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As ever, Martha puts up a good front. “The Chamberlains aren’t going to get a red cent out of you…”
“It’s not the money I’m worried about. I mean, sure, that would be terrible to lose money. But I’m an educator, I don’t exactly have a lot to lose. If they win, do you think they’re going to get blood out of a stone?” she says.
It’s killing me to see her work so hard to show me how okay she is.
“But you love the job. You must be worried about losing it,” I say, trying to get through to her.
She squares her shoulders. “I’m afraid of someone seeing us chatting like old pals. Aren’t you breaking some kind of attorney-client privilege right now by talking about the case to the defendant?”
“Only if you point it out to everyone in the coffee line,” I say, grinning. “Here, take my card. Call me and we’ll talk.”
She shakes her head at me but can’t hide the smile that pulls at the corner of her lips. “Isn’t that what you are supposed to do with your own client? Talk?”
I lower my voice and speak slowly, mere inches from her ear, so only she can hear the words.
“I lied. I don’t want to talk. I want to finish what we started eight years ago.”
Martha’s cheeks blaze, and it’s oddly humbling to know I have that effect on her. I fear if she knew the physiological effects she had on me right now, it might be too much for her.
My phone beeps at me, breaking my momentary trance. I look down at the screen and we both see it—a text from my assistant.
Chamberlain is waiting for you. Please get here quickly. He’s creeping me out.
Apologizing to Martha, I leave without coffee and hurry my ass to the office. But not before I turn to tell her, “I mean it. Call me tonight.”
My assistant is correct. Mr. Chamberlain is sitting in my waiting area looking a little bit like a creep. I see him before he sees me and changes his face. What is he doing staring at my assistant like that? Like a predator.
I don’t know what’s more disturbing. That look he was giving her, or how quickly he changed his face when he realized he’d been caught ogling her.
“Ed, won’t you step into my office,” I say, rushing past him to unlock my office door.
He follows and immediately starts on a rant about Martha.
I put my hand up to quiet him until I can close the door behind us.
“Do you know what she did now?”
Seeing as I just saw her not ten minutes ago, I’m pretty sure the answer is nothing.
“No, what?”
“Well it should be your job to know. You need to hire a private investigator if you can’t do your job.”
“I’m sorry, you lost me,” I say.
“I just got off the phone with one of my construction managers who volunteers for me to build sets for the drama department…”
My brain tak
es a moment to absorb this. He uses his staff to volunteer at the school on his behalf. Got it.
He continues, “She’s taking away the winter musical and letting the drama club do some other play that nobody’s ever heard of instead.”
I shrug. “So?”
“So, do you know what the play is they’re doing?”
“Do I need to sit down for this?”
