CHAPTER TEN

. . . . .

. . . .

Carlton summoned Brannigan to his office on January 2. New year, new normal.

The past week had been busier than he'd wanted, with a rash of post-holiday break-ins. All hands were on deck, and he'd worked a good share of the victim interviews himself. He hadn't seen Juliet much, but their nighttime habit of exchanging text messages continued, and over the weekend, he and Lilly were invited in after their walk for hot chocolate.

Lilly liked Juliet a lot, and the feeling seemed to be mutual, and he counted himself triply blessed for that.

Brannigan came in and sat without being told to, which was a good sign. "Good morning, Chief."

"Good morning. I want to make you aware of something so you'll be prepared if questions come your way."

"Yes, sir?"

Take a breath. "Although I'm sure it's likely already made the grapevine, I'm confirming that my wife and I are divorcing. It should be final at the end of the month, and for the morbidly curious, it's amicable."

She seemed to be waiting for more.

Carlton had nothing more, so he waited for her instead.

Brannigan said hesitantly, "And?"

"And what?"

"Is there something else?"

"What else would there be?" He tried to keep the snap out of his tone.

"Well... excuse me, sir, it's just... and pardon me for putting it this way, but that's old news. No disrespect though, and of course we're all sympathetic."

Take another breath.

"Are you're telling me everyone's known for months and no one said anything?"

Brannigan looked confused. "Why would we say anything? It's your personal business."

Damn.

I lived in Spencer-World way too long. I forgot people can be considerate sometimes.

"I see." But he didn't see, not really. He didn't see people being considerate of him.

"It is a shame, though," she assured him. "That is, if it is a shame. It could be a relief. But that's your personal business too. Um, I feel awkward now."

"So do I, Brannigan." He gathered himself. "All right. I just wanted to confirm, and now that it seems moot, I'll thank you for the discretion and we'll just get back to work."

"Thank you, Chief!" She fled, and he couldn't help it; he laughed a little at the incongruity of it.

Truly, it was possible to learn something new every day.

. . . . .

. . . .

Before New Year's, Juliet had finally reconnected with some of her old friends, and was sitting tonight with Wendy Fuller, who was still venting about not being in the loop sooner.

"I'm sorry! I've been really busy. Between settling in at work and getting moved in, it's been a little hectic."

Wendy huffed. "I could have bent your ear about so much work gossip if I'd known you were here." She was a nurse; they'd met years ago when she reported her own doctor-boss for swindling his patients.

"You would have tried," Juliet corrected. "My days have been full."

"I guess I remember them being full before," she admitted. "So how is it, being back at the old watering hole?"

"It's great. I feel like I'm a real detective again, and when I go home tired at night it's not from pushing paper around."

"Your old partner is the Chief now, right? That cranky guy with the McGorgeous eyes?"

Acknowledge the first part only, O'Hara. "Yep, but I don't report to him directly. Are we getting an appetizer or not? This place used to have great guac."

"We are getting an appetizer. Are you seeing anyone?" Wendy opened her menu, tucking a curl of red hair behind her ear.

Juliet laughed. "Have you been paying attention? I just got here!"

"You could have left a boyfriend in Frisco."

"Um, technically I did—over a year ago."

"Not him. Someone new."

"No one new, Wendy. I don't have the time right now, and don't push. Just choose your dinner."

Wendy smirked.

Yup, Juliet was officially home.

Thursday morning, she had to stop at the drug store on the way to work. In the greeting card aisle, she walked by a woman who spoke after she passed.

"Juliet?" The voice was soft, and vaguely familiar.

She turned—and there stood Marlowe Lassiter. "Marlowe, hello! Happy New Year."

She couldn't honestly say she knew Marlowe very well, so despite the cautious and seemingly legit smile on the other woman's pretty face, didn't feel a hug was in order.

Marlowe must have concurred. "How are you? Carlton told me you were back in town. He seems really happy to have you back at the station."

"I am very happy to be there." She smiled.

Marlowe smiled back. It didn't quite seem to warm her brown eyes.

Something more might be good. "Lilly is adorable."

This garnered a nod, the smile still in place. "She can be, even when she's kind of horrible. She talks about you a lot."

Aaaand there it was. A little hint of... what? Some edge.

"Sorry. I hope it's not tedious."

"No, it's fine. She needs to get used to the people in Carlton's life."

There was that edge again. Juliet felt increasingly uncomfortable, but couldn't decide what the point was: be careful with my daughter, or be careful with Carlton?

Stay neutral.

"Well, I don't know how much I'm in it. I don't really see him much at work and so far I've only seen Lilly when they're on their Saturday walks. But Lilly talks about you a lot too. I understand Mamma makes clothes for Mrs. Purpleface. You do really nice work."

Marlowe nodded. "Thank you. It's a little bit of a challenge to make outfits for stuffed unicorns dragged around by small children."

"I imagine so." She floundered for a moment. "How's Adrian doing?"

"Incarceration is keeping him alive," she said, "which is better than the alternative. I get to visit him twice a month. Funny, I never thought that what my brother and I would have in common was personal knowledge of the penitentiary system."

"Ah, no, I suppose that wouldn't be in anyone's life plans."

Marlowe was smiling again, and that assessing brown gaze was still not... quite... warm. "Well, I'm sure you're trying to get to work. Good to see you, Juliet."

"You too." She nodded and turned, and did not run away, no; she walked steadily and at a reasonable pace to the pharmacy counter, feeling nonetheless that Marlowe watched her the entire time.

. . . . .

. . . .

Sergeant Allen's minion du jour handed him a message slip when Carlton came in, and he glanced at the scrawl: San Fran PD, please call back.

"Chief Vick," he said when she answered, because he'd know that voice anywhere even if she didn't answer with her own name. "Did you purge my cell number when you rolled out of town?"

She chuckled. "No, but I wasn't sure you'd take the call if you saw my name on the screen. Figured you'd know I was about to demand you send my detective back."

Carlton grinned. "That is not under my control. The detective in question came here of her own free will and will remain here until such time as her free will takes her elsewhere."

Which he hoped was never, personally.

"Can we get that on the calendar?" she persisted. "I'm feeling the loss up here."

"Oh, but your loss is my gain. She's already made a difference in our backlog."

"Well then she did her part; now send her home."

"Again I tell you—that's entirely up to her. Did you really call just to beg me to give her up?"

"No, I also called to find out how you lured her away in the first place."

He already knew Juliet had told her he was innocent of this charge. "I had nothing to do with it. I was at the bar getting refills when she cooked up the whole plan."

"Oh," Karen drawled, "so alcohol was involved."

He felt a flash of irritation, but bit it back in favor of mild (he hoped) sarcasm. "Yes. Great vats of booze were required. I had to set it up months in advance."

She sighed. "Sorry. I just want to be sure she's there for the right reason. That you have her there for the right reason."

He did not like the implication therein. "What would you call the right reason?"

"Carlton, you know as well as I do that sometimes people are drawn to... try to recapture the past."

That flash of irritation was back. "And you know I told her exactly what you told her: you can't go home again, you can't step into the same river twice—every completely true cliché there is. She seems happy, Karen. She likes her work. We like having her here." He willed his annoyance to recede. "Why are you thinking the worst?"

She was quiet a moment. "A: I'm a cop at heart. We always think the worst. B: I know, more than nearly anyone else, exactly how strong your partnership was."

He said nothing, because he knew more was coming.

"And C," she went on slowly, "she let me know about your... personal situation. You may be offended at the idea, but there's still a chance that was a motivating factor for her."

"Oh?" Yeah, even he heard the freeze warning in his tone. "So you think she feels sorry for me?"

"Maybe she does." She paused. "Maybe she feels... something more complex than that."

Oh hell.

This was the mother of all mine fields, right here, over the phone, with a woman who was once his superior officer but now was his professional equal. She was sharp, observant, and seldom wrong.

But on the other hand, he reminded himself, she was also coming from a place of having just had her workplace disrupted. She had her own personal motivations—even if she couldn't see them—for wanting Juliet back, and for being doubtful about why she would have left what most cops would call a pretty good gig.

"Karen," he said as calmly as possible. "I have no idea what Juliet is or isn't feeling about anything or anyone. I know this. I am under some personal stress, yes. I am overloaded at work. A good friend came up with a plan to help out the SBPD and herself in the process, and because I know her, and trust her, and could use that help, she is now here working for my department. Anything else on your mind is most assuredly only on your mind."

The ensuing silence rolled out a few seconds.

Karen finally said wryly, "Which rather effectively puts me in my place."

Yeah, baby.

"I hear you, you know," she added. "I just want the best for you both."

"And the Frisco PD."

She agreed with that, and after another pause changed the subject, and a few minutes later the call ended on a more pleasant note.

But he was uneasy.

He believed Juliet, about why she wanted to leave Frisco. He believed her when she said she was glad to be home. But he couldn't help but wonder if maybe his situation had appealed in some small way to her natural inclination to look after strays. To be nice.

And he had to wonder if he might need to back off with the evening texts and the Saturday walks. Maybe he needed to be sure she had all the opportunities she needed to build a new life here in Santa Barbara, one independent of the old life.

. . . . .

. . . .

Juliet lay in bed, ready to turn out the light. Tomorrow was Friday and she had dinner plans with another old friend. The new year was shaping up pretty well.

Picking up her phone, she texted Carlton: Today Woody asked me if I was working here or just visiting. AGAIN.

Her phone lit up pretty fast: Give him a different answer each time.

I think I'll ask him if we've even met.

Hell, that'll blow his mind. And then he'll say no.

Probably.

She hadn't told him about running into Marlowe, and was wondering whether she should say so via text vs. in person when her screen lit up again.

You don't text me because you think you have to, right?

She stared at the puzzling words. Of course not. I text you because I want to.

No answer.

She sent: Why do you text me?

Pause.

Because I want to. Another, while she was smiling: And because you answer.

I'll always answer. BFF.

Pause.

:-) You have other Fs. Don't let me get in the way of you reconnecting. Or making new Fs.

This was odd. Something had made him thinky, and she didn't trust it.

You're not. I had dinner with Wendy last night and tomorrow it's Katherine. And I count Lilly as a new friend too.

Not Mrs. Purpleface?

No. She's way standoffish.

For that, another smile emoji—Carlton had come a long way—and then he sent: I want you to have a full life here. Not just one about the station and me.

What in the hell had put him in this mood?

You and the station and Lilly and my old friends are the life I need and want. Who's been screwing with your head?

Damnable pause. She should just call him.

But then: When have I ever needed anyone's help being screwed up?

Touché. Forgot you were a pro.

You know it. See you at the coffee bar tomorrow?

Of course.

She let him go, because while she knew she could press him into telling her more, sometimes it was fair to let him retreat. That he'd asked his opening question was significant itself, and she'd take it as a good sign.

But she'd better not run into whoever made him thinky, because that person was going to end up with a broken nose.

. . . . .

. . . .

January 23.

Carlton looked at the signed papers.

It was real, and he was single again.

He'd stood with Marlowe in court, both somber, before a somber judge, on a somber gray day, and now it was real.

It was time to go inside the police station and get to work, but he allowed himself a moment, or ten, to sit in the car absorbing the flattening reality of it all.

Hands over his eyes, he rubbed his forehead hard. A tension headache had been building all morning and he needed aspirin and a large coffee.

It was sixty degrees outside but he felt cold. It was seeping into the car around him, into his bones. The gray sky made it feel colder, and he didn't want to go inside. He wanted to drive off somewhere and just stare at nothing for awhile.

His phone buzzed and he almost didn't look at the screen, but he was the Chief, dammit.

Juliet: I saw you pull in. Are you okay?

No.

Carlton?

Yeah. It's done.

She knew the court date. He'd told her a few days ago. The custody hearing was tomorrow at one.

Do you have anything else on your schedule this morning?

No. Don't honestly care if I do.

Then how about I come out to the car and we drive to a faraway Starbucks for awhile?

He started the engine. Walk fast.

. . . . .

. . . .

His blue eyes, contrasting with his black and silver hair, seemed extra large and beautiful today, maybe because of the clouds. He would object to that description, but it was true.

He'd asked to take their coffees down the block to a park, and sat beside her now on a bench near a small fountain, but he looked as if he'd just as soon stretch out and rest awhile.

"It went okay, though," she prompted.

"Yeah, it went fine." He sipped the coffee. "I just didn't know I'd feel this way."

Juliet studied him. "You thought you had everything under control."

Carlton nodded. "But in my life, how many damn times have I been wrong about that? You'd think I'd have learned by now."

"A sense of control is fleeting for most of us," she said with a faint smile. "You're not exempt."

The light breeze was a little cool, but she hid her shiver because she didn't want to distract him.

He was silent anyway, staring at the fountain, sipping the coffee.

"So how do you feel? I can only tell you how you look."

One dark eyebrow arched. "If I look like I've been run through a grinder, then yeah, that's how I feel."

"You know it'll pass."

"Yeah, but it's a hell of a lot harder this time. Maybe because I'm older. Maybe because Marlowe was supposed to..." He let out a breath. "Because I was supposed to be different."

"You were," she reminded him. "If you're comparing this to your marriage to Victoria, stop. You were different going in and different coming out."

Carlton nodded, but whether he agreed, Juliet couldn't really tell.

"So now the custody hearing?"

"Tomorrow. The lawyers say they expect it to go smoothly." His tone was flat.

"How fast will everything happen then?"

"End of the month, probably. Marlowe's planning to head out on February 5th, so Lilly will be moving in for good that weekend."

Juliet prodded, "And it is good. It's what you hoped for. What you wanted."

"What I wanted," he countered slowly, "was to not screw up another marriage, and raise my daughter with her mother right there."

"Carlton, you did not screw up a marriage. You know you didn't, you know she didn't, and you know this is all going really well as far as Lilly's concerned." She reached over and poked at his arm lightly. "Don't make me crawl up in your head and adjust your thinking manually."

He eyed her now, slight smile seeming genuine. "If anyone could, it'd be you. I know, I know. I'm just in self-pity mode."

"And you're allowed to feel that way for awhile. You are. Don't cheat yourself of... being human, okay?"

Carlton's gaze was again fixed on the fountain. "I remember a day you told me to pretend to be a person." Now he looked at her, the crystal blue muted. "I don't know why anyone wants to be a person at all if it means feeling like this."

That was it. Juliet set her coffee down and slid close to him on the bench, one arm around his back as she pressed herself to his side. It was an awkward hug, but he returned it immediately, burying his face against her shoulder, sighing.

"I'm not going to tell you it's okay, Carlton," she murmured, stroking his soft hair. "But it will be eventually. I promise."

He only sighed and held on tighter, and her heart swelled at the emotion welling up inside her, because her friend was in pain and was letting her comfort him.

They sat close and quiet for awhile longer until he found reserve enough to sit up straight, and Juliet let him distance himself from her a little, feeling surprisingly bereft without his warmth.

Carlton leaned back, legs stretched out, and finished his coffee without saying anything else.

But by accepting the embrace, and trusting her, she felt he'd said plenty.

. . . . .

. . . .