels have enough trouble paying competitive teacher salaries and retaining experienced tutors and aids. With the extra money, they could invest in their current staff and add more special needs programs.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she said, surprised.

Tom shrugged, as if he’d just rattled those ideas off the top of his head, when in fact, he’d done his research before she’d come in tonight. Lydia had been quoted in tons of articles over the years about her reasons for consolidations. A simple Google search over lunch had brought up dozens of hits.

As soon as he’d read Grace’s article the day before, and had seen how bad it had made Nick Foley look, he’d known that his connection to Becca and the island could give Richard Goldwater an advantage over the current governor. The only reason he’d asked Becca to tell him everything that hadn’t made its way into the article was to see if there was anything that Richard might be able to use for his campaign against the governor.