“I’ll be forty in a couple of days. I’d hoped that my sister would come up to be with me, but she’s preparing for a show, and can’t spare the time.”

“Can’t you go to be with her?”

“It’s a thought. We could at least have dinner together.” Each time she caught him looking directly at her, he shifted his gaze, except when he was talking to her.

“You had five wasted years,” he said. “Oh, I know you can rationalize that as years of learning, but I suspect you didn’t need to learn what you experienced in country courtrooms.”

“Not all of it, or even most of it, but I did learn that there’s something beautiful about simple people who see life and themselves accurately and who don’t shy away from the truth, not even when it reflects adversely upon them.”

“I met a few such individuals working on an estate during the last few years.”

“What did you do at that estate, Reid, if you don’t mind saying?”

“Philip taught me to be a groom. I worked on his farm and in his orchards, but mostly with his horses. I couldn’t have made it back this far, if I hadn’t had refuge on Philip Dickerson’s estate. The man literally saved my life, and then helped me back on my feet. He wanted a dormitory for the men he’d salvaged, so I designed one and supervised its construction. Those guys live in splendor now. Philip gave us bank books and deposited a high percentage of our salary in it weekly. Since we had no expenses, our savings added up quickly because he paid us standard wages. He had rules, but those rules helped to strengthen every one of the twelve men who worked for him.”

“Does he make any profit?”

Reid’s fondness for Philip Dickerson showed in the warmth of his smile. His face radiated pleasure, captivating her. “Absolutely. Every man there would go to the wall for Philip. He treated each of us as if we were his blood brother. He and I became really close. I miss him.”

Reid caught her staring at him, and she glanced away. “I’ve…uh…ruined your Sunday afternoon, Reid. Thanks for being so nice. I’d better go.”

He stood when she did. “You haven’t ruined my afternoon and another thing, Kendra. I’m not all that helpful. I mind my business and stay out of trouble.

“Something tells me that if you want to win a case in this town, you might need some local friends. You never know what’s in the back of a juror’s mind.” He held her coat for her, and she had to resist the urge to move away from him. The man’s aura was getting to her. She’d never shied away from men, but whenever she was close to this one, she got the feeling that she was about to step into a pool of hot quicksand. She turned, buttoning her coat, and he remained there, inches from her. She sucked in her breath and he stepped away from her in a move that said he did not want to become involved.

“Did you see a white plastic bag at your place?” he asked her, as if she had imagined that tense moment.

“About like this?” She held out her hands to suggest a space of about fourteen inches wide.

He nodded. “That could be it.”

“I think I saw it on the kitchen counter.”

He put on his leather jacket and walked out with her. When they reached the curb, a caravan of motorcycle riders approached, and he grabbed her hand, restraining her. “Let’s wait till the last one passes,” he said. “Sometimes they’ll observe this crosswalk, but usually they won’t.”

She prayed in silence, “Please turn loose my hand.” The last motorcycle passed, and he released her hand, as unceremoniously as if he’d never touched it. She had an urge to smack him.

“I’ll get your bag,” she said as they entered the house.

“Thanks. I’ll wait right here.” She brought the bag that obviously contained a tablet of some kind. “Why didn’t you come back for it?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. Thanks.” He had his hand on the doorknob and a grin on his face when he said, “Good luck tomorrow, Your Honor,” and treated her to a wink. As usual, he didn’t waste his breath saying more, but turned and left.

“I wonder what a full dose of that man’s charisma would be like,” she said aloud, “but I am not anxious to find out.”

Kendra locked her front door and sat down on the sofa in her living room, contemplating the enigma that was Reid Maguire. He didn’t want an involvement with her, and probably not with anyone else, but if, as she suspected, he hadn’t had a woman in his life for a while, he’d be as tempted as she was. Those were not terms that she cared for.

“I’ve got two problems,” she said aloud, “and I’ll probably solve my relationship with this community before I get Reid Maguire out of my blood.” It didn’t help that he was starting over, as it were, struggling to reach the pinnacle of his profession. That meant that she would empathize with him because, in some respects, she was doing the same. She went up to her bedroom, took a black robe from the closet and examined it. Deciding not to wear a lace collar with it, she chose a white satin open-collared dickey. Her eight-year-old black patent leather boots would have to do because she’d broken a heel on her more presentable ones. Where was that box of jelly beans? She found it in a kitchen drawer, filled a plastic sandwich bag with some of the beans, put them into her briefcase, and considered herself equipped for work. She seldom allowed herself to be without a bag of jelly beans.