The Judge

But, she told herself, she’d be wise to steer clear of him. Basically an honest person, she felt a little guilty about giving him the wrong impression about her business in Naconiche. No. She felt a lot guilty.

He wasn’t in the hall as he’d been the day before.

Which was good, she quickly reminded herself, if she wanted to avoid him. Maybe she’d have lunch at the City Grill. Yes. He’d be going to the tearoom.

She hurried across the street to the café. There wasn’t an empty seat at the counter and all the tables were taken. Then, as she scanned the room again, their eyes met. It was Frank. If he hadn’t seen her, she’d have made tracks out the door, but she didn’t want to look like an idiot. She’d simply wait until there was a seat available. Trying to avoid looking at the judge, she studied the framed photographs of baseball teams hanging near the cash register.

“Carrie?”

Turning, she saw that Frank had come up behind her. She smiled. “Hello.”

He smiled. “Hello. Would you like to join me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. And you’re not likely to find a seat anytime soon.”

So much for trying to avoid him. Accepting fate, she said, “Thanks,” and followed him to his table. After she was seated, she scanned the menu. “What’s the special today?”

He looked amused. “Liver and onions.”

She made a face and shuddered. “I hate liver and onions.”

“Me, too. When my mom used to fix liver for dinner, I always offered my little brother Sam a quarter to eat mine.”

“And he did it?”

“Yep. Sam would eat almost anything.” He chuckled. “If the price was right.”

Carrie loved that chuckle, the way it rumbled deep in his throat and sent little ripples up her spine. And his mouth fascinated her. Although it was definitely masculine, the full, curved shape of his lips was downright beautiful—and sexy as the dickens.

He must have been reading her mind, because just then the tip of his tongue appeared and moistened his lower lip. Entranced, she watched his tongue withdraw, observed his lips press together, then relax, noted the glisten left on his mouth by the action.

Darned if her toes didn’t curl.

She glanced up, and his eyes locked with hers. They were dark, very dark and filled with something indefinable…but totally captivating. His eyes alone would have made him enormously attractive. Bedroom eyes they called them. The kind that made such glorious promises that women wanted to throw themselves into his arms and follow him anywhere. She wasn’t immune. Her impulses ran along the same line.

“What would you like?” he asked.

A slow smile spread over her face. Wonder what he would do if she told him the truth? “What would you like?”

“I…uh—” he took a deep breath and pressed his lips together again “—think I’ll have a BLT,” he said to the waitress who had appeared. He closed his menu and began twirling his wedding ring.

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” If she didn’t know better, Carrie would have thought that she made the judge nervous. Why? She was tempted to ask but wise enough not to.

Her female antennae told her that he was just as attracted to her as she was to him. She’d have to be an ignoramus to have missed it. Maybe he was still mourning his wife, she reasoned. But two years was a heck of a long time.

“What was it like growing up in a large family?” Carrie asked, turning the conversation to safe territory.

“Chaotic at times, and we had our share of squabbles. But mostly it was fun. We’re all very close.”

They ate their sandwiches and made small talk. She carefully avoided any discussion of her work.

“Want dessert?” Frank asked. “Their cobbler isn’t bad.”

Carrie shook her head. “I have a yen for ice cream, and I’ve heard that the Double Dip has the best in town.”

Frank grinned. “I can vouch for that.”

“Join me?”

“Sure.”

He reached for the check, but she insisted on paying. “It’s my turn. You can get the ice cream.”

“That’s a deal. I get a family discount.”

“Family?”

“My mom owns it. After she retired from teaching a few years ago, she got bored and decided to find something to do with her time. The Double Dip was up for sale, so she bought it.”

They walked across the street to the old-fashioned ice-cream parlor, and as they approached, a serious wave of nostalgia rolled over Carrie. It reminded her of the little shop where Burt, one of her long line of stepfathers, used to take her when she was a kid. Was Burt number three or number four? She couldn’t remember. But she had really liked him; he was a kind man and told silly jokes that made her laugh. Obviously her mother hadn’t liked him nearly as well as Carrie had, for they soon packed and left, and no amount of weeping and begging had convinced her mother to stay.

A bell over the door announced their arrival. The stools at the counter were red, just like the ones from her childhood. She took a seat at the chrome-trimmed counter and inhaled the wonderful cold-sweet fragrance, a blend of smells so poignant that she could almost feel her pigtails on her shoulders.

“Gosh, this brings back memories,” she said. “I love this place already. I used to go to a shop just like this one when I was a little girl.”

A grandmotherly type with short gray hair bustled in from the back, drying her hands on a towel. She smiled. “Hello, son.” She turned to Carrie, and Frank made the introductions.

“Carrie is in town to do some work at the courthouse, and she heard that you had the best ice cream in town,” Frank said.

“I hope I can make good on that claim,” Nonie Outlaw said. “What would you like?”

“Do you have peppermint?”

The woman smiled. “We surely do. It’s my husband’s favorite.”

“Mine, too. I’ll have a double dip.”

“Cone or dish?”

“Oh, a cone. And do you have chocolate sprinkles?”

“Surely do.”

“Put some of those on top.”

When the cone was made, Carrie took the two fat scoops of peppermint ice cream, the top dark with sprinkles. She closed her eyes and savored the aroma, then licked a dollop from the side—and sighed. The taste was everything she remembered.