“I’m afraid Judge Hogg’s not in.”
Pepper refused to break eye contact. “You spoke to him thirty seconds ago.”
The other woman didn’t blink. “And he says he’s not here.”
“But—”
“Have yourself a good day.”
Unless she wanted to kick in the door, there wasn’t anywhere else she could take this. Not right now. “Tell him he’ll be hearing from me. I’ll write to the governor’s office.” That’s right. Bust out the big guns. She might be a lowly law grad, but she was scrappy.
“He and Governor Merriweather are playing at a charity golf event together next week down at Sea Island Golf Club.” The assistant opened up a stick of Juicy Fruit and bent it into her mouth.
“I see.” Pepper’s shoulders slumped. She was outgunned.
“Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do.” The assistant snapped her gum, clicking the mouse poised on her “Keep Calm and Carry On” pad.
Pepper pressed her lips into a white slash. How could anyone keep calm when job offers evaporated into thin air, or overused phrases got slapped on everything under the sun?
“Bless your heart.” The assistant glanced over again, her disdain dripping from every feature. “You’re still here.”
“I’m going, going…gone.” Pepper tried slamming this door, too, but it was on a hydraulic hinge. No satisfying bang. Instead it closed slower than a Toto toilet seat.
So much for moxie.
She paused at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister, dizzier by the second. Shit. The Spanx cut off her circulation. She’d embrace any and all lumps and bumps to be free of this twenty-first-century corset.
The lobby was a blur, and her lungs clogged as she stumbled outside into the humidity. Drowning on air was an actual possibility. A row of ants marched down the sidewalk in regimental lines. They had somewhere to go. A job. Purpose.
Lucky jerks.
She chewed her lower lip, throat aching from all the curse words she stuffed down. The embarrassing-to-admit truth was that she’d harbored a secret fantasy where she’d turn up for this job and everyone would go “Hey, wow. This one’s special.” Exceptional even. They’d take one look and see all of her promise and the kind of legal pluck reserved for a John Grisham novel.
“On your left. Whoa there. Moving by, moving by, like it or not.”
Pepper swung around in time to see a tornado of tails, fur, and tongues. The woman in the middle of the chaos wore a Ruff Love Pet Walkers T-shirt and hurried past, her outstretched arms grappling four straining leashes.
Pepper’s blood pressure skyrocketed at the horrific sight. Okay, there were worse fates. She rubbed her temples in a calming circle. She needed to take a moment, have a good long shower cry, and form a new plan. She’d start by drafting a list. Yes, a list—very official thing, a list. Full of options.
She crossed the street and paused, bracing her hands on her knees, sucking in the thick hot air in great, greedy gulps.
Don’t vomit. Don’t vomit.
“You know this is what she wanted.” A deep voice boomed from behind the hedgerow framing the town green, not a shout per se, but hardly civil.
She heard another man snort. The thick branches blocked any view. “It would have broken her sweet heart seeing you abandon the family practice. Tradition meant everything to her.”
“The situation is not that cut and dried and you know it.”
“You presume to knowmywife’s mind?”
“She wasmymother.” The hedgerow shook, like someone kicked it.
Pepper backed away slowly. That argument sounded like not her problem. She had enough to worry about without—
Zzzzzt.
Her head snapped up. Thunderheads blotted out the sun. The air smelled like rain.
