Page 62 of Hers for the Weekend

“That’s so kind of you, Ms. Rosenstein,” she said carefully. “I’m actually from Davenport, and my family is still there, so I have no issues living there”—this was a lie, she had several issues—“but right now I’m not looking to settle in one place, and I don’t have a lot of interest in culinary school. It’s a lot of debt to take on, when I’m not sure I want to work in baking long-term.”

In the middle of the night, she’d asked the universe how she could bake for a living, but now, in the light of day, when an opportunity was being presented to her, it seemed too scary. Too big a leap of faith.

Tara made a noise like she was about to speak, but Shoshana spoke over her. “Well, I’m sure we could figure out the finances, if it came to that—we have a scholarship program for promising young bakers—but I can understand how you might not want to leave Tara, who does seem quite settled in Charleston.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Holly agreed, smiling tightly. “Although I’m sure there are people who need good criminal defense in Iowa as well.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tara’s lips tighten a fraction, so subtly that anyone who wasn’t paying attention wouldn’t notice.

Shoshana patted her on the cheek. “Well, I’m sure your family would love to have you close by.” They would freak out, actually, and Holly could feel her panic rising as she thought about her mom being able to interfere in her life from down the street. “It’s a standing invitation, you can always call if you change your mind.”

Chapter 19

Tara

While Holly was baking, Tara was trying to put out work fires. Technically, she was on vacation, and also technically, the offices were closed for Christmas, but only the senior partners actually got to turn their phones off during things like weddings, trips, or national holidays. Her law clerk had been keeping her up-to-date on everything going on in the office, which she’d been surreptitiously checking in on when no one was watching.

Every time Cole caught her with her work email open, he threatened to install nanny software on her phone and laptop that would allow him to cut off her internet after too many hours per day.

He was a menace, but currently, he was a menace who had been distracted by trying to keep the brides from panicking about their cake situation. So, he wasn’t there when a text came in from her clerk that she needed to call immediately.

She’d specifically hired this woman because she never, ever overstated or overreacted to any situation, so Tara knew whatever she needed to say was a big deal. She hid in the library (choosing the window seat and not the big cushy armchair where she knew for a fact Hannah and Levi had had sex; why did her friends tell her so many things?) and called Charleston.

“Boss,” Lucy said as she picked up, her voice neutral.

“Lucy,” Tara said, “please tell me you have great emergency news, not terrible emergency news.”

“Should I lie to you?”

Tara growled, banging her head lightly against the window. Outside, snow fell in beautiful swirling flakes that danced around the evergreens as if on fairy wings. It was the snow globe Cole always described Carrigan’s as, but it didn’t make her feel warm and cozy, only trapped. “Tell me.”

She could hear Lucy grinding her teeth on the other end of the line. “The judge was seen at a party in Hilton Head doing Jell-O shots with the prosecutor.”

Tara didn’t have to ask which judge, or which prosecutor. She had one huge, potentially career-altering case coming up that she’d been working to bring to trial for two years. The prosecutor had thrown every absurd obstacle under the sun at them, including trying several times to get the case reassigned. Now, apparently, he’d sunk to trying to sway the notoriously fair judge by other means.

“I should never have left town,” Tara groaned. “I would have been at that damn party, and I could have kept an eye on them.”

“I have photos,” Lucy said. “I’m emailing them now. I can start drafting a motion for him to recuse.”

Tara tapped her nails on her iPad, where the email from Lucy had come through. She gritted her teeth.

“Draft it in case we need it, but I think this may require a bit more… finesse.”

If she were in Charleston, she would happen to stop by the judge’s favorite brunch spot and surprise him by sitting down at his table. She would lean over and set her chin in her hand, smiling innocently at him, and ask how his night had been. Of course, if she were in Charleston, she would never have allowed this to happen.

“I’m never going on vacation again,” she muttered.

“You have to, boss. You were starting to get jaundiced from the office lighting,” Lucy told her flatly. “You can fix this. I believe in you.”

She could fix this. She would call up the judge on his home phone, which she happened to have the number to because he played golf with her dad, and she’d mention casually that she’d seen some interesting photos from a party last night, and that she hadn’t known he was a Jell-O fan. Whatever ground the prosecution thought they’d gained in the judge’s favor would disappear, because he knew that if he stepped a foot out of line, Tara would be there, watching.

He liked his shots, but he loved his reputation as a man above corruption.

“You’re the best, Lucy,” she said genuinely. Lucy was way too good, and too moral, for this job, and eventually she’d take a job as a public defender or something that let her look herself in the mirror every day. Tara would miss her when that happened, but she would understand.

“Back at ya, boss. Have some fun, yeah?”

Tara sighed, looking again at the freezing wilderness outside the window. “Yeah. I promise.” She was having fun, and she would pay for every second away by having to work twice as hard when she got back.

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