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Take. Take. Take.
Why did I expect more from her?
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t sitting around praying for you to show up in my office so I’d have something to do.” I pointed to the foot-high stack of files on one side of my desk. “I’m squeezing you in...” I paused, unable to give her a reason why.
Why are you doing this?
“Thank you for your mercy and kindness, Oh Great One,” she said mockingly.
I hadn’t seen the woman in two decades. Now she showed up two days in a row at my office and thought I owed her something. Like we were long-lost friends. Or, because I’d been her brother-in-law, I was expected to abandon my obligations.
She gripped the arms of the chair. “She’s yourniece.”
“I don’t even know her,” I cried. “Don’t act like she’s more than a stranger. I have more reason to help the guy who owns the coffee shop I frequent than her.”
Her mouth rolled from one side to the other. She was offended.
Dammit. I was offended too.
“But the man at the coffee shop doesn’t have something you want,” she said quietly.
“I’m not sure you do either.” I returned to my notes.
Anger seeped into my being. I prided myself on schooling my emotions, just as my dad had taught me. And I wasn’t sure what I hated worse. That JoJo could—had—thrown me off-balance or that she’d seen that she did.
I resisted the urge to rub my temples. The dull headache was another reminder she saw through me. Whitley’s visit had driven me to drink more than I’d intended, and I felt it today.
A visit from JoJo wasn’t helping.
“Give me a concrete time to meet, and I’ll leave.”
I flipped through the calendar on my desk from five years ago. “Looks like I’m booked up for oh...” I pretended to study the blank pages. “We’d better go with seven years just to be safe.”
“You said you’d help me.” Her fury was barely contained, but I gave her credit for keeping a tight rein on it.
I wanted her to explode. Wanted her to feel whatever this was she made me feel.
“What part of I’m squeezing you in don’t you understand?” I held up my notepad. “I have to get this done today, considering I have court tomorrow. And I lost some ground yesterday because I had to bail you out of jail.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You needed me to.”
She clamped her mouth shut.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. “I don’t live by a strict schedule. I put out whatever fire is burning the hottest. If that doesn’t suit you, I can recommend a few attorneys who might be able to help you.”
“I don’t want another attorney.” Her voice was ragged. I wasn’t sure if it was because it was difficult to admit that or she didn’t want it to be true, but it clawed at me.
I grabbed my phone off the desk. “Give me your number. When I have a free minute, I’ll call you. But fair warning. It might be early or late.”
Her cheeks tinted a rose that made her look youthful. Age had been kind to her. More than kind.
“I-I don’t have a phone.”
I gaped at her. “You don’t have a phone?”
She shook her head, the ends of her scarf tangling in her dark hair with the movement.
