“Yes. And I’d agree with everything you said.”
“Then maybeyoushould go out to dinner with him.”
“He didn’t ask me,” Marie said. “Or I would. Now, what are the negatives?”
“Like I said, he’s way too old for me. What do we even have in common?”
“Hmm. You both like to run. You’re both interested in the law. I don’t know. That’s the reason you go to dinner with somebody. To figure that stuff out. It’s part of that whole ‘bizarre dating ritual thing’ that you seem to think you suck at.”
“I do suck at it,” Brooke insisted. “Anyway, the big thing is, it’s creepy. It’s like that whole Woody Allen obsession with younger chicks thing.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Marie said sharply. “You’re not an impressionable teenager. If you’re not interested, just say, ‘No, thanks.’ Gabe’s no dummy. He won’t pursue it if you decline.”
“But I don’t want to hurt his feelings! I like him. I like him a lot!”
“Then go to dinner. Or lunch. Or meet him for a drink. Or coffee. But if you think you have even a little interest, say yes. That’s the one thing I’ve learned, getting older, going through a divorce, reinventing myself. Say yes to the possibility.”
Brooke pulled the Volvo into the driveway of her house. “You sound like you have some personal experience in this whole game. Are you saying you’ve been dating?”
Marie’s smile was sphinxlike.
“Mom! You have been dating. Why didn’t you say so?”
The front door to the cottage opened, and seconds later, Farrah stood in the doorway, waving at them as Henry hurtled through the yard and into his mother’s arms.
44
“Hey,” Farrah said as soon as Brooke walked into the office on Monday afternoon. “We need to get over to the jail. There’s a situation with Brittni.”
“We?” Brooke asked. “Did you graduate from law school and pass the bar exam over the weekend?”
“No, but Brittni’s mom called me a little while ago. Britt got locked up again yesterday and she’s in deep shit.”
“Her stepfather still owes me for Brittni’s last scrape with the law,” Brooke pointed out.
“I told Aunt Charla that, and she’s gonna meet us at the jail with the money she owes you, plus another check for $5,000 as a retainer. Happy?”
“What exactly did Brittni do?” Brooke asked as they were getting into the Volvo.
“Aunt Charla was kinda hysterical when she called, but she kept using words likekidnappingandaggravated assault. Alsocriminal trespass,” Farrah said.
***
Brittni Miles had bleached-blond hair, two black eyes, and an orange jumpsuit. She glared at her visitors from the other side of a plexiglass divider in the visiting room at the Carter County Jail.
“I told Mama not to call y’all,” Brittni said sullenly.
“Too bad,” Farrah said. “Since your mama is the one who’s payin’, she gets to do the sayin’.”
Brooke looked down at the copy of the arrest report she’d been given, but the police officer’s handwritten narrative was nearly unreadable. “Brittni, if I’m going to represent you, I need you to tell me what happened. This says the victim’s name is Kelsy Cotterell. Is she the cashier from the SwiftyMart? The one you threw the ice at?”
“She doesn’t work there anymore,” Brittni said smugly. “Got fired for gettin’ arrested for what she done to me.”
“Which was what?” Farrah asked.
“Put a big ol’ bag of flaming dog poop on my mama’s doorstep Friday night,” Brittni said. “Only she didn’t know Mama put one of those motion-activated video cameras on our front porch. The dumb ho looked right at the camera while she was doing it. The bag caught the whole porch on fire, and Mama called Aunt Jodee, and the cops looked at the video and arrested her, right there at the SwiftyMart.”
“Oh-kayyyy,” Brooke said slowly. “But that doesn’t explain the criminal trespass, kidnapping, and aggravated assault charges against you. Do you want to walk us through that?”
