Eye of the Beholder (4 page)

E
llen Jones stood in line at the cash register at Gordy’s Crab Shack, waiting to pay her bill and determined not to let Guy’s hanging up on her spoil her evening. Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Good to see you,” Gordy Jameson said. “Where’s your other half?”

Ellen handed her bill and credit card to the cashier. “He’s coming home later tonight. He won a big case and went out with his partners to celebrate.”

“Tell him congratulations. Next time he comes in, the clam chowder’s on me.”

“You can’t keep giving us part of our meal free every time we come in.”

Gordy smiled. “Been doin’ it a long time. Who’s your friend?”

“Excuse my manners,” Ellen said. “This is my neighbor, Blanche Davis. Blanche, this is Gordy Jameson, the owner.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He winked at Ellen and handed Blanche a coupon. “Come back for a piece of Key lime pie—on the house.”

“Why, thank you,” Blanche said. “I certainly will.”

Ellen signed the credit card slip and handed the white copy to the cashier. “Is Pam here tonight?”

Gordy shook his head. “She’s hemmin’ her wedding dress.”

“My goodness, your big day will be here before you know it.”

“Yeah, let’s hope the weather cools down by then. We’re doin’ the whole shebang outside. We’ll say our vows down at the lighthouse,
and then have a big shindig on the beach afterwards.” Gordy’s smile stole his face. “The church is way too small and neither of us wanted a reception in the civic center. We decided to do it outdoors and invite as many as we want.”

“Guy and I got the invitation and are really looking forward to it.”

“Good. Since I can’t talk Pam into elopin’, I might as well enjoy the party. You ladies have a nice evenin’.”

Ellen held open the door and followed Blanche outside, then walked down the pier toward the parking lot, trying to think of a fitting way to punish Guy for hanging up on her.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Blanche said. “Are you annoyed with me? I do tend to go on and on.”

“No, my busy day finally caught up with me and I’m a little tired. I’ll get a second wind here in a minute.”

“Hi, Mom!”

Ellen looked up and saw her son and daughter-in-law walking toward her. “I wish I’d known you two were coming here for dinner, you could’ve joined us. You remember Blanche?”

Owen Jones held out his hand. “Yes, nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Blanche,” Hailey Jones said. “We met at Ellen and Guy’s.”

Owen looked over Ellen’s shoulder, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Where’s Dad?”

“Still in Tallahassee. He’ll be home late.”

“Isn’t it great he won the Brinkmont case? He sounded so happy.”

“When did you talk to him?” Ellen said.

“Right after the verdict came in. He called me at work. I understand Brent McAllister and his girlfriend are coming to your house for a victory dinner Saturday night. Why do you look surprised? Did I hear Dad wrong?”

Ellen managed a weak smile. “We haven’t hammered out the details yet.”

“Since you’ve already eaten,” Hailey said, “do you want to come back inside and have coffee so we can visit?”

“Oh, honey, I’d love to,” Ellen said apologetically. “But the Hamiltons invited us to the Old Seaport Dairy for banana splits.”

“They’re half price.” Blanche nodded her head matter-of-factly.

Owen smirked, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “Mom certainly doesn’t have to worry about the cost.”

Ellen held her son’s gaze until she was sure he read her irritation. “For your information, I
love
a bargain, especially if it involves something sweet.”

“Oh, uh, right. Well, you ladies have fun. Nice to see you again, Blanche.” Owen took Hailey by the arm and hurried her down the pier toward Gordy’s.

Ellen walked to the car, thinking the men in her family needed to come down off their high horse.

Guy Jones raised his water goblet and listened for the tinkling sound as Kinsey Abbot’s champagne glass touched it. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Kinsey took a sip of champagne, her eyes seeming to study his. “It’s your big victory celebration and you’re drinking water?”

Guy smiled in spite of his mood. “Ah, but it’s Perrier.”

She took another sip of champagne. “I admire a man who stands by his guns even when he’s the odd man out.”

“Odd man out?” Guy chuckled. “I thought we were here to hail my strengths.”

“We are. It takes a strong man to stand by his convictions.”

“Plus it frees me up to be a designated driver.”

Kinsey smiled and poked him with her elbow. “I’m serious. You’re a wonderful asset to the firm. Things started to slide after Renee left. I’m not sure Brent could have held it together without you.”

“You’re kind, Kinsey, but I have three very capable partners. I’ve just begun to make a contribution.”

“And on top of everything else, you’re actually humble.” Kinsey tilted her glass and drank the last drop of champagne, then turned to him. “If I’d married someone like you, I wouldn’t be divorced. I sure hope Ellen appreciates what a gem she has.”

“I’m sure she does.”
Not that she acts like it lately
.

The sound of metal tapping glass caught his attention, and he noticed Brent McAllister standing at the head of the table.

“Before dinner is served, I just want to say how pleased I am that my law-school-chum-turned-partner is working out so well. I’ve long admired Guy’s command of law and the authority he exudes in the courtroom. He’s a gentleman and a professional—and a valuable part of this finely-tuned machine of McAllister, Norton, Riley, and Jones.

“Of course, outside the office, he and I travel to the beat of different drummers. But who knows? If there really is a God, maybe He sent Guy to straighten me out. If that’s the case, the poor chap’s really got his work cut out for him.” Everyone laughed, and Brent winked at Donna. “Seriously, Guy. Thanks for a job well done. And for all you’ve brought to this firm. We’re proud to call you partner.” Brent raised his glass. “Hear! Hear!”

Guy raised his water glass and then took a sip, painfully aware of Ellen’s absence—and of Kinsey Abbott sitting much too close.

Ceiling fans whirred like helicopter blades above the white tile floor and red brick walls of the Old Seaport Dairy. Customers packed the booths and tables, and the noise level made it impossible to be heard when speaking in a normal tone of voice.

Ellen Jones sat next to Blanche Davis, eating the last of her banana split and enamored with two-year-old Sarah Beth Hamilton seated with her parents on the other side of the booth.

“Is that good, sweetie pie?” Ellen said.

Sarah Beth gave an unequivocal nod, then opened her mouth and shoved in a spoonful of drippy ice cream.

“She seems so happy and well-adjusted,” Ellen said to Julie and Ross Hamilton. “I’m proud of you for dropping the charges against Billy and Lisa and allowing them time with her.”

“Sarah Beth’s crazy about them,” Ross said. “There’s no way they understood that hiding her from us was kidnapping.”

Ellen was aware of the stares and whispers going on around them and wondered how long it would be before people forgot the false sex abuse allegations that had been hurled at Ross, the eight-day search for Sarah Beth, and the shocking discovery that she had been hidden by a mentally challenged couple.

“Billy and Lisa were so cute when they came for lunch Sunday,” Julie said. “They handled Sarah Beth like a treasured baby doll. It was really sweet.”

Sarah Beth took her tiny thumb and forefinger and pulled out a piece of banana from the soupy ice cream and offered it to Ellen. “Here you go, sweetie pie.”

Everyone laughed.

“Why, thank you,” Ellen said. “But I already ate my banana split. Why don’t
you
eat the banana?”

Sarah Beth’s blue eyes were wide and animated, her cheeks dimpled. “I
wuv
fruit.” She popped the banana into her mouth and looked as though she were waiting for applause.

“Well, isn’t she the little entertainer?” Blanche said. “And such pretty red hair.”

Sarah Beth took her sticky hand and grabbed a fistful of curls. “I gots hair like my mama.”

“Yes, you do,” Blanche said.

Ross looked at his watch. “I can’t believe it’s already eight-thirty. I guess we should get you ladies home and little princess here down for the night so she won’t rival Oscar the Grouch tomorrow.”

Julie dipped a napkin in water and washed Sarah Beth’s face and hands. “This was fun. Let’s do it again when Guy can join us.”

Don’t hold your breath
. Ellen got up from the table and walked toward the exit, once again reminded of her anger at Guy. She didn’t relish the thought of getting into a late-night argument and wished he would stay over in Tallahassee and drive home tomorrow after they’d both had time to sleep on it.

Guy Jones finished the last bite of triple chocolate mousse and passed again on the dessert wine. As far as he could tell, Kinsey’d had enough for both of them—and then some. She had gotten flirtier after each drink, and he was sure the others around the table were starting to notice. Then again, they seemed as glassy-eyed as she was.

Guy felt a pang of loneliness as he looked around the table. The other wives seemed to be having a good time.

He took a sip of Perrier, then sat back in his chair, his arms folded, and studied his partners. These were the men whose names were set apart by comas, but whose goals were one with his: Brent McAllister, Kyle Norton, Franklin Riley. Professionally, he considered each a storehouse of knowledge and legal experience to be regarded with utmost respect.

So they got a little carried away with imbibing tonight. What right did he have to expect them to live by his standard when they didn’t even know his God?

But what was Ellen’s excuse for bad behavior? Her actions certainly didn’t measure up to the biblical command that wives should respect their husbands. Guy felt as though he had been dropped to the bottom of her priority list. For weeks she had seemed distracted by one oddball friend or another. Why wasn’t she content just to write novels and be his wife? Was it asking too much for her to greet him with open arms and give him her
attention from Wednesday night until Monday morning? She had the biggest part of three days to do whatever she wanted.

Guy wanted to get on the highway and head for home, get this off his chest. But at the moment, it seemed important to be a good receiver. Brent had gone to a lot of trouble to get everyone together to celebrate the Brinkmont victory. And Guy felt increasingly responsible to make sure the others didn’t drive drunk.

Kinsey leaned back in her chair, her right arm resting against his left.

Guy sat forward, his elbows on the table, his fingers linked together.

A second later, Kinsey assumed the same posture, her bare shoulder resting against his arm. “Am I so repulsive?”

“You’re drunk, Kinsey.”

“Is
that
why I feel so good?” She giggled, an unruly curl dropping down over one eye. She brushed the hair off her face and began giggling again.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Guy said. “Why don’t I order us some coffee?”

“Party pooper.”

Guy held up his hand and the waiter came to the table. “Two coffees, please.”

“Would the lady like a little more dessert wine?” the waiter asked.

Guy shook his head. “The lady would definitely
not
. Thank you.”

“I like a man who takes charge,” Kinsey said. “Charge!” She belted out a deep, resonant laugh and then got tickled with herself.

“What’s so funny down there?” Brent lifted his eyebrows, an amused look on his face. “Or is it too
personal
to share?”

Guy shot him a don’t-you-even-joke-about-it look. “Kinsey’s just feeling the merriment, that’s all. Nothing a little coffee can’t fix.”

“Coffee?” Brent reached over and picked up a short, slender bottle. “We haven’t finished the Muscat. There’s plenty of time for coffee later. The night’s young, Counselor. Eat. Drink. Be merry. You only go around once. Live a little on the edge. Waiter, more Perrier for my friend!”

Everyone roared.

Guy smiled and shook his head, then settled back for a long evening. He would just have to stay over another night. How could he insult his colleagues by cutting short a celebration in his honor?

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