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She absolutely had not been thinking about him when she’d put on her best suit and the only Chanel necklace she hadn’t pawned. The one decent pair of heels she hadn’t sold weren’t on her feet because she needed to look her best for her high school crush. Nope. She’d done it all because wearing these clothes made her feel professional. And spending extra time on her makeup was a thing she always did before appearing in court. It had nothing to do with him.
She hoped that man had a nice potbelly and had lost all that hair he’d had in high school. Quaid had been the prom king and she’d been the nerd who’d tutored him in French. He’d been the rich kid, the one whose family had all the connections, and she’d had two uncles and a cousin in the Louisiana penitentiary system. Her father had only avoided prison because he’d been friendly with the sheriff at the time of his arrest.
Quaid very likely had blown through a couple of trophy wives by now and had a whole bunch of kids who resentedthe hell out of him just like he’d resented his own workaholic dad.
The judge waved off her concern. “Quaid’s real busy. It’s hard to be the only lawyer in the whole parish. He’s like his daddy before him, always up to his neck in work. He probably forgot. I’ll have Brit call his secretary to remind him. Don’t worry. His office is right across the town square. He’ll be here soon.”
“He’s not the only attorney in town. Not anymore.” She might not be here for long, but while she was, she intended to show the town what she’d learned.
A brow rose over the judge’s eyes. “You’re staying in Papillon, then?”
It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go. If she could be anywhere else in the whole world, she would be. “For the time being. From what I understand, Mr. Havery represents the more privileged people of the parish. If I hadn’t been around, Mrs. Oliver wouldn’t have been able to secure counsel and wouldn’t have been able to press her legal claim. So I think I should be a welcome addition to our legal community.”
The judge sighed. “If you hadn’t been around, Quaid would have already handled the problem and none of us would be here. It’s what he does. He settles problems so they don’t ever have to reach the court system and I can fish more. I’m not getting any younger, as I’m sure Lila LaVigne will remind me if I have to go in for my yearly physical.”
She was going to lose an entire day because the judge wanted to avoid a lecture on his cholesterol.
Geraldine’s snoring reached a new, far more audible level, and Jayna realized the woman had left her teeth out. She tended to shove them in the big bag she carried and only put them in when it was time to eat.
Jayna chose to focus on the problem at hand. “Judge, inall seriousness, Mr. Havery should never be negotiating without other counsel present. He’s legally required to look out for the best interests of his client, not those of the opposing party. He’s not supposed to be a mediator looking out for both people.”
“Of course he is. Quaid’s a nice guy. He can do both,” the judge insisted.
“Legally he cannot,” she argued. How long had it been since the judge had gone to law school?
Dear lord. Had the judge gone to law school? It was Papillon. Anything was possible. One year there were a hundred write-in votes to make Otis the mayor. Otis was the gator who hung around Guidry’s Bar and Grill parking lot. There had been real worry that the gator would win, and there was nothing in the town charter that eliminated reptiles from serving in government positions.
It was an oversight.
The judge studied her for a moment. “Now I do recall Lissa having a younger child. You were a smart one, very dedicated to your studies if I remember.”
“I still am. I went to Loyola for undergrad and UT Austin for law school, where I was first in my class.” Her education was the one thing she could still take some pride in.
The judge nodded like he’d expected her reply. “Yes, I remember you now, Jayna. Your momma was so proud of you. She said one day you’d come back and you’d help people like her, people who couldn’t afford Quaid. But that was a long time ago.”
She felt her skin warm, a flush of embarrassment running through her system. “I always meant to leave Papillon. I wanted to practice in a city. I worked in New Orleans for ten years. My mom knew I wanted a different experience.”
“Well, that’s the thing with mommas. They always have hope,” the judge said. “I have six grandchildren. Four ofthem now live in either Houston or New Orleans. My youngest grandson is in the Navy and likely won’t leave until he retires. Britney is the only one who stayed, and she’s a sweet girl. Not the brightest, though. She barely made it through court reporting school, and sometimes I swear she loses track and makes stuff up. But she needed a job and she stayed here. So many of our bright young people leave us behind. It’s why a town like ours never changes. The people who could change things in Papillon for the better go to a city where they have a much harder time having their voices be heard. It’s a small town’s catch-22. I suspect you’re licking your wounds and once you feel strong enough, you’ll head right back to the city. Divorce?”
All right. The judge was smarter than she was giving him credit for. “Yes, I recently got divorced.”
Divorceseemed like the right word. Divorced from her husband, from her job, from her life.
Exilewas a good word, too. She’d been exiled from the life she’d built.
“Well, you’re a smart young woman who will likely bounce back quickly, and when you’re out in the big city playing by all those rules and getting everyone wrapped in red tape because their lives are so busy and important, Quaid will still be here taking care of the people of this parish. He’ll still be trying his best to settle some of the most ridiculous arguments you’ve ever heard and doing it all with goodwill toward everyone. So we’re going to wait for him because he would do the same for us.” The judge looked up as the door to the courtroom opened again and his granddaughter charged through with a bright grin on her face.
“We found colored markers,” she announced.
“Are they permanent? Because that’s a dry-erase board, darlin’,” the judge said.
Britney’s eyes widened. “Is that bad?”
The judge sighed. “Yes. You can’t erase the permanent markers. I’ll see if I can find the right ones. Maybe you should grab a snack, Ms. Cardet.”
Maybe she should go grab the tardy opposing counsel. “Sure. That sounds great, Your Honor.”
Geraldine shifted, her mouth coming open as she began to snore like a water buffalo.
