“The one that says ‘Sit your butts down so I can do my job’?” Caleb spoke from longtime experience with the no-nonsense waitress. “Guess we’d better cooperate. Good to see you, Jamie. And you, too, Clark.”
“Enjoy your lunch,” Clark replied politely, his smile forced.
Trevor left with only a vague nod toward Jamie.
She feigned a shiver. “Did it suddenly get cold in here?”
Clark had returned his attention to his plate, his appetite obviously little affected by the interruption. “Trevor and I have had a few disagreements lately.”
“Gee, I never would have guessed.”
“He’s representing my wife in the divorce,” Clark admitted. “I think he’s doing so a bit more fiercely than necessary. I’ve accused him of trying to bankrupt me. He gives me a slick line about how he’s just doing what she’s hired him to do.”
Jamie grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I always liked Trevor, though I didn’t know him very well. But that was before I saw him in cutthroat-lawyer mode.”
“Trevor’s always been an overachiever. I’m sure he just figures he’s giving his client her money’s worth.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to take it personally. Valerie and I were handling things fairly civilly until the lawyers got involved—especially Trevor.”
“It’s always sad when a marriage breaks up.”
He sighed and Jamie saw a flash of what might have been guilt cross his face before he muttered, “Especially when there are kids involved. I really hate this for my boys.”
Without knowing—or even wanting to know—the details of the breakup, Jamie offered a simple, “I’m sorry, Clark.” She knew from personal observation how ugly divorces could become, and how easily innocent bystanders could be caught in the middle. She intended to be very careful not to become involved in this one, in any way. Not even by asking questions.
He nodded his gratitude, then changed the subject. “Want any dessert? Cora still makes those great pies with the mile-high meringue.”
“As much as I love her pies, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’m too full. But feel free to have some yourself.”
Reluctantly, Clark looked at his own thoroughly cleaned plate. “I guess I’d better pass, too. I’ve already gone way over my limit for today.”
Ten minutes later, Jamie made her way out of the bustling diner, the paperwork tucked beneath her arm. She didn’t look back at Trevor’s table, but she had the oddest sensation that she was being watched as she and Clark left the restaurant.
5
JAMIE WAS PAINTING when her telephone rang that evening. Still holding her brush in one hand, her eyes focused assessingly on the lake-and-forest scene taking shape in front of her, she reached with her left hand for the cordless phone she’d placed nearby. “Hello?”
“It’s Trevor.”
That took her attention away from the canvas. “Well, hey, Trev,” she drawled, masking her surprise. “What’s up?”
“I, er, just thought I’d call and say hi. I suppose you thought I was rather short at the diner earlier.”
She leaned back on her stool. “You do take your job seriously, don’t you, Counselor? One might have thought you were facing poor Clark from the opposite side of a courtroom, rather than in Cora’s Café.”
“Poor Clark?” He obviously didn’t care for the term. “I hardly think that description fits.”
“I really don’t know the particulars of his divorce, and I’d just as soon not hear them. Clark’s my accountant, and the details of his personal life don’t concern me.” Once again, she remembered what a mess she’d found herself in the last time she’d offered comfort and friendship to a man in the middle of a divorce.
“Just watch yourself around him, okay? That squeaky-clean choirboy image he puts on doesn’t quite give the full picture.”
“Are you telling me I shouldn’t trust him as my accountant?” she asked bluntly.
After only a momentary hesitation, Trevor conceded, “No. I have no reason to believe there’s anything questionable about his work.”
“Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Nothing else is really relevant to me.”