Coming Home to Greenleigh

Chapter 9

Elisabeth's satisfaction at winning her case tasted a bit less sweet after her encounter with Shawn.  After lunch she had called one last witness, a neighbor of the young plaintiff who said she regularly saw him roller-skating "or whatever it is they do nowadays on those funny-looking shoes with wheels," even after the accident in Mr. Corbett's store which had supposedly left him in great pain.  The jury barely took fifteen minutes to rule in favor of her client, and Mr. Corbett was on his way back to the store shortly thereafter.

"I'll never forget this, Beth," he'd said, clasping her small hands in his great rough ones.  "If we'd lost, I'd have been forced to sell the shop, and we would have had to take Jerry out of the special school."  Jerry was his youngest boy, going to a school for the deaf in Boston.

"We were never in danger of losing, Mr. Corbett," Beth had said warmly.  "It was only a matter of collecting the right people to take the stand and tell the jury what
they needed to hear."

"Nonetheless, Beth, we owe you a lot.  And we'll do our best to pay you what you deserve."  Elisabeth had begun to pack up her briefcase.

"Mr. Corbett, don't be ridiculous.  I will certainly send you a bill, and we can talk about it if you wish, but it won't by any stretch be as expensive as you seem to fear!"

"You deserve a lot, Beth," Mr. Corbett had said stubbornly.  "Let me send you your groceries."  At this Elisabeth laughed.

"Oh, Mr. Corbett!"  They had walked out into the entranceway together, where Mr. Corbett offered to drive her home.  She declined the offer, but he had still insisted on sending her some groceries that evening, so she finally accepted as gracefully as she could.  She watched him walk down the steps, a younger man than the terrified one who had entered the courtroom that morning.  She huddled in the shadow of the doorway as the wind blew a knife-like chill through her thin trench coat.  The triumph of winning her case seemed muted by the overwhelming headache that had been pounding in her head after her conversation with Shawn.

She knew she had gotten upset over nothing.  Shawn was just being courteous, after all.  Why shouldn't he expect the case to go to court?  And of course he wanted to let Elisabeth know that he was involved.  If she was too uncomfortable with the situation, perhaps she could even have convinced him to withdraw.

Why did I have to jump all over him like that?

Somewhere inside of her a jeering voice told her the reason.

Elisabeth shook her head slightly.  Her headache was still pounding away.  She was glad that the trial was over.

The following morning, Shawn walked into the library where she and Ricky Junior were laughing over a badly written email that had ended up in the files. He paused in the doorway, silent, and at first Elisabeth didn't notice that he was there. Ricky Junior had one arm around her as he bent over where she sat, and she was thinking abstractedly that while she really enjoyed his light-hearted company, she didn't want the relationship to head in the direction he so clearly wanted it to—should she tell him? how should she tell him?—when her skin prickled, alerting her to someone else in the room. She glanced up, the laughter dying on her lips. From the expression on Shawn's face, he was not happy with what he was seeing. Or perhaps he just wasn't happy, she couldn't tell which.

I don't like his haircut, she thought—it's too short—then flushed, realizing that the length of his hair wasn't any of her business.

"I need to talk to you," he said abruptly, without preamble. "In my office." He nodded at Ricky Junior, who didn't seem in the least bit perturbed by his boss's sudden appearance.