Page 22 of Meant for Me
Ms. Bridges tilted her head, lips pursed. “Do you really think that’s your place to say?”
“Of course it is.” Zoey reeled back. “I was there.”
Ms. Bridges tilted her head the other direction. “You were at Macy’s?”
This woman wasn’t a very good lawyer. “No, I was on theboat. I saw everything.”
“I certainly didn’t buy this suit on a boat.”
“I can guarantee you Linc has never even been to Macy’s.”
They spoke at the same time, then stared at each other. Zoey squinted. “What are you talking about?”
“What areyoutalking about?”
A car door slammed. Zoey looked down the driveway as a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, emerged from the back seat, arms crossed over a cropped T-shirt. Her thick dark hair hung in waves over her skinny shoulders. “I told you he wouldn’t be interested,” she called.
“And I told you to wait in the car.” Ms. Bridges released a sigh hard enough that her wispy bangs fluttered.
So maybe not a lawyer. Zoey frowned. “You’re not here about the boat incident?”
The girl, ignoring the woman’s instructions, began walking toward the porch. Zoey wondered if she should point out that fact to Ms. Bridges, who obviously couldn’t see behind her.
But Ms. Bridges continued before Zoey could decide. “I’m here on official business for Mr. Fontenot. And honestly, it’s been a long week. I could have done without the fashion advice.”
Zoey jerked her gaze back to the woman. “Fashion advice?”
“My suit.” She patted her jacket.
Zoey sucked in her breath. Oh, dear. She thought—“No! I was talking about alawsuit.”
“She’s serving me papers?” Linc appeared in the doorway behind Zoey. She twisted around to look up at him just as his face darkened into a storm. He pointed to the road. “Listen, lady, I’ve got a no soliciting sign out there that you clearly barreled past.”
“I saw it. And I’m not soliciting.” Ms. Bridges pinched the bridge of her nose. The wind ruffled her hair, sending a warm breeze across the porch. “Mr. Fontenot, I’ve been trying to reach you for over a week. It’s urgent.”
“Phone’s not broken.” He rested one muscular arm on the door frame, a clear signal he wouldn’t be inviting anyone inside. Even if they had edible cookies, which they definitely didn’t.
Ms. Bridges looked as if she’d aged a decade in the past sixty seconds. “Well, you don’t answer it, nor do you have voicemail.”
Linc tilted his head. “If you think back to the No Trespassing, No Soliciting, and Beware of Dog signs you drove by, you might realize you aren’t that surprised.”
They continued arguing. Zoey’s attention drifted past Ms. Bridges, to the girl who had stopped at the foot of the porch stairs and tugged at the hair tie looped around her wrist. She scuffed one shoe in the dirt, leaning casually against the porch railing as if this trip was the ultimate in boring.
But her gaze kept drifting up to Linc, contradicting her alleged disinterest. She studied him like one might study a superhero. Or maybe a villain. Zoey snorted. With Linc, that was fair enough, depending on the day.
“…I’m not serving you papers,” Ms. Bridges was saying.
Zoey tuned back in.
“Glad to hear it. Now look, if you need money or directions, I’m sorry, but this isn’t the place.” Linc started to shut the door. Zoey jumped back just in time to avoid it slamming against her foot.
Ms. Bridges’s eyes widened through the screen. “Mr. Fontenot, please, if you’ll just stop one moment and listen?—”
“Told you.” The girl cocked one jean-clad hip, a smug smile creasing her face. Something about that look almost seemed…familiar. “You owe me ten bucks.”
Ms. Bridges spun around to face her. “I most certainly do not. Amelia, you were supposed to wait in the car until I sorted this out.”
Zoey took the opportunity to tug at Linc’s arm. He looked down at her, the visible frustration in his gaze measurably softening. She whispered. “Maybe hear them out.”
