“He's awesome,” the boy said.
“How about Victoria?”
“I wish she was my mom.”
There was a long pause. Steve wished he could see the judge's face, wanted to know what she was thinking. He glanced at Victoria. She blinked several times, her eyelashes flicking away tears like silver drops of dew.
Forty-nine
MY BIG, FAT STUPID MISTAKE
“I think we recovered nicely at the end,” Steve said. Trying to show confidence, knowing Victoria was furious with him.
She shook her head. “Bobby loves you. You love him. But that's not enough to win.”
“You're leaving something out. He loves you, too.”
“Stop it, Steve. Just stop it. You promised. No more personal stuff.”
“You're the one who started crying in there.”
“Tears aren't enough to win, either.”
They were outside the judge's chambers, taking a thirty-minute dinner recess. A nearby restaurant had delivered sweet fried plantains, chewy palomilla steak, black beans and rice, and enough espresso to keep everybody awake for a week. Bobby was in the judge's chambers, eating with Judge Rolle. Zinkavich was stuffing his face in the anteroom, and Steve and Victoria, famished but too embroiled to eat, were jawing in the corridor.
“I should have gone with my gut, not yours,” she said.
“Okay.”
“No matter how much he loves you, Bobby made you seem reckless.”
“Okay.”
“Undisciplined.”
“Got it.”
“Immature.”
“I admit it. I screwed up.”
“Like you're the one who needs a caregiver.”
Why wouldn't she let up? He felt like a marlin attacked by a shark. First a ferocious strike, then the rip of flesh from bone, and finally a quick swallow. Followed by another strike, rip, swallow.
“Enough, already,” he said. “From now on, you run the case. I won't interfere.”
That stopped her for a moment. “All right. Deal.”
Thank God, he thought, he'd finally found a way to quiet her down. “Great. Now let's go over my testimony.”
She frowned. “I'm not putting you on the stand.”
“What!”
“I'm can't let you be crossed about the night you snatched Bobby.”
“I can handle it.”
“Only if you admit to a bunch of felonies.”
“I'll take the Fifth.”
“That'll impress the judge.”
“If I don't testify, who will?”
“At your service,” announced the suntanned, older man walking toward them. He wore a beige linen suit, and his white hair flowed down the back of his neck. He carried a Panama hat in one hand, an unlit cigar in the other. “How the hell are you, son?” Herbert Solomon said.
“Dad?” Steve was so shocked that for a moment he was disoriented. His father striding down a courthouse corridor? Like he was still a judge, on his way to take the bench. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn't Victoria tell you?” Herbert Solomon said. “Ah'm your star witness.”
Steve's shock was turning to anger. What chutzpah. Calling his old man without even asking him. “She must have wanted to surprise me,” Steve said, biting off the words.
“Well, ah'm here to help.”
“Too late for that.”
“C'mon, son. Until all the corn's out of the crib, there's still time.”
“Thanks, anyway, but I don't need your help.”
“Yes you do,” Victoria interposed. “Unlike you, there's nothing your father can be crossed on.”
“Really? How about resigning from the bench in disgrace?”
“Judge Rolle already knows about that. Were you listening yesterday? She idolizes your father.”
“Ah remember Althea when she was just a pup,” Herbert reminisced. “These insurance lawyers were picking on her, and ah-”
“Yeah, yeah, we heard,” Steve said. “You're the great white father.”
“After every trial, Althea would come back to chambers, ask me why ah did this and that, why ah ruled one way or the other. Always wanting to learn, that little girl. Like to think of her as one of mah proteges.”
“You were always so good with strangers.” Steve's words were as hard as marbles.
“Don't talk to your father that way,” Victoria said.
“Who gave you the right to run my case?”
“You did.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Then we've both made mistakes lately, haven't we?”
“If you think that,” he said, “you're lying to yourself.”
“No. I'm finally thinking clearly.”
“Our making love was not a mistake.”
“What the hell did ah wander into?” Herbert said.
“It was for me,” Victoria told Steve. “A big, fat, stupid mistake.”
“Bigby, the wedding, real estate closings. Those are your mistakes,” Steve told her.
“Y'all are showing way too much of yourselves,” Herbert said. “When you go skinny-dipping, you oughta keep close to the willows when you come out.”
“I love Bruce! I can't wait to marry him. And I'm dying to get out of the courtroom.”
“Ah think ah'll head into the courtroom,” Herbert said, walking away.
“Maybe you want to love him,” Steve told Victoria. “Maybe you wish you loved him. But you don't love him!”
“I do!”
“Then what were you doing the other night with me?”
“I don't know!”
“Maybe you better figure that out. Preferably before your honeymoon.”
Steve followed his father through the courtroom door.
Victoria paced alone in the corridor, hopelessly confused. She thought she'd put all of this to rest.
I used logic and reason, and I chose Bruce.
It made sense. Dealing with Bruce was easy. Comfortable. The way it should be. A mate isn't a sparring partner, right? Dealing with Solomon was impossible. A constant tug-of-war. So why did he still have the power to rattle her?
“There you are!”
Victoria turned to find Bruce striding toward her, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a picnic basket in the other. He was wearing a camel sport coat and dark brown wool slacks and looked like an adorable teddy bear. “Thought you might be hungry, sweetie.”
“Hon!” Victoria said. “So thoughtful of you.”
He brush-kissed her and opened the basket.
“God, I'm happy to see you.” She ran a hand over the luxurious fabric of his coat. It was a sign, she decided, Bruce showing up like this. Confirmation that her choice had been right all along.
“Were you and Solomon arguing again?” he asked.
“The man's exasperating.”
“I know, sweetie. I know.” He was pulling plastic containers from the basket. “Cucumber avocado soup, bean sprout sandwich with tomato and avocado, and avocado sorbet. You'll feel better after some supper.”
Victoria felt her stomach growling but knew she'd break out in splotches after one bite. “Thanks, hon, but I really have to get back into court. It was just so sweet of you to come all the way over here.”
“The least I could do.”
Her mind drifted to Solomon, the sandwich man. Maybe he'd bring her a mouthwatering prosciutto and ricotta panino, but it would grow cold while they squabbled about something or other. Wasn't that the warp and woof of their relationship?
“You look so tired, sweetie,” Bruce said.
Startled, Victoria put a hand to her face. “Are my eyes puffy?”
“You just need some sleep.”
“Oh.” She told herself she appreciated his honesty.
“I hope you can get some rest before the wedding. You don't want to look all haggard in the photo album.”
Haggard? On the other hand, honesty is sometimes an overrated quality.
“It's no wonder you're so bushed, having to deal with Solomon day and night.”
“That must be it.”
“Well, he won't be around aggravating you for long, sweetie.” Bigby slipped a file out of his briefcase and handed it to her.
“What's this, Bruce?”
“You've been so busy, I've had to do all the heavy lifting. Menus, seating charts, music selections, honeymoon itinerary. Plus some papers the lawyers want signed.”