“No one, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take the case.” Matt said.
“No. It doesn’t. But this is the kind of case that requires help from the American Civil Liberties Union or, better yet, the Institute for Justice. Those guys live for cases like this. And they have independent funding to pursue them. You should talk to those guys.”
“Don’t you live for a case like this?”
David pressed his lips together. “Look, here’s the thing. In the long run, farmers like Avery Johnson are going to get squeezed out of Jefferson County no matter what we do. And the people buying those mansions on Good Shepherd Road will be happy to see the pigs go.”
“So you think justice is reserved for those who can pay for it?” Matt stood up, too angry to sit.
David shook his head. “No. I’m just saying that your solution isn’t a legal one. You’re likely to win the case, at enormous cost, but lose the war.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you really wanted to change the world, you’d have to run Bill Cummins and his cronies out of office. That means you’d have to elect two or three additional council members who don’t care about the property tax base, which, as you know, affects the quality of our schools.”
Matt sat back down. “You’re saying it’s hopeless, aren’t you?”
David shook his head. “No. I’m saying that it’s hard. I don’t like the way Bill Cummins runs this county. But I’m not going back into politics. And if I touch this case, it will lead me right back into that rat race. I have no heart for it, Matt. It’s not who I am. And it’s not who Uncle Charles is either.” He handed the file back to Matt.
“So you think I should give this up?”
David scrubbed his face with his hands. “No. But if you do this, you do it on your own. I admire you for tilting at windmills, but remember that if Charles hears you’re spending regular office hours doing this kind of thing, he’s going to be furious.”
“So that’s it? You won’t help?”
His mouth twitched. “Feel free to ask for advice anytime. But with another baby on the way, I’m out of the windmill-tilting business for the foreseeable future. When Natalie was a baby, I was chairing the County Council and I never had time for her. I missed out on a lot. I’m not going back to that life. This time around, I want to be there for my child.”
Another Monday night and Courtney was walking into the Jaybird Café and Music Hall at 6:00 p.m. so she wouldn’t be home when Matt returned from work. Mondays and Tuesdays were the hardest because she had all day to think about ways to avoid Matt. Workdays were easier because they both worked long hours. She’d only heard him once, last Wednesday.
And even though the weather had been unusually beautiful, with bright sunny days and low humidity, Courtney had refrained from dining alfresco on her balcony for fear of another reenactment of Romeo and Juliet.
Willow was right. She and Matt Lyndon were not friends. But they weren’t lovers either, which was probably a good thing, even if Courtney was having a hard time forgetting about their one-night stand and the pleasure he had given her.
It was like she’d told Allison—sex wasn’t everything. But maybe when it came to Matt, sex was the only thing.
She needed a drink. And she probably needed to join a group for middle-aged singles. Not to find Mr. Right, but to find a few girlfriends she could commiserate with. Arwen had officially abandoned her. Had she found someone?
What an awesome and depressing thought.
She battled against the self-pity, and since she was flying solo, she bypassed her favorite table and took a seat at the Jaybird’s bar, where she ordered guacamole and chips and a Manhattan. Thank goodness Rory was tending bar because Courtney wasn’t in the mood to have Juni reading her aura tonight.
But when Rory placed the Manhattan in front of her, he leaned against the back edge of the bar and asked, “Where’s the lovely Arwen tonight? We’ve missed her at the open mic these past two weeks.”
Funny. In the two years Rory had been tending bar for Juni, Courtney had never once had a real conversation with him. She’d ordered drinks from him. She’d said hello to him. But that hadn’t been the same as actually talking to him. And since when had Rory started to notice Arwen’s comings and goings?
“She tells me she’s crazy busy at work,” Courtney replied with a shrug.
“It sounds to me as if you don’t believe that’s true.” Rory cocked his head and studied Courtney the way bartenders study drinkers the world over.
Great. Just great. Maybe it would have been better if Juni had read her aura after all. She didn’t want to talk about Arwen to the Jaybird’s bartender. So she gave him a long, hard stare, which bounced right off.
“Ah,” he said, “so I’m right. You don’t think she’s been busy at work. What is it, then? Has she finally found her kind and sincere man?”
“Are you telling me that you actually listen to Arwen when she sings? I mean, she’s always singing about that mythological man who is both kind and sincere.”
“Of course I listen. Why would that surprise you?”
She took a sip of her drink and thought about his question. “I thought I was the only one who listened.”
His gaze narrowed. “Aye. I know that. But I think you’ve been filling Arwen’s head with the idea that no one ever listens. And you’re wrong about that, Courtney Wallace. The people who matter have always listened to Arwen.”
Courtney didn’t know how to respond. Was he suggesting that she’d been holding Arwen back somehow? How was
