Read Online Talk of the Town by Suzanne Macpherson - Free Book Online Page B

building in town.
    Sam pointed to the top row of windows. “That’s where I live. I took the top floor and converted it into an apartment. Our law offices are on six. The rest of the building has a few accountants and insurance agents.”
    “What possessed your family to build such a modern structure in Paradise?” Kelly asked.
    “I think Dad wanted to shake up the place a bit.”
    “Paradise must look beautiful from up there.”
    “It’s very picturesque. Paradise was a wonderful place to grow up. I should be done pretty soon,” Sam said.
    It took her a minute to get the joke, but she did. It was probably quite true. Most men took till at least thirty to grow up.
    A surprising black marble lobby held another sculpture. It almost looked like a Henry Moore—a bronze of a woman with a child. Very modern and smooth.
    “That’s not what I think it is, is it?” she asked.
    “My mother is an art collector.”
    “Wow, she doesn’t mess around, does she?”
    “She’s passionate. The office was built to house it. My dad and I just borrow it to practice law in.” Sam punched the elevator button.
    “You’re a very amusing fellow, you know?”
    “Lawyers without a sense of humor are just not fun people.” He gestured to the opening elevator and held one side open for her.
    They got in. He punched six and moved real, real close to her. She had a little flashback to her last elevator ride—in her wedding dress, running away from Raymond.
    Sam smelled good. His warmth was pervasive. This was an improvement over her last elevator free fall.
    The receptionist on six looked up at Sam, took Kelly in, and did a classic mouth drop.
    “Faith, I’ll be in with Miss Applebee for about an hour. Can you hold my calls, please?”
    Faith snapped her jaw shut, then answered, “You bet, Sam. I’ll bring in some coffee.” She had on one of those purple sweatshirts with a white collar. It had puffy-paint chickadees on the front. Her desk was spread out with a very elaborate arts and crafts project that included a doll’s head. Faith was clearly someone’s grandmother.
    “She’s not your grandmother, is she?” Kelly asked, as they stepped into Sam’s office.
    “Unofficial. She bakes the best zucchini bread in the county, can dismantle a hard drive, rein-stall the motherboard, type about five hundred words a minute, plus a bunch of other stuff. She’s usually not here on a Saturday. Her husband George must be watching football, and she needed to escape, I’d guess.”
    Sam sat down behind his desk. She perched herself on one of his client chairs. Brown leather. She batted at a huge office palm that reached its fronds out and tickled her cheek. She kept her coat on. She pulled at the hem of her skirt. She clutched her small red leather purse in her lap. Then she told herself to stop fidgeting.
    Faith brought in two cups of coffee on a tray with sugar and cream, Kelly explained her usual—three lumps of sugar, black. Faith served both Sam and Kelly in fall leaf design mugs. It was so homespun. Homespun law, Paradise style. Faith exited, and Kelly sipped the coffee, then set it down on Sam’s desk.
    “Let me just change hats here from lunch date and rib crusher to legal eagle.” Sam opened a desk drawer, took out a green plaid golf cap, and placed it at a jaunty angle on his head.
    Kelly started laughing. A thing she did when she was nervous. “You are a total cornball, Grayson. You belong in a Jimmy Stewart movie.”
    “Thanks. Now, what’s the problem?” He handed her a Kleenex box. Her laughing tears were running down one cheek. Then he sat back with his mug and took a sip.
    “I need a divorce.”
    Coffee sprayed out of Sam’s mouth. He coughed and reached for a napkin. His chair skidded backward and hit into one of the office palms, which fell on him. He fought it back into place.
    Kelly jumped up. “Geez, Sam, are you okay?”
    “Fine.”
    “Can I give you a Heimlich?”
    “Maybe later.” He rose and