Seductive Memory. AlTonya Washington
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was in need of serious mentoring just then. Her troubled past and recent encounter with Linus Brooks weren’t the only things wreaking havoc on her mind now.
Paula was poised to ring the bell when the broad pine door opened before her. She laughed, surprised and delighted to be met by the hostess herself.
Miranda Bormann personified what it meant to retire well. One reason was because the woman considered herself a lifelong student. She’d taken to acquiring firsthand knowledge of the world around her once she’d resigned from her tenure as a renowned law professor. The various LISTSERVs and web groups Paula subscribed to often reported on what hidden corner of the world Bormann had travelled to.
Understated elegance was the phrase that often followed a mention of Miranda Bormann’s name. Her papers and lectures also graced the shelves of some of the finest libraries in the world.
Bormann, however, was no diva. She was happy whether she was speaking over commencement exercises at a major university or working tirelessly in her greenhouse or outdoor flower garden. When the woman answered the door now, it was obvious she’d been getting her hands dirty.
“Looks like I’m dressed for work.” Paula spread her hands to indicate her worn jeans, sneakers and the lightweight sweatshirt under her jacket.
“For a change,” Miranda Bormann scoffed, but her sky-blue eyes were sparkling playfully as she assessed the younger woman’s attire. “It’s usually Prada or Gucci with you. Get in here.” Bormann pulled Paula into a tight embrace, which was followed by a cheek kiss.
“You always said clothes make the woman,” Paula noted when they pulled apart and she presented Bormann with the coffee.
“Ooh!” the noted professor cooed. She sniffed inside the bag as though the aroma of the freshly ground beans was wafting from the can.
“Nooo,” she said, her freckled nose scrunching in disagreement to Paula’s words. “I said perfectly pressed clothes make the woman. Invest in a good iron, and folks won’t know whether you’re in Coco Chanel or JC Penney. Now let’s see if this tastes as good as it smells.” Bormann hugged the bag close and led the way from the foyer.
“I was surprised to get your call,” Paula said as she followed. “I’m usually the one bugging you for a visit.”
“You never bug me! You keep me spry!” Bormann declared as she took the long corridor to her kitchen at a speed that had Paula sprinting to keep up.
“Glad to hear that.”
Bormann’s quick steps slowed, and she turned to eye Paula speculatively. “What’s that tone?”
Paula shrugged. “Life stuff.”
The playful sparkle in Bormann’s eyes turned sly. “A young man?”
Paula laughed. “We aren’t so young anymore.”
Bormann stuck out her tongue. “You’re a baby. Hank and I broke up four times before we were married and made a go of it for fifty-two years.” She raised thin, perfectly arched brows.
Again, Paula laughed. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is, my love.” Bormann turned and continued her trek down the corridor. “So...young man troubles and? Anything more to go on the day’s agenda?” She breezed into the airy kitchen that looked to be half the size of a football field.
Paula took her place on one of the cushioned high-back stools dotting the long wood-grained island that separated the cooking space from a cozy breakfast nook and sunken den area. “The rest is about work.”
“New case?” Bormann asked while scanning the labeling on the coffee tin.
“No.” Paula focused on the invisible design she traced into the island top. “And I’m thinking about keeping it that way.”
Bormann looked every bit the hard-nosed professor then as she eyed her former student. She set down the coffee tin and moved closer to Paula at the island. “Keeping it that way as District Attorney Paula Starker, or Paula Starker, Esquire?”
“I’m pretty sure District Attorney Paula Starker is history.” Paula slumped against the stool back. “I’m not running for reelection. As for Paula Starker, Esquire... I’m not sure yet.”
“That last case really got to you,” Bormann noted, and began toying with the end of her dark braided ponytail.
“In a pretty big way.” Paula saw no point in denying it.
There was no need to provide details. Paula’s last case had made front page headlines nationwide. The inner workings of the Philadelphia Police Department had been a hot topic for months following the news of a money laundering scandal that had brought down several members of the department.
“It’s not easy to prosecute cops you’ve worked with. I’ve bought Christmas presents for some of their kids and—” Paula couldn’t continue. Her thoughts went to top members of the brass and even police academy instructors.
“I almost lost my best friend in the mix,” she added, thinking of Chief of Detectives Sophia Hail-Rodriguez, who’d been targeted when she’d gotten too close to the truth. “That one hit way too close to home.” She shuddered while shaking her head. “I’ve had enough, Professor B. I mean I—I still love the law. I... I just don’t know what my place is in it anymore.”
“And how does your young man fit into this?”
“He doesn’t.”
Bormann smiled when Paula snapped the words.
Paula silently ordered herself to take it down a notch. “He’s a whole other pile of crap-drama, I mean.”
“Ah! So there’s love there.”
Paula looked confused. “Well, I just called him a pile of crap, so...”
Bormann seemed tickled. Clasping her hands, she grabbed the tin and turned for her coffeemaker. “We’ll discuss him first before we get to the real shitty part of the agenda.”
Paula noticed the woman was carrying a folder once she’d put the coffee on and turned back to the island.
“Before we talk about him, I’ve got no real advice to give about your political decisions other than to list all the pros and cons, weigh them dispassionately before you choose.” Bormann slid the folder across the wood-grain countertop to Paula.
“I can’t imagine what all it must take to be a DA,” she continued. “There are aspects to that job that can affect your decisions in ways I’m not capable of anticipating. As for your law career, I can tell you that there are all kinds of ways to serve. Maybe you need to find a new way.”
Paula glanced at the folder and smiled. “Will I find a way in there?”
Bormann shrugged. “Maybe a career in private practice could be your calling. If so, consider that—” she tapped the folder “—my request to become your first client.”
Paula’s smile vanished when her jaw dropped.
He should’ve waited. He should’ve waited before pressing her to talk or to let him talk—explain. He had pressed though, and what had that gotten him except her telling him where to go? She’d reminded him with scalding efficiency of just how much he’d hurt her.
Now, three weeks later, that moment still maintained prime position in his head. She’d pretty much told him he had no chance with her, and yet he’d spent the better part of his time since the ill-fated encounter on the beach assuring himself that this wasn’t over.
He couldn’t fathom why he was so sure of that now, when they’d been out of each other’s lives for ages. Linus knew