“Mom, I think you should know that I’m having second thoughts about the whole law thing.”
“What do you mean, Juliette?” she asks as she counts the number of wine glasses and champagne flutes that are clean. “Who has second thoughts about being a lawyer when they’re finished the hard part?”
“I’m thinking that law school and passing the bar were difficult for me, because it’s not really what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s what we do.”
“You don’t do it.”
She stops rinsing out flutes and looks up at me.
“Your grandfather didn’t believe in handouts as he put it. He wouldn’t give your father a dime to pay for his education. So I worked as a secretary to put your dad through law school, so that I’d have the luxury of staying at home and raising my family when the time came,” she states defensively.
“I know the story, mom. I’m just saying that you weren’t a lawyer and you’re just fine. You’re happy and fulfilled.”
“You don’t think you could have figured that out six years ago? What about all of your schooling? All of the money we paid? Are you just going to throw it all away?”
She’s right.
It would be crazy to start all over again.
“Maybe Chandler can give you some advice on getting back on track or finding a type of law that you’d like to practice. You don’t have to work in the courts like your brothers or your father. Maybe you just have to find your niche.”
My father peeps his head in the door.
“Chandler’s here.”
Right on cue.
“Go out there with an open mind, Juliette. He’s a nice boy.”
Chandler is a nice guy. Handsome, smart and friendly. Definitely a well raised man. If he has one flaw it seems to be that he’s a little intimidated by my family, specifically my oldest brothers, but that’s ok. I’m not trying to marry the guy. I just need a little help passing the bar. I could at least try to pass the thing, before I make any final decisions about my law career.
Then the ground shifts.
I’m talking to him about my law school escapades and forcing myself to laugh at one of his corny “law jokes” when I see the last person on earth I’d expect to ever see again walk through my front door.
It’s him.
It’s Joseph.
He’s dressed in a suit that fits him like a glove, and he walks through the threshold of my house side by side with a man that I’ve seen before. Both of them strutting in like they own the place.
“Your honor,” the man says to my father.
“Jack.”
Oh, now I know who he is. He’s the infamous Jack Mills. I’ve heard my brothers mention him and his practice before.
“This is the guy I was telling you about, Mr. Hill. This is Joseph.”
“Nice to meet you, Joe. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”
“Likewise.”
Wow, he looks incredible. While he is pretty much the same height as he was years ago (tall as hell), his body has filled out in almost every single place you can think of.
His biceps, shoulders, and thighs are all larger and more defined than I remember. His hair is neatly coiffed but his eyes…they are still dark and dangerous and fixated directly on me.
