Page 13 of The Emma Special

Emma crouched to pick up the strewn papers. “I swear, sometimes I think this place is better off without me.”

James knelt beside her and reached for a beige folder. “That’s not the case at all. If you hadn’t saved me from Mr. Ray, I’d still be in my office stuck in a conversation loop with no end.”

She peeked up at him before returning to her work. “Is it a conversation when one person is doing all the yelling?”

“True. Thanks for saving me. Hopefully he’ll patch things up on his own or build a solid case for himself. Unfortunately, he has the burden of proof.”

“You can’t fix everything on your own. I’ve only been here for a few days, and I see how hard you work. Attorneys get a bad rap, but you’re a good one.”

The sweet smell of coconut and sunshine he’d come to associate with Emma filled his senses as he leaned closer. “It’s because I have a magical assistant who swoops in and saves me from angry villagers.”

She tucked a file into the expandable shuck and slid it toward James. “I’m no Florence, but I’m trying my best.”

James added the handfuls of papers and folders he’d gathered. “You’re doing great.”

“What are you doing?”

James turned to find his father standing in the doorway. The man wore a scowl like a styled accessory, but only James knew he was a softie.

Still, he didn’t want Emma to be intimidated by his dad or any of the lawyers in the building who acted like they were born with silver spoons in their mouths.

James grabbed the file and stood. “One of the case files took a tumble, but it’s all cleaned up now.”

Her small hands grasped the file, and James let her take it. “I’ll just get to work on the letter you asked me to write.”

His dad stepped aside as Emma slipped out of the file room. Now that Emma was gone, he could face his father in business mode.

Why exactly did her mere presence default him to play mode? It was terrible for his work ethic. All of the discipline he’d honed in college and courtrooms disappeared like a morning fog when she was around.

His dad gave him a narrowed glare. “I see you’re getting along with the new girl.”

James tucked his hands into his pockets. “She’s a woman, and her name is Emma.”

With an up-tilted nod, his dad stepped out of the doorway. “Let’s work on the Peterson case. My office.” Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared down the hallway.

After retrieving a legal pad from his office, James headed toward another long afternoon. He glanced into the lobby as he passed. Emma was smiling as she chatted with someone on a call.

Emma was definitely a bright spot in a long series of monotonous days. He’d learned his lessons well and good in high school. He’d never catch her interest. She was a gravitational force that drew people to her, but she chose her inner circle sparingly. She’d have nothing to do with him outside of work. But he still felt the warmth of her sunshine from the sidelines.

Chapter 5

Emma Would Trade

The internet was the worst. According to Emma’s most recent findings, she most definitely had terminal cancer in her knee. It couldn’t be osteoarthritis because she didn’t seem old enough for that one. Then of course there was always gout. Gout. That illusive diagnosis from the middle ages that apparently had nothing to do with dysentery.

“Gout.” Emma spoke with a growling voice and clicked off her phone’s screen. Even the word itself was ridiculous.

Summer, who sat beside her on the couch at Brews and Books, looked up from her novel. “What was that?”

“Nothing. My knee has been yapping all day.”

“Oh! I brought you something to try.” Summer dug into her tote bag that took up a full cushion between them. Mary Poppins had nothing on what Summer could store in her bag. “Where is it— Ah-ha! Here.” She passed over an amber glass vial with a dropper lid. “Two drops of this twice a day until you use it up. Report back. This is from last year’s comfrey crop. I made it extra strength. One or two drops will be plenty for each dose.”

Emma held the small bottle to the lamp beside her and the dark liquid oozed inside. “Topical or with water?”

“Directly on the joint.”

“The last one burned my skin.”