"Of course. Come in." Sandra gestured to the chair across from her desk, noting how Rupert closed the door behind him, indicating that what he wanted to discuss needed privacy. "What's up?"
Rupert settled into the chair but didn't seem to know where to look. "I got an interesting call yesterday. From Marcus Webb."
Sandra frowned, not recognizing the name. “Okay…should I know him?”
"He’s the attorney I played golf with. He came with Harrison Blackwood."
She nodded now, remembering.
“He represents Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes. Um… he was asking about you." Rupert's words came out in a rush. "Said he'd heard good things and wanted to check your background. Mentioned his firm is always looking for new blood, especially attorneys with your kind of reputation."
A chill ran down Sandra's spine. "My reputation for what?"
"Contract law, apparently. Said you had a solid track record with construction disputes." Rupert shifted uncomfortably. "The whole conversation felt... I don't know. Off, somehow."
Sandra set down her pen, her mind racing. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing specific. Just that you were a good attorney, dedicated to your clients. Basic professional courtesy stuff." Rupert leaned forward. "But Sandra, I've only just met him. We’ve played golf once. He's never contacted me about anything, so to suddenly be interested in you specifically seemed odd."
"What exactly did he say?"
"That's just it—he was vague. Asked about your experience, your client base, whether you seemed happy at Legal Aid." Rupert's expression grew more concerned. "Then he offered to set up a meeting. Said his firm could probably double your salary."
Sandra felt her stomach tighten. "I'm not interested in changing jobs. What about you? Did he make you an offer too?"
"No.” Rupert snorted and shook his head, then studied her face. "Why was he asking about you specifically? How would he even know your name? Your name didn’t come up at the golf game."
"I don't know." Sandra kept her voice carefully neutral. "Maybe someone mentioned me because I met Harry Blackwood recently. He works the Eastern Shore operations."
"When did you meet Harry?"
Sandra hesitated. She trusted Rupert but suddenly felt suspicious about everything. “I had some questions about their billing procedures for a client. Nothing major."
Rupert's eyebrows rose. "Must have been some conversation if it got back to the senior partners."
"Apparently." Sandra forced a smile. "You know how it is in small communities. Word travels fast."
But even as she said it, Sandra felt a creeping unease settle in her chest. Harry had been nervous, almost panicked during their meeting. Why would he tell his father's attorney about her unless he was worried about something?
"There's something else," Rupert said, his voice dropping lower. "Marcus asked if you'd been working on anything involving his clients.”
Sandra's blood ran cold. "He asked that directly?"
"Not directly, no. But he kept steering the conversation toward your current caseload, asking if you were handling any construction disputes that might involve his firm." Rupert leaned back in his chair. "Sandra, I've been doing this long enough to recognize a fishing expedition when I hear one."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I don't discuss other attorneys' cases. But he was persistent enough that I started getting uncomfortable." Rupert met her eyes. "Is there something I should know about? Because this whole thing felt less like recruitment and more like intelligence gathering."
"You know I've been helping some contractors review their agreements. Standard stuff, making sure they understand the terms." She kept her tone professional and matter-of-fact. "Maybe Blackwood's firm is just being proactive about potential disputes."
Rupert didn't look convinced. "Maybe. But Sandra, be careful. Marcus Webb isn't just any attorney—he's connected. Big firm, influential clients, plays golf with judges. If he's asking questions about you, there's a reason."
After Rupert left, Sandra sat staring at her desk, the contract amendments forgotten. The timing of Webb's call couldn't becoincidental. She'd met with Harry Blackwood two days ago, and now his firm's attorney was fishing for information about her.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Lia:Can you meet this afternoon? Found something interesting in those contracts.
Yes. 3 PM at your office?
