Preston glanced at George again, who looked away. “Mr. Anderson wants you to stay local until the trial. And frankly, I don’t think that it’s a bad idea to have someone here for the next couple of months. George and I can handle some of your bigger clients, and your assistant can help you with whatever work you don’t think you can handle.”
I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to let it gape open as I absorbed the information. Preston looked at me like this was the most normal request in the world. Like it wasn’t something I could—or should—want to refuse.
“My clients would be expecting me…” I began, but trailed off as Preston waved a dismissive hand.
“They will be well taken care of, I assure you.” He leaned toward me again, the scent of his expensive cologne hitting me and turning my stomach. “This is the biggest case our firm will see for at least a decade.” A muscle in his cheek ticced as annoyance spread over his features. “I would’ve thought you’d be grateful to become such an integral part of it.”
Silence gripped me in a vise. My lungs ached, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I could not spend the next two months in this town. Alone. He couldn’t take my other clients away from me.
This couldn’t be happening.
“I—I only packed for an overnight stay,” I said, embarrassed about how defeated I sounded.
“We can have your things shipped. Just let your assistant know what you need and we will take care of it. This case is our number one priority, Carpenter.”
I almost flinched at the use of my surname. Preston only ever called me by my first name when he wanted something that wasn’t related to work.
As the reality sunk in, helplessness threatened to choke me. I forced my shoulders back anyway. I saw it in the look on Preston’s face, in the way George was still avoiding looking directly at me. I was going to spend the next two months working in this place.
I inhaled deeply, knowing in my bones that I couldn’t refuse if I wanted to stay on track with my professional goals. This case had always been an uphill battle, but it was the most high-profile on the docket. Even if we didn’t win, all we had to do was look competent. We had to make people believe that we would fight tooth and nail for our clients and their right to a fair trial.
And if we somehow did win…there was no telling what that could do for the firm—for me.
“All right.” I nodded absently. “If Mr. Anderson requested me personally, I’d be honored to work as hard as I can for him.”
A look of approval flashed on Preston’s face. “We’ve already made arrangements with a local B&B.”
My nose wrinkled. “A bed-and-breakfast?”
Preston rolled his eyes, losing his patience. “It’s the only place available in town. The next hotel is almost a thirty-minute drive.”
“Of course it is,” I mumbled.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I nodded, unconvinced.
“This isn’t an ideal situation.” George finally cut into the conversation. “But it might do you good to get out of the city for a while.”
I liked George, for the most part, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. I tried to keep my face straight as I nodded again. “Perhaps.”
“You are a great lawyer, Quinn,” George continued, finally looking at me. “I’m sure you’ll excel at this challenge, too.”
This time, my nod and small smile were genuine. I clung to that truth. If this was where I was stuck until the trial, I would put everything I had into this case.
If there was any shot at winning, I would find it. I had made it too far and worked too hard clawing my way to where I was—nothing was going to stop me.
Preston grinned over the top of his mug, but it was too sharp to be mistaken as encouraging.
“Thank you for this opportunity,” I said, embracing that raw determination rising in my chest.
“Don’t thank us,” Preston said. “Thank our client. He’s the one who requested you.”
Ifrownedatthehousein front of me, my overnight bag digging into my shoulder. What was it with this town and old Victorian houses?
The bed-and-breakfast that would be my home for the next two months was beautiful, I supposed. It reminded me so muchof the library I’d spent the rest of the afternoon in after the lunch meeting, but instead of the turreted porch, it had a large tower on the west side, the roof peaked like a witch’s hat. It seemed better kept than the library, the paint of the wood trim bright and fresh with no chips or cracks.
The front porch wrapped around the opposite side from the tower, and a large porch swing swung in the wind.
