“Thank you, young man, but that won’t be necessary.” Eagleton nodded at the equipment. “I am quite familiar with this technology. I rather think I will start in here, and perhaps later you can show me to a computer and help me get started with the papers online.”
“Certainly,” I said. Diesel and I left him humming as he examined the drawers in which the film was stored.
Eagleton emerged from the microfilm room about ten minutes before Diesel and I completed our volunteer shift for the day. I got him settled at a computer station, logged him in, and guided him to the links for the newspaper databases.
Diesel climbed happily into the backseat for the short drive home. Nothing was very far from anything else in Athena, one of the distinct advantages of living in a smaller town. Sean’s car was in the garage when I pulled in beside it, and I was surprised he would be home at a little past three thirty in the afternoon.
In the kitchen I went straight to the refrigerator for a cold drink while Diesel visited his litter box in the utility room. I spotted a folded note with Dad scrawled across it stuck to the fridge door with a daisy magnet. As I sipped at my diet drink, I opened the note and scanned the contents.
Sean had written in his precise, bold hand, “News to share. Come to the back porch, and I’ll tell you.”
I tucked the note in my pocket and headed for the back of house. Diesel caught up with me before I reached the door and jogged past me. He turned his head toward me and warbled.
“Go ahead.” I grinned because I knew what he wanted. My boarder Justin Wardlaw had taught him how to open doors with his front paws, and Diesel liked showing off his skill. He reared up on his hind legs and twisted the knob. The door popped open, and the cat and I stepped onto the screened-in porch that ran the length of the rear of the house.
I had already picked up the fragrant smell of my son’s cigar. This was the only part of the house in which he was allowed to indulge his habit, and when I couldn’t find him elsewhere inside, I knew he’d be out here. I’d rather he gave it up entirely for his health, but I knew better than to argue with him about it. At least he smoked only where there was plenty of air circulating.
“Hey, Dad.” Sean turned and smiled, cigar in one hand and champagne bottle in the other. “Time to celebrate.”
NINE
“Celebrate?” What was he talking about? Did this mean he had finally asked Alexandra Pendergrast to marry him? We had all been expecting this for months now.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Sean shook his head. “No, Dad, I haven’t asked her yet. I’m talking about the state bar exam.” He popped the cork on the bottle.
Of course. How could I have forgotten? Sean had taken the Mississippi bar in February, and the results were expected this month.
“You passed,” I said. I had never doubted he would. My son, I could say without boasting, was an extremely bright young man.
“I did.” Sean stuck the cigar in his mouth and picked up two champagne flutes. He filled one and handed it to me before filling his own.
“To Mississippi’s newest legal eagle.” I raised the glass and smiled. “I’m proud of you, as always.”
Sean beamed back at me as he raised his own. He drew on the cigar and expelled the smoke. We watched it waft away in the breeze coming through the screens as we sipped the champagne.
“Thanks, Dad.” Sean downed the rest of the amber liquid. “How about a refill?”
“No, thanks, one glass is enough for me,” I said.
Diesel sat in front of him and chirped. Sean glanced down and smiled. “Sorry, big guy, but I don’t think champagne is good for cats. Dad might have a fit if I give you any.”
The cat’s head turned in my direction, as if to ask my permission. “No, boy, Sean is right. No bubbly for you.”
Diesel made a rumbling noise—his method of signaling irritation when he didn’t get his way. Sean and I shared a chuckle over the cat’s behavior.
“I’m sure Alexandra is pretty excited about the news.” My son had been working with her and her father, the legendary Q. C. Pendergrast, as an assistant. Q.C. had promised to make Sean a partner when he passed the bar. I figured the old man was getting ready to ease off on his legal practice and let the youngsters take over.
“I haven’t told her yet.” Sean’s expression turned serious. “I wanted to tell you first, Dad.”
Suddenly a lump in my throat made it difficult to speak. A year ago my relationship with my son had floundered, with me clueless as to the reason. We resolved the problems between us, however, and these days I felt closer to Sean than I had since his childhood.
Diesel warbled, and I had to smile. He always sensed when my mood shifted suddenly. I rubbed his head to reassure the cat. “Thank you, Son. I’m glad you did. Hadn’t you better tell Alexandra now?”
“I will, tonight at dinner.” Sean looked away from me and focused instead on the backyard. He drew on his cigar and expelled the smoke.
Judging by his tone, he didn’t sound all that eager to talk to Alexandra. Had there been some rift between them that I didn’t know about?
I kept my tone nonchalant when I queried him. “What’s wrong? Have you two had a fight?”
Sean glanced back at me. He shook his head. “Not a fight, merely a strong disagreement.” He had another sip of champagne. “It’s this plan of her father’s to turn over the firm to Alex and me. After we’re married.”
I sat on one of the wicker sofas, and Diesel jumped up beside me. He stretched out, with his head and front legs on my lap. “Do you feel like he’s trying to push the two of you into marriage? Is that what’s bothering you?”
Sean shrugged and smoked in silence for a few moments. I kept quiet and stroked Diesel’s back.
“I want to marry Alex.” Sean’s tone was clipped as he deposited ash into the ashtray on a nearby table. “She knows that, even though I haven’t asked her yet. Q.C. knows I’ll get around to asking her eventually. I just don’t want him to hand over his practice because I’m married to his daughter.” He stuck his cigar back in his mouth and drew hard. He looked angry as he blew smoke toward the screen. “I have money saved. I can buy into the practice on my own.”
I should have realized before now that this would be an issue for Sean. He had always been proud, insistent on being independent. He wanted to earn whatever he had, and I in turn had always been proud to have reared such a self-reliant son.
“Have you expressed any of this to Q.C. and Alex?”
“When the subject first came up.”
Sean’s wry delivery of that line didn’t fool me. There had probably been a heated discussion. Sean had a bit of a temper—slow to ignite, but fiery when it burst forth. He took after me in that respect.
“What did Q.C. say when you told him how you felt?” I kept my tone mild as I continued to rub Diesel along his spine. Happy warbles repaid me for my attentions to His Majesty.
“Nonsense, my boy. After all, we can’t have you working for your wife. What would the folks around here have to say about that?” Sean did a fair imitation of Q.C.’s deep voice and broad drawl.