Page 58 of Love in Bloom

Miller sat there for a few minutes. He’d walked into Wallflowers ten minutes ago to fix the situation, clear-up whatever stupid-ass idea the stubborn woman had in her head. And instead of making it better, it was worse, a whole lot worse.

He was alone. He didn’t get it. The ice maiden had melted and said she’d loved him. How could she say she loved him and dump him in the same breath? It was like that stupid poem. The one that usually had a butterfly with it as the artwork. What was it? Something about if you loved someone you set them free. Right now, he felt as free as a butterfly hitting the grill of a semi going seventy miles down the highway. He wasn’t free; he was demolished.

Hislegsfeltlikejelly and his lungs burned. Sitting on his butt all week avoiding the world had not been a good idea, and he was paying for it now. He focused on the trail ahead. Just a few more minutes and they would be back on the sidewalk. He’d let his mind wander when his feet hit the pavement. Until then, he’d focus on avoiding tree roots and loose gravel. Jackson and Croix were ahead of him, and Parker was heavily sucking air behind him.Focus on your feet, Miller reminded himself when his mind wandered back to Wren.

Jackson and Croix slowed their pace, and Miller and Parker caught up. “I thought you said you ran?” Croix asked Parker between breaths.

“I do.” Parker bent over to catch his breath. “And running on a treadmill is nothing like running a trail with you three.” Jackson did a few light stretches and started to walk. “Cool down time?” Parker sounded hopeful.

“Better. Trust me.” The men followed Jackson. They walked for several minutes, talking about nothing in particular when Jackson turned up a driveway. Mrs. Hart met them at the side door.

“Finally,” she said. Jackson gave her a quick kiss. “I was starting to worry. You should have been here by now,” she chastised the men as they entered the house.

“My fault, I’m afraid,” Parker admitted. “I’m not up to their speed.”

“It’s like running with an old woman,” Croix complained.

“Really?” Mrs. Hart asked. Croix blushed.

“No offense, ma’am,” he said.

“Come on, boys, breakfast is getting cold.” She ushered them into the sunny kitchen. “I just took the rolls out of the oven. They need to cool a bit more.” The men washed up and helped themselves to the buffet-style breakfast. Mrs. Hart had made an egg-bake casserole and fruit salad. A carafe of fresh-brewed coffee sat on the oak kitchen table.

“This is wonderful, Mrs. H., thank you,” Parker said, as he topped off everyone’s coffee mug.

“Well, I thought it would be nice to have one last hurrah before the wedding, and to catch up with all of you.” Mrs. Hart proceeded to gently interrogate each of them. Miller chuckled when Croix was under the microscope, and Mrs. Hart looked at him.

“You would have made an excellent attorney,” he commented. She smiled at that.

“I imagine I would have.” She leaned forward. “Now, how are things at AAS? You’re due for partnership soon, right?”

“Yes.” He fiddled with his coffee mug.

“You don’t seem too excited about it.”

“It’s been a rough few weeks.” He shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t want to talk about this. and he hoped she’d get the hint.

“But you like it there? You want to be a partner?”

“It’s tough. There are things I’d like to do differently, but I’m not sure they’ll make changes even when I’m a partner.” Earlier in the week, old man Anderson had pointed out that Miller needed to be logging in his copies. AAS could only charge a client for copies if they had been tracked. And he’d been reprimanded for taking on a pro bono case, again. A teeny, tiny case that had taken him no more than two hours, but had meant the world to his client.

“Like what?” she asked. Miller didn’t want to air the firm’s dirty laundry in public, so he found a safe complaint.

“I really enjoy corporate law, but ever since I’ve been with the firm they keep giving me the divorce cases. Each time I bring a business client into the firm and start to work on their case, it gets transferred to Harvey. It happened twice this week. And both times the reason given was that new divorce cases had come in. If I bring the client in, shouldn’t I be the one working on their account?” Miller had said more than he’d meant to. He shrugged, hoping to give the impression it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Like last year when you drew up all the paperwork for CHART’s incorporation and its purchase of Chance Resorts, but on the day of the deal William Anderson took your place?” Croix asked.

“I heard about that,” Parker said. “That’s a lousy way to treat someone.”

“Exactly.” Miller poured himself another cup of coffee.

“Yes, I can see where that would be frustrating,” Mrs. Hart said before clearing her throat and looking at Jackson.

“So, work is why you’ve been holed up for the last few weeks?” Jackson asked. Miller leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He didn’t want to lie to his closest friends and Mrs. H., but he didn’t want to talk about it either. He shrugged his shoulders and busied himself with adding lots of cream and sugar to his coffee.

Mrs. Hart left the table. She brought back a fresh carafe of coffee and set a caramel roll in front of each of the men, except Miller. She placed his off to her side. Croix cut off a piece of his roll and made exaggerated happy noises. “Mrs. H., these are by far the best caramel rolls you have ever made. In fact, I might eat Miller’s when I’m done with mine.”

“Classic interrogation technique, Mrs. H.,” Miller pointed out. “Withhold something I want in exchange for cooperation. I take back my attorney comment. The FBI could have used you.” He still didn’t know what information they wanted, however, professional, or worse, personal.

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