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She glared at me. “How did you do that?”
I shrugged. “I know where everything is, even if it seems messy to you. I have a process.”
She looked around in wonder. “What kind of process could that possibly be?”
I tapped my head. “Up here,” I told her proudly. I was proud of my intellect and my good memory.
Magda shook her head. “I can’t even imagine. I have to have everything in its place or I lose track of it.”
“That’s because you don’t have an iron trap up here like I do,” I joked, and Magda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
I was glad we’d reached some kind of truce, at least a simple one because it was frustrating to be at each other’s throats all the time. I still liked to tease her and get on her nerves, but at the same time, the only way I would be able to evaluate her skills as if we actually were able to work together.
“So, the marital assets were all sent over by Mr. Martinez’s lawyer?” Magda asked.
I looked through the paperwork we had on it. “Looks like it. We just have one hiccup.”
“What’s that?” Magda asked, keeping her eyes focused on her laptop. I had to appreciate her work ethic. She didn’t mess around, getting straight to work every day after we ate lunch. She would stay hours in my office, sitting in the little chair I reserved for clients across from the desk, scrolling through the assets and double-checking everything.
“The wife’s business,” I said. “She started a soap and candle-making business back in—” I consulted my notes. “Two-thousand and ten.”
“Has she generated much revenue?” Magda asked, looking up at me. I’d never noticed, but he had the most intense blue eyes I’d ever seen, and I cleared my throat and looked away, not wanting to think about how pretty they were.
I was coming to learn over this time spent with her that there were a lot of things about Magda Riley that were pretty. I kept seeing glimpses of her beauty. I didn’t need to be distracted by a pretty face.
“About fifteen thousand a year. Nothing to sneeze at, but not exactly enough money to live on,” I said.
Magda tilted her head, thinking. “I think Mrs. Martinez would want to keep her own business assets,” she suggested.
I snorted. “Too bad for Mrs. Martinez. She’s divorcing her husband and taking half his savings, half the house, and half the cars, so she’ll have to give up half her business.”
Magda groaned. “Why do you have to talk about her like that? This is our client, for god’s sake.”
“Just because she’s our client doesn’t make her automatically right,” I pointed out, and Magda sighed.
“Fair enough. But I think the husband is just trying to get out of giving the wife what she deserves. She worked two jobs according to her statement while he was in medical school, supporting him through it.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. “I don’t think Mr. Martinez will care about her fifteen-thousand-dollar-a-year business. He makes that in a couple of months.”
“We should reach out to his lawyer,” Magda said. “Who is it, anyway?”
I groaned. “It’s Garrison Redding,” I said, and Magda groaned right along with me.
“God, he’s worse than you are,” she complained.
“I resent that,” I said, making a face.
“He always sides with the husband, no matter what. Even when it might win him the case to side with the wife.”
“That’s a bad way to do business,” I agreed, munching on my salad.
Magda wrinkled her nose again and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Don’t know how you eat those things,” she said.
“Don’t know how you don’t and keep that figure,” I replied.
She blushed and lowered her eyes to the file. Shit. What was I thinking mentioning her figure? Now I was the one embarrassed and I didn’t get easily embarrassed.
