“Hey, kid.” Harper didn’t turn around, just gestured vaguely toward the counter. “Lettuce is there. Spinner’s in the counter.”
“Good to see you, too, Mom.”
“I’ll be delighted to see you once the salad’s done.” But Harper was smiling; Miller could hear it in her voice.
She found the spinner, filled the sink, and started washing romaine lettuce while Nadia uncorked the wine and poured three generous glasses. This was the rhythm of Sunday dinner: Harper cooking, Nadia supervising, Miller helping where directed. They’d been doing this since she was old enough to hold a knife safely, and the routine felt like a warm blanket she could wrap around herself.
“So,” Nadia said, handing her a glass and leaning against the counter, “tell us about this case that’s been eating all your time.”
“The Shepry divorce.” Miller shook water off a handful of lettuce. “I mentioned it last week.”
“The billionaire one?” Harper turned from the stove, wooden spatula in hand. “The one that’s been all over the news? The CEO with the”—she made a vague gesture—”cold reputation.”
“Ice queen,” Nadia supplied. “That’s what the press calls her.”
“That’s the one. We’re representing her ex-wife, Valerie.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “And? How’s it going?”
Miller considered the question while she loaded lettuce into the spinner. The mediation had been five days ago, and she’d spent every one of them buried in discovery prep. “Mediation failed, so we’re heading to litigation. It’ll be a long fight. Their positions are too far apart for a settlement.”
“Sounds expensive.” Harper turned back to the stove, stirring something that sizzled.
“For people like the Sheprys, it’s a rounding error.” Miller cranked the spinner, watching the lettuce whirl. “The real cost is time. This could drag on for months.”
“And how's your client holding up?" Nadia's voice was gentle, the social worker in her always attuned to the human element.
“Valerie’s…determined. She’s been through a lot. Fifteen years of marriage, and by the end—” Miller paused, choosing her words. “Let’s just say I believe her when she says it wasn’t healthy.”
Nadia made a soft sound of understanding, and Harper just nodded.
“What about the other side?” Harper asked. “This ice queen. What’s she like in person?”
Miller’s hand slowed on the spinner. “She’s…not what I expected.”
Nadia tilted her head. “How so?”
“The press makes her sound like this calculating monster, but in person she’s just…controlled. Very controlled. Every word is measured and every expression managed. It’s impressive, actually.”
“You sound impressed,” Nadia observed.
“Professionally, yes. She’s a serious opponent.” Miller transferred the lettuce to a bowl, grateful for the task. “Gerald Bracks is her attorney. He’s been doing this for forty years, but you can tell she’s the one running the show and nothing happens without her approval first.”
“Is she intimidating?” Harper asked.
Miller considered. “Not exactly, more commanding. She knows exactly what she’s doing at all times. During the mediation, she didn’t miss a single detail, and she caught a timeline discrepancy.” She paused. “I challenged her on it, actually, and spoke up during the negotiation.”
“Good for you.” Harper’s approval was evident. “Is Rachel letting you take point?”
“She trusted me to contribute. And Astoria—Ms. Shepry—didn’t back down, but she didn’t dismiss me either. She responded to me directly, like I was worth listening to, not just the second chair.”
There was a brief silence, and Miller looked up to find her mothers exchanging one of their looks, the silent language they shared after thirty years together.
“What?” Miller asked.
“Nothing.” Nadia smiled. “Dinner’s almost ready. Want to help me set the table?”
The dining room table was the same one Miller had done homework on, eaten birthday dinners at, and had countless Sunday meals around. She knew every scratch and water ring. Tonight, Nadia had put out the good napkins, the ones with the embroidered edges that only came out for holidays and important dinners.
