Matchmaking by Moonlight

Chapter Two

Ashe went straight from his odd meeting at the Barrington estate to the law offices of his friend and colleague Wyatt Gray, where he barreled in and found Wyatt frowning over paperwork.

“This is a joke, right?” Ashe said.

Wyatt feigned a look of a complete innocent, something the man hadn’t been since grade school at least. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“This favor you asked me to do?” Ashe glared at him. “It’s a joke. It’s some kind of payback. I know it is.”

“Why would I be setting you up for anything?” Wyatt asked.

“I have no idea.”

Okay, maybe Ashe did, because there had been a time when the two men had enjoyed pulling little pranks and generally giving each other a hard time. Like Ashe taking every note Wyatt had on one of his cases from Wyatt’s briefcase, leaving him with nothing but completely blank pages on his legal pad and inside his files. It was something Wyatt hadn’t figured out until he was actually in front of Judge Whittaker, trying to give his opening argument. The look on Wyatt’s face had been priceless.

Or putting red lace panties in his briefcase another time, right before Wyatt was heading to court. He’d nearly choked when he’d opened up the briefcase, again in court in front of the same no-nonsense judge. But still, that was years ago and no proof of any kind had ever been found of Ashe’s guilt in either case. They weren’t kids straight out of law school. They didn’t do this anymore.

Did they?

“You went to Eleanor’s, I suppose?” Wyatt asked. “I told you, she can be a little—”

“Strange?” Ashe said.

“Sometimes.”

“Your in-laws are even stranger,” Ashe insisted.

“They’re an interesting group of women. But they’re not like … dangerous or anything. I mean, they’re all eighty-something—”

“Eighty-something?”

“Yeah. They lie about their ages, all of them. I guess women never really stop. But there are no mental competency issues—”

“What about the one prancing around in the backyard naked?”

Wyatt stopped cold. “Eleanor was dancing naked on the back lawn?”

“No. Not her.”

“Kathleen? Gladdy? There’s a naked octogenarian at Eleanor’s estate?” Wyatt winced.

“No. She wasn’t old. She was young. Twenty-something.”

“And naked? Really? Naked-naked?”

“She was wearing a wedding veil. A long, sheer wedding veil, but other than that, yeah, she was naked.”

“Eleanor let someone have a naked wedding at her estate?” Wyatt laughed out loud.

“No. Not a wedding. Just a woman in a wedding veil, a guy with lights and a woman with a camera,” Ashe explained.

“What in the world were they up to?”

“I have no idea,” Ashe said.

Wyatt sighed. “See, when I told you those women were … different? This is the kind of thing I meant.”

“Random naked women dancing on the lawn?” Ashe was starting to think Wyatt was as puzzled and surprised as he’d been at what had happened. Either that or Wyatt was a better actor than Ashe realized.

“Have you actually had any mental competency testing done on these women?” Ashe ventured.

“No. They’re fine, they’re the best of friends, just as happy as can be together. And when you have relatives who are eighty-something, you want them to be happy. When they’re happy, Jane’s happy, and when Jane’s happy, I’m happy. We just try to … you know, go along with whatever they want.” Wyatt shook his head. “What do they want now? Eleanor said something about classes. I assumed it was something to do with weddings.”

“Divorce,” Ashe told him. “The classes are about divorce.”

“What does that have to do with naked brides?”

“I don’t know. They’re your relatives. I thought it was some weird setup for a joke. I was sure of it. And now I’m supposed to meet again with Lilah, the one doing the classes, to let her explain everything to me.”

Wyatt nodded. “She’s a distant cousin of Eleanor’s. She grew up here. We actually went to the same private school in first or second grade, Eleanor says, but I’m not sure if I remember her. Her parents moved to Florida ages ago. I don’t think she’s been back in town long.”

“She was the one taking the photos.”

“Oh,” Wyatt said, then shrugged. “What’s she like these days?”

“Eleanor claimed she’s working on her PhD in psychology, but I have trouble believing that. And she looks like the love child of two hippies from a commune in the ‘70s, transported to the present time.”

“Oh. I hope she’s not … you know, up to something.”

“Up to something?”

“I mean, Lilah just popped up out of nowhere, and next thing I know, Eleanor invited her to move in. I haven’t had a chance to check her out myself yet. Neither has Eleanor’s godson, Tate. We have to be careful. The ladies don’t like it when they think we’re checking up on them.”

“So?”

Wyatt shrugged easily. “If you could just talk to Lilah, figure out what she’s trying to do, I’d really appreciate it. I know Tate would, too.”

Ashe groaned.

“Hey, you have no idea what I’m dealing with here trying to look after these women,” Wyatt complained. “They’re manipulative, stubborn as can be, determined to maintain their independence at any price. And it’s not like you can twist their arms until they talk. They’re little old ladies.”

“I’m so happy to hear you’re not abusing your elderly relatives,” Ashe quipped.

“Remember, this is good for you, too. Eleanor could be a tremendous help when it comes time for your election. That woman knows everyone in this town, and she knows how to raise money. You’ll need money, and I know you’re going to hate asking people for it.”

Ashe groaned. He dreaded the thought of campaigning to keep his job. It was one of the quirks in Maryland’s judicial system. Judges were appointed by the governor to an initial term, but to keep their seat on the bench, they had to stand for election. He didn’t even want to think about the hassles involved in that. He just wanted to do his job. It was demanding enough all on its own.

Wyatt was right. Eleanor Barrington Holmes was a force to be reckoned with in the community, and he knew she’d helped raise funds for a number of candidates in the past. She could be a tremendous help to him, if she hadn’t grown too eccentric of late.

“Come on. Lunch with a woman,” Wyatt said. “How hard is that?”

Ashe gave in. “All right. I’ll talk to her one more time.”

That was how he ended up, on a break from court one day, meeting Lilah Ryan at a little restaurant called Malone’s around the corner from the courthouse. He knew almost everyone in the place. They came from the courthouse, because the place was so close, the service was fast and the food wasn’t bad.

It was filled with men and women in conservative dark suits, briefcases on the floor beside them, yellow legal pads in front of them as they talked and jotted down notes, cell phones at the ready. Courthouse people. Lawyers and secretaries. A few clients here and there—he could pick them out by the worried looks on their faces. Most people got a little freaked out when they had to go to court.

And there in the midst of all those somber-colored suits was a single blaze of color. Lilah in a soft, silky, flame-colored sleeveless top and a billowy skirt shot through with the same color and lots of others, red to orange to bright yellow. She had sandals on her feet. Her toes were painted the same color as her top, Ashe noted.

Every man in the place was watching her, he realized. Heads kept turning away from legal briefs and legal pads, colleagues and clients, toward her and back again. Clearly, Ashe should have picked another spot for lunch.

Lilah looked up, spotted Ashe, then lifted a hand with flame-colored fingernails and waved. About a half-dozen multi-colored bracelets jangled on her wrist.

He could feel the heads turn from her over to him, see the double takes.

Judge Ashford and the hippie lady?

He made his way to her, stopping along the way to acknowledge friends and colleagues who greeted him with slight smiles, respectful nods of their heads and things like, “Afternoon, Judge.”

People respected him here.

He liked that.

He planned to keep it that way.

Ashe got to Lilah’s table. She stood and held out her hand, bracelets jangling, and he shook it briefly, waited for her to sit, then sat himself.

“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you would, but Eleanor insisted no one but you would do for my classes.”

He was at a loss. “I can’t imagine why. I hardly know her, except for introductions at a charity event here and there. I’m just Wyatt’s friend. He’s Kathleen’s grandson-in-law. He said you might remember him from when you two were children.”

Lilah nodded. “Wyatt the wild man? I think he tried to look up my skirt one day on the playground at school when I was six or seven. Or maybe he was the one who dared his friends to do it.”

“That sounds like Wyatt,” Ashe agreed.

“Is he really married to Kathleen’s granddaughter?”

“Yes.”

“Happily? I’m so curious about her, but I haven’t met her yet. Kathleen said she’s written a book—financial advice for women—that’s coming out soon, and she’s busy getting ready to leave on a book tour. But the idea of the Wyatt I knew being happily married …”

“Well …” Ashe shrugged. What could he say? He had a hard time believing it, too, and he wasn’t the only one. He finally settled for saying, “They haven’t been married long.”

“Hmm. Kathleen and Gladdy believe he’s the perfect husband. I would think Eleanor knows better, living in this town as long as she has. But she doesn’t say anything when they start talking about how wonderful Wyatt is. I’m starting to worry about all of them. That they might be … you know, not quite all there mentally. Which is such a shame. They seem so nice. A little pushy, a little nosy, but nice.”

No arguments with that assessment from Ashe.

“I know Wyatt worries about them. And watches over them quite closely,” Ashe added, thinking maybe that would be enough to warn this woman off, if she had any thoughts of taking advantage of some nice, not-quite-there-mentally older women.

“Good,” Lilah agreed. “I think someone needs to be watching out for them.”

Okay, she was either sincere or she was playing him.

He really couldn’t tell, despite what he’d always considered to be really good instincts and people-reading skills.

The waitress arrived. Ashe knew what he wanted and asked if Lilah did as well, telling her they should really go ahead and order, because he didn’t have that long before he had to be back in court. She glanced at the menu for all of fifteen seconds and settled on the soup and sandwich special of the day.

The woman got points for being able to make up her mind quickly. So many couldn’t, he had found. And she got points for being … not so outrageous today. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as much of a chore as he feared.

Then the waitress came back and said, “I almost forgot, ma’am. I asked the manager. He said it’s fine to put one of your posters in the window.”

She pulled a small poster from her stack of menus and handed it back to Lilah, who smiled and said, “Thank you so much.”

Ashe caught a glimpse of the floaty, see-through veil her naked model had been wearing and couldn’t believe it. The naked lady on a poster? One that Lilah wanted displayed at the restaurant? Surely the manager hadn’t actually taken the time to look at it before agreeing to that.

“You can’t put that up here,” Ashe told her.

Lilah gave him an odd look. “You heard the waitress. She just said I can.”

“A photograph of a naked woman on a poster is not going to work in this town. In fact, I’m sure we have some sort of ordinance against it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this photograph,” Lilah insisted. “Why don’t we let people judge for themselves?” She started to pull a small poster from the envelope she had with her.

“Don’t do that,” Ashe said, reaching for her. “Not now. Not here.”

“Just because you have a problem with a little nudity, Judge, doesn’t mean everyone else here does,” she claimed just a little too loudly.

Somehow in their minor tussle, the envelope tore, they both lost their hold on it, and her posters ended up all over the floor, a dozen or so of them, face-up, of course, for everyone to see.

Ashe winced and looked away.

Conversation around them stopped.

People turned and stared, started whispering. There were a few chuckles.

“Does anyone have a problem with this image being displayed here in town?” Lilah asked, holding one up for her audience to see.

Ashe heard mostly male voices, amused and offering no opposition. That was odd. When he turned back to Lilah, she looked quite pleased with herself. She leaned over to pick up her posters, but a number of men nearby had already jumped on that particular task for her, including one of the young waiters, who blushed as he handed them to her.

“Is that you in the picture?” he said, the poor kid’s voice cracking and moving up an octave or so.

“No, it’s not her,” Ashe said, loudly enough for the whole restaurant to hear, because he really didn’t need everyone thinking he was having lunch with the naked lady.

Murmurs of disappointment followed from the men in the room. A few speculated about the truth of what Ashe had said, and more than one man said something about wanting to be introduced to the woman who actually was in the photograph.

Lilah thanked her young admirer, then grinned mischievously at Ashe as she set her stack of posters on the table in front of him for him to see. “She might have been naked when I took her photo, but she doesn’t look it in the photograph. I’m not an idiot. I do know what I’m doing.”

Still skeptical, Ashe looked down at the poster, an advertisement for her Divorce Recovery Classes, and there was the naked woman. Except, well … not quite so naked.

There was the woman Ashe had seen, but shot through the gauzy haze of the wedding veil. Everything was a little fuzzy, so that she looked like a woman running away in a big, billowing wedding veil, but her body was no more than a shadowy impression.

Beautiful, provocative, but still tasteful, he conceded, and certainly that was the intent—to be just provocative enough to catch one’s attention and hold it. It was advertising, after all.

Ashe had misjudged Lilah badly, something a man in his profession should definitely not do. Although, honestly, he’d bet she took some devious bit of pleasure in trying to lead him to misjudge her in just this way. The flash of fire in her eyes when he finally looked up at her, that teasing, satisfied smile, told him just that.

“Are you like this with everyone you meet?” he asked. “Or is it just me?”

“I’ve recently made a vow to enjoy life to the fullest. I didn’t for too long,” she said. “Besides, most people are much too serious, don’t you think?”

“It’s a serious world. Serious issues, serious problems. Mine is, at least,” Ashe told her.

“Maybe a little too serious.”

“Divorce is a serious topic,” he argued. “It’s really hard for people.”

“I know. I want to help them. Truly, I do,” she claimed. “If you believe nothing else about me, please believe that. I take helping people very seriously.”

“So, tell me what it is you do at these classes of yours,” Ashe said, deciding she deserved a chance to be heard. Plus, he’d promised Wyatt to find out if she was up to something with Wyatt’s wacky relatives.

“Eleanor said you’re in family law. Or that you were, and now you hear cases in family court,” she began.

“Yes.”

“Divorces?”

He nodded. “Plus custody issues both between parents and social services, some probate stuff, guardianship issues for people who are older or incapacitated in some way, that sort of thing.”

“Have you seen how some people, while they might have been divorced for a while or just separated for a long time, are still emotionally so entangled in their marriages?”

“Yes.”

“To the point of it being highly detrimental to their lives? Clouding their judgment? Keeping them locked into place, unable to move on emotionally or just let go?”

“Yes,” he agreed.

He could tell stories that he thought would keep anyone, even the most hopeless, foolish, absolutely blind romantics and optimists, from ever getting married. In fact, he thought if he could videotape some divorce and custody proceedings in his courtroom, he could splice real-life scenes together into a documentary that had the power to end marriage, once and for all, in America, possibly even globally.

“I want to fix that,” Lilah said, as she eased back in her seat to make room for the plates of food their waitress was placing in front of them. “Divorced people who can’t let go and move on.”

“That’s all?” He dug into his lunch, deciding she was either supremely confident or hopelessly naive. He thought about telling her his idea for simply ending marriage altogether, which would end the need for helping anyone get over divorce, emotionally or otherwise.

“It’s important work,” she insisted.

“Yes, it is. I’m just not sure if it’s at all possible.”

“Well, I intend to try.”

She was naive, Ashe feared, perhaps idealistic and completely unrealistic. He felt sorry for her and experienced some small need to try to save her from herself.

“I don’t think that’s a job for one person, all by herself.”

“Then help me.”

“I don’t think it’s a job for two people, either. Way too big for that.”

She sighed, sounding disappointed. “Gandhi said, ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’”

Ashe blinked at her. She’d quoted Gandhi to him? “I wonder if he was ever married.”

“He was. To the same woman for sixty years,” she claimed.

“Sixty years? Truly?”

“He was young when they married,” Lilah said.

“Must have been.”

“Okay, he was like … thirteen, and she was, too, or maybe a year older. It was an arranged marriage—”

Ashe laughed out loud, truly enjoying that little fact.

“Which has nothing to do with anything—”

“You’re the one who brought Gandhi into this,” he reminded her.

“Because I admire the sentiment. Imagine what a better world this would be if we all found a problem, a cause we felt passionate about, and went to work fixing it?”

Good grief.

Had Ashe ever been this naive? He didn’t think so.

Lilah sighed, clearly disappointed with him. “Please, just think about helping me. I promise I won’t tease you anymore about naked women.”

Which should have been a plus, he supposed.

“I don’t think it’s ever a bad thing to try to help people who truly need it,” she pleaded. “Watch those people coming through your courtroom and think about whether you believe they need some help letting go, moving on. That’s all I’m asking.”

He frowned. “You’ll be holding these … classes at the Barrington estate?”

Lilah nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“I thought she’d turned it into a wedding venue?”

“That’s what makes it perfect,” Lilah claimed. “All that excitement, the anticipation, the happiness. It’s like it’s in the air there, plus all the physical preparations to turn it into someone’s fantasy of the perfect wedding. We get caught up in the fantasy, the dream, and then reality sets in, and … Well, you know all this. You must see it every day. The fantasy doesn’t last.”