One Night With You. Gwynne Forster

strong, it isn’t too bad,” she said, wanting to be gracious.

      “I’ll boil some water.” He was back in a few minutes with two mugs of coffee. “If I remember, you drink yours straight. What’s the problem?”

      She told him of her experience in church that morning and reminded him of the supermarket clerk’s rudeness.

      “I see. Look, Ms. Rutherford. Out here, African-Americans stick with the Native Americans, and you’re the only African-American who’s bought a town house in Albemarle Gates. According to what I’ve learned, there’s been contention about that place from the time Brown and Worley posted a sign stating the intent to build. For the last three years, there’ve been riots, fighting, sabotage, strikes and picketing about that place. The Native Americans went to court, but as usual, they lost. Nobody cares about Indian graves. In fact, this country has a sorry record in dealing with Native Americans. Period.

      “It’s too bad you’re stuck in that mess, but I don’t know how you’ll get out of it. Around here, feelings run high about that site, and from what you’ve told me, the locals seem to feel that you’ve taken sides against them.”

      “This is quite a pill.”

      “It is, but I don’t think you should explain to people that you were unaware of the controversy. Seems to me, they ought to know that.”

      “Well, I thank you. Now that I know what I’m up against, I’m really worried. I’d better go before it gets dark.”

      “Don’t be afraid. I’ll walk you across the street.”

      She leaned toward him. “Succeeding in this post is so important to me, and here I am in the midst of a political battle. I asked for a change, and this is what I get.”

      “What were you doing before you came here?”

      “There are a lot of little towns and hamlets whose populations aren’t large enough to warrant a full-time judge. I traveled among the small towns and hamlets in two counties, visiting each at least once monthly to try the cases on the docket. As judges go, that’s about the lowest job. After five years, I demanded a change, and this is what I got.

      “Reid—I hope you don’t mind if I call you Reid. And please call me Kendra. As I was saying, I didn’t have a life. I had no friends of any kind, because I couldn’t cultivate them. I rarely saw the inside of my apartment for two consecutive days. I decided I deserved better. I came here with arms open, ready to embrace the world and everybody in it, and I got my first dose of rejection.”

      He propped his left foot over his right knee. “I can easily imagine that. You seem very young for a judge.”

      “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.”

      Chapter 2

      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