“Brutal,” Gabe agreed.
Their waitress reappeared at their table with a frosty pitcher of frozen margaritas, two oversized goblets, and a complementary basket of hush puppies. “From Myles,” she said. “On the house.”
Brooke glanced at the host stand, and Myles waved and flashed her a thumbs-up, which she returned.
“Your buddy Myles is certainly a big fan,” Gabe said. “How’d you meet him?”
She took a gulp of the margarita, then fanned her face. “Sorry. Brain freeze. Gimme a minute.”
He waited.
“Myles’s mom, Lillian, works in the county clerk’s office, which is where I spend a lot of time. Anyway, Lillian hired some crooked contractor to put a new roof on her house. The guy ripped the old roof off, then demanded payment in full before he’d finish the job. She paid, and of course, he cashed the check and never came back. Even left his ladder, the dumbass. Lillian hired me, and I went after him in small claims court. She got her roof and even some damages. So now I’m a superhero in the eyes of the extended King family.”
“Did you get paid?” Gabe asked.
“A little. Enough.” She gestured at the pitcher of margaritas. “This happens every time I’m in here. You wait. We’ll be getting dessert too, whether we want it or not. Also, Myles and his brother show up faithfully, every week, to take care of my yard. But best of all, there’s Lillian. She knows all the judges and where all the bodies are buried in this county. She takes care of my filings. You can’t buy that kind of loyalty. Right?”
*
They placed their orders—fried seafood platter for Gabe and for Brooke, broiled, stuffed flounder. And a craft brew for Gabe, who confessed he wasn’t much of a margarita drinker.
“So,” Gabe said after the waitress had gone, “you have a child. I had no idea. At all.”
“Henry. He’ll be three in July. Want to see?”
“Of course.”
She took out her iPhone and scrolled through the photo library, holding it out for Gabe to see. “This is his preschool photo. Here he is at the park, with my mom. That’s us, eating ice cream in the backyard…”
“Good-looking little guy,” Gabe said, picking up a hush puppy from the basket the waitress had left on their table. He chewed and processed the images and the information. “He really is a miniature version of you.”
“I think he looks more like his father, especially when he’s mad at me.”
“And the father?” Gabe said, taking the opening. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
She downed a third of her margarita, then dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I don’t mind your asking,” Brooke said calmly. “But I would prefer that you keep this just between us. I know how people gossip in Savannah.”
“You think I don’t know gossip?” Gabe said bitterly. “All those years with Sunny? Arriving late or not at all to dinners with friends? Making excuses for when she was passed out cold in the middle of the day. I knew what people were saying.”
“I’m sorry,” Brooke said. “If it matters, I think you were a good and loyal husband all those years.”
“Thanks.” Gabe smiled. “It matters.”
“His name is Pete.” She blurted it out.
“Huh?”
“Henry’s father. My baby daddy. His name is Pete. We first met the summer before I started law school. We had sort of a thing, I guess you’d call it.”
“This guy Pete? He’s why you left Harris?”
“No. I ran off because I wasn’t ready to be married, to anybody. I’d been having doubts, but once that wedding freight train got rolling, I didn’t have the balls to derail it.”
“Probably for the best, then,” Gabe said.
“Tell that to my dad,” Brooke said.
“You mean your actual dad?”
They laughed in unison, and with perfect timing, their food arrived.
*
When he’d worked his way down to everything but the lemon-and-parsley garnish and the shrimp tails, Gabe groaned and pushed back from the table. “You were right about this place,” he told Brooke. “Don’t know when I’ve had seafood this fresh.”
“Glad you liked it,” Brooke said. She’d finished most of her salad and the flounder.
“You were telling me about Henry’s father. Pete? When did he come back into the picture?”
“Pete’s a wildlife biologist. He was working down here on the coast, over at Cumberland Island, doing some research. And when I left Savannah, I came down here, because I didn’t have anyplace else to go.”
“And that’s when you got together with this Pete?”
“Not at first,” Brooke said, blushing. “We were just friends.”
“Until you weren’t.”
“Something like that. I suppose it was probably inevitable. One night, he announced he’d gotten a grant to do research on elk migration patterns. In Alaska. And he wanted me to go with him.”
Gabe cocked one eyebrow. “To Alaska?”
“Yeah. Big shock. At which point, things got, um, real serious real fast. I did give it some thought, but in the cold light of morning, the whole idea seemed impossible. So I took him to the airport and kissed him goodbye, and six weeks later, I realized I was pregnant.”
“And what? He dumped you?”
“He doesn’t know,” Brooke said.
Gabe set his beer down carefully on the tabletop and gave her a quizzical look.
“I had my reasons for not telling him,” Brooke said. “But according to my mom, he has a right to know that he has a son.”
“And what do you think?”
“I’m … conflicted,” she admitted. “Things are complicated between Pete and me. And the more time that goes by, the harder it is for me to reach out and tell him. I don’t want anything from him. I don’t expect anything.”
“But maybe you’re afraid Pete will want to have some part in raising your son? Maybe even attempt to take him from you?” Gabe asked.
“There’s that. Henry’s all I have.”
“I think it suits you. Motherhood, I mean. Are you happy down here, Brooke?”
“Happy?” With her fingertip, she drew circles in the tabletop water rings.
“I guess that’s relative. St. Ann’s is a small town, and the lawyers here are a pretty clannish bunch. They didn’t actually throw me a welcoming parade. So I take whatever cases I can get. As for the rest of it, I’ve been lucky. I’ve got good childcare, including Farrah, who helps out in the office and babysits when I need her. And my mom comes down as often as she can. She’s here right now, watching Henry, and she’ll stay until after this weird meet and greet with Josephine on Friday.”
Now it was Brooke studying her old law partner and mentor. “Speaking of Josephine, are you going to tell me what that ‘confidential meeting’ was about?”
“Nope. Sorry, but she was insistent.”
“I really can’t figure her out. I mean, why hire me? I told her I have no experience with the legal work she needs done, but she’s adamant that I’m the only girl for the job.”
“She has her reasons,” Gabe said. He looked down at his watch and then around the room. “I’d better get going if I’m going to make it back to Savannah.”
As if on cue, Addie, their waitress, was back, with two towering slices of what looked like key lime pie. “From Myles,” she said.
They turned to look, and Myles waved again.
25
Brooke and Marie Trappnell stood outside the baggage claim door at the Jacksonville airport. It had rained earlier, and now steam rose from the still-damp sidewalk and road. Brooke’s cell phone dinged.
The automatic doors slid open, and a handful of passengers emerged: a young family with a baby in a stroller, a pair of suited businessmen, two college-aged girls dressed in tight white shorts and matching sorority jerseys, and the last, a tall, striking-looking woman with short, spiky, blue-streaked hair who had an animal crate tucked under one arm and was dragging a rolling suitcase.
“That’s gotta be Lizzie,” Brooke told her mother.
“And she brought a friend,” Marie added.