Chapter 1 #2
Two years ago, when my paternal grandmother died, I learned she’d left me this house. I’d considered selling, but after my life imploded, this place offered us a home and, by some miracle, a job opportunity I would’ve been an idiot to refuse. The best part: no one told me it also came with a Helen.
Helen had been friends with my grandma for years.
They attended the same church, and she visited each week, checking on her more frequently as she weakened.
Then, she watched over the empty house, and we connected after ownership was transferred to me.
When she learned I was considering moving and had a job interview, she insisted on caring for my babies during the day.
But she doesn’t just take care of them. She loves on them, and if I can’t be here to do that myself, there isn’t anyone better for the job.
“Looks like things are coming along.” She surveys the room and the few remaining boxes tucked in the corner.
“I’m getting there. There’s another load in the garage to donate. I only have a few more closets to go through and the basement.”
“Stella liked to hold onto things, but she’d be so happy to know life is being lived inside these walls again.”
From what Helen has told me, my grandma lived here for thirty years, and I’m fairly certain this small brick bungalow contains items she had when she moved in.
I’ve been slowly sorting through cupboards, closets, and dressers.
It’s strange to sift through a lifetime of belongings of a woman I never knew.
I won’t complain. I love this cute little house and am beyond grateful for the chance at a fresh start.
I kiss Frankie’s squishy cheek and hand her over. “They haven’t had breakfast yet, and I had to wash Frankie’s sheets. Could you put them in the dryer?”
“Sure thing, dear. I’ll see if I can make a dent in the basement during naptime.”
I lean down, blocking the TV screen, and hold Ollie’s face.
“Be good today, ok? I bet Miss Helen will read your new library books if you ask. They’re in your backpack on the hook.
” My five-year-old’s current obsession is birds.
He blinks his big blue eyes, then gives me a soft smile. I kiss his sweet face.
Helen follows me into the kitchen, and I carefully slip my foot into my heel, trying not to wince. It’ll be a long day for my swollen pinky toe.
“I removed the car seats. They’re in the garage if you need them.” I throw my bag across my body and grab my coffee. “Call me if you need anything. ”
“We’ll be just fine. Have a good day.” Helen gives a little wave, and Frankie’s little fingers squeeze in and out.
I smile and wave back as guilt socks me in the stomach. If only I could be here, make money momming, and maybe change the sucky world at the same time.
I pull the back door open, and Grover lunges at me. Before I can stop him, the big dog’s paw rakes down my leg.
He prances to his water bowl as I close the door with a fresh twelve-inch run in my tights. My last pair.
I close my eyes and breathe, shoring myself up for whatever is ahead because I have a feeling it’s gonna be one hell of a shitty day.
______
I climb into my BMW, switching on the seat heater to help ward off the chill of bare legs and lack of coat.
Despite setbacks, I’m still extra early. Two weeks into the job, it might be a tad lame, but I don’t care. I’ve worked since I was fifteen, when I’d had enough and decided to make something of myself regardless of whether anyone believed I could.
Fifteen-year-old me didn’t have a clue what it would take to become something, but I knew what it meant. It equaled independence, freedom, and never having to depend on anyone. It meant escaping a small world and becoming part of one where I could be seen for more than my circumstances.
My young plan evolved, and I succeeded until I foolishly let myself be led astray. Now, it’s up to me to regain all I lost.
I turn the corner, my car sounding like a garbage disposal as I accelerate. I’m pretty sure it’s the same odd noise I heard when I went to the grocery store on Saturday. I lower the radio and listen.
As I ease into the parking lot, I hear it again and accept that I’ll have to research mechanic shops to get it checked out. A broken washing machine is one thing. A broken car is entirely different .
I pull open the glass door that reads Macavoy, Dunn, & Chambers. The pristine waiting area resembles a living room with leather furniture and a fireplace. Two desks are tucked behind a short wall where Robyn and Marcie greet clients.
I head down the hall to my small office, knowing at least one of the partners seems to be here at all times. Their workdays begin before sunrise and run long into the night after a full day in court.
I log in to my computer and check my phone while it starts up.
ROXIE: Remind me to never drink again.
ROXIE: But you should be proud. I didn’t punch any assholes in the face this time.
ROXIE: I kneed him in the balls! *Smiley face emoji*
I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh out loud. Roxie has been my best friend since sixth grade. Just two girls from opposite sides of the tracks that run through our small town.
It all started when a girl shoved my lunch tray and said mutts weren’t allowed at her table. Roxie stood, announcing she was allergic to bitches, and moved to the other side of the cafeteria. She motioned for me to follow. We ate together every day after, except when she skipped.
I set my phone aside and flick open the lid on my travel mug.
Pop .
The released pressure shoots droplets of coffee all over my papers.
I exhale. Of course.
I mop them up with a Kleenex and peer down to be sure it didn’t spray all over my shirt, then open my email to twenty-four unread messages. I click on the most recent one.
Hi, Sarah. I won’t be in today. I did hot yoga and now I’m like so hot and have a headache. It could be from the wine I had last night, but I don’t know. Plus, I think my cat’s seasonal depression is already kicking in and needs some extra attention. Anyway, could you tell Cory? Pretty please.
Thanks!!!
Robyn
The law firm has three partners who share two assistants: Robyn and Marcie.
I was hired by Griffin Macavoy, the head partner and one of the leading family law attorneys, as a paralegal.
The other paralegal, Cory, has worked with Griffin for years.
From what I can tell, Cory is smart and knows it.
It’s yet to be determined, but it’s also possible he has a giant stick wedged up his ass.
On my first day, he ran through the computer systems and office protocol, then tossed a binder at me with instructions for each program, wishing me luck as if delivering a challenge.
My first legitimate assignment is asset valuation for a large case, a tedious process that requires significant time and extensive research. Cory has been monitoring my progress and workload as if he has authority.
I’ve helped Kat with a few small things, but the third partner, Seth Chambers, handles estate planning and wills. So far, we haven’t interacted outside of staff meetings.
I draft a brief email to Cory, informing him that Robyn may not be in, and proceed through my inbox.
“Sooo . . .” I jump at Kat’s sly voice.
The sole female partner steps in and plops into the chair, dressed in fuchsia high-waisted dress pants and a cute black top.
The late thirty-something crosses her legs, her long black hair falling in delicate waves.
Katrina Dunn is striking. She’s tall, poised, and has a badass edge that tells you she’ll back you into a corner.
“You scared me.” I twist in my chair to face her with my hand over my heart, waiting for it to return to normal pace.
She smiles apologetically. “Did you get everything unpacked?” She inspects her perfectly manicured nails .
This woman is all fun and sass, but research shows she morphs into a barracuda when you get her in a courtroom. I can tell the men in this firm don’t quite know how to handle her, and she loves every minute of it.
“It’s coming along. Most of it is put away.”
One of the best parts of this move is being out from underneath the frat boys and the constant scent of weed. Our six months in an apartment back home only made me more grateful for the house and this opportunity.
She pushes her lips to the side. “Now that the rosy glasses have been removed and you’re settling in, you’ll see how completely dull this city really is.”
“I have a feeling nothing is ever dull with you around.” I smile, resting back in my chair. “What about you? Do anything fun this weekend?”
She groans, her head falling back toward the ceiling. “I was preparing for the Ingram case. Reading through the notes, I contemplated shoving my head in a toilet and flushing it about a dozen times.”
Kat is also a divorce attorney. Behind Griffin, she’s making a name for herself as one of the best. Most of her clients are on the wealthier end of the spectrum, which she says rarely leads to an amicable separation.
“I had to read about Dr. Ingram’s porn addiction and picture all of the ways in which . . .” She doesn’t finish but shivers, her whole body reacting to the mental images.
“You should have called me. I would’ve helped.”
She peeks at me under her long, thick eyelashes. “I like you way too much ever to do that. Plus, you have sweet babies that need time with their mama.”
I glance at the picture of Ollie and Frankie. I miss slow mornings and all the snuggles. I halt the memories, remembering why I’m here.
“Morning, ladies.” Griffin stops in the doorway. He’s a tall, distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes. I’ve seen him in nothing but expensive suits and the occasional sweater on days he’s not expected in court.
“How are the Connor assets coming along?” He rests his shoulder against the doorjamb.
“I’ve been working on the investments, and then I’ll dig into the real estate. I can email you what I have so far.”