Brooke McCoy was thumbing through the mail she held in her hand, as she balanced a purse and overnight bag on the opposite shoulder. Her husband set his bags down to unlock the door to their Manhattan loft. Without warning, Jack McCoy slipped the bags off of his wife's shoulder and scooped her off of her feet and into his arms.
"Are you planning on doing this every time we find ourselves in a doorway together," Brooke gasped, as she began to giggle.
"Are you saying you'd have a problem with that Mrs. McCoy," a grinning McCoy began. Suddenly the he grew quiet as he faced the living area and realized someone had been in the loft while they were away.
Absentmindedly he lowered his bride to the floor, before slowly walking towards the row of wooden bookcases that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The chestnut colored bookcases stood empty; doing double duty as room dividers between the living area and the area that was to be their bedroom suite.
Brooke quietly moved their luggage inside and closed the door.
"After all we went through to get married, I figured you deserved another wedding present," she explained as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, you have to be out of your apartment by the end of May. You can't just leave your books in boxes. You need a proper place to display such old friends."
"Old friends," he repeated thoughtfully.
He remembered the numerous nights during whatseemed like another life, when books were all he had to pass the time. He had used books to distract his brother and sister from the sounds of his mother's cries, during the hours they spent hiding from his father,in the basement of his childhood home.
"Brooke, they're beautiful. From the looks of them they must be handcrafted," he said as he hugged her. "But, this is too much. Work like this doesn't come cheap."
"Hey, you're not the only one that knows how to cut a deal with 'The Don'," she countered with a satisfied smirk. "In fact, if you really like them, Don says he'll give us however many other sets we want for cost and delivery. He said to call it a wedding gift from himself and Anita."
"That's too generous."
"I agree. But you have to admit we could use them. Even at full price they'd be a hell of a lot cheaper than throwing up walls."
"You never seize to amaze me," he replied as he reached for her again.
Brooke gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek and shook her head.
"No more of that until you bring the painting up from the car," she playfully reminded him. "I want to see how my present looks over the mantel."
"Your wish…,"he said in mock defeat, as he moved towards the door.
Brooke watched with pleasure as McCoy closed the door behind him. She had been inwardly sweating bullets, worrying whether Don Van Buren would be able to have the bookcases ready before their return from Canada. She also worried that her desire to please her new husband may have been overzealous, as well.
She knew how difficult the transition from the place he'd called home for almost twenty years to a loft in the Village was going to be for him. It wasn't until she saw the look of delight on his face when he inspected the bookcases that she was sure she'd done the right thing.
Picking up the mail from the bar, she sat down and began sorting it into his, hers, and 'junk' piles. Her eyes studied the last piece of mail carefully. When McCoy returned, Brooke still tapped the heavy parchment envelope against the bar.
"Don't tell me we're getting cards from our friends already," McCoy asked as he set the painting by the door and joined her at the bar. "I didn't think the Times was running our wedding announcement until Wednesday."
"It's from the Craver Re-election Committee," Brooke said thoughtfully, as she ceremoniously laid the envelope on top of McCoy's other mail. "To District Attorney Jack McCoy and guest."
"May I ask what exactly did Melanie Craver do to get under your skin,' McCoy asked; his eyebrows raised.
"I don't trust her Jack," she said bluntly. "I've seen her debate more than once. She's very good at saying nothing when she wants to. She's equally good at diverting unwanted attention by oh so subtlety by focusing it on whoever happens to be vunerable to attack."
"Isn't that what politicians do when they want to win?"
Brook leaned back in the stool and picked up his mail.
"Wanting to win is fine, when you're goal is justice," she countered as handed him the pile. "Melanie Carver aligning herself with the new DA whose office just had a major win, would be to her advantage, not yours. How well do you know her anyway, Jack?"
"I met her at a chamber of commerce mixer with Arthur about a year and a half ago. In between my second divorce and my involvement with Vanessa," he said indifferently. "If you're asking if we were involved-"
"I asked you how well you knew her. If I was asking you if screwed her, I'd have asked you that flat out, as you well know," she with a smirk."Now, open your mail, honey."
"Yes, dear," McCoy replied, as he rolled his eyes and tore the front of the envelope open. "Fundraiser for Congresswoman Carver at the Steiner Gallery two weeks from Thursday that includes a silent auction and – "
"What's that handwritten part at the bottom," Brooke asked, as she leaned closer.
"Something about introducing me to a professional fundraiser that Melanie's used in the past," he said handing her the card, as he began to go through the rest of his mail.
"Well, how very thoughtful," Brooke responded that implied just the opposite. "I wonder how many more of her trade secrets the blonde bombshell will be willing to share with you after she finds out you're off the market."