If there was one thing Sadie hated more than a divorce, it was a wedding.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the total truth.
She loved to look at a radiant bride and hope like heck she’d stay radiant forever. Hope that the wedding would lead to a lifetime of happiness.
But from a whole load of experience, she just knew that didn’t happen for everyone—like the client currently on the phone.
“What we need is to get an inventory of the assets,” Sadie said into the receiver of her cell phone. Yes, it was a Saturday. Yes, she was on her way to a wedding. Yes, she was working. Sue her. Seriously, she could take it and probably end up with a decent settlement for herself. She was just that good.
The grin playing across her mouth illustrated her confidence when it came to all things legal.
“Can you bring that when we meet next week? Be sure to include all the important details,” she continued on.
“Assets?” her client Tonya Marshall asked.
“The fish.” Always aware of her surroundings, Sadie looked both ways before crossing the sleepy street in front of the church. She gave her extremely pregnant best friend, Marlee, a gesture to follow once she had the all clear of no traffic, pausing to grip Marlee’s arm and help her step off the curb.
Marlee’s center of gravity was seriously wrecked.
She was like two weeks overdue with her son—Sadie’s nephew—so that explained that. Marlee was Sadie’s best friend. She was also married to Eli.
“They’re not assets,” Tonya said into Sadie’s ear, her voice breaking. “They’re practically my children.”
Shit.
Sadie looped her arm with Marlee’s as they reached the other side of the street.
According to the law, the fish were assets. According to her client? Nope.
“Of course not,” Sadie said, giving her bestie an eyebrow raise she hoped would transmit her promise to be done with the call soon. She infused her tone with sympathy for Tonya. “That’s only the legal term. It's what we'll use when we talk to the courts. You and I”—she emphasized theI—“both know they’re so much more than that.”
Assets. Nearly a million dollars in marine life. The children Tonya and Rex never had. Uh-huh, the fish were all of those things.
She quickly finished the call with Tonya as they approached the solid wooden door of the Presbyterian church.
“Everything okay?” Marlee asked.
“Totally.” Sadie opened the chapel door.
“Are you going to start talking about how jellyfish aren’t really fish again?” Marlee asked. “Because I still don’t buy into that. Even if Google says you’re correct.”
Fine, so maybe Sadie had gone a little overboard in research to understand Tonya’s case. Some of the things she’d learned were actually interesting. Way more interesting than the time she’d represented a pornography producer and had to learn all about the ins and outs of that industry for his divorce. Sadie had always thought she was up with the times. That was before she’d learned food porn was really a thing. She’s never been able to look at a lettuce wrap quite the same way.
“Are you freaking out about the case again?” Marlee asked.
Sadie would’ve liked to say no, but honesty prevailed. She nodded.
Marlee touched the sleeve of Sadie’s dress. “You know the whole first case thing is bull.”
Logic said Marlee was correct, but the dip that happened in Sadie’s gut said she still bought into the philosophy of her first managing partner. He believed the first case given to a new hire would determine their future.
One case became the final determination of whether the person would keep their job at the firm.
For years, Sadie watched her cutthroat industry spit out those who lost in favor of those who didn’t. The strongest prevailed. So the weight she put on Tonya’s case as her first in Denver was more than any other in her career.
She refused to lose. She learned quickly—a guppy in a school of piranhas trying to make her mark on the ocean that was Denver, Colorado. Her guppy status would quickly turn to shark status. She’d see to it.
Marlee squeezed Sadie’s arm, her lips pinching as she stood utterly still. Sadie was on baby-watch while Eli was in the wedding party. She waited with Marlee—this was the third contraction since they’d started driving over to the church.
