Once Upon a Matchmaker. Marie Ferrarella
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sighed. He’d always tried to protect his sons, doing his best to keep them away from topics that he considered too adult, despite the fact that both boys seemed, at times, to possess old souls. He made sure that the parental block was in place on a host of programs and channels. Yet, the world obviously had a way of intruding and circumventing all his best efforts.
“Nobody’s putting anyone in jail,” Micah quickly assured both boys. “I just want to ask a lawyer some questions, that’s all.” Gently extricating his arm from Greg’s surprisingly strong grip, he put that arm around the boy and his other one around Gary. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Sheila could almost believe him—if she didn’t know him as well as she did. The only time Micah lied was to spare someone else’s feelings. In this case, he was trying to make all three of them believe that everything was all right.
Except that it wasn’t, she thought.
She called Maizie’s number. Counting off the number of rings, she heard the receiver being picked up on the fourth. Sheila began talking immediately. In short order, she told Maizie that what had begun innocently enough as an effort to get her nephew back to the dating scene had just taken on far more serious ramifications.
On the other end of the line, Maizie listened.
Several moments later when Sheila paused, Maizie jumped in. “I’ll talk to Kate directly,” she promised. She’d already made the decision to bypass Theresa for now. Her friend could be filled in on this newest development later. They no longer had the luxury of allowing things to progress naturally and gradually. Sheila’s nephew needed legal aid now, which meant that he had more of a professional need for Tracy than a personal one.
She got right on it.
Kate was a little confused as to why Maizie was calling her, but she listened to the woman patiently and tried to answer her questions to Maizie’s satisfaction.
“Yes,” Kate told her mother’s best friend. “Tracy is very good. She’s extremely dedicated. I had to literally drag her away from work today.”
Maizie put her own interpretation to the information. “Then what you’re saying is that Tracy is booked up,” she said, disappointed.
She was surprised to hear Kate laugh. “The thing about Tracy is that she always makes time for more cases. I’m beginning to think that she hardly ever sleeps. What I’m saying,” she summarized, “is that I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to look into the case for your friend’s nephew. And if she thinks she can win, she’ll let your friend know. As far as I know, she’s never lost a case,” Kate said with a note of envy. “Let me give you her cell phone number.” She rattled it off, then added, “But, knowing Tracy, I’ve got a feeling she’s probably back at the office right now. I’ll give you her number there just in case your friend has trouble getting through on the cell.”
Maizie made a note of that number, as well, then turned around and called Sheila with both.
Sheila, in turn, spun around and handed the two numbers to Micah.
Despite the fact that she had a burning desire to handle this for him, to set up everything for him in order to minimize what he had to deal with, she knew that doing so sent the wrong message to Tracy. Although Micah had a softer, gentler side to him, he was definitely not one of those neutered males that a woman could easily lead around by the nose and lose respect for by the hour.
“Here,” Sheila said, placing the two phone numbers in front of him.
It had been less than twenty minutes since he’d given his aunt a general summary of what he was dealing with. To spare her, he’d left out the more troubling details. She didn’t have to know about that unless it was absolutely necessary.
This was fast, he thought. He looked from one phone number to the other.
“Which one belongs to the better lawyer?” he asked.
“They both belong to the same lawyer. That’s her cell number—” Sheila pointed to the first piece of paper, then to the other “—and that’s her office number. According to my friend, she’s there now. In her office. Working.”
That sounded like his kind of person, Micah thought. If he didn’t have his sons, or if they’d been older and away at college, he would have buried himself in his work and not even bothered to come up for air unless he absolutely had to. It wasn’t that work soothed him, it was just that it kept him so busy, he didn’t have time to think.
To remember.
And regret.
“Okay,” he said. Picking up the pieces of paper, he started to put them in his pocket.
“Now,” Sheila insisted, drawing his hand back so that he was forced to place the phone numbers back on the counter in front of him. “Call her now.” And then, in case he had any suspicions as to why she was being so adamant, she said, “The sooner you start to tackle this, the sooner it’ll go away.”
She was right, Micah thought. Taking out his cell phone, he began to tap out the phone number on his keypad. Charges of treason and espionage were not something to take lightly or ignore—no matter how much he desperately wanted to.
After five rings, the answering machine on the other end kicked in. He almost hung up but then decided against it. Dutifully, he gave his name, phone number and a “brief message.” He was almost finished when he heard the line pick up.
“Hello? Mr. Muldare?” Tracy said, picking up on the name he’d given as he started leaving his message. “This is Tracy Ryan. How may I help you?”
The voice was soft, melodic, and drew a response that took Micah entirely by surprise. He felt an uncertain tremor at the core of his stomach, definitely not the kind of response that a person had to their potential lawyer.
Chapter Three
Several seconds went by as Tracy waited for the man on the other end to say something.
Had he hung up? Or was he just reconsidering his options? If it was the latter, she had a sneaking suspicion she knew why. Over the phone, she sounded younger than she actually was. Youth didn’t exactly generate confidence in clients who found themselves in need of a criminal lawyer. That was why she always preferred to meet a client face-to-face for the first time.
While at five-six, slender and blond, Tracy knew that she would never be mistaken for a football lineman, at least she didn’t look as if she was a senior in high school, which was the way she sounded on the phone according to Simon, her ex. In reality, she was twenty-nine—going on sixty.
Some days, she felt even older than that.
“Mr. Muldare?” she prodded after another minute had gone by. If he’d hung up, where was the dial tone? “Are you there?”
The sound of her voice had thrown him. He’d come very close to asking to speak to her mother before realizing that this was the lawyer his aunt’s friend had referred him to.
“Micah,” he told her. “Call me Micah.” After all, if she was going to be his attorney, he had a feeling they were going to be spending more than a little time together.
“All right, Micah,” she said, deliberately emphasizing his name, “just how is it that I can help you?”
You can wave your wand and make this all go away. Wouldn’t that be a neat trick? he couldn’t help thinking sarcastically. Out loud he asked, “You’re a criminal lawyer, right?”
“Right,” she echoed, then waited for him to continue. Instead, she heard him sigh. “Is something wrong, Mr. Mul—Micah?”
She heard him laugh. It was more of a disparaging sound than a happy one.
“Chronologically or alphabetically?” Micah asked.
“Excuse