Shirley Hailstock - Love In Logan Beach

“That’s an open catalog,” Rose said.

“If you need help, hire someone. You’re the assistant manager,” he repeated.

Cocking her head, Rose scrutinized David Thorn. She didn’t know him, didn’t understand his motives. She wondered if he was really trusting her, or if he wanted to see what she would do with the authority he gave her. She’d had this job before and she was comfortable with it. She could do whatever the store needed.

And she’d prove it.

* * *

David left for the day wondering about Rosanna. As he pulled his car into the rush hour traffic, Rosanna was still on his mind. She remained an enigma to him. Usually he read people easily. He’d been trained to observe them, get at the underlying causes of problems or secrets they held. But with her it was like trying to open an oyster with a toothpick.

He hadn’t realized where he was driving and when he saw the small sign reading Legal Aid Office, David stopped. He hadn’t met any lawyers since he arrived in Logan Beach and this was a perfect time.

Inside, the place was crowded, even at six o’clock in the evening. The office seemed to accommodate those who couldn’t come during the nine-to-five workday.

“May I help you?” asked a large woman wearing a bad wig. She sat behind a high desk and looked him up and down in a gesture that said he didn’t appear to look like the usual people who come to a legal-aid office.

“I’m an attorney and stopped by to say hello and introduce myself.” He handed her his card.

She glanced at it and then up at him. “House of Thorn,” she said. “Isn’t that the new store that’s going up across town?”

“It is.”

“Are you representing them in some action?”

“No, I guess I wasn’t very clear. I’m not introducing myself as someone’s lawyer.”

“Then are you here to help?” she asked.

David hadn’t thought of helping. He’d just come to meet other colleagues in his profession. But the question caught him off guard.

“I don’t think I can. I am with the store, just didn’t know any other lawyers in Logan Beach. How many work here?”

“Not nearly enough,” she said as a man approached the desk. “Perfect timing. Paul, meet Mr. Thorn of the House of Thorn. He’s a lawyer and wants to meet some other lawyers. This is Paul Varga—he runs the place.”

The two shook hands. “Are you here to volunteer?”

“I take it you’re shorthanded,” David said, since he’d been asked the same question within two minutes of entering the building.

“Very.”

“I’d like to help you out, but my hands are full right now.”

“Well, maybe some time in the future. Stop by anytime. We can always put you to work.”

Someone came up to Paul and his attention was gone. David realized he’d been dismissed. It wasn’t something that happened to him often. Paul was busy. People called to him from every direction. There wasn’t much time to talk to someone not willing to help.

David nodded to the woman behind the desk and left the building. He slipped into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start the engine. His office in New York was clean and tidy, with law books and a waiting room. This place was little more than a warehouse with mismatched chairs and working men and women waiting for a straw of help.

He needed to help. David felt the calling of his profession. He knew Thorn’s was his priority. Things were going well and they were on schedule, but there was a lot of overseeing to do. He couldn’t possibly leave everything to Rosanna.

Reaching for the ignition, he stopped, his finger on the start button. He didn’t press it, but took his foot off the brake and opened the car door.

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