Mistletoe Over Manhattan

'Y'all are both lawyers?'

'Yeah.'

'That's a coincidence,' Maybelle said, more to herself than to him.

'Not really,' Carter said. 'People do meet in law school. We did. We studied together.'

'Studied together? Nuthin' else?'

'Nope.'

'You didn't think she was pretty?

'Yes, I thought she was pretty.'

'Just not sexy.'

'She didn't act very, um, accessible,' Carter admitted.

'Okay, so y'all have known each other awhile without doin' nuthin' about it and suddenly you want to do something about it. What changed?'

'She did,' Carter blurted out. 'I mean, she didn't really. Just sort of.'

'What'd she change? Her hair? Her clothes?'

'Not her hair,' he said very fast. 'She'd better not ever change her hair. Her hair…' He was getting aroused thinking about her damned hair. 'It's like corn silk, but even lighter colored than corn silk… and not as slimy,' he finished up.

Maybelle's expression changed. It was an infinitesimal change, but Carter had spent too much time in the courtroom not to notice the nuances in people's faces. He gazed at her closely.

'Anybody ever tell y'all you had the soul of a poet?' was what she said.

'No.'

'They was right not to. So she didn't change her hair. What about her clothes?'

'She always looked nice,' Carter said, turning his pen between his fingers. 'It was just that her clothes didn't make you think there was a body under them.'

'And they do now?'

Carter frowned. 'Well, after I ruined her black suit…'

Maybelle jolted visibly in her chair. 'You okay?' he said.

'Jes' a twinge of arthuritis, hon. Go on. How'd y'all ruin the suit?'

'I sprayed mustard on it. Then she showed up in this red jacket…' He paused because Maybelle had flipped her ubiquitous coffee cup straight up in the air.

'Oh, shoot,' she said, but she sounded really nervous. 'Dickie!' she shrieked. 'Come here and bring me some a them paper towels.'

Yep, she was crazy. Here he was, facing the most important passage of his life, and he'd put himself in the hands of a certified nutcase.

That's how smart he was. Pick up a card in a hotel hallway and sure! Dial the number! If Mallory knew, he could kiss goodbye to any notion of gaining her respect.

11

Maybelle was never late, so Mallory had a right to notice when, this time, she was. She whooshed in like a blue norther, wearing a coat that had once been a patchwork quilt, the kind made of different- size patches in a multitude of colors.

'Sorry, hon,' she said as she ignored the coat-check woman and instead used the back of her chair to hold the coat, where its arms flopped down to the floor like lobster claws. 'Have I ever had me a day.' Under the coat she was dressed in her usual good taste-jeans, of course, with a top that seemed to be made of tiny skins stitched together.

Dozens of defenseless mice had died in the making of that top, Mallory decided. Or perhaps newts left over from witches' spells.

Maybelle saw her looking at it. 'It's that fake suede stuff,' she said. 'I designed it myself. I like an animal theme to my clothes. Kindly iss-stablishes a bond with 'em, y'know?'

'It's lovely,' Mallory said politely. 'I'm sorry you had a bad day. Are you having a problem, or is it one of your clients?'

She was surprised to see Maybelle tighten her lips. 'I'm not sayin' another word about any of my clients. Dickie's always tellin' me I'm too loose-lipped. I thought if I didn't mention names-I mean, I don't mean nobody no harm, I just think they're all so intrestin'. But not anymore. I'm straightnin' up and flyin' straight.' She frowned deeply to indicate how serious she was, and her face collapsed into a million fine wrinkles.

'I sense that something happened to make you feel this way,' Mallory said.

'It didn't happen yet,' Maybelle said darkly, 'but it might. Now, hon, your turn. Did y'all's plan work last night?'

Mallory nodded. 'We had a breakthrough,' was all she said, since she didn't intend to discuss her sex life with anybody. For one thing, she so rarely had a sex life to discuss that she hadn't gotten in the habit.

'Way-ell, good.' Maybelle peered at her. 'Y'all think it was all them clothes and shoes, all that makeup?'

'What else could it have been?' Mallory asked, puzzled by the question.

'It coulda been just you,' Maybelle said wistfully, 'finally havin' a chance ta catch the man you always wanted.'

Mallory drew in a sharp breath. Maybelle was too close to the truth. 'And the way you did it was you finally veered.'

'You've been reading my mother's book.'

'Ever' word of it.'

'What did you think?'

Maybelle sighed. 'You was right, hon. Me readin' it saved us a world of time. Yore mamma and yore daddy made you the way you are, a real sweet thing, but y'all got your priorities all mixed up.'

Now Mallory really felt stunned. 'My priorities are not all mixed up,' she protested. 'An orderly life has to come first! It's the only way to keep your head straight.'

'And your heart under lock and key waitin' for you to get finished cleanin' up yore house,' Maybelle said, a bit too loudly for Mallory's comfort. She dived into a handbag that was a kangaroo with a zipper across the front, whipped out Ellen Trent's book and slammed it on the table. Everyone in the small, elegant tearoom looked up. 'This is a real good book,' Maybelle said, 'but it's not a real good life for anybody but yore sainted mother, pardon my French.'

'Would you ladies like tea, or did you come here merely to break up the furniture?' A haughty waiter stared down at them with the purest disgust.

As Maybelle sent a similar look back up at him, her eyes widened. 'Dee-wayne, is that you?'

The man took another look at her and his face lit up. 'Maybelle, as I live and breathe. Yes, indeed, it is I. And how are you, dear lady?'

'Doin' real good,' Maybelle said, then added with a brief glower, 'most days, anyways.' Her face cleared, became all sunshine again. 'And look at y'all!' she said conspiratorially. 'All spiffied up and workin' in this ritzy place.'

'Thanks to you.' He practically genuflected. 'Incidentally, Maybelle, it's been a year now and you still haven't sent me a bill I was wondering…'

Maybelle did that diamond-crusted wave of the hand that was her signature mannerism. 'Yeah, I gotta get around to that one of these days. But we can't tawkbidness now. We're ready for tea. Bring us everything, and heavy on that there Devonshire cream.'

Mallory held up a hand to signal a cab to take her back to the St. Regis. Maybelle had a way of leaving her with sound bites instead of actual advice. And the sound bite sticking with her now was 'This is a real good book, but it's not a real good life for anybody but yore sainted mother.'

Hadn't the last week told her that? That the happiest moment of her life was waking up in chaos with Carter this morning? That the best Christmas tree she'd ever had was the tiny tree in the suite that was even now