He smiled. "I hate ties. A damn nuisance, I say."
"Poor baby."
"I'll bet our old friend Luke doesn't wear one of these boa constrictors." He went to the carafe and poured himself a cup of coffee, then popped a couple pieces of seven-grain bread into the toaster. "I went into the wrong line of work. I should have chosen something artsy-fartsy. Like writing."
Kate ignored his sarcasm and took another swallow of her coffee. She sighed with pleasure. "There's nothing quite as wonderful as a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning." She glanced over at him. "I'm trying out a new bean. Tell me what you think."
He took a sip. "It's good."
"Just good?"
"Really good?"
"How would you describe it?"
"Hot. Strong." He sipped again. "Tastes like… coffee."
She wagged her spoon at him in a mock reprimand. "Tomorrow you're getting instant."
"Okay." He laughed at her obvious dismay. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm just not a coffee connoisseur, it all tastes about the same to me."
He carried his toast and cup to the table and sat across from her. Kate slid him the sports section of the Times Picayune.
"I read in the money section that Starbucks coffee is thinking of moving into New Orleans in a big way." She drew her eyebrows together in concern. "I hope they stay on that side of the lake. I don't need any more competition for this community's coffee dollar."
"How are things at the nuthouse?" he asked, unfolding the paper.
"Nuthouse?"
"The Bean."
"I don't know why you insist on calling the The Uncommon Bean a nuthouse. We're all quite sane."
He spread a bit of whole fruit jam on his toast. "You're sane," he corrected. "I'm not nearly so confident of that crew you have working for you."
She laughed. Her crew was a bit unconventional; she couldn't deny that. "A coffeehouse is not a law office."
"No joke."
"My customers expect a bit of creative license. Besides, they're not nuts, they're characters. There's a difference."
"If you say so."
"I do." Kate poured herself a bowl of muesli, sprinkled on some fresh berries, then covered it with half 'n' half. "I also say you're a stuffed shirt and need to loosen up."
"I'm sure my clients would love that. Being a stuffed shirt is a good thing for lawyers. Inspires trust." He cocked an eyebrow as she dug into her cereal. "Cream?"
"Mmm." She licked her spoon, teasing him. "What's the matter? Jealous?"
"Not at all."
"Liar."
Richard was spartan in his tastes; she was excessive. He worked out religiously, ate low fat and whole grain and still had to fight acquiring a paunch. Kate ate sweets and fats and kept her workouts confined to long brisk walks along the lakefront-and still managed to remain slim and taut, her blood pressure and cholesterol ridiculously low.
It irritated him no end and he continually warned her that her life-style would catch up with her, that middle age would hit and she would have to suffer right along with the rest of the world. Kate laughed off his warnings. She came from a long line of people with uncommonly healthy hearts and in-the-cellar cholesterol and blood pressure. And if genetics failed her and Richard's predictions came true, well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
"Poor Richard. Want just a tiny taste?"
He eyed her bowl longingly, then shook his head. "I'm perfectly content with my toast."
"I can tell." She grinned, took another bite and washed it down with a sip of coffee. "I almost forgot. Last night you got in so late from your meeting, I didn't get a chance to tell you. Ellen called." He looked up from the sports page, obviously not following. "Ellen, from Citywide. It seems we get an A plus." Kate laughed. "We were the first couple in our group to get all our paperwork in."
"The first?" His lips twitched. "Leave it to us, type A overachievers."
She pushed her hair behind her ear, ignoring his sarcasm. "Determined. Enthusiastic. No way am I going to miss an opportunity due to procrastination."
"I'm just glad it's done."
Kate agreed. The adoption program's paperwork had been grueling. It seemed there had been a form that covered every aspect of their life: their family's history, their personal health, their financial and educational backgrounds. They'd even had to get fingerprinted and have a police background check done.
But by far the most difficult part of the packet to complete had been the personal profiles. The questions had been probing, requiring each of them to delve into their most intimate thoughts and feelings-about their marriage, about adoption and parenting.
They had been asked to search their hearts and souls, then spill their guts on paper. All the while knowing that a potential birth mother would read what they had written-knowing the words they chose would influence whether that birth mother would select them to parent her child.
The process had been made all the more nerve-racking for Kate because they had been told that the profiles were the most important component of all they would do. For the great majority of the birth moms, Ellen had explained, giving up their baby for adoption was an emotional decision, not an intellectual one.
So, Kate had sweated over her profile. She had poured out her heart and soul and longings-praying the whole time that something she said would strike a chord in one of the birth mothers. Praying that somehow, she could make the other woman see how much she longed to be a mother. And how much she would love her baby.
"The only thing left is our photo album. I finished it last night and planned to run it across to Citywide in the next couple of days. No chance you're heading to the south shore today or tomorrow?"
"No chance. Although I may go over on Friday."
"I'll keep that in mind, though I didn't want to wait that long."
"Type A," he teased.
"You think?" She laughed. "I just want it done."
"Ready to sit back, relax and wait for a baby to fall into our laps, huh?"
"Relax?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe you can, but not me. I'm more excited and anxious than I was when we had all that paperwork stretching before us. Now it's real. Now it could actually happen, anytime."
"Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Remember what Ellen said? It could take a year. Even longer. That year's going to pass pretty damn slow with your panties in a wad the entire time."
He was right. She knew that. But knowing it didn't change the way she felt. Kate sighed. "I know, Richard. I remember what she said. It's just that I've…that we've-"
"Waited so long already." He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "I know, sweetheart."
She curled her fingers around his, grateful for his understanding. "Love you."
He smiled. "Love you, too."
From outside came the squeal of the school bus's brakes, coming to a halt at the stop at their corner. It came every day at 8:10 sharp. Richard looked at his watch and swore. "I've got to go. I'm late."
"Me, too." They both stood, carried their dishes to the sink, grabbed their things and hurried for the door. There, Richard kissed her. "You haven't forgotten our dinner with Sam Petrie and his wife have you?"
"Of course not. Dakota's, 7:00 p.m."
"You got it. Why don't you wear your red silk? I love that on you."
She laughed. "That's a pretty sexy choice for a weeknight, counselor."
"And Sam Petrie could be a major supporter in my run for D.A." At her shocked expression, he grinned. "Just kidding. You're beautiful in anything. Wear whatever you like." He kissed her again, then stepped out onto the lower gallery. "I'll call you later."
She watched him go, then grabbed her coat and purse and headed out after him.
10
One of the many pluses of owning her own business, Kate had decided within her first month in operation, was the location she had chosen. Just three blocks down Lake-shore Drive from their home, most days she was able to walk to work.