Judson listened while Curtis described the complaint. “Have you omitted anything that you might have done that could weaken your case? I need to know that up front.”
“I’m certain that I’m not at fault in any way.”
It sounded like a good case, but he wouldn’t be certain until he dug into it himself. “Can you be here tomorrow morning at nine and bring your papers and any evidence?”
“I’ll be there. Thanks for your time.”
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”
Judson hung up, saw the caller ID on his private line and lifted the receiver, smiling at the sound of his friend’s voice. “What’s up, Scott?”
“I need you to do me a favor—and hear me out before you get your back up. I promised Heather that I’d bring a report and some groceries to her today after work because she’s sick at home. The thing is I can’t, because I have to stay in D.C. and deal with an issue that just came in. Working in D.C. and living in Baltimore has advantages, but right now, friend, it’s a disadvantage. As a favor would you please take the report and the care package to her on your way home? You can leave it with her doorman, if you don’t want to see her.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Maybe a cold. She sounded really sick.”
Judson wondered if it was one of Scott’s tricks to try to get him to see Heather. “If she’s sick, and you can’t go, of course I’ll do it. But if I find out that you’re up to your old shenanigans—”
“Judson, if you’d rather not, I’ll see if I can get somebody else to do it.”
“I’ll be at your office for that report around four o’clock. Did she say what she needs?”
“She said bread, milk, grapefruit juice and maybe some eggs. I guess she hasn’t had time to do any shopping since she got back.”
“Maybe. See you at four.” There was something special about Heather Tatum, and he wanted to know what it was.
Later, he stopped by Scott’s office at the State Department in D.C., collected the report and headed up I-95. Once in Baltimore, he went to a supermarket, where he bought bread, milk, eggs, grapefruit juice and butter. On an whim, he parked at a specialty restaurant on Calvert Street and bought a large container of chicken soup. If she’s got a cold, maybe I ought to get something for that, he thought to himself. He stopped at a drugstore and bought some over-the-counter cold medicine.
“I have some things to deliver to Ms. Tatum,” Judson announced to the doorman, careful not to identify himself. The doorman rang Heather’s apartment.
“There’s a man here to deliver some things to you. Shall I send him up?” He looked at Judson. “She said you can go up. Apartment 34–F.”
Relief spread over his face when she hadn’t asked who it was. He got off the elevator at the thirty-fourth floor, turned in the direction of apartment F, rang the doorbell and waited.
The door opened, and she stared up at him, blinking so that she could be certain to trust her eyes. “Judson? What—”
From her appearance, she’d just crawled out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe and made it to the door.
“Hi. Scott couldn’t make it, so I brought your report and some groceries,” Judson said, in a chirpy voice.
She stood facing him and staring at him. He grinned, hoping to put her off balance, and it must have worked since she smiled. “Why don’t I put this stuff in the refrigerator for you?” he said, suddenly feeling less vulnerable. “And maybe you ought to go back to bed.”
“If I’m taking orders, I must be sick for sure,” she mumbled. Judson overheard her but decided to ignore the retort. “To your left,” she said, and went back to bed.
“Are you in bed?” he called to her after putting away the groceries.
“I am, and I’m sorry, Judson. It’s really nice of you to do this, but I’m feeling too sick to be civil, much less good company.”
At least she didn’t apologize for the way she looked, and she needn’t have. The woman looked great even with a runny nose, watery eyes. He walked into her room where she was clutching the covers tight around her neck. Why didn’t that surprise him? He didn’t laugh, but it took a lot to keep a straight face. “Have you had lunch?”
“I don’t think I ate today, but if you brought me eggs, I’ll scramble them and eat a bit later.”
He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. “I can do that, Heather. Don’t get up. I’ll find what I need.”
He awakened her sometime later to the aroma of chicken. He had placed a tray on a chair beside her bed. “Think you could eat a little something?” he asked her in a tender voice.
When she tried to sit up, Judson reached over, and propped some pillows behind her back. “If you’ll give me a second, I’ll get you a damp towel and you can wash you face.” He came back with the towel and handed it to her. “You’ll feel better.”
She did as he suggested. “You’re right. I do.” She looked at the tray beside the bed. “You fixed all that?”
“It isn’t much. If you eat a little of everything, you’ll feel better. And take this Ester-C vitamin.” He put the tray in her lap and sat on the chair.
“Chicken soup.” She tasted it. “Judson, this is delicious. Why’d you go to all this trouble?”
“I wanted to make you feel badly for blowing me off,” he said with a smile.
With the spoon halfway between the soup bowl and her mouth, she paused and looked at him with a curious expression. Suddenly she laughed. “You’re sarcastic, and I wouldn’t have thought so.” She tasted the soup. “This is so good.”
“Eat some of the eggs. You need the protein.”
She ate the two scrambled eggs. “Hmm. You weren’t kidding.” She frowned slightly and seemed to be making up her mind about something. She finished chewing the toast and put her fork on the tray.
“I want to ask you about something you said the night we met, and if you think I’m out of line, just say so. I can handle it.”
“Fine. As long as you don’t ask me why I’m here.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. The night we met, you said ‘I was lucky I was anybody’s child.’ Scott didn’t say anything, but it got me thinking. May I ask what you meant?”
He never had liked answering personal questions. He had nothing to hide, but he liked his privacy and guarded it tenaciously. Considering where the conversation seemed headed, it was better that she know now rather than later. “I was adopted, Heather, and now that both of my parents have died, I’m at a loss about my birth parents. I never asked my mother and father, because they loved me so much, and I was a happy child. But I always wanted to know about my background, especially who I looked
