Chapter Eighteen #2
Bree had promised Rachelle that she’d come to dinner tonight because it was Hank’s birthday.
She was looking forward to it, even though they’d likely grill her about Tess.
She headed into her courtroom and began her day.
A few hours later, with the morning’s judicial caseload concluded, she retreated to the lounge to grab some lunch after leaving her robe in her chambers.
Tess was probably eating one of those protein bars or a yogurt down in her chambers.
She was pleased to see Callie and Vera at the table, each with a takeout container of what appeared to be rigatoni sausage bake in front of them, probably from the Italian place around the corner.
Bree wanted to know them better. If this was going to be her professional life and they were going to be her colleagues, it would be good to have a professional relationship with them.
“Have a seat,” Callie said, beckoning her over. “If your morning was anything like mine, you need to replenish your energy for this afternoon.”
Vera watched Bree grab her brown bag lunch from the refrigerator where she’d placed it that morning.
Bree thought of Tess again—that first evening when Tess had been bent over retrieving that tub of food, only her lovely backside visible.
She remembered the uncensored thrill of seeing her again after Tahoe.
She’d been convinced at the time of that encounter that there was no way she wanted a new relationship.
Not with all that was new on her plate, not with her divorce still hurting.
Her feelings for Tess had grown since that lounge encounter.
“A sandwich and carrots.” Vera interrupted Bree’s thoughts and surveyed her lunch. “So, what kind of sandwich does our newest judge make herself?”
Bree was going to keep it brief and definitely not tell them it was inspired by Tess’s cats. “Tuna,” she said.
“That’s how she keeps her trim figure,” Callie chuckled. “Unlike the two of us, indulging in Luigi’s cuisine.”
Alan and Eric wandered into the lounge. “Mind if we join you?” Eric asked.
“Not at all,” Vera said.
“So, any courthouse scuttlebutt to share?” Alan asked.
“There’s always scuttlebutt,” Vera replied. “I’ve heard Huffington wants to take more of my traffic cases, and I’m not ready to give them up—even if there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of innocent stop sign runners.” They all chuckled and continued to eat as they talked.
“How’s Huffington doing?” Callie asked. “He’s made himself scarce since the presiding judge position shifted to Tess Fairchild.”
“Anybody take her up on her offer to consider a change in types of cases?” Alan asked.
“Not me,” Callie said. “I wouldn’t want to have to take on more training right now to make a shift, and I’d undoubtedly need that.”
“I’d like more traffic cases, and I’m qualified for them,” Eric said. “But with you, Vera, as well as Alan and Huffington in that mix too, I seem mostly stuck with the traffic dregs for now.”
“You might tell our new presiding judge what you’d like. She did ask,” Bree said. She was careful not to make any other comments about Tess for now. Or Huffington either—she might learn something useful from the gossip, but she didn’t want to contribute.
Eric nodded and looked at Bree. “I guess that you’re picking up some of Gerry Flannigan’s load now that he’s retired.”
“Criminal is what I’m currently qualified for, and it works for me right now. I’m just trying to learn the ropes.” Bree wondered if any of the scuttlebutt fit into any of the Commission’s complaints. If so, she didn’t know how.
“Besides your caseload, how are you settling in?” Alan asked Bree.
“I’m doing fine. This courthouse puts me close to my brother and his family, and that’s been great. I’m liking the new job and all the new challenges it offers—the changes have been good for me.”
Bree considered for a moment and decided she wouldn’t mention the bag offer just yet to this group because it just seemed too potentially entangled with the Commission’s preliminary investigation.
“I had four flat tires—deflated in my driveway, but no real damage.” She didn’t go into detail about the bean in the tire stem cap.
She’d leave that information with Tess and Ned.
“Sounds like a neighborhood kid prank to me,” Eric said. “What some might term juvenile delinquents, although I have to confess that while I’d certainly be slapping their hands now, it could have been something I might have done as a teenager. It’s a good thing we mature. At least most of us.”
“I guess the ones that don’t grow out of that kind of behavior help keep the courthouse doors open,” Alan added.
“Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.” Callie offered Bree a sympathetic look. “I bet that upset you. It would me. I doubt it was work related, but it makes me happy not to be dealing with mostly probate and civil cases. Although you never know what’s going to trigger someone.”
The word trigger took Bree directly to thoughts of Tess’s shooting. To her need to maintain Tess’s safety and her uncertainty of how to do that.
“You’re right, probably kids,” Vera said. She scooted her chair back and collected her takeout container for the trash. “Well, back to the bench. I’ve got a full afternoon.”
“So do I,” Eric said.
They all stood up, cleaned their places, and headed out. Bree wasn’t sure what she’d learned, but at least she was getting to know her colleagues better. She had a full afternoon too, and then Hank’s birthday dinner.