movements and ensuring they cannot flee. Victor in electronic shackles; now that is something I would buy a ticket to see.
Tara and I reluctantly pack up the car and head for home. We make the two-hour drive listening to the Eagles’ Greatest Hits and Ragtime ; let no one accuse us of having particularly modern taste in music.
I'm feeling the benefits of the time off, and I'm even experiencing rumblings inside myself of wanting to get back into the fray. It's hard to know what is going to come up next, but surely the notoriety of the Miller case should result in a wide array of clients wanting to hire my services.
I'm about five minutes from my house when I realize that I'm not driving to my house at all. I seem to be semivoluntarily driving to Laurie's, though I certainly haven't called her and told her I was coming. In fact, I haven't spoken to her since I left.
I'm about three blocks from her house when I see her jogging on the side of the road, ahead of me and going in the same direction. She looks phenomenal in shorts and T-shirt, and I drive very slowly behind her all the way to her house, not wanting to spoil this picture.
When she reaches the house, I speed up and pull up in front, pretending that I'm just seeing her for the first time.
She comes over to the car, a little out of breath. “Into stalking, are we?”
“You knew I was there?” I ask.
She nods. “I'm a trained investigator. And I have a slimeball detector that can locate leering, drooling men up to a mile away.”
Seeing Laurie is jarring, in a good way. For two weeks I have kept myself in a plastic bubble, not letting real life enter. Now I see Laurie, and I'm incredibly glad that she is a part of that real life. I am stunned by the realization of how much I have missed her.
Laurie leans in and gives me a light kiss on the cheek, then pats Tara's head. “Come on in,” she says, and Tara and I do just that.
Laurie gives Tara some dog biscuits that she has in the house for her neighbor's dogs, then showers and changes. Tara then jumps up on the couch to take a nap, and Laurie and I go over to Charlie's for dinner.
We order a couple of burgers and fries, though we have to get separate orders of fries. I want mine very, very crisp, but cooks seem to have a resistance to making them that way. I have come to ordering them “burned beyond recognition, so that their own french fry mothers wouldn't know who they are,” but it never seems to help.
We also get bottles of Amstel Light, and toast to Willie's freedom. The discussion then turns to other cases, future clients, other work issues. Laurie does most of the talking, while I do most of the staring.
She finally notices and asks me why it is that I'm staring, and when I don't respond immediately, she figures it out.
“Oh, come on, Andy.”
“What?” I innocently inquire.
“You can't expect us to just get back together, as if nothing had happened.”
“I can't? No, of course I can't. Can I?”
“No, you can't. I know you went to law school, Andy, but did you ever go to grammar school? Because you're acting like you're there now.”
“All I'm suggesting is that we slowly, very slowly, see if we can rebuild the nonbusiness portion of our relationship.” I'm crawling now. “Which I screwed up by acting like the idiot that I am.”
“That's a little more like it,” she says, weakening slightly.
“Also, I can't remember if I've mentioned this previously, but I'm really rich.”
“That's much more like it,” she says, weakening greatly.
“I'm a multimillionaire, desperately in need of a woman to shower with gifts.”
She nods, feeling my pain. “And I'm a woman who believes in second chances,” she says.
I lean across the table and kiss her, and she responds. As Jackie Gleason would say, “How sweet it is.” Unfortunately, the moment is broken by a guy who comes over with a camera, unusual since Charlie's is not exactly a tourist trap. The guy has seen me on TV in connection with the Miller case, and he asks me to take a picture with him. Laurie agrees to take the picture, and the guy leaves happy. Ah, stardom.
We go back to Laurie's, but I don't think that I'll try anything sexual; it seems like