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Coach football. Avoid Allyson.
Done and done for another day.
Chapter 7
Allyson
I quadruple-check my notes one more time before the meeting. This is going to be the decision-maker for our client. Either mediation will work and we can all avoid the mess of court, or it won’t.
One last glance, one more big breath, and I adjust my posture from sitting at my desk all day. Once upon a time, I’d dreamed of becoming a big-shot courtroom lawyer. Actually, more than dreamed. I had every step planned out.
College, law school, marriage, kids, my own firm. I plotted every step of my life the way only youth can, with zero regard for the possibility of anything other than my dreams becoming reality.
Back then, it was Bruce at my side when I walked down the aisle of my dreams. We’d discussed having two children, a boy and a girl. He was going to be a professional football player and I was going to be a lawyer, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
College was a rude awakening. Harder than I’d imagined, lonelier than I’d anticipated, and my plans started to disintegrate in my hands, no matter how hard I tried to hold on to them.
Losing Bruce broke me inside and left me vulnerable for Jeremy. It wasn’t until much later that I could see that though. At the time, he’d felt like a lifeline pulling me to shore as I drowned in my sorrow. And I’d been happy, slowly becoming more and more willing to adjust my plans to include him. Jeremy was pre-law too, and I changed the sign outside my imaginary firm to include both of us . . . Silverton and Silverton, attorneys at law.
Getting pregnant my second year of college changed everything for both of us. My redirection to becoming a paralegal was initially a huge disappointment to me, to my parents, and to Jeremy. But he’d adjusted quickly, holding my hand and promising me that we could still work together, and made everything I’d dreamed of still seem possible.
Now, with years of experience under my belt, I can honestly say that I love my job and wouldn’t change it even if I could. Being a paralegal lets me be home with Cooper more, and it means I don’t have to worry about the bottom line the way I would if it was my name on the door.
“Hey, Rick?” I say, poking my head into my boss’ office. “I’m heading into the conference room to prep for Gloria’s mediation. Anything you need before I’m locked in a room with her soon-to-be ex?”
I cross my fingers on both hands, waving them around even though luck will have nothing to do with this. It’s all about my preparation and skills, both of which are beyond reproach. But no matter what, I just want this to go well for Gloria. She’s a sweet lady who stood by her husband for decades while he built a decent-sized empire, but now that he’s replacing her with a younger, perkier version, she’s ready to move on.
Luckily, she’s not out to slash and burn her husband’s world, or Rick would be helping her because that’s his specialty. Instead, she just wants what’s fair, and that’s where I come in.
“Nope, all good. Let me know if I need to step in, though. Use me as a threat,” he advises, throwing a few air punches. He’s not a scary-looking man, honestly, a little old, a little round, a lot bald. But he’s a pit bull, and his intimidation factor isn’t in those weak-ass non-punches but in the power of his sharp-witted and cunning mind.
I’ve worked for Rick long enough now that we’ve developed a shorthand for the best way to handle our client roster. He takes the heavy hitters when he needs to play the ‘good old boys’ card or go aggressive for negotiations, and I handle the less dramatic cases or the ones where a soft touch is better. I won’t say I get the easy ones, but compared to his clients, I get the easy ones. It’s worked well for us both.
“Debra? Will you show Gloria in when she gets here? But when Mr. Jacobs and his counsel arrive, call before bringing them back.”
Our shared receptionist nods and gets up to start fresh coffee for our incoming guests. Debra is about as old-school as you get with her perfectly curled silvery gray hair, sweater sets, and sensible shoes. But damn if she doesn’t do a stellar job at keeping up with every task Rick and I throw her way. She’s a dynamite with briefs and spends her free time reading legal journals for fun. In another era, she would’ve been a lawyer herself, and a damn fine one, but being our receptionist is her second career after her three kids grew up and flew the nest.
