Sandi had to laugh even though she wasn’t in a laughing mood. “Thank you so much. I so appreciate your support.”
Her aunt frowned and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
“It’s Juicy Couture, I think. I sprayed myself and Waffle. Is it too much?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll probably be okay if you stay downwind.”
Just then, Fiona, Betty Ann and Prissy hustled up and joined them. Sandi introduced them, too.
“Oh, my God, I love your shoes,” Fiona said to Aunt Ed.
Everyone’s attention veered to Aunt Ed’s feet. She was indeed wearing the most darling spike-heel pumps. They looked like ice cream sundaes dripping with chocolate syrup, with bright red cherries on the toes.
“Oh, my Lord,” Sandi gushed. “Those shoes are so to-die-for, Aunt Ed. Where ever did you get them?”
“My honey bought them for me in L.A. He’s got excellent taste when it comes to shoes.” She bent and scruffed Waffle’s head. “So is this culprit ready for his big day?”
Waffle grinned up at her, his tail whipping.
“I can’t believe all of you are here,” Sandi said, using her pinky finger to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’ve got quite the entourage.”
“We are not about to sit still and see you or Waffle treated unfairly,” Prissy said firmly.
“I do the bailiff’s wife’s hair every week,” Fiona said. “She and I have been talking about this hearing.” She giggled. “She wanted to come with me today to get a look in person at Nick Conway, but her husband wouldn’t let her.”
“Look, I don’t think this is going to be a big deal,” Sandi said. “Please don’t say anything unless they ask you to, okay?”
“Oh, we won’t,” Debbie Sue said. “We know how to behave. If I made an ass of myself in a courtroom, my husband would hear about it for sure. He’d lock me in the house and never let me out.”
As they passed through the security scan, Sandi held her breath, hoping that her aunt and/or Debbie Sue weren’t carrying. She wouldn’t put it past either one of them. To her relief, the only thing that set off the alarm was Waffle’s new collar.
Outside the courtroom, a man met them and introduced himself as the bailiff. “Are all of you together?” He sniffed a couple of times, then pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose.
“We are,” Sandi’s entourage answered in chorus.
He asked for custody of Waffle.
Debbie Sue stepped up. “Hold on. Why? Where are you taking him?”
“He can’t go into the courtroom, ma’am, unless Judge Bellamy asks for him. We’ll hold him outside here in the hallway.”
Sandy reluctantly handed over Waffle’s leash and the bailiff gestured her and her group into the courtroom.
Sandi had never been inside a Midland courtroom. She had never been inside a courtroom anywhere. She hadn’t even served on a jury. In both of her divorces, the proceedings had been handled by lawyers without her presence. In the cavernous space of rich dark wood walls and formal furnishings, she felt small and ineffectual. Scrolling through her mind like an endless chain was one thought: I’m going to lose this fight.
Leaving her group in the public gallery, she summoned her courage and strode forward toward an empty long table across from the judge’s tall bench.
She stole a look at Nick seated at a long table to her right. His hair was perfectly styled and combed, his jaw clean shaven. A tan leather blazer stretched across his wide shoulders. Starched and creased denim jeans hugged his long thighs. He looked good enough to eat with a spoon. She felt that little squiggle in her midsection that seeing him always caused.
A balding man with glasses sat beside him and they talked in low tones. His lawyer, no doubt.
Nick turned and looked behind himself as her little group seated themselves on one of the long bench seats. His eyes rolled. Damn him for judging her and her friends! A burst of anger replaced the intimidation she had felt on first arriving. He had his nerve stealing Waffle then suing her. Her jaw clenched.
The judge breezed in, his long black robe billowing behind him, half-glasses resting on his nose. As he seated himself in all of his self-importance, Sandi couldn’t keep from noticing his ill-fitting toupee. She heard a stifled giggle from behind her. Fiona the Hairdresser, no doubt. Hopefully, it hadn’t come from Aunt Ed or Debbie Sue. Sandi almost laughed herself.
The judge could barely be seen behind the tall bench. As he sorted papers on top of the bench, his nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell?”
“Uh, must be something in the air, your honor,” the bailiff answered.
The judge made an exaggerated sigh, followed by a brief opening statement. He then turned to Sandi. “You were ordered to bring the subject dog to court today. Have you done that?”
“Yessir. I had to give him to your bailiff.”
The judge turned to the bailiff. “Bring in the animal.”
The bailiff left the huge room and soon returned loosely leading Waffle. The dog trotted along beside him as if he knew he was the center of attention.
“What is that smell?” the judge asked again. “It almost smells like a skunk.”
“It must be coming from outside, your honor,” the bailiff answered.
“Well, make sure the door is closed tightly. Enough two-legged skunks pass through this courtroom. We don’t need a four-legged one.”
No one dared laugh. One of the cops present hurried to secure the door.
At that same moment, a white cat with big black spots sauntered out of a room behind and to the side of the judge’s bench. It suddenly halted. Its back humped into a mound, a meoooowrrrrr came from its throat and it threw itself at Waffle.
The dog ripped loose from the bailiff and lunged for the cat, snarling and barking. Woof! Bwoof! Woof!
“Waffle! Waffle! No!” Sandi cried.
The cat scrambled up the side of the judge’s bench.
The judge sprang to his feet
