“No.”
“Well, that makes this easy. Please leave. Mr. Archibald is not available to people who just wander in off the street.”
“Can you just check, please? This is important.”
“Oh, well, since you asked nicely, let me just sacrifice my job by bothering the man who hired me to keep random people from interrupting his busy day.”
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, not relishing at all the levels I will have to stoop to to get this appointment. All while Eleanor’s judgmental stare burns a hole in my back. “Please, just tell him Tiffany Santos is here to see him and that it’s urgent. He’ll want to see me, I’m sure, considering we used to be engaged.”
She looks up from her computer screen and her hand reaches halfway to her desk phone. “You’re Tiffany?”
“I am.”
“Huh. I thought you’d be pretty,” she says. “Fine, I’ll page him. Take a seat over there.”
Eleanor and I are seated for maybe five seconds before a face that I never thought I’d see again appears in the open doorway.
He hasn’t changed a bit. Same scruffy beard, same stray gray hairs around the temples of his thick black hair, same razor smile, and eyes so sharp they’re like chiseled obsidian.
“Tiff,” he says, leaning casually against the door frame. “Been a long time. Why don’t you come in?”
“Hey David, thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice,” I say, rising from my seat and smoothing the wrinkles out of my outfit.
The secretary’s eyes bore holes into me as Eleanor and I cross the lobby and enter David’s office.
He’s done well for himself, I think as I look around the room. It’s a medium-sized office, but decorated with the kind of academic and professional accolades that I once envisioned for myself; prominent degrees, awards from professional associations, and there’s even a handwritten commendation from the mayor for service to the community.
Eleanor and I both take seats opposite David’s desk, and he takes a seat behind it. A couple seconds pass where he just sits there, fingertips pressed together in an arch, gazing at me with an unreadable expression on his face.
“I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here, Tiffany.”
“I’m surprised to be here too, David. But I need your help. Well, my friend Eleanor needs your help.”
“Is that really why you’re here?”
I nod, turn my attention from David — who is still intently staring at me — to Eleanor, who is watching the both of us with an inscrutable look on her face.
“There is a bank that is harassing her and threatening to take away her home, due to a loan that she took out. I’ve reviewed some of the loan paperwork — unfortunately, it seems to be incomplete and she was not provided with much of the information that, legally, they should have provided her — and it looks highly suspicious. Possibly even fraudulent.”
“Are you sure that’s the reason you came back to me, Tiffany?”
My back straightens. I grip the armrests of the chair and let out a slow, whistling breath. “I just told you why I’m here, David. Someone I know needs your legal help to make sure she isn’t being screwed over by the bank.”
“And this has nothing to do with how you left me in Stanford? Even though we were engaged to be married?”
At one time, I considered this man the next step in my life’s progression. Marry someone successful, someone smart, and get yourself a partner who’ll help push you to the next level. Now, I’m thinking that was such a fallacy of a philosophy to have. Because, as smart as he is, David Archibald never figured out how to listen.
“Nothing.”
“Because you left things so suddenly, I thought you might’ve come back to correct your mistake. One day, everything was great, we were engaged and on track to conquer the world together, and then, the next day, it was like you disappeared.”
There are furrows in the wooden armrests of his chair from where my nails are.
“That’s not how it happened, David. I told you I needed a little space, which I had to fight to get you to accept, and then, when I wanted to talk, you were only interested in giving ultimatums. But can we leave all that aside and be professional? I’m here with an actual person, with an actual problem, and she needs your help.”
He laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that makes me feel small. If I didn’t need his help, I would be out of here in a heartbeat; hell, I wouldn’t have even showed up. But he’s a brilliant lawyer and having him on our side would throw a huge monkey wrench in Southwest Regional’s plans to take Eleanor’s house.
“If that’s how you remember it. Fine, we’ll move on,” he says, turning to Eleanor. “Ma’am, can you tell me a little about yourself and your situation?”
Eleanor gives David a long look. Even being in the crossfire of her gaze, my skin goes icy to the touch. “Fine, young man. My name is Eleanor Dunne. Some time ago, I received a notice in the mail. It was from the city, I believe, and they said that I owed a lot of money on my house. Something about a changed land value or back taxes or something, I don’t remember, and, before you ask, I don’t have that form anymore. I threw it out.”
As Eleanor talks, David turns to her, leans forward in his chair, fingers stuck together in some
