But Vivien isn’t the cliché jaded businesswoman who needs to find the meaning of Christmas.
I can’t like her. Not this much. It’s not possible. We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks. She’s my client. I can’t pursue anything that could be even remotely construed as unethical. I could be disbarred.
I am beyond fucked.
Saturday. The best day of the week to get work done.
Quinn is off, Vivien and Audrey are at the theater, everyone in town is busy gossiping about movie night, or getting ready for movie night, or shopping for movie night, which means they won’t be bothering me.
I’ve got a solid to-do list: finish work on updating Mr. Peterson’s will since his daughter is getting a divorce and he needs to “cut that cheating bastard out”; review a lease agreement for Jerry’s cousin; and come up with an idea to settle a land dispute over where exactly the boundary lies between Peggy and George’s property because he wants to build a fence.
I turn on my computer and spot a cheese Danish from Brewed Awakening sitting on my desk with a note.
* * *
Thought you might need some sustenance. Hope you have a good day. —V
* * *
My heart does a flip in my chest.
She’s been doing this lately. Leaving me little treats or snacks, muffins, sometimes dessert or fresh coffee. I take a bite of Danish.
It’s perfect.
My computer hasn’t even finished loading to the home screen when the front door opens, and Quinn’s unmistakable stomping fills the house.
I glance at the clock. It’s barely nine. I lean back in my chair, already bracing. “Aren’t you supposed to be off on Saturdays?”
She drops into the chair across from me, shrugging out of her coat. “I got Mrs. Donnelly to sit with my mom for a couple of hours.”
I straighten a little. Quinn doesn’t leave her mom on the weekends unless she has to. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I wanted your advice on something. I got an email from the facility. The one in Haven. They moved her up on the waitlist.”
“That’s good,” I say.
She nods once. “They want updated paperwork. Financial disclosures, medical forms, all that. And there’s an application for state assistance, but since it’s a government form, I want to make sure I don’t screw anything up and accidentally delay it another six months. I don’t know if I’m supposed to apply first or wait until they officially offer a spot, or if doing it now helps or hurts.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “The website looks like it’s from the last century.”
Before I can respond, the front door opens, and a few seconds later, Carter appears in the doorway. “Hey. Can I talk to you for a sec?” His gaze drops to Quinn. “Oh. Hey, Quinn.”
“Hey.”
He looks between us. “Am I interrupting something? Should I come back?”
“Yes,” I say.
“No,” Quinn says at the same time.
I sigh. “Just give us a minute.”
“Yeah, okay.” He lingers in the doorway anyway, clearly not going far.
I turn back to Quinn. “We’ll start with the financials. I’ll need?—”
The door opens again.
I close my eyes briefly.
