eye about her.”
His eyes narrowed. “You and Dad argued about this girl?” In all the years he’d been growing up, he couldn’t ever remember his parents arguing. They had a unique way of talking things out.
“We didn’t actually argue. I just felt he knew something about the girl he wasn’t telling me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head and got to her feet.
“I think I’ll go to bed now.”
Matthew kissed her cheek and watched her leave the room, his curiosity running riot. He would’ve sworn his father had never kept anything from his mother. What did he know about the Doe girl that was so confidential he couldn’t talk about it? Matthew ran a hand through his hair. While he was here, he intended to meet Christmas Jane Doe and find out for himself.
CHAPTER TWO
COBERVILLE WAS A QUIET community of fewer than five thousand people. A three-story limestone courthouse in the Second Empire style sat in the middle of a town square. Main and Cober streets ran parallel, and just about every business in town was located on one of those two streets, except for larger stores like Wal-Mart and H.E.B., which were located on the outskirts of town. Matt Sloan’s office was across from the courthouse in a nineteenth-century building typical of the business district.
Matthew stood in the middle of his father’s office, soaking up the atmosphere. Shelves filled with law books lined one wall and filing cabinets were up against another. On the third wall, beside the large window, hung family pictures. Files cluttered the desk and in the single ashtray was a half-smoked cigar. This big cluttered office was the essence of his dad. He remembered visiting here after school, and the way his dad had always smiled and said, “Come on in, son. I could use a second opinion.”
He had spent many afternoons here, reading, watching his dad labor over the letter of the law. He could almost hear his voice. “Never forget that people are human and never take their opinions or feelings lightly.” Had he lost those finer aspects his father had taught him? He ran his finger along the edge of the large oak desk, hoping he hadn’t.
Even after his dad had retired as judge, he never forgot about people and their emotions, their needs. People kept calling him, wanting his advice. So he’d come out of retirement and reopened his old office and practiced law part-time.
Matthew took a deep breath and glanced around at the general chaos of the office. Before he could decide what to do next, the front door opened and Miss Emma, his dad’s secretary of forty years, walked in.
A short plump woman, Miss Emma Stevens had a mound of dyed red hair curled atop her head. As a boy he used to wonder how it stayed there so neatly. She frowned at him from behind thick glasses with cat’s-eye frames and rhinestones at the corners. They must have been made in the 1950s.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming in today,” she accused in her irritating high-pitched voice.
He didn’t like having to explain his actions, but remembering the manners his parents had instilled in him, he replied, “Mom’s visiting with the reverend and I thought I’d get acquainted with Dad’s files.”
“You should’ve called me.”
“It’s no big deal, Miss Emma. I only plan to stay for a little while, and I really don’t need any help.”
“How will you find anything?” She waved an impatient hand. “I have a special filing system, and I don’t like anyone messing it up.”
He forced himself to take a calming breath and wondered how his father had put up with this woman for so many years. Diplomacy, that was it. His dad knew how to handle people. He hoped he’d inherited some of his father’s tact.
He looked around at the dust and clutter. “Can you get someone to clean the office?”
“Clean?” she shrilled, her eyes darting around.
“What’s wrong with this office?”
“Everything needs to be cleaned, from the floors to the windows. The place has been closed up for weeks.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
Yeah, he thought, she probably had cataracts the size of doorknobs. He smiled his best smile. “Humor me, Miss Emma. Find someone.”
She hesitated, then his smile won her over. “Okay, I could get Bertha. She cleans the bank.”
“Fine, get Bertha.” His smile broadened at the small victory.
She took a step, then turned back, pointing a finger at him. “She’ll cost you. She won’t do it for free.”
His smile immediately vanished. “I didn’t expect her to,” he answered, a slight edge to his voice.
Miss Emma turned on her heel and headed for the door, muttering, “His father never had any complaints. City ways gone to his head. Nonsense, just nonsense.”
As the last word died away, Matthew grinned and sank into his father’s chair. He marveled at the comfort and the way the contours seemed to fit his body. Maybe he and his dad were more alike than he’d imagined.
Reaching for a file, he heard the door open again. Now what? Surely Miss Emma wasn’t going to argue some more.
To his surprise, a tall blond man with a veneer that bespoke money and power entered the room. John Robert William Townsend. Even though Rob, as he was called, was eleven years older than he was, Matthew knew him and his family well. The Cobers, Rob’s mother’s family, had settled Coberville in the 1800s and they stilled owned almost everything in and around the town.
Matthew got to his feet and shook Rob’s hand.
“It’s good to have you back in Coberville, Matthew.” Rob’s smile showed off his perfect white teeth and angular features. Rob Townsend was known for his charm and virility, which were apparently lethal to any and all women. At forty-nine the man still hadn’t lost those qualities.
“Thank you,” Matthew replied.
“I’m sorry about your dad. He was a good man.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said again. “Have a seat.”
Rob hiked up his tailored slacks and sat in one of the leather chairs opposite the desk. Matthew resumed his own seat, wondering what Rob Townsend had on his mind.
“How long has it been?” Rob mused. “A long time, I’d say, but I remember you as the young hero that led the Coberville Tigers to the state championship. Quite a victory for this town.”
Matthew smiled at the memory.
“I wished my parents had let me finish high school in Coberville, instead of sending me to school back East. All that togetherness and bonding sure could’ve helped me in this election.”
At Matthew’s puzzled look, Rob explained, “I’m running for Dad’s senate seat in the fall.”
Matt
