He hauled his ass out of bed and stood in the shower for longer than was absolutely necessary, letting the warm water sluice over his body while he told himself not to be such a wuss over a woman. There were plenty of fish in the sea, and the one next door wasn’t interested in a purely physical relationship with him.
Courtney Wallace had a romantic streak a mile wide. She was a wedding planner, and hadn’t she told him last fall, in a moment of weakness, that she’d been waiting for Mr. Right all her life?
Of course she had.
She had also come knocking at his door last night looking for something else, but she’d left and taken a cat with her. It was time to move on. He loved women, and he would love to have sex with Courtney again, but he was honest about himself. He was no good for Courtney. It would be better not to repeat what had happened last night.
So he shaved and dressed in one of his gray suits and put on his conservative blue-and-white striped tie and headed off to the office. It was another humid June day, and even though the walk was short, he was sweating by the time he entered his cubbyhole and found a new stack of folders sitting on his chair.
These papers had nothing to do with any of the pro bono cases he’d been working on as LL&K’s contribution to the Blue Ridge Legal Aid Society. They appeared to be background information pertaining to several of David’s clients who were scheduled to meet with him later in the day. The cases involved one custody dispute, two divorces, and a client who needed a living trust. Sticky notes had been attached to each file, in David’s handwriting, noting the time of each meeting.
When he opened his e-mail, he found a message from David indicating that henceforward he would be relying on Matt to track progress on client work and to manage his client meeting schedule.
On some level, Matt knew this was typical first-year associate work, but he felt as if he’d been demoted, which was odd because these cases involved real, billable hours, in marked contrast to the work he’d done for the Legal Aid Society in general and the Dogwood Estates Tenants Association in particular. He ought to view this as a vote of confidence, that his partners trusted him to do something with real, paying clients. But he just couldn’t see it that way.
Matt couldn’t help but wonder if Dad had pulled him off the pro bono work because he’d gotten too deeply involved with the clients—a mistake Arwen had warned him about. And yet, as he parsed through the conversation on Sunday, Dad had seemed most upset by Arwen’s memo and Matt’s wild idea of suing the government.
An idea that August Kopp had not ridiculed.
Matt was trying to figure out if Mr. Kopp had been trying to encourage him when Arwen herself strolled into his office looking as if she hadn’t slept in days. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Why?” Her response seemed tense, just like her shoulders.
“Nothing.” Matt knew better than to tell a woman that she looked as if she’d rolled right out of bed. Arwen usually showed up every morning bright-eyed and buttoned-down. Today her hair looked slept on, and her eyes looked bloodshot. Maybe she’d tied one on at the Jaybird last night.
She dropped into his side chair and leaned forward. “Have you heard the news?”
“What news?” He braced for something bad.
“GB Ventures has sent eviction notices to everyone living at Dogwood Estates. Leslie left a message on my cell Sunday afternoon. She’s pretty upset.”
“I’m sure she is. But we saw this coming, and I was told pretty explicitly that we needed to cut our losses on this,” Matt said on a long sigh as he leaned back in his squeaky chair.
Arwen gave him the Frown of Disapproval. “I thought you cared about those people.”
“I do. But the senior partner of this law firm, also known as my father, has made it clear that we’re all better off without Dogwood Estates because it’s an eyesore.”
A big hollow place opened in his chest. He wanted his father’s respect, but he didn’t respect his father. Not on this issue. Dad had shown no compassion for the people who were losing their homes.
Arwen’s frown disappeared, replaced by another look he couldn’t quite decipher. She leaned back in the chair and folded her arms. “I know it’s not wise for me to say this, but in my opinion, you should ignore your dad.”
“Is that why you showed your memo to David?”
She nodded. “I was worried that you might sit on it…because of your Dad.”
“You know, if Dad knew how you felt, he’d probably fire you.”
She nodded. “Probably. But here’s the thing. Something unethical is going on. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I can too. But what can we do? We aren’t crusaders. And the unethical appearance of insider trading has nothing to do with Dogwood Estates. So we don’t actually have a client. And, you know, Dad is right about that. If we want to pursue this, we need to actually represent someone.”
“Maybe that’s what we should do.”
“What, go looking for a client so we can expose corruption in the county government? Somehow I don’t think Dad would be happy with me for doing something like that.”
Arwen’s frown returned. “Okay.”
She got up, and the hole in Matt’s chest grew so large it felt as if it might swallow him whole. “Wait,” he said.
Arwen stopped and turned. “You’ve changed your mind?”
He gestured toward the files on his desk. “Look, my chain has been yanked. David has me working on a bunch of divorces. And based on the e-mail he sent me this morning, I’ve been promoted. I’m now in charge of his schedule, which makes me a glorified appointment secretary. How on earth can I possibly find this mythological
