Ties That Bind by Marie Bostwick

grinned. “You may have noticed there were a few holes in my recitation of the church’s history.”
    â€œSeemed fine to me. Very interesting.” He yawned.
    â€œYes, I can tell.”
    â€œSorry,” he said. “I was up late last night reading case files.”
    â€œSo? Chicago to New Bern. You in culture shock?”
    â€œIt’s going to take a little adjusting, but it seems like a nice enough town. Not that I’ve had much chance to investigate. I’m still trying to get the boxes unpacked. You haven’t heard of any jazz clubs in the area, have you?”
    â€œJazz clubs?”
    â€œI play baritone sax. Back in Chicago I was in a combo with some of my old high school buddies. We played in a neighborhood club a couple times a month—just for fun. Mostly we got paid in cheeseburgers and pitchers of beer. I was hoping to find someplace nearby where I could find some people to jam with once in a while.”
    â€œSorry. I don’t know of any place in New Bern with live music. But we could consider starting a jazz service on Sunday mornings.”
    Paul grinned; he knew I was teasing him. “Yeah? Think the town is ready for that?”
    â€œUh. Probably not.”
    Paul popped the last piece of cookie into his mouth and smiled. “So, speaking of culture shock—how are you? New Bern is a little different from Boston. How is your daughter adjusting to the move?”
    â€œMy daughter?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Clementine?”
    I laughed. Paul had arrived late, in the middle of my introduction. “Clementine is my dog, a one-hundred-and-twenty-pound English mastiff. I don’t have any children.”
    â€œAh. That’s a relief. When you told the story about ripping the heads off the stuffed animals she got for Christmas and pulling out the fluff, I was concerned. Thought she might have some sort of deep-seated emotional problems.”
    â€œNot Clementine. Aside from her tendency to decapitate her toys, she’s the sweetest dog in the world. What about your boy? How does he like New Bern?”
    â€œIt’s early days yet.” Paul looked down into his cup of water. “I think things will be easier when he makes new friends. James is a good kid, but when you’re twelve …”
    â€œThe world revolves around you and your friends,” I said with a nod. “I was a school social worker before I was a minister. Twelve is a tough age to make a move, but whether he realizes it or not, James would have missed his mother more than his friends.”
    â€œWhat else could I do?” Paul said.
    Earlier Paul had explained that his ex-wife, James’s mother, had been admitted to Yale Law School. That was what had precipitated the move.
    â€œMelanie was a court reporter when we met, hadn’t even been to college, but she was already talking about law school. What with the baby and then our marriage and divorce and … well, a lot of stuff … it wasn’t easy, but she did it. And, hey! She got into Yale. That’s a big deal. I got my degree from Chuck’s Good Enough Law School.”
    â€œSure you did.”
    â€œMichigan State. It’s a good school, but it ain’t Yale. Yale doesn’t admit just anybody. Certainly not guys like me.”
    â€œIf you go around saying ‘ain’t’ all the time, I’m not surprised.”
    â€œYou think? Maybe that’s what went wrong with my application.” He smiled. I liked Paul Collier. I liked his modesty and his sense of humor.
    â€œAccording to our custody agreement, I could have stopped her from moving out of state, but,” he shrugged, indicating that the idea had never really been worth considering, “after she worked so hard, that wouldn’t have been fair. And it wouldn’t have been right to have James so far away from his mom either. So, here we are.” He tossed back the rest of his