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chapter one
Jayna Cardet glanced down at the watch her grandmother had given her the day she’d graduated from law school and frowned. “Your Honor, it’s ten twenty. The trial was supposed to start at ten. I move for you to make a decision based on the fact that the defense didn’t bother to show up.”
“I’m right here.” A thin man in his mid-forties stood, holding up a hand. He was the owner of the gas station and the man who’d made her client’s life a living hell.
At least that was the way she was going to argue the case. She firmly intended to make the world understand that taking down that tree on the land that ran up against her client’s home had been not only rude but negligent. And she would make that case as soon as the defense counsel bothered to show up. Or perhaps Mr. Abbot could be convinced to defend himself. She could eviscerate the man’s argument in five minutes or less and then she would be free to make a whole bunch of calls that would likely lead to nowhere. Certainly not to a job. “Excellent, then we should get started.”
“But Quaid’s not here.” Abbot looked at her like she was some kind of idiot.
Yeah, she got that a lot these days. Once she’d been theup-and-coming queen of the New Orleans legal scene. She’d been justice in high heels, wielding a designer bag like a shield.
This morning her momma had shoved a PB&J, an apple, and two tiny chocolate chip cookies in a plastic bag from the Fast Mart, and handed her a thermos of instant coffee because only rich people had coffeemakers, and hot water and off-brand caffeine crystals had been good enough for her momma, so they were good enough for her.
How the mighty had fallen.
“Yes, Your Honor, that’s my point.” She gestured to her client, eighty-four-year-old Geraldine Oliver. “If Mr. Havery can’t be bothered to show up on time, then we should either move forward with the trial or you could simply hand down a judgment in favor of my client.”
“Whoa,” Abbot said with a frown. “That doesn’t seem fair. We didn’t even get a chance to tell you what happened. Shouldn’t we have that chance? Quaid’s just running late, like always.”
“Mr. Havery is taking up the judge’s valuable time,” she pointed out. If they’d been in New Orleans, she would already have her judgment and be off to the next client. She would have billed another couple of hours before heading to some fabulous restaurant for lunch where she would schmooze with the bigwigs and bring in even more money.
“My time is not that valuable right now,” Judge Brewer said with a yawn. “Can’t fish today. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, and if I have to cancel that because Quaid’s late, it’s fine with me. Why a man can’t be left to die in peace, I have no idea. Besides, it looks like Geraldine is having a nice nap. Wouldn’t want to wake her.”
Sure enough, her client was snoring quietly in the chair beside her. “Your Honor, you can’t mean to sit here and wait for defense counsel.”
“What else would you have me do, young lady?” The judge’s brow had furrowed. Judge Andy Brewer had been the only judge in the parish for over thirty years. He was a thin man with a head of silver hair and thick glasses. “Besides that unfair judgment thing. I’m not going to penalize Mr. Abbot here because Quaid lost track of time. That might fly in New Orleans, but we are different here in Papillon, and you would do well to remember it. Now, if you’re bored, we could play a game of some kind.”
The court reporter was maybe twelve years old and so shiny it hurt to look at her. She clapped her hands together. “How about Hangman? I could go get the white board, PawPaw.”
Okay, so she might be in her twenties, but Jayna still stood by her assessment. She was too cheery. And apparently, she was the judge’s granddaughter. The nepotism shouldn’t surprise her. Papillon hadn’t changed at all.
“Oh, that sounds like fun.” The owner of the Last Chance Gas Stop looked enthusiastic.
She should sue him for the name of that business alone. It wasn’t the last chance at gas. Not even close. The Fillin’ Station was two miles down the road, and they served chicken-fried steak, too. The only last chance one got at Abbot’s station was the chance to get overcharged for a bag of chips. She’d heard Abbot had selected the name to scare the tourists into buying from him since the chicken-fried steak brought the locals into the other station. “Your Honor, you can’t mean to take up the court’s time with word games.”
“In my opinion, that’s all lawyers do. Take up time playing word games,” the judge said with a sigh. “We might as well have some fun with it. Wally, would you help Britney grab that white board?”
The big bailiff walked out with the court reporter, who reminded Jayna of an overexcited toy poodle or one of thoseother yippy dogs who always looked like squeaky toys for bigger dogs.
Like her Grand Pyrenees, Luna, who was definitely too big for her mother’s double-wide trailer.
Sometimes she wondered if Luna wished she’d been left back in New Orleans with Todd. Threatening to fight for custody of her dog had been Todd’s way of getting Jayna to give up what little had been left to her after the prenup had stripped her of almost every dollar she had. Still, he’d liked Luna and probably would have hired someone to take care of her. If she’d stayed with Todd, there would have been a yard for her to run around in. Had she been selfish wanting to keep her?
“Miss Cardet,” the judge began, “you’re Lissa Cardet’s youngest, right? Sienna’s sister?”
“Lissa has two kids?” Abbot asked, scratching his nearly bald head. “I thought Sienna was her only one.”
She got that a lot, too. Apparently walking away from one’s hometown and not walking back in for almost fifteen years had an effect on one’s memorability. Somehow the people who could remember family members’ names back to before the Civil War couldn’t seem to recall the high school valedictorian of Armstrong High.
“Melissa Cardet is my mom,” she replied. She should have known it would be like this, should have known that Papillon law would be some weird balancing act of family relationships, popularity, and the barest adherence to normal legal protocols. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be here long, that living with her mom was temporary while she tried to find another job and got her license to practice in Texas. “Sienna is my sister.”
“Aw, that Sienna is a ray of sunshine,” Abbot said with a big smile.
The judge nodded. “Yes, Sienna is an amazing youngwoman. After all she’s been through, she’s still smiling, and her heart is full of joy.”
Her sister’s heart was full of denial. She was twice divorced with two kids and working at a diner, but yes, she was the Cardet family success story because she was beautiful and smiled even when she should be stabbing someone. That was the Cardet way. At least for the women. The men didn’t smile, but had been known to stab people from time to time.
“Your Honor, you can’t possibly mean to hold up the court for an attorney who doesn’t bother to show up.” She was shocked. Not that Quaid Havery would be so arrogant he kept the court waiting, but that the judge would put up with it. Quaid Havery had enough arrogance to serve every single person in the world a double helping of self-confidence.
