Couples

Chapter 97

As he enters the courtroom, Eli notes the heavy presence of the media. It's not as if he hadn't been expecting it. The trial of a mogul always attracts attention, but they look hungrier than usual. With the election only a couple of days off, whatever he does is news. And any misstep he makes will be even bigger news. He'll have to measure every word he says more carefully than ever.

Flatt and Andrews are already at the defense table. Andrews looks pleased with himself. He probably got Flatt to pay upfront. One of the D.A.'s paralegals is already seated on the people's side, surrounded by notes, legal pads, and a laptop, ready to go for when Eli needs them. But he shouldn't need much yet. He and Andrews will have to pick a jury from the candidates that are probably waiting in a room upstairs. Given the amount of publicity the case garnered, biases will likely already be in place, and the voir dire to root them out could take the day or longer.

Andrews is no fool. He knows how to judge body language as well as the actual answers to his questions. But so does Eli. And he's hoping that the pool will contain enough potential jurors to judge the case on its merits, not Andrew's famous oratory skills.

The bailiff calls "All rise." As he stands, Eli gazes over at Andrews. The tiniest hint of apprehension flashes across the defense counsel's face. Good. Eli's already a step ahead.

Kate supervises as one of the students who moved Alexis and Dana, carries Jim Beckett's beloved chair through Gina's Restorations' back entrance. Gina looks it over with a practiced eye. "The frame is good, but the webbing and the springs, as well as the padding, will have to be replaced. I'll give you a formal estimate, but I'm warning you in advance that it would probably be cheaper to buy a new chair."

"That's all right," Kate assures her. "This chair holds decades of my father's memories. You can't put a price on that."

Gina nods. "I understand. I'll have the paperwork ready for you in a few minutes. You can take a seat in the front to wait."

"Thank you." Kate inclines her head toward the young man who hauled the piece of furniture. "I just have to settle with him."

While paying off her hauler, Kate studies her surroundings. If the shop is a cover for any illegal activity, it's a damn good one. All she can see are various furniture materials and people carefully restoring well-loved family treasures. Kate guesses that if Gina has much to do with Lorenzo family business, it's by blood, not criminal bent. Unfortunately, blood is a powerful bond. Getting any information from her won't be easy. But Kate can make a start.

She wanders through the door into the front of the shop, where there are several predictably well-upholstered and comfortable chairs. A pot of coffee with cups and a small cooler containing bottled water sits on a counter with a sign: "Help yourself." Kate grabs some water and settles into a seat, continuing to look around making mental notes. She'll put them on record as soon as she leaves.

Gina reappears with several sheets of paper on a clipboard. "I've attached a photo of your project. The numbers I've marked on it correspond to the description on the work order of what needs to be done. I've listed the cost of material and labor for each. The final price will depend on what fabric you pick. Are you ready to go through samples?"

Kate regards the painstaking notations. They confirm her opinion of Gina. She might be a Lorenzo by birth, but her pride and her passion are in her craft. That could have been what drew her to Walker Buck, a man who makes a living through honest hard work along with the ambition to grow. As far as Kate's concerned, there's nothing wrong with ambition, but in Walker's case, it may have put him up to his neck in alligators. Calista Ford's ambitions, the most driving of all, were sadly pursued by less than honest means. For that, she paid the ultimate price.

After signing her acceptance of the terms that Gina offers, Kate hands back the clipboard, "I can look at fabrics now. How long will the job take?"

"As you probably saw, we've got quite a workload. But I believe we can get it done in two weeks or so, provided you don't pick a fabric we'll have to backorder. I'll show you the swatches from the suppliers with the fastest delivery times first, and we'll see about getting your restoration off the ground."

"Sounds good," Kate agrees.

Christine carefully rolls out pie crust dough. She has her own mix of shortenings that she likes to use to achieve flakiness without sacrificing tenderness, but so does Chef Auchincloss. As his sous chef, she will, of course, use his. It's not actually all that different from her own, except that he gets shipments from Canada of a product that isn't available in the U.S. He told her that it had been when he was starting out. Then he could only get it from the states on the border and after that, not at all. Unable to find anything domestic that performed quite the same way, he arranged to have pallets brought in at least quarterly. He explained that when he gets his new restaurant up and going, he'll need more than that. After tasting his crust, she knows why. She's never had or made anything that has the savory satisfaction that the chef's secret ingredient imparts. If his fillings match the quality of his crusts, his new venture should be a hit.

Right now, Christine's not worried about pot pies. November is the height of pumpkin everything season, and that pie is even more popular than the cookies Lily loves. She's never before worked in a restaurant where kids were anywhere but in the front of the house. And the kids' menus in those places were pretty standard in terms of chicken fingers, sliders, and fries with macaroni and cheese and occasionally spaghetti thrown in. The special attention to youngsters' tastes could be Richard Castle's influence or just the way Auchincloss decided to go. At Imagination Patch, children are treated as having palates at least as discerning as those of adults. From what the new sous chef's studied of the physiology of taste, that's true. Kids have more taste buds than adults do. She has to assume that they use them.

"Hey, Bro!" Esposito's in the middle of a yawn when Ryan points through the windshield. "Buck's on the move."

From behind the screen of trees in a lot adjoining Sunglow, Ryan turns on their unit's motor. "I'll have to hang back, or he'll spot us."

"No problem. If he's heading to Manhattan, there's only one decent route," Esposito points out. "And he doesn't have the equipment truck with him to go to a job. He'd need mowers and stuff."

"Good catch. When did you get into landscaping?" Ryan asks.

"Summer job when I was at New York U. The guy recruiting thought if someone had a face the color of mine they belonged in a garden or a field. I'd never mowed grass or touched a tree anywhere but the park in my life. He hired me without finding out if I even knew anything about the job."

"Were you any good at it?" Ryan wonders.

"Almost lost a toe when I didn't spot a rock and a blade broke. After that, the crew boss put me hauling gravel. Built some muscle anyway, but I found out I'm no gardener."

"Well, if Jenny and I can ever afford to buy a house, I'll remember not to ask for your help in the yard."

Esposito shakes his head. "Take my advice, Bro. Stick to concrete and brick. Instead of sweating your ass off, you can spend your weekends watching the games with me."

Ryan sighs. "I think Jenny's going to have other ideas."