7. EXPECTATIONS

Richard knew morbid fascination prompted interest in the case, but could not bear to relive the courtroom, an insatiable mess of mangled appeals and lost evidence through vile judicial rulings. He had never been gladder to quit the marble corridors of the courthouse and walk out into the snow. His wife�s presence at his side remained a soothing reassurance that he would be granted a listening ear when they returned home, but the confines of the normally peaceful restaurant could not diminish the brooding nature of his thoughts.

He felt a hand against his beneath the table, his wife�s fingers curling into his. It was a movement noticed by no one, for she remained in conversation with their guests. He was silent for a time, drawing strength from her resolve before being lured into a conversation on politics. It was something he felt passionately about, a topic he would not breach on a personal level, for he did not know if his constitution tonight could handle it. As he had left the courthouse, a voice had called after him. Pausing halfway down the flight of shallow steps, snow melting against his domineering stature, he�d listened to the plea with indifference. Politics was something he never aspired to except in the back of his mind, a feat that on any other day would have intrigued him but now came merely as further proof in the disappointment of public office. The likelihood of the current DA getting reelected was very low, for the public was more than aware of his less than conservative stance on certain issues. They wanted Richard to try for it. He was personable and intimidating, an ideal combination.

Turning his wife�s hand over beneath the table, he traced her palm with his fingertips. Charity�s long lashes fluttered and the water goblet paused halfway to her mouth. She dared not look at him. Garrett studied them carefully, finding that they seemed ideally matched; both reserved and quiet by nature but with a darker nature brewing beneath a calm resolve. There was something dangerous about Richard; it danced in the tone of his voice and lurked in the brilliance of his eyes.

Garrett suddenly inquired, �How did you two meet?�

A mirthful glow entered Charity�s eyes, granting her an eerie expression in the half-light. Richard�s features softened from intensity to remembrance.

Carissa turned to her friend and said, �Yes, how did you meet?�

Charity giggled and leaned back in her chair, glancing expectantly at her husband. Fingering the knife on the napkin before him, Richard said, �I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the middle of a prosecution and she came to the courthouse to observe; a murder case, research for one of her books. It was late when we got out. She had parked down the street. The car door had frozen shut in the storm. I made the error of attempting to assist her and was mistaken for a threat.�

�You shouldn�t have put your hand on my shoulder.�

�If I�d known that before, I wouldn�t have.� Richard remembered the humiliation of having his arm nearly wrenched out of the socket as he was thrown forward onto the car hood. On seeing who it was in the faint light of the street lamp, she had let him up immediately with an apology. Somewhat warily, he�d broken the ice on her door and wrenched it open, allowing her to slip inside. Then, keeping the door open, he had asked her to dinner. The story was relayed with a mild amount of cynicism and brought a smile to their companion�s faces.