“I never pursued it after my parents made me quit.” She bit her lower lip as she thought.
“Why not?” She’d gone to law school and she’d moved across the country to start a new firm. All of those facts told me she was hard-working and persistent. Those were great characteristics for someone learning Hapkido.
“I was busy studying and then working. I’m also involved in a speech therapy nonprofit in New Orleans that took my free time.” Her face lit up when she talked about it and I wanted to know more.
I wanted to tell her about my involvement with renovating homes to make them handicapped accessible. It was then I realized I still gripped her hand. I’d inadvertently pulled her closer to me. With a start, I dropped her hand and stepped back.
Hadley’s face smoothed out. “Thanks for the offer. I might check a class out.”
I nodded at her before leaving—unable to speak. I was shaken up that I’d touched her for longer than was necessary. What was I thinking?
I stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sun warmed my neck. Meeting with Hadley had stirred up things I hadn’t thought or felt in such a long time. I wanted to be alone in the privacy of my office. I stepped inside the studio, locking the door behind me. I sat in my chair and dropped my head into my hands. I hadn’t wanted to reach out to anyone in years.
When my wife was sick, I couldn’t stop holding her hand. I was scared that if I let go she’d be gone. Caroline and I had been married for only two years. We’d just started to discuss the possibility of trying for a baby when she experienced frequent headaches and dizziness. We’d gone to numerous appointments with the doctors initially saying she was too young for anything serious. We insisted on testing. She was eventually diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. After the surgeries and seizures, the doctors said they couldn’t do any more for her. She’d accepted her fate quicker than I had. She’d succumbed to the cancer which had ravished her body making her weak and a shell of the woman I’d married. The end was too quick yet at the same time, painfully slow.
When I’d discovered Caroline took her last breath—I vowed never again. I wouldn’t put myself out there because it only ended in heartbreak. Nothing lasted forever.
In the time after Caroline’s death, I couldn’t make any decisions. In the beginning, I couldn’t decide what to eat, so I didn’t. I couldn’t decide whether to work, so I didn’t return calls from potential clients. Her parents took over and made all the arrangements for the funeral. They handled the estate, the financial matters, life insurance, everything. They’d even bought our house so I could move away from the memories. They were strong when I wasn’t. I’d been weak and consumed with grief. I pushed everyone who meant anything to me away.
I’d gradually improved over time. I’d slowly emerged from the haze of grief to do side jobs in construction. It was easier to handle grief if I was the boss. If I needed a day off, I took it.
Lately, I craved more, a goal or a purpose beyond work or my charity. My heart lifted when I saw Hadley. She intrigued me. Maybe it was time to finally move on.
Chapter Four
Hadley
I watched Cade walk into his studio. He had this aura of sadness surrounding him that was palpable. There wasn’t a hint as to why the entire time I met with him. Personal history wasn’t necessary for his consult, but for the first time, I wanted to know why a client was sad.
I couldn’t take my eyes away from him when I saw him talking to Avery. His wavy blond hair, worn, dusty jeans, muddy work boots, and navy T-shirt stretched taut over his biceps and pecs, with the words Morrison Construction over his heart, sent my heart racing. Cade was a man who worked with his hands and muscles all day long. Instead of it being a turn-off, it was sexy. Maybe there was a reason the men in my life in New Orleans didn’t hold any appeal for me—they were too polished and too perfect.
When he left, I noticed his work truck parked at the curb, blue with white lettering that read Morrison Construction. There was no mention of a partner. The name didn’t indicate brother or sons, like so many other construction companies. Just Morrison Construction.
Was he alone? Did he not have family? Was that the reason for his sadness? The real question was, why did it matter? He was a potential client. My first client. Whatever his history was, it wasn’t mine. My problems were that of a poor rich girl. Rich in material things all of her life but poor in what mattered—real and true friends, a loving family, care and support from family members versus nannies and teachers.
Even if he looked at me with any interest, which he hadn’t, I didn’t have time for a relationship. I wanted to get the firm off the ground and expand my nonprofit.
“How did it go? Do we have our first real case?” Avery asked from her office as I passed by.
The small cases we’d gotten from the public defender’s office helped us learn the players in the court system, the attorneys and the judges, but we needed more substantial cases to pay the lease. “He’s not sure yet.”
I shouldn’t have told him we didn’t have any clients.
“Of course. I hope we haven’t made a mistake. There are so many established law firms in town that no one would give us a chance.”
Excitement shot through me. “Maybe that’s our answer. We need to seek out new and upcoming businesses versus
