Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [141]
There was no getting around it: churches got free labor when a pastor brought along a healthy wife, whether she was into music or teaching or running a children’s or women’s program. Who was he kidding? Becoming a pastor again would virtually mean providing charity work for a struggling congregation, and they would be offering precious little to a needy, over-the-hill preacher.
“Man waitin’ in your office,” Gladys told him as he passed her one morning.
He stopped. “Another process server?”
She beckoned him close and whispered, “Your son-in-law. Calls you Dad.”
Thomas found Dirk had draped his overcoat over a chair, opened his briefcase, and laid his legal pad on the edge of the desk. “Hey, good to see you,” Dirk said, pumping Thomas’s hand. “Rav’s told me everything she knows, and I’m honored you would let me help.”
“Well, I—”
“I’ve already been studying this, Dad, and I think it’s a slam dunk. These guys love to drag these things out and make your life miserable, I know, but we’re going to put a stop to that, believe you me. First of all, you’re not to meet with him.”
“No? Won’t that play right into his hands?”
“At least not until he drops the charges. Meantime, he talks to his counsel, you talk to yours.”
Thomas removed and hung up his coat, held up a hand, and sat behind his desk. “Dirk, we really must talk first. I mean, here I haven’t seen you in ages, and we can’t just pretend everything is hunky-dory at home, can we?”
Dirk was finally silent. Then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Did you just say hunky-dory? Haven’t heard that in years. No, I guess we can’t, Dad. But the truth is, every minute I spend on your case, I have to make up for at the office. So can we do that another time?”
Thomas shook his head. “You know, Dirk, I don’t think we can. Maybe people of your generation can go about their business as if nothing is wrong, but I find it distracting. Now, I’m sorry this is causing you more work, and if you want to drop it and leave me to find my own lawyer, I’ll just have to bite the bullet and—”
“No way. If that’s a deal breaker, fine. Let’s talk. And if it helps me get Ravinia and Summer back into my life, it’ll be worth any sacrifice.”
“You serious?”
“Serious as a supermax. Nothing I want more than to be back home with my family.”
“Where do things stand? Does Rav know, and is she turning you down?”
“I haven’t told her.”
“You tell me and not her? What kind of a lawyer are you?”
48
Addison
The Harley salesman was apologetic but said his manager had put the kibosh on Katie’s test-drives until she was prepared to commit to a purchase. “We’ll then be happy to enroll you in classes so you can become proficient,” he said.
“Sounds like you’d be happy to have me buy from another dealer,” she said.
Brady saw panic in the man’s eyes. “Oh no, not at all. But you understand there’s a limit to how many times we can have you—”
“And my fiancé . . .”
“Look, if you need one more spin to help you make your decision, I can talk to my—”
“Do that. We’ve pretty much made up our minds about the metallic blue Fat Boy, and—”
“Really?”
Now Brady saw something else in the salesman’s eyes. Dollar signs.
“And we’re prepared to pay cash.”
“Let me get the key.”
As the man jogged into the showroom, Katie squeezed Brady’s shoulder. “Too good to be true!” she said. “We’re not even going to have to rent!”
“You’re not really going to buy—?”
“Of course not. Once you start working, you can buy your own.”
“Yeah, like that’ll happen. I’m really gonna buy a bike worth twice as much as the best car I could afford. And in the winter . . .”
“I’m just saying, I like a man on a Harley. And you’re getting awfully good on ’em. You ready to buzz my dad?”
“I’m up for anything you want,” Brady said.
Once again Katie left the Benz and they took off on the big bike. Half a mile away, they switched places, and she hollered directions in Brady’s ear as he headed north to the exclusive suburbs. He felt that familiar tingle up his