municipal parking lot and headed on foot down Magnolia towards her office. It wouldn’t do to be late for her meeting with Claire Montreaux, the young lawyer who was going to buy Olivia’s practice. After her meeting, she had a lunch date with her best friend, Lauren Ridley. Although the two women had lunch once a week, birthday lunches were always special and often involved champagne.
Situated in a store front and snuggled next to the historic Lark Theatre, the Law Office of Olivia Sinclair had no sign in the window. Given the incendiary nature of the divorces she litigated, the front door was kept locked at all times, and clients were seen by appointment only. Digging the key out of her coat pocket, Olivia let herself into the office, taking in the thick carpets and the comfortable sofa with fresh eyes. She had done her best to make this part of the office welcoming. A huge bouquet of flowers rested on the waiting room coffee table.
“There you are.” Mary Chadwick, Olivia’s assistant since she started her practice, hurried to her desk, a stack of files in her arms. “Happy birthday, Olivia.”
“Thanks. Who sent the flowers?”
“Blythe Harden dropped those off. She said to tell you they were a small testament to her gratitude. I’m also to tell you that if you ever need any favor from her, not to hesitate.” A small slip of pink paper was tucked into the corner of Mary’s blotter. She set the files on her desk, pulled it out, and waved it in the air, a sly smile on her face.
“There’s a west wind today, a portent of big change.”
After twenty-seven years of working with Mary, Olivia knew that in good time Mary would tell her what the west wind had brought them today. Her assistant – a trusted, intelligent woman who masterfully found needles in haystacks – was driven by age-old superstitions handed down from her equally superstitious grandmother.
“I’ve found Roland Rainwater.”
“What?” Olivia didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Certain that Roland Rainwater had vanished into thin air, Olivia had planned to hand the whole Rainwater file, along with its hefty retainer, over to Claire once she came on board. Claire could hire a private investigator to track down the deadbeat husband and get him served with a summons.
“How did you find him?”
Mary giggled. “On an Internet dating site.”
“Do I want to know about this?”
“It’s legit, don’t worry. I put up a fake profile of a woman who is very similar to Hetty. You know, bohemian, artsy. I made sure to hint at wealth untold. Sure enough, Roland was looking for a new meal ticket.”
“Well, where is he?”
Mary looked at her watch. “Probably on his way to Peet’s. I’m meeting him for coffee in twenty minutes.” The Rainwater file sat on the corner of her desk. She pulled the summons out with a flourish and grabbed her purse. “Back soon.”
Olivia laughed. “Just make sure he doesn’t follow you to your car.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got my pepper spray. Oh, Claire Montreaux will be here in ten minutes or so. Want me to get some sandwiches for your birthday lunch with Lauren while I’m out?”
“Thanks, Mary. Use the company card. Get something for yourself, too.”
“Will do. Back soon.” Mary waved and headed down the street, walking as purposefully as a bloodhound who had picked up a scent.
Olivia surveyed the small office, the home base of her work life for the past twenty-seven years. Her eyes roamed over the various diplomas and certificates that hung on the wall, the bank of filing cabinets, the stacks of files and papers. She had worked hard for all of this, but the time had come to pass the baton. There was a gentle knock on the door.
Claire Montreaux waited while Olivia unlocked the door.
“Good morning,” Claire said.
“I always keep the door locked,” Olivia said. “I had an angry husband come after me with a baseball bat once.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was lucky there happened to be a policeman down the block. But I wound up with a smashed-in window, so lesson learned.”
Claire was young and fresh and very much like Olivia had been when she started practicing law so very long ago. A tiny thing with black hair that hung down to her waist, Claire looked like a fifteen-year-old cheerleader. Although Olivia had never been opposite Claire in court, word on the street was that the young lawyer was whip-smart, had a photographic memory, and could out-argue the best and most seasoned litigator. Today Claire wore a very short skirt along with stiletto heels so high Olivia’s lower back threatened to spasm at the very sight of them. She felt old all of a sudden. Out of touch with this new generation of lawyers.
Claire stood in the reception area, surveying her surroundings. She turned a slow circle. “This office has a really nice feel to it. Uncluttered with lots of light.”
“Thanks. Of course, you can change things as you see fit,” Olivia said.
The women didn’t waste time with small talk. Once they were situated in Olivia’s office, Claire reached into her spanking new Mark Cross briefcase and pulled out the partnership proposal that the two women had hammered out a month ago, when Claire first approached Olivia with the idea of coming on board as a partner. Several pages had been tagged with Post-its. Claire opened to the first one and said, “I need your assurance that Stephen Vine will still be sending referrals from his criminal practice this way.” She leaned back, confident and in charge, and continued. “My position is that Mr. Vine’s influence will be needed, especially since I’m new to the area—”
You’re new to the profession, darling. Olivia didn’t say the words out loud. Everyone had to start somewhere, and she couldn’t find fault with Claire’s attention to detail. Granted, Claire was taking a risk, sinking her time and capital into her own firm so early in her career. Stephen Vine, Olivia’s long-time friend and well-respected criminal defense attorney, didn’t take family law cases and had been referring clients to Olivia for years. Claire would need those referrals, especially in the beginning.
“—so will that be a problem?” Claire said.
“Not at all,” Olivia said. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Vine. He’s agreed to meet with you alone or with me, whichever you prefer.”
Claire exhaled. “That’s great. Is he easy to get along with? I’ve heard rumors that he can be prickly.”
Olivia settled back into her chair. “Stephen doesn’t like liars. Be honest and genuine and you’ll get along fine. Pardon my French, but he can spot bullshit a mile away.” She thumbed through her copy of their agreement. “And I have an issue I would like to change. I’m looking to be out of the practice in six months instead of a year. I’m willing to adjust the financial aspects accordingly …”
And so the meeting went on. For an hour Claire and Olivia negotiated, easily agreeing on changes and amendments. By 11:35 Claire was gone, off to type up the agreed changes. Next week Olivia would sign it. After Claire left, Olivia turned her attention to her computer, methodically sorting through the thirty-plus emails she had received overnight, making note of things that needed her attention and forwarding the rest on to Mary.
“I’m
