But her phone stayed silent.
And at 9:00 a.m. the next morning, she walked into Judge Fernandez’s chambers alongside Archer’s middle-aged client.
A few minutes later, after having reported on his progress in the last month, Matt Rasmussen walked out again.
But Nell stayed.
She reported everything that had occurred with the Lambert estate. She didn’t spare one word, not even her own culpability for failing to report everything the moment she’d discovered it at the beginning of the summer—a cause for censure in and of itself.
It took hours. It took Judge Fernandez calling in a court reporter to get everything on record, and conferencing in members of the Professional Responsibility Board to figure out exactly how to proceed with Nell’s complaints against Martin Pastore.
When Nell walked out again, she didn’t know if she’d ever practice law again, but she did know that even if she didn’t—even if Martin were able to wiggle out of this and succeeded in putting all the blame on Nell’s shoulders the way he’d planned—she’d done the right thing.
It wasn’t a cast-iron skillet upside his head.
But it was close enough, and her only regret about anything was that Ros might once again be hurt in the fallout.
She might have been drawn into Archer’s whole succession plan business, but that didn’t necessarily mean she agreed with it. Ros should have had the opportunity to know just how hard her mother had fought to keep her.
But Meredith’s secrets weren’t Nell’s to tell, either.
She could deal only with her own, and she was glad to have all of it off her chest once and for all.
Those particular chips would fall as they may.
The courthouse was near Ruby’s, and even though it was nearing closing time for the diner, Nell went inside and slipped onto one of the round stools at the empty counter and returned Tina’s wave. She was suddenly famished in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She was halfway through her meat loaf sandwich and hot fudge sundae chaser when Delia appeared. She had a Classic Charms shopping bag over her arm and she dumped it on the counter as she took the stool next to her. “Montrose told me you took the day off.”
Nell dabbed her cheek with her napkin and it came away with a smudge of sticky chocolate. “Was handling some court business. What’d you buy today?” Since Delia’s return to Vivian’s, Nell had gotten used to the younger woman’s penchant for shopping.
Delia reached in the bag and pulled out a navy blue sundress patterned with bright yellow polka dots. “I got it to wear to Meredith’s wellness event. Cute, huh?” She didn’t wait for Nell’s nod before dropping the dress back into the bag. “He’s afraid you’re looking for another job.”
“Who?”
“Montrose.”
Nell stared. “He hates me.”
“He hates everyone. But he is still afraid you’re planning to leave.”
“He told you that?”
“Oh, God no. But I can still tell.”
Nell smiled wryly. “How? The same way you can tell what dress size someone takes?”
“Hey, don’t knock my one skill.”
“You’ve got more than one skill,” Nell chided.
“Not according to some people.” Delia folded her arms atop the counter, not looking unduly concerned by that declaration. She pinched one of the French fries from Nell’s plate and gave her a sidelong look. “Heard from Archer lately?”
Nell’s nerves gave a reflexive little twitch. She wasn’t likely to forget that Delia had nearly caught Nell and Archer together. “This morning. Part of the court business.”
“The two of you go way back, don’t you?”
Nell hesitated. “Sort of. We’ve known each other a long time. More than twenty years when it comes right down to it. Why?”
“Was it always?” Delia waggled her hand in the air. “You know. Like that with him?”
Nell polished off the rest of her sandwich, eyeing Delia more closely. She swallowed and wiped her lips with the napkin again. “Like what?”
Delia huffed. She rolled her eyes. “Were you always hot for each other?”
Nell was glad she’d swallowed or she would have choked. “Not when I was fourteen,” she assured. “My mother had just died.”
Delia frowned, quick sympathy entering her eyes. “How awful.”
“It was. But I had my best friend. And a summer with your aunt Meredith. It helped.” She reached over the counter to grab a clean spoon, then nudged her partially finished sundae toward Delia. She handed her the spoon. “Want to tell me what’s really on your mind?”
Delia took the spoon and jabbed it into the melting ice cream. “Archer tell you I’m the screwup of the Templeton clan?”
“Of course not!”
Delia slowly sucked the ice cream off her spoon. “My brother’s an honest-to-goodness air force hero. My sister is a doctor. Only thing I can do is guess other women’s dress and shoe sizes.”
“You’ve been Vivian’s personal assistant for the last few years.”
“You know Vivvie well enough by now to know she doesn’t need a personal assistant. She figures out little tasks to keep me busy so I can earn a paycheck from her, which—despite the source—makes my dad happy. Which, in turn makes her feel better about the crappy childhood he had.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself.” Nell sucked on her own spoonful of ice cream. “So who’s the guy?”
Delia grimaced. She dropped her spoon on the counter with a little clatter. “Nick.”
“Nick?” Nell was a little slow. “You mean Nick Ventura? Isn’t he—”
“Younger than me?” Delia nodded. “Four years.”
“That’s not the end of the world. What’s four years?”
“He already has a master’s degree.” She propped her chin on her hand. “I’m a thirty-year-old with a high school degree.” She twirled a finger in the air. “Whoopee.”
“If you want more, go back to school.”
“I don’t want more,” Delia said. “That’s the problem. The idea of going back to school?” She shuddered dramatically.
“What about him? Does he know you’re interested in him?”
Delia’s lips twisted. “Unless he’s been living under a rock. Which he has not.” She suddenly twirled around on her stool, pressing her back to the counter
