Once Upon a Matchmaker. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ he admitted. He upbraided himself for his moment of weakness and flashed her a deliberately wide, easy grin. “Forget that,” he told her. “This is your special day, Aunt Sheila. Let’s not spoil it by talking about lawyers and necessary evils.” Which was the way he viewed lawyers as a whole.

      Given a choice, he would have avoided the whole lawyer route altogether, but he had a feeling that this was something where he wasn’t going to be able to rely on just his wits to get him out. And knowing that he wasn’t guilty of what he was being accused of didn’t seem to matter, or help.

      He looked at the other three occupants at the table. “I just want to have a nice meal with my three favorite people.”

      But Sheila didn’t seem satisfied. Covering Micah’s hand with her own, she looked intently into his eyes. “Well, I won’t be able to have that ‘nice meal’ unless you promise to tell me what’s wrong the moment we get home.”

      It was a compromise he could live with. Micah nodded. “Done.”

      “I’m going to hold you to that,” she told him.

      Though he would have wanted it otherwise, he knew that the woman was as good as her word. He wouldn’t be able to put her off.

      “I know that.”

      For now, Sheila relented. “All right, then.” Sitting back in her seat, she opened the menu again out of habit. “Let’s get this party started.”

      “You didn’t answer my question, Aunt Sheila,” Gary reminded her, shifting in his seat restlessly.

      The boy had the tenacity of a pit bull. For a second, Sheila’s eyes shifted to Micah.

      “Definitely the makings of a lawyer,” she said, agreeing with her nephew’s assessment of his older son. Leaning her head on her hand, she looked directly into Gary’s sky-blue eyes and asked, “And what question is that?”

      “Do you know those ladies?” Gary repeated with just a trace of exasperation. He slanted a look at his father. “The ones I can’t point at,” he added.

      “I know some of them. The lady who waved sold me the condo I live in. Those two other older ladies are her oldest and dearest friends.”

      “Doesn’t she have any young friends? Besides you,” Gary asked. His smile was broad and earnest.

      Micah’s older son was seated to her left. Sheila leaned over and gave the boy a long, heartfelt hug. “Best present I ever got,” she told him.

      At any other time, Gary would have preened at the compliment. But right now, he was dealing with a more immediate problem. “You’re squishing me, Aunt Sheila,” the boy protested.

      She released him immediately, making a show of raising her hands and removing them from his small body. “Sorry, I got carried away,” she apologized. There was a glimmer of humor about her mouth that only Micah took note of.

      Greg scrunched up his face. It was clear that he didn’t understand the expression.

      “No, you didn’t,” the younger boy told her. “You’re right here. Nobody’s carrying you away.”

      Greg looked around as if to make sure no one had sneaked up on them. As he scanned the room, he made eye contact again with one of the ladies at the other table. She was looking right at him.

      Shy, he shifted back around and hid his face in his hands.

      “What’s the matter?” Micah asked his son. What had caused this reaction, Micah wondered.

      “That lady, she’s looking right at me.” Greg giggled, saying the words into his hands.

      It was Micah’s turn to look at the women at the table in question. He assumed his sons were both looking at the same table. Scanning it quickly, he saw that there were eight women seated around the table. Seven appeared engaged in conversation and the eighth, a blonde—Greg had to be referring to her—was looking in their direction.

      His eyes met hers unexpectedly and for a very long second, neither of them looked away.

      She had a nice smile, he caught himself thinking. He saw her mouthing something and belatedly realized that she was saying, “Cute little boys.” Not knowing what else to do—and ignoring her seemed rather rude—he mouthed, “Thank you.”

      Her smile curved even more, pulling him in a little further. For some reason, he was having a difficult time looking away. There was something almost hypnotic about the smile, yet incredibly soothing at the same time.

      “How come you’re not making any noise?” Greg asked, then explained the reason for his question. “Your mouth’s moving.”

      “He’s using his inside voice,” Gary informed his brother importantly. Then, raising his chin, he added, “I can hear him.”

      Even at four, Greg knew a lie when he heard it. “No, you can’t,” he insisted.

      “Can, too,” Gary shot back, ready to go to war against his worst enemy/best friend in the blink of an eye.

      “Boys,” Micah interjected sternly, “what did I tell you about arguing?”

      “Don’t,” both boys chorused, their eyes downcast. Both appeared to be properly chastised, although Micah suspected that a little playacting was going into their performances.

      Satisfied that they were going to behave for at least the next five minutes, Micah nodded and turned his attention back to the meal. Their waiter was approaching the table.

      “All right, let’s order the food while it’s still Mother’s Day,” he urged his sons.

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sheila asked, looking dismayed, annoyed and worried all at the same time.

      “But I just did,” Micah pointed out, spreading his hands wide.

      They had barely crossed the threshold to his house before his aunt had pounced and demanded to know what was going on. They’d stayed at the restaurant a good two hours and apparently she had enjoyed every minute of it. But now, she informed him in a no-nonsense voice, it was time to come clean.

      “What’s wrong and why do you feel you need a lawyer?” she’d asked—and he’d told her.

      Told her everything.

      Granted it was a summarized version, and he’d left out a few details because she was outside the realm of those who had a need to know, but he’d relayed the general gist of it.

      She’d taken it all in quietly, making no comment while he talked. But he could tell that she was upset.

      “Besides,” he pointed out, “it’s Sunday. There’s not much I can do about this until tomorrow.” Everything had blown up on him late Friday afternoon. He’d spent Saturday trying to come to terms with the unexpected, jarring turn his life had taken.

      “Oh, yes, there is,” Sheila informed him in no uncertain terms. She went directly to the kitchen and the phone on the wall.

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