This is a work of fanfiction, for entertainment purposes only. The characters and concepts of Hardcastle and McCormick do not belong to me, but to their creators.
Author's Notes: There's been some recent conversation over on the Gull's Way board lately concerning the female characters on the show. I have some strong reservations about the phenomenon I refer to as The Love Interest of the Week, but that doesn't change the fact that I also see these guys moving forward and living full lives, which seems to naturally include an eventual wife for McCormick. Still, the women in their lives aren't the point of this show, at least as far as I see it, which makes for a fairly unusual love story, but I still thought I'd give it a try.
Eternal thanks to LML and Owl for helping keep things on an even keel.
A Matter of Time
by
Cheride
Milton Hardcastle held his tongue for thirty seconds longer than he thought possible before finally growling, "You're lettin' all the cold out."
"What're you, my mom?" McCormick snapped, still staring into the refrigerator. "I'm tryin' to decide what I want to drink. It's hot out there, ya know."
"Just get the lemonade and be done with it. Ya been standing there long enough you coulda picked the lemons and made fresh. Besides, if you weren't out there working yourself into a lovesick frenzy in this heat, there wouldn't be a problem."
"I'm not lovesick," the younger man objected, grabbing a pitcher and then slamming the door. "And who ever heard of a heat wave in February?" He pulled a glass from the cabinet and smacked it to the counter top with a thud. "And you're the one always telling me to get this place in shape."
"So now it's my fault?"
McCormick whirled around to face the judge, a retort on his lips, but his elbow caught the pitcher as he turned, sending the lemonade splattering to the floor. "Dammit!"
"I suppose that's my fault, too?" Hardcastle demanded, as both men moved quickly to cover the spill with paper towels.
"It's not your fault, Judge," McCormick muttered as he dropped to his knees to clear away the liquid. "God knows I can make my own messes." He gathered the wet towels into a pile, then just sat, leaning against the cabinet with a sigh. "It's just, I thought maybe she was really the one."
Letting out a small sigh of his own, the retired jurist pulled a chair around so that he could sit facing his young friend. McCormick's problem, he had decided long ago, was not so much that he was a careless Casanova, but rather, that he was a hopeless romantic. The kid always thought he'd found the one. Still, he had to admit, this one had seemed promising.
"Sometimes," he finally said, "timing is everything. Doesn't mean it was a bad fit, or that it was anyone's fault. And it doesn't mean you can't try again later when the timing is better."
Mark shook his head. "That's what she said, but I know better. I mean, I know she's wrapped up in this CPA thing; I can understand that. But I was supportive; I gave her all the time and space she needed. It was just a handy excuse to finally get rid of the ex-con."
"You don't believe that?"
McCormick seemed to give that some thought, before shrugging slightly. "I dunno. I wouldn't've thought so, but it just doesn't make sense to me. And the prison thing gets to most of them, sooner or later."
"Gimme a break, McCormick." Hardcastle was willing to be concerned, but he wouldn't let the kid wallow in self pity. "What, exactly, doesn't make sense to you? That she has a dream to follow that might not have anything to do with anyone else, even you? And that it's so important to her that she has to concentrate completely on trying to make it happen? I woulda thought someone like you could understand that more than most. How many serious girls did you have when you were trying to make it in racing?"
"There was Melinda," McCormick answered defensively, but then he grimaced. "Though I suppose that's not exactly the best argument. Okay, so you're trying to tell me that getting dumped might not be anything personal, huh? That maybe it just goes with the territory of dating an intelligent, self-directed woman?"
"You had much experience with that?"
The young man grinned slightly. "Not much, no. But if it's all timing, how long do I wait before I decide it is personal?"
"What did she say?"
"Maybe three or four months. But I hope you're not gonna start talking about how all things come to those who wait, or some other hokey crap."
"No, I'm not," the judge said calmly, "I'm just gonna ask you a question: Has she lied to you yet?"
Slowly, the grin spread across the young features. "Nope, she hasn't." McCormick scooped up the towels as he rose to his feet. "So I can wait. I figure she knows where to find me indefinitely."
Hardcastle laughed. "I hope this doesn't mean you're through with the yard now."
~~~o~~~
"Hey, kiddo," the judge called as he heard the door slam, "I was just about to come looking for you. Wondered if you wanted to grill tonight?" Then he took in the jacket and tie. "Where ya going?"
"Told you I had a date, Judge."
"Oh, yeah; I guess you did." Hardcastle pushed himself out of his chair and started for the door. "Guess it's burgers a la Milton for one tonight. Who's the lucky girl this time?"
"Kathy." Mark followed him into the hall.
"Kathy? Is that the blonde that drives the little foreign job?"
"Kathy Kasternack. Is my tie straight?"
Hardcastle stopped short, then turned slowly back to face the other man. "Kathy?" He thought the goofy grin on McCormick's face said a lot. "So it's time, huh? And you weren't gonna tell me?"
"I'm tellin' you now. She passed her CPA, got a promotion with the city, and feels like she's got her life in order for now. We're gonna see if I can mess it up just a little bit."
The judge returned the grin. "I hope you told her that's your specialty."
"She's been warned," McCormick assured him. "Now, is my tie okay?"
"It's fine, now get outta here; you don't want to be late."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." He looked back from the doorway with a smile. "Timing really is everything."
~~~o~~~
Hardcastle gazed out the window of the den, watching McCormick work vigorously at getting the bushes trimmed neatly and symmetrically. He thought maybe the vigor was actually working against the young man in that regard, but there was no doubt the branches would be shorter. It was likely that at some point he would have to go rescue his shrubbery.
It had been a nice few months; Kathy Kasternack seemed to be good for McCormick. The judge thought it also seemed that he was good for her, as the young woman always appeared remarkably happy in his presence. But now it had been almost a week since Mark had been out for an evening, and at least twice that long since Kathy had made an appearance at the estate. That—combined with the unprompted yard work for the past two days—could only mean that their on-again/off-again romance must have made it back to the off stage. He let out a small sigh and headed toward the kitchen to mix up some iced tea. He was going to need some sort of excuse to go out there . . . besides saving the trees.
Ten minutes later, he was glad to see that the bushes didn't seem too much the worse for wear, though he wasn't sure the same could be said for McCormick. "You're working yourself into some sort of stupor, kiddo," he began, holding out a glass. He looked more closely. "Did you even get any sleep last night?"
McCormick halted his work long enough to take the offered glass and gulped down the contents. "Thanks," he said, dragging an arm across his mouth to erase the tea mustache. "And, yeah, 'course I slept. Why wouldn't I?"
"Dunno. But you were out here most of yesterday and at it again before I even got up this morning."
"You're complaining now when I do the chores?"
Hardcastle shook his head. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He cast a pointed look in the direction of the noticeably smaller bushes. "You sure don't seem to be up to your usual pruning standards."
Mark frowned as he looked over the offending branches, then shrugged. "Just means I won't hafta do 'em again so soon."
The judge gave a noncommittal, "Huh," then continued, "Why don't you take a break? Come in and have another glass of tea; I made a whole pitcher."
"Nah, I'm good. Weather reports say rain tonight, and I haven't mowed the back forty yet." He handed the glass back to the judge. "Thanks again for the drink."
"How's Kathy?" Hardcastle asked suddenly, stopping the young man as he turned toward the side yard. He figured one of them ought to get it out in the open.
It took several seconds, but then McCormick turned back slowly. "That obvious, huh?"
The jurist shrugged. "You gave up most of the bitchin' about the yard work a long time ago, but it's still pretty rare that you volunteer."
That got a small grin from the kid. "I guess you got me there."
"So what happened this time? I thought things were going pretty good."
"They were," Mark agreed, "really good." He paused briefly, then added, "I guess it's just more of that bad timing again." Then he turned away again.
"Wait a minute!" Hardcastle had seen the kid in these funks before, and he'd learned quickly that it was either bring him out of it or suffer right along with him. Much as he'd rather stay out of the mushy stuff, that was still an easy choice to make.
"That's it?" he called after McCormick. "That's all I get?"
"All there is," McCormick called back, not turning.
The jurist stared at the retreating back, perplexed. Usually, if given a chance, McCormick welcomed the opportunity for an honest conversation, especially when he was so clearly upset. It wasn't like him to avoid a direct inquiry, unless . . .
"Wait a minute, McCormick," he repeated, stepping quickly after the other man. "What aren't you telling me? What did you do?"
"Nothing the state of California doesn't already know about," McCormick snapped, still not halting his stride.
But that stopped Hardcastle. Whatever was going on this time, it seemed to be a little deeper than a lovers' spat. Maybe best to let it be for a while, try to talk to his young friend later, when he wasn't hot and tired and cranky. "Dinner," the judge mumbled to himself, heading back to the house. "Food always calms him right down."
As it turned out, dinner was late that evening, but Hardcastle had anticipated that. He headed down the hall when he heard the kitchen door opening. "It's only mac and cheese with some ham thrown in," he said, seeing McCormick peering into the oven. He crossed to the refrigerator. "But we've got some salad, too, and rolls." He began putting items on the table.
"I figured you would've eaten by now," McCormick said, grabbing a mitt to pull the casserole dish from the oven.
"Was waiting for you," the judge said simply.
"You didn't have to do that," McCormick told him, a slightly guilty expression crossing his face.
"I know." He pointed at the open fridge. "You want tea, or—?"
"Beer."
The answer had come out quickly, and with some feeling, so Hardcastle left the tea and grabbed a bottle for himself, as well.
"Sounds like you barely beat the weather," he commented, as the rumblings of thunder rolled through the house.
"Yeah. But I got the whole yard mowed, so don't worry."
Hardcastle fought the impulse to set the record straight on just who had been doling out the day's chores, and instead focused on the meal. "Salad?" He dished greens onto both plates.
"You're being awfully nice," McCormick commented suspiciously as he chased a piece of lettuce around his plate.
"I'm a nice guy," Milt returned reasonably.
Mark snorted briefly, but didn't venture any further comments on the subject. After a moment, he said, "I suppose you think I've been moping around again, huh?"
"Haven't you?"
"Not exactly moping." McCormick tore off a piece of his dinner roll and dipped it into salad dressing before stuffing it into his mouth. Then he stabbed a chunk of ham and chewed it thoughtfully for a while. Hardcastle waited.
Finally, the young man continued. "I guess I've just been trying to stay occupied, not dwell on things."
"You guys have a fight?"
"No. It's all very mature. She got a new job, that's all."
"Well, what's—?"
"In Baltimore."
"Ah. What's in Baltimore that she can't do here?"
"Some kind of non-profit organization, just getting started. Her mom's the chair of the thing, or something. Wanted Kathy to help her get it going in the right direction."
Hardcastle thought about that for a moment. "Sounds like a pretty good opportunity," he finally ventured before scooping up a forkful of macaroni.
"Can't argue with that," McCormick agreed glumly. "Believe me, I wanted to."
"You think she'll be back?"
"They gave her a one-year contract. She thinks that'll be enough, but you never can tell what's gonna happen. Her family's back there, a good job, and she could . . . meet someone." He shook his head, then repeated, "You never can tell."
The judge nodded soberly as he continued his meal. "So, how'd you guys leave it? I mean, if you don't mind me askin'?"
"Hah. The time to be thinking about that was two or three questions ago—not that you've ever been too worried about my privacy." Mark took a swig from his bottle. "But for what it's worth, we're gonna keep in touch; that's what she said."
"Well, that's not the end of the world, kiddo. And it's only a year."
McCormick glared across the table. "You ever heard of anyone actually making a long-distance relationship work?"
Honesty prevented the older man from offering immediate reassurance. He settled for, "Doesn't mean you two can't do it." He hooked another noodle onto his fork. "Did you consider asking her to stay?"
That got an immediate head shake. "What kind of louse would that make me? Askin' her to give up a chance like that?" Then he dropped his eyes, suddenly very interested in separating a clump of macaroni on his plate. "But she asked me to go," he added quietly.
Hardcastle froze, fork in the air. That explained a lot. After a few seconds, he placed the utensil gently on his plate and picked up the beer bottle in its place. Taking a long drink, he hoped he'd come up with something reasonable to say, and soon. All that came out was, "Yeah?"
McCormick gave a single nod, slowly lifting his head to again gaze across the table. "But there's the parole, and—"
"We coulda talked about it," Hardcastle broke in. "It's not even all that long till your parole's up, right? And there are provisions, you know, for transferring jurisdictions and the like." He hoped his slight hesitation wouldn't be noticed as he continued, "If that's what you want to do—"
"I already told her no," Mark interjected. "I mean, sure, maybe you could convince Dalem and his cronies to let me relocate, and maybe you could even convince Baltimore to add one more case to their workload, but that's not all of it. First of all, she's already gonna have a lot on her plate, so she sure doesn't need me out there under foot. And what would I do? I'd have to have a way to support myself before the board—either of them—would even consider it, and let's face it; working for you the past couple of years might've given me a lot of experience, but most of it can't be put on a resume. And, besides . . ." he waited while a particularly loud clap of thunder rumbled through, though Hardcastle thought maybe that wasn't the real reason for the delay. By now the kid had given up all pretense of eating; the plate was pushed away and he was leaned back in his chair, bottle firmly in hand.
"Besides," he finally went on, "what about you? Who'd do the yard work and skim the pool, not to mention dealing with all your crazy schemes? Bad enough we gotta go chasing around after the bad guys all the time, but you've got me packing for a trip to the middle of nowhere next week. Who else do you think would put up with all of that?"
The judge grinned slightly. "Oregon is hardly the middle of nowhere," he corrected, glad McCormick had thrown him something easy to latch on to. "And for the record, I think there are plenty of guys who'd change places with you in a heartbeat." He didn't expect the kid to argue against that too vociferously, though he thought by now they both realized it wasn't really true. Still, even though he was secretly pleased McCormick hadn't asked to be released from their arrangement, what kind of louse would it make him if he didn't recognize the difficulty of the decision?
"We're gonna have a good time up in Oregon, kiddo, and maybe even with a few other of my crazy schemes."
"I hope you're not gonna try to convince me that the yard and the pool are fun, too?" Mark challenged.
"Not quite, wise guy. What I was going to say was that even with all of that, there'll probably be time for a break every now and then if you wanted to go visit. Make the relationship not quite so long distance, at least every once in a while."
McCormick leaned forward, a light coming into his eyes. "Yeah? Really?"
"Sure." Hardcastle shrugged slightly. "I told ya from the beginning I like her."
"It's all just timing, huh?"
"Something like that. This might be a little slower than you intended to take it, but I still think you can make it work."
Then the younger man was openly grinning as he pulled his plate back toward him and picked up his fork. "Me, too, Judge. Me, too."
~~~o~~~
Hardcastle looked around as he heard a car coming up behind him. Seeing the cab, he tossed the garden hose out of the way and strolled around the house to shut off the faucet. By the time he returned to the front, McCormick was standing on the drive, suitcase in his hand.
"What're you doing here so early?" he asked. "I told ya I'd pick you up at the airport."
McCormick laughed. "Hello to you, too, Hardcase." Then he shrugged. "Got lucky with an earlier connection in Denver and didn't see any reason to call you out in the middle of rush hour traffic."
Hardcastle nodded and continued his questioning. "You have a good time?" He knew immediately, though, that it was just for conversation; he hadn't seen the kid looking this content in the past four months.
"Oh, yeah." The smile lit the young face. "We got all dressed up one night and went to one of her fancy fundraisers. Not that I liked the gettin' dressed up part," he added quickly, "but it was fun to see some of the work that she does. And on New Year's, we took a boat out on the harbor and watched the fireworks. But the best part was just getting to see her every day again—sightseeing, or hearing about her day at work, or just trying to figure out what to have for dinner. It was great." He stopped then, and seemed to realize maybe he was coming awfully close to gushing. "And speaking of what to have for dinner," he concluded, "I'm starving."
"Some things never change," Hardcastle told him with a chuckle. He gestured quickly toward the gatehouse. "Go get rid of your stuff and all and I'll take you out for dinner. You can tell me all about your trip then."
He watched the other man crossing the lawn, the gait downright jaunty. He thought that told him just about all that he needed to know. All except the big question: would Kathy move back here in eight months, or would Mark be heading east in three?
~~~o~~~
Milt heard the laughter as he approached the kitchen. "I'm sure it's fine," McCormick was saying with the air of someone who'd already said the same words more than a few times, "but I'll ask him."
"Ask me what?"
Mark waved a hand, shushing the jurist. "Yeah, me, too," he said into the phone. "I'll talk to you tonight."
"Kathy says 'hi'," McCormick told him as he placed the receiver back onto the cradle.
Hardcastle nodded as he pulled open the fridge, looking for something to snack on. "Everything's going okay?" He considered the bunch of grapes on the shelf, then closed the door and moved on to the freezer.
"Sure. I think she's gonna come out for the fourth. That's what she wanted me to ask you, if it's okay if she stays at the estate for a few days. And I think I'll have some of that rocky road," he said. He moved to grab a bowl from the cabinet. "You, too?" he asked, offering an empty bowl.
"Sounds better than the grapes," Hardcastle decided. He began spooning the ice cream into the dishes. "And of course she can stay here; it's your home, too, ya know." He licked the spoon, then let it clank into the sink before holding up a jar. "Marshmallow sauce?" At McCormick's nod, he busied himself with pouring in a semi-artistic pattern as he casually put forth a question. "But isn't she still planning on moving back here in just a couple of months?" He was pretty sure he'd gotten that out without betraying any lingering concerns that plans would change and McCormick would be the one making the cross-country move. Of course, with his parole now satisfied, there really was nothing to keep the young man here. At least not legally. The judge had even made clear that he could pay law school tuition in Maryland as easily as California. Not that he wanted Mark to go, but he wouldn't be the one standing in the way of true love, and it seemed more and more obvious that McCormick had finally been right when he said he'd found the one.
But even though Hardcastle thought he'd kept his thoughts to himself, McCormick just smiled as if he'd heard every one of them aloud. "Don't worry, Hardcase; nothing's changed. She's still coming back in September, so you're stuck with me a little while longer. But September's a long way away." He reached around the judge to snag one of the bowls for himself, then leaned back against the counter. "We had talked about her coming out a couple months back," he said, sampling the first bite of his dessert, "but she couldn't make it during spring break, and we were afraid I might have too much homework and all if she came while classes were in session, so she decided to wait."
"So she knew about your school before I did, huh?" Hardcastle asked as he crossed the room to drop into a chair at the table, making sure to get a generous dollop of marshmallow along with his spoonful of ice cream.
Mark laughed. "Yeah, I definitely wanted to tell her what I was planning—some people might think being with a lawyer is worse than being with an ex-con, ya know—and I figured she wouldn't be able to spill the beans from the other side of the country."
"Well, I s'pose that's the way it ought to be," the jurist allowed. "Gettin' to be about that time for you two, I guess, where you tell each other everything—even things you don't tell other folks."
McCormick sobered slightly as he moved to take a seat across the table. "It's not like it's an either/or proposition, Judge."
But Hardcastle shook his head. "I'm not complaining," he assured the other man, "I'm glad you guys are finally making a little progress. And it'll be good to see her again for the fourth."
~~~o~~~
Looking up from a file on his desk, Hardcastle asked, "Just how many of those things do you intend to hang up?"
McCormick finished securing the mistletoe, climbed down from the step ladder, then grinned across the room, wriggling his eyebrows up and down dramatically. "As many as it takes," he answered in his best mock-lecher voice.
The judge rolled his eyes. "I didn't think you were havin' too much of a problem in that regard."
"Still wouldn't want to miss out on an opportunity," Mark told him lightly. He started up the steps and out of the den, but then paused on the landing. "I don't think I've thanked you," he said, glancing back over his shoulder, "for including Kathy in the holiday. And not just the party tomorrow, but then dinner on Thursday, and—"
"Actually," Hardcastle broke in, "I think you have thanked me, though I'm also pretty sure I told ya it wasn't necessary." He locked his eyes on the other pair across the room. "You don't need my permission to invite folks over, kiddo, and you haven't for a long time now, but especially Kathy." He smiled gently. "She's always welcome here, any time."
~~~o~~~
"I dunno, Judge. What if it's not the right time?" McCormick stared at the small box on the table, watching it warily, as if might have a life of its own.
Hardcastle took a moment to glance at the box himself, gathering a bit of strength. He was pretty sure they'd had some version of this conversation at least a dozen times in the past two weeks, but he was willing to try again.
"Personally," he began, "I thought the anniversary of your attack by rogue city vehicles was a pretty good day to pop the question. I think it makes a nice point that you guys can get through anything, as long as you're together."
"But it'll be the day before Thanksgiving," McCormick lamented. "We're supposed to go to her place for dinner; her mom's gonna be there . . . what if she says no? Do you and I still have to go over there Thursday? And if we don't—or even if we do—it'll ruin the holiday for everyone."
"Then wait until after Thanksgiving and after her mom's gone back home." The judge had lost track of how many times he'd made that suggestion. He was anticipating the standard response that Kathy might need someone to cry to if things went really badly, so he was surprised by what the kid actually said.
"But what if it's not the right time at all? I mean, I've still got another year of school, then I have to pass the bar and find a job—and none of that's guaranteed, that's for damn sure. I don't want her to end up supporting me if this whole crazy law thing doesn't work out; don't want her to feel like she's stuck with less than what she bargained for." He reached out to pull the velvet box toward him and opened it slowly. "A ring changes everything, Judge, and I don't want to mess it up. It's like you've always said; it's all about the timing."
Hardcastle looked around the gatehouse, taking in the stacks of law books stashed in various places, the picture of Kathy on the mantle and the one of the two of them together on the end table. He wondered idly how long it had been since the last time he'd seen old pizza boxes and dirty socks strewn everywhere. "Do you remember when you first came here?" he finally asked.
McCormick jerked his eyes up from studying the box and snapped it closed loudly, seemingly surprised by the unexpected question. "How could I forget?"
"No, I mean the very first; that first night, when I told Sarah to set you up over here?"
"I remember, Judge," Mark said patiently. "I sort of think of it as one of the defining moments in my life."
The jurist grinned slightly. "Me, too. But you know what? I thought the timing was horrible. I wasn't even officially retired from the bench; hadn't worked out all the details of how our partnership might work. I had a whole carefully laid plan of when I could approach you with my offer, and it sure wasn't the middle of the night down at county lock-up.
"Then there was your side of it," he continued. "I thought the circumstances made everything a pretty big question mark for you. You hadn't even been out a year, just lost one of your best friends . . . I wasn't sure you were in the best frame of mind to venture into a partnership with a guy that you'd spent the better part of three years hating.
"And on top of all that," he added in conclusion, "it hadn't even been six months since I'd had to deal with JJ Beale. I still had a lot of egg on my face and didn't want to put myself into a position like that again."
"Sounds pretty bad when you lay it all out like that," McCormick told him.
"It was pretty bad. If I'd sat down to plan the worst possible scenario for recruiting Tonto to the cause, I'm not sure I could've come up with anything worse. On paper, it seemed doomed from the start, because the timing was all wrong."
The younger man smiled. "But it all worked out okay in the end."
"It did," Hardcastle confirmed with a nod. "And in retrospect, I think that's maybe because for some things, there's never a right time. The Beale fiasco was always going to be a specter hanging over my head; you were always gonna resent the guy who sent you to prison. No amount of time was ever gonna change that on its own. We had to change it.
"And I think maybe that's the way it is with all of the defining moments in life, including a marriage proposal. Kathy's been back for over a year now, and you guys have been practically inseparable, so let me ask you this: Do you love her?"
"Of course," McCormick answered immediately.
"And she loves you?"
"She does." And there was no hesitation there, either.
"Then it's time," Hardcastle said. "Sure, you could wait until you graduated, but then you'd have to wait until you passed the bar. And then until you got a job. And then you'd be waiting until you made partner somewhere, and then always until the next big case was done. And she's gonna have her career going on, too. There's never going to be a perfect time to start your life together, there will always be a reason to wait; no amount of time will ever change that. But if you love each other, you can change it."
"You seem pretty sure of yourself there, Hardcase," Mark said with a smile.
"As sure as the night I brought you home," the judge returned, "and look how well that worked out. Besides," he added reasonably, "just because you get engaged this week doesn't mean you'll be married by Christmas. Have you ever seen women plan a wedding? Especially with her mom on the other side of the country. Oh, that's going to take some doing. You just watch."
~~~o~~~
"Can you believe we're finally doing this?" McCormick asked as he looked out the window of the guest bedroom. The carefully arranged chairs, tables, flower trellises, and God knew what all seemed almost surreal. He tugged at his bowtie. "And is this straight?" he asked, turning to face Hardcastle.
"I told you it would take a while," the judge grinned at him. "And you were worried about rushing into things." Then he reached up to adjust the tie, pushing the other man's hands out of the way. "There. Now it's straight."
Mark looked around the room. "I think one of the weirdest things is that in my last few days here I didn't even get to live in the gatehouse. I still think it would've made more sense to let Kathy have the guestroom."
"Don't be dense, McCormick. Women need their own space when they're getting ready for big stuff, and nothin's bigger than a wedding. I'm glad you trusted me on that."
McCormick smiled as he picked up his jacket. "I've trusted you on just about everything, Judge; you haven't let me down yet." He looked over at the older man. "It's going to be strange, you know," he said softly, "not being here anymore."
"Yeah," Hardcastle agreed, "it is. But you guys'll visit all the time, and you might even have me out to your place for dinner once in a while. And besides, it's not like I won't see you every day at the office."
"I know," McCormick said as he slipped into the jacket and tugged at the lapels, "but it won't be exactly the same."
"Life isn't supposed to be exactly the same forever," the judge said philosophically, "that's not what keeps the world spinning." He examined the young man standing before him. "You look pretty good in that get-up," he said proudly, "like you're ready to take on the world."
"You should know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving," Mark teased.
"You got that right," Hardcastle growled. Then he pulled on his own jacket and straightened both their ties one last time. "But not always," he smiled.
He clapped McCormick's shoulder and began to steer him toward the door. "Come on, kiddo; it's time."