Shelley was grateful for her parents’ ready acceptance of her husband-to-be and the instant rapport among the three of them. “Would you like coffee?” she offered.
“Sounds good after that drive,” her father said.
The doorbell and the telephone rang at the same time.
“I’ll get the telephone and the coffee,” Grant said. “You get the door. It’s probably Bill, so introduce yourself.” He hugged Shelley briefly, then rushed toward the kitchen.
When Shelley swung the door wide, her welcoming smile changed to an inquiring one. “Yes?” she asked the uniformed man standing on the covered porch.
“Is Mr. Grant Chapman here?”
“Yes. You are—”
“Sheriff’s Deputy Carter, ma’am. May I see Mr. Chapman please?”
“That was Bill,” Grant said, returning to the living room. “They’re running late … What’s this?”
“Mr. Chapman?” the deputy asked.
“Yes.”
He placed a subpoena in Grant’s hand. “What is this?” Grant repeated.
“A subpoena. You’re to appear in civil court at ten o’clock Friday morning. There’s been a suit filed against you.”
“Court … suit?” Grant stammered. “What kind of suit?”
The deputy’s eyes darted around the room. He took in the pretty young woman, the man looking every bit a bridegroom in his dark suit. There was a wedding present wrapped in paper sitting on the coffee table beside a florist’s box with an orchid corsage inside its cellophane top.
He couldn’t quite meet Grant’s eyes when he said with a mixture of embarrassment and pity, “A paternity suit.”
CHAPTER 10
P-paternity suit!” Grant sputtered on a short laugh. “Is this a joke? Say, did the guys from the racketball club put you up to this?” He turned around to Shelley, smiling widely. “Those guys are—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chapman,” Deputy Carter interrupted. “This is no joke.”
Grant studied the deputy for a moment, then shook out the folds of the subpoena. His eyes scanned it rapidly, but its validity was quickly ascertained.
“Zimmerman,” he ground out. “That conniving little bitch.” His words were softly spoken, but they seemed to reverberate off the walls of the silent room.
“It’s short notice, but we haven’t been able to reach you to serve the subpoena. I’ve been by your house several times. You’re advised to contact an attorney—”
“I’ll represent myself. Ten o’clock Friday?” The deputy nodded. “Forgive me if I don’t say thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” the deputy said to Grant. Touching the brim of his hat, he nodded to Shelley and muttered, “Ma’am,” before turning away and walking briskly down the
sidewalk toward the official car parked at the curb.
Grant closed the door and released his breath in a long, weary sigh. “Helluva wedding present,” he said bitterly as he turned. “God, Shelley, I’m—”
Seeing the stricken expression on her face was like being hit on the head with a sledgehammer. Her eyes were wide and vacant. The radiant complexion he had complimented her on only an hour earlier had blanched to a deathly white. A fine chalky line defined her lips, making the glossy coral lipstick look clownishly garish. She stood ramrod straight, but she was trembling, as though only her skin were holding her together, keeping her from flying into a million fragmented pieces.
“Shelley.” His voice had a ragged edge. “Tell me you don’t think … Tell me you don’t believe I got that girl pregnant.”
As though in a trance she shook her head, slowly at first, then more vigorously. “No,” she said quickly, too quickly. “No.” Her eyes blinked several times, then journeyed around the room aimlessly, focusing on nothing.
He took two long strides toward her and closed his hands around her shoulders. “Look at me,” he demanded. She was held in his iron grip like a lifeless doll. “I didn’t have anything to do with that girl.” He pushed the words past clenched teeth. “Do you believe that?” He shook her slightly. Her arms flopped loosely at her sides, but her glazed eyes never wavered from his tight, furious face.