Page 85 of A Dead End Wedding

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the business card, then dialed the number and waited for voice mail to kick in. "Jake Brody? This is December Vaughn. Keep your psycho girlfriend away from me!"

Then, for the first time all day,Islammed downmyphone.

Oddly, it didn't make me feel a darn bit better.

11

If you eat Wendy's chili with your french fries, you've got veggies covered, right? Thinkbeans.

Tossing my takeout garbage in the trash bag hanging from a kitchen drawer, I weighed the benefit of a trip to the dollar store for important stuff like trash cans versus the productive qualities of a nap. Max had donated pillows and an air mattress, so I didn't have to face another night on the hardwood floor.

"Yoo hoo!" Emily's cheerful voice called in from the back door.

I walked over to let her in, smiling. "Who says 'yoo hoo' any more? You are too cute for words!" I said, reaching for the screen door.

She had a folding table, folded, and two folding chairs, also folded, propped up against the side of the house. "Hey! I thought you might be able to use these. One thing we've got lots of is card tables," she said, laughing.

I lifted the end of the table and we carried it inside. "Thank you so much. Oh, and Max told me about your secret identity as a poker champ. I'd love to hear about that sometime."

We stood the table up in my empty dining room and went back out for the chairs. "Sure! It's tons of fun, really, and not as bizarre as it sounds. Lots of people play poker these days," she said.

"Right, but lots of people don't nearly win the big tournaments. I don't even know how to play. Ouch!" I looked down at my shin, wincing. "I just banged the heck out of my leg on that chair. I have the grace and coordination of a water buffalo."

Emily grinned. "It's all that height, stretch. Takes a while for your coordination to catch up. Like thirty years."

I grinned back at her. "Hey! Do we know each other well enough for you to mock me yet?" I put the chair down by the table and limped back into the kitchen. "Want some leftover cake?"

She shook her head. "No, to the cake and sorry about the mocking. I take to some people quick. I can tell you're going to fit in just fine around here. You can help me in my rebellion against the homeowners' association and their petty tyrannies."

"Well, I just rent from my Aunt Celia, but I'll do what I can. I always love a good battle with dictatorial homeowners' associations."

She started toward the door. "I just stopped by to give you the table. I really need to get back. Oh, and how would you like to go to a poker club with me on Saturday if you're serious about wanting to learn? I'll teach you how to play Texas Hold'em and you can tell me about the legal biz."

"It's a date! And thanks again for the table and chairs, and for the cake, too. When – or if – my stuff ever gets here, I'll have you all over for dinner or something," I said, wondering when I thought I'd have time to learn to cook.

Hey, I'm in the South now. I need to do the southern hospitality thing, right?

"Sounds great. Catch you later," she said, as the door closed behind her. I waved, but the doorway was already empty.

At least I had a table. I grabbed a legal pad out of my briefcase and started a list of TO DO (including call the stupid trucking company) and TO BUY (two versions: "truck arriving" and "truck not arriving"). Fifteen minutes of list-making depressed me so much I decided to work.

Burying myself in work got me through all the tough times in my life so far. Why should "start a new business with no money and live in a house decorated in 'early yard sale'" be any different?

I read through Faith's medical records for an hour. I also spent some time on the personal things I'd asked for – photo albums, letters that weren't too intimate, yearbooks, and the like. I tried to get a sense of my client's life this way, and everything I saw and read told me that Faith had been one of the wonderfully cheerful people in the world, despite her illness. She'd taught preschool and Sunday school and volunteered for a dozen different causes. I gazed at a wedding picture, and the sheer joy on her face as she stared at Charlie brought tears to my eyes.

I pushed the papers to the side and rested my head on my arms and closed my eyes to contemplate the next step I should take. Then I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing in my ear. "What?"

Blinking and wondering why my house was so dark, I fumbled for the phone. The little phone window said it was eleven forty-five. No wonder it was dark. I rubbed my aching neck muscles and flipped open my phone to talk to "unknown number."

"Hello?"

"This town isn't big enough for both of us."

"What?" I was still asleep, or I was trapped in an old John Wayne movie.

"Go back to Ohio before somebody gets hurt." The voice sounded muffled, but I was pretty sure it was a man. A man with a horrible sinus problem.

"Do you have a cold?"

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