his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down and gave her a brief kiss on the head. “What are your roommates doing tonight?” he asked.
She gave him a quick rundown as he took the seat beside her.
“You still haven’t told anyone about us, have you?”
“I haven’t been specific,” she said. “I will soon.”
“I don’t think we’re doing anything we should be secretive about, do you? I’ve been single for years. You’re divorced now, and it’s been final for months. We’ve known each other over six months. We’ve actually been talking almost daily for that long. Doesn’t anyone in that house ask you who you’re talking to at night?”
“They might think it’s the TV. But I’m surprised none of them have asked any questions. I think they’re all too busy figuring out their own lives. Does it bother you that I haven’t announced that we’re dating?”
“I just don’t like the idea of being kept a secret,” he said.
“I’m not exactly doing that. It’s just... Well, this is my first rodeo.”
“You’re doing very well,” he said. “I look forward to each conversation, each date. Tell me about your day. Or your daughters. Or anything you feel like talking about.”
“I have an interesting case—estate work for a family with a complicated will and a charitable foundation. The patriarch changes the will about every six months, and the matriarch just trundles along without argument. They spend a lot of time in the office. It appears they’re a little uncomfortable about giving up control and keep coming up with ideas to manage their estate from the grave. Or maybe they just like to talk about it a lot.”
“Clients like that must be like having an annuity,” he said.
“That’s not the depressing part. People are usually jealous for a reason. That’s depressing. If you have a strong instinct telling you something is wrong, usually something is wrong. Or maybe you’re in the wrong relationship.”
“I guess I was too busy to be jealous,” Justine said. “How’s your new place?”
“I like it,” he said. “It’s smaller than I’m used to, but it has a partial ocean view from the back patio. The neighbors are nice, and the town is busy every weekend. I can’t wait to show you. It’s kind of a typical bachelor pad—small kitchen, big TV, leather furniture that can be wiped down easily. Carmel is pricey. I don’t buy my groceries there.”
The waitress brought Justine her wine and told them their table was ready when they were. They entered a casual but well-appointed dining room, nearly every table taken, and settled in to study menus. They ordered then talked about their families, their childhoods, their college years. He told her a lot of cop stories, but she didn’t tell a lot of lawyer stories because corporate law wasn’t a fun topic of conversation. But they agreed on a lot of things, especially the big ones—religion (none) and politics (they had many views in common) and finally books and movies. They enjoyed a delicious steak dinner, shared a couple of sides and nearly finished a bottle of wine.
“It’s kind of amazing to me that we don’t run out of things to talk about,” she said. “We’ve spent hours on the phone and still haven’t covered everything.”
“Now that I’m in Carmel, hopefully we’ll spend more time face-to-face. If your daughters will let you.”
“I don’t think they’d be upset at the idea of me dating. They knew about it when I went to Carmel with you in the summer.”
“But then I was someone you had worked with,” he said.
“I don’t think it would be wise to ever tell them I hired you to investigate their father,” she said.
“It’s irrelevant, if you think about it. I didn’t find out much you didn’t already know. And I’m not pressing to meet them or get their blessing or anything like that. I just think it’s a good idea that your family know where you are and who you’re with. It’s safe.”