Straight-faced, Sullivan shrugged, supporting Ramsey’s lie with his silence.
Don winked at Ramsey out of his wife’s line of sight and smoothly carried on. “Now you see where that gets you, Nancy?”
Ramsey said, “I had a very good attorney.” Her eyes slid sideways to Don so there would be no question in Nancy’s mind about whom she was speaking.
Nancy Kellough’s dark eyes widened momentarily, then the penny dropped and she shrewdly regarded each of them in turn. “All right. You’re having me on. I choose not to be offended, but you’ll dance with me, Sullivan, won’t you? To make up for it. Don doesn’t dance.”
Sullivan promised that he would, and Ramsey and Don pronounced themselves satisfied with the arrangement.
They moved on.
The bride did not demonstrate any of the reserve of her mother as Sullivan came to stand in front of her. She did not wait for best wishes or congratulations or a peck on the cheek. Linda Kellough, nee Dobbs, launched herself at Sullivan with such enthusiasm that she made him stagger backward to catch his balance.
“Oh, I’m so pleased you came,” she said. “Thank you.”
Ramsey noticed that Sullivan did not try to pry her loose from what looked to be a rib-cracking hug. He let it run its course and set her away from him when she was ready, not a moment before.
“You’re radiant,” he told her, holding her hands and looking her over. “Could you be happier?”
“I don’t see how.” She smiled, pleased, and without giving up Sullivan’s hands, looked at Ramsey. “Isn’t he the best?” Beside her, Linda’s husband gently cleared his throat. “Yes, Tug, the best after you.” She rolled her eyes, but her wide, beatific smile said it was the truth. “And you’re Ramsey,” she said, dropping one of Sullivan’s hands. “Thank you for coming. Sullivan would have put in for a shift rather than come on his own.”
“Really?” Ramsey did not know if she was directing her question to Linda or Sullivan, but they both answered at the same time.
“Really.” Linda held up a hand to swear to it.
“It’s a lie,” said Sullivan.
Linda regarded him doubtfully then brightened. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here. She’s here. And it’s a party.”
“Right.”
The bride released her hold on Sullivan entirely and looped an arm through her husband’s. She made introductions for Ramsey’s benefit. “This is my dearest Tug. Douglas by birth, but Tug by affection.”
After an exchange of pleasantries, Sullivan and Ramsey moved along the line quickly. She observed that Sullivan had at least a passing acquaintance with almost everyone in the wedding party. If he didn’t know the bridesmaid, he knew her escort, or vice versa. It surprised her some because the bride and groom were four or five years younger than he was and their attendants were similarly aged. When they found their seats at one of the large patio tables, she asked him about it.
“Older brothers or sisters,” he said. “I went to high school with them. I don’t know Linda’s college friends. Same as I don’t know Tug’s.”
“What does Tug do?”
“He’s an attorney. Works for a firm in Pittsburgh.”
“Not with his father, then.”
“No. Don was a name partner in a law practice for years before he joined the public defender’s office. That’s a small enterprise here in Clifton. If you ask him, he’ll tell you he made enough money that he could finally afford to practice his passion.”
“Practice his passion? He defends thieves.”
“And addicts, abusers, the occasional murderer. And probably less often, he defends someone who is actually innocent. That’s the passion.”
Ramsey thought about that. “All right. I’ve always thought he’s one of the good guys.”
“Tug is too.”
She nodded. “Linda was over the moon to see you. Fess up. Was she right about you not coming alone?”
Sullivan shrugged and eyed the bar over her shoulder. “Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, a beer. Yuengling if they have it. Rolling Rock if they don’t. And the question will still be here when you get back.”
