bail, causing Lucy to feel she should give their relationship another shot, both for her and her kids. That shot had failed, and recently, Michael was returned to prison when new evidence was received, and he was charged with additional crimes. Lucy and Michael’s relationship was finally over and it had seemed a happy ending was in store for Mayburn and Lucy.
The other happy ending was Lucy and me. When Mayburn was watching her husband, he had asked me to befriend her as part of the case, but we really did become friends.
“Here’s the thing,” Lucy said. “I think I love John, but I can’t just move from a ten-year marriage right into another serious relationship.”
I didn’t say that I understood, that I had wondered if it was wise for me to have moved from something with Sam right into something with Theo, something that felt very real. I didn’t mention Sam’s offer to return to my life. I felt reluctant to discuss it at length with anyone before I really knew why it was happening or how I felt about it. I’d expected him to call or text me after I’d stalked out of the restaurant the night before. But so far my phone, and Sam, had been silent.
“You know John wants a serious relationship,” Lucy said.
I nodded. “He wants to be a stepdad to your kids. A very involved one.”
That desire of Mayburn’s was unlike what I had known of him before. I’d met him when I worked at the law firm of Baltimore & Brown, which often hired him to conduct private investigations—digging up info on corporations or plaintiffs who found themselves opposing our clients. When Sam disappeared, I’d turned to Mayburn for help. When he was too expensive he’d proposed a tit-for-tat relationship. I would work for him when he needed a woman to conduct surveillance work a man simply couldn’t do.
When I said yes to his offer, I assumed Mayburn was a straightforward, by-the-books investigator. He had nondescript looks—brown hair, brown eyes, medium build, a forty-year-old face that looked younger. Mayburn had always said that those vague looks had helped him in his line of work, helped him to stay under the radar. As we worked more closely together, I discovered Mayburn was a sarcastic, Aston-Martin–driving renegade. But now we were friends, and I realized that at his core, he was a softie. At least when it came to Lucy DeSanto.
“John would be a great stepdad,” Lucy said, “but I can’t do that to the kids. Michael is the only dad they know. I can’t push another man into their life right when their father has been yanked out.”
“So why would you want to date one of Theo’s friends?”
“That’s exactly it—I don’t want to date! So don’t even fix me up exactly, just take me out with a bunch of young guys who want to drink and flirt.”
“You want to drink and flirt?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be part of a couple. I’ve been part of a couple for more than a decade.” She nodded at me pointedly. “I want to do what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing? Is it embarrassing that I’m dating someone younger than me and so different than me?” Should I go back to Sam?
Lucy shook her head fast. “No, I think it’s exciting and fun. And that’s what I want.” Her eyes dropped. “Because my life is not going to be fun and exciting for a while. I’m going to have to divorce Michael, then deal with the kids while he’s in jail waiting for a trial, and then help them deal with the outcome of the trial, and then I’m going to have to decide if I stay in Chicago.”
“But Mayburn is here.”
“I know.” A sad cast appeared on her face. “And that’s why I can’t get too deeply involved with him right now. I’m not ready and I don’t know when or if I will be.” She blinked, as if batting away tears. She cleared her throat, then her eyes focused on mine. “Can I ask you a legal question? How long will it take until Michael’s case goes to trial?”
“A federal indictment having to do with organized crime? That’s a biggie. It could take a year or two, easy.”
The sad cast returned.
“Hey,” I said, “did you ever learn what evidence sent Michael back to prison?”
She shook her head. “Since I’ve told him I want a divorce, he doesn’t tell me anything. All I know is that the feds received some kind of anonymous information that linked him to that group from Italy who were trying to establish themselves in the U.S.”
“The Camorra.”
“Yeah.” She ran her fingers across her forehead, as if trying to rub away some thought. “I still can’t believe that the man I married got involved with any of that. It’s so hard to wrap my head around, and I don’t know what to say to the kids….”
I didn’t know what to say, either. The Camorra was the group my father had spent much of his life trying to shut down. It was what had taken him away from us. But Lucy didn’t know all that.
Lucy looked at me. “Don’t you see why I want to go out with Theo’s friends? I want to be with people who are younger. I want to go backward.”
Was that what I was doing with Theo? A better question—was that what I’d be doing with Sam? Going backward?
“Theo and I are supposed to go out tomorrow night with his friends,” I said. “But I have to warn you—a couple of them aren’t the brightest tools in the shed. Once I saw one of them wearing a T-shirt that said, Things are smaller than they appear.” I threw my hands up. “What does that mean? That his penis is smaller than it seems?”
Lucy laughed. “Was he cute?”
I nodded grudgingly.
“Great! This is exactly what I want. Cute, young and not-so-smart.”
I shrugged. “Tomorrow night at nine.”
16
W hen I got to the courtroom, Maggie was raring to go. I could see that even through the Plexiglas wall. Her cheeks were tinged pink, the way they got when she was excited.
I pushed open the door with the lock and walked to our table. “You’re ready?”
“Oh, yeah.” She grinned.
“You look a little revved up.”
“I found out Bernard is coming into town next week to sub with the orchestra.” Maggie actually clapped her hands.
Maggie and I met Bernard in Italy in June. He was a French horn player with the Seattle Symphony. And he was also a huge, huge Filipino guy, which was sort of funny when you paired him with little, golden-haired Maggie. But they had become a couple, despite their odd appearance together. The minute we’d returned to the U.S., she was on the phone with him a few times a day, emailing about ten times a day and texting even more.
“That’s fantastic!” I said.
“I know. My grandfather is going to flip. He loves the CSO.”
She went quiet. We both thought of Martin.
“Where is he?” I asked.
The
