“Correct,” Reno said tersely.
“You could do all of this in a single counterclaim. Six separate filings is six times the paper, six times the service, six certificates, six of everything. That’s a mountain of extra work, Reno. For them, sure. But for us, too.”
“The extra work is the point.”
“. . . Say again?”
“Tara Marchand’s lawyer knows this is a nuisance suit. His whole strategy—on behalf of his very wealthy client—is to bury a small business owner of modest means in paper and fees until she can’t afford to keep her doors open, and she goes out of business.”
Lincoln made a sound of reluctant agreement.
Reno’s voice went a full degree colder than she’d ever heard it before. “But two can play that game. Hence, six filings instead of one. I want him to know that the attorney on the other side of this intends to beat him at his own game and bury him in paper, filings, and legal hassle. I want him to call Tara and tell her this is going to cost her a great deal more than he quoted her originally and that she’s going to lose. And I want him to have a giant headache when he goes home tonight.”
Lincoln said, mild as milk, “And here I thought I was going to have a quiet Friday.”
“I’ll make it a lucrative one for you.”
Lincoln laughed — a real one, easy and unhurried. “All right. I’ll sign ’em and get all six filed before lunch. Send me your pro hac paperwork and I’ll walk it through with the rest.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Now. You asked if I know Tara Marchand.” Grace heard a squeak as if he’d leaned back in a chair. “I do. So does my wife. Haley and Tara are in a garden club together, which is how I know that the year Tara’s dahlias took second at the county fair, she threatened to sue the fair board over the judging.” A pause. “You go right ahead and bury Tara Marchand in all the paper you like. My wife will probably bake you a pie.”
Reno’s mouth did the thing at the corner. “Tell Haley to get in line. I already owe my client several pies.”
“. . . I won’t ask.”
“Best not.”
“I’ll call you when it’s filed.”
“Thanks, Lincoln.”
He tapped the phone off and slid it back into his pocket.
“Anything else I should know?” she said.
“She’s not going to win this. I want that to be the loudest thing in your head today.” He held her eyes a beat. “Are you all right?”
She opened her mouth to say, I’m fine, but instead, the truth came out. “I’m angry.”
“Good. Anger’s useful. Anger is fuel. It keeps you strong.” He picked the complaint up off the counter and tucked it under his arm. “Stay angry. Lincoln and I will handle the rest.”
“All right.”
“I’m going to go put my pro hac motion together and stay on top of Lincoln so it all goes in today. I’ll be back here by two-thirty.” At the door he stopped, one hand on the frame. “And Grace.”
“Mm?”
“This is going to be fun.” He broke into possibly the most shark-like grin she’d ever seen from a human.
The bell jingled behind him. She stood at the counter for a beat. It was good to have the biggest shark in the ocean on her side.
Then she went back to making cookies, because they weren’t going to bake themselves.
Tessa called at twelve-fifteen. “I just heard.”
“From who?”
