One Night With You Read Free Page A

did. You didn’t answer my question. But if you’d rather not…”
    â€œBrown and Worley built an apartment house that I designed.”
    She stopped eating the cake and looked at him. “So you’re an architect. I gather they did a poor job. Tell me what happened.”
    â€œPart of the building collapsed, injuring a number of people. The builders swore in court that they followed my design to the letter and brought numerous witnesses who attested to their competence. One man could not stand up to some of the most exalted building firms in this part of the country, at least two of which were owned by Worley’s cousins. I lost a class-action suit, my home, my wife and every dime I had.”
    â€œEspecially not one black man,” she said under her breath, but he heard her.
    â€œThat, too.”
    â€œHow long ago was that?” she asked him.
    â€œA little over six years.”
    â€œDid you know at the time that the witnesses were Worley’s blood relatives?”
    â€œNo, and neither did my lawyer. I discovered it a couple of months ago while surfing the Internet for anything that would help my case.”
    â€œDid you print out what you found?”
    â€œYeah. Of course I did.”
    â€œThen you can reopen the case, but you have to do it within a year of the date on that printout. You may claim the Discovery Rule, which says you may appeal on the basis of new and relevant information. If you were bankrupt when the statute of limitations applied, you may appeal as soon as you get funds.”
    â€œThanks. That’s good to know. Mind if I ask how you happen to have this information?”
    â€œI’m a judge.”
    His whistle split the air. “Where do you preside?”
    â€œBeginning Monday, I will be the presiding judge at the courthouse up the street. I’m looking forward to it. Would you like some more coffee? I made a full pot.”
    â€œThanks.” He drank the second cup quickly.
    â€œI expected that, in a town this size, people would be friendlier,” she said and related to him her experience with the store clerk who resented being asked if she lived in Queenstown.
    â€œThey’re hospitable, Ms. Rutherford, but you walked into a problem.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” she asked him, and at the memory of her neighbor’s comment about the group that marched up to Albemarle Gates, its members beating drums and blowing a bugle and a trumpet, fear seemed to settle in her.
    â€œThis building is sitting on sacred Native American burial grounds, and sixty percent of the people in this town and the surrounding areas think you’ve sided with the builders who committed this sacrilege.”
    â€œWhat will I do? I didn’t know anything about it.”
    â€œBe careful, especially when you’re out at night.”
    She sank into her chair, unaccustomed to the feeling of defeat that pervaded her. With a deed and a mortgage, she couldn’t walk away from the house. “Thanks for the warning. I’ve been here barely two weeks, and I’m in trouble. I don’t like the sound of this. Tell me, what do you do now?” she asked him.
    â€œI just got a job with Marks and Connerly, my first job as an architect since that debacle, and I’m lucky to have it. I’d better be going. Thanks for the coffee and cake. Both were delicious.”
    She wanted to detain him, but she knew instinctively that it would be the wrong move. Reid Maguire was a loner, and every sentence he uttered seemed to struggle out of him. Grudgingly. “Thanks for the company,” she said as she walked to the door with him, “and for the help.”
    He glanced down at her from beneath his thick, curly lashes and smiled with seeming reluctance. “It was my pleasure.”
    He left without saying another word. Didn’t he know how to say goodbye, or did he have some kind of superstition about it? Holding a