Page 5 of The Emma Special

“Hi, Dad, how are you?”

“We’re waiting in the boardroom.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

His dad let out a huff that blew static in James’s ears. “You think you’re so clever.”

“Your phone call to tell me I’m late won’t make me arrive any sooner. You’re the one who insisted we have these medical records before the deposition.” The detour to Third Street certainly hadn’t helped. James glanced at the evidence of Emma’s presence sprinkled over everything. “Offer everyone water or coffee.”

“Florence is already gone for the day,” his dad said.

“You can’t even make coffee without her? Geez, Dad. What are you going to do when she retires?”

“Her replacement starts training on Monday.”

Attorneys fell into two classes—the ones who didn’t know how to do anything except eat, sleep, and think law, and the ones who practiced law while still living a functioning life.

Jim Moore, Sr. was the former. James was the latter.

James turned onto Fifth and stopped to let Mrs. Hemsworth cross the street. She gave him a quick wave and shuffled to the sidewalk.

“Here’s what you do. Ask everyone if they would like water or coffee. Smile. Then, go to the break room, and I’ll walk you through the enigma of coffee brewing.”

His dad grumbled, and James waited while he offered a room full of attorneys beverages. Seconds later, his dad was back on the phone.

“Okay. Now what?”

James patiently talked his dad through turning on the coffee maker and getting things going.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” James ended the call and prayed the defense counsel would remain patient until he arrived.

The phone rang again, and Daniel Holiday’s name lit up on the dash screen.

James answered with a button on the steering wheel. “You have four minutes, Holiday.”

“Busy doing big-shot lawyer-y things?” Daniel asked.

“I was supposed to be at a deposition ten minutes ago.”

“Hmm. It’s not like you to be late. Is the sky falling?”

James swiped a sweaty hand on his slacks. He didn’t dislike being late. He loathed it. Punctuality had been drilled into his brain from a young age, and it was tough to justify tardiness, even when there was an unavoidable reason. “Dad decided at the last minute that we needed medical records before a depo.”

“Ah, the bane of your existence—your father’s procrastination.”

“Heed my advice. Don’t ever work with family.”

As often as James and his dad butted heads, he couldn’t say it was all bad. He’d learned the ropes from his old man well before law school. After spending his teen years in an involuntary apprenticeship, getting the degree and passing the Bar was a breeze.

Well, as much as the Bar could ever be a breeze.

Daniel chuckled as the whir of a power saw started in the background. “Noted. I’m up to my neck in caulk and sawdust. I don’t think anyone in my family will be dying to work with me.”

“Consider yourself lucky. You have two minutes. Make your point before our time is up.

“You. Me. The Honky Fish.”

Of course. Daniel was predictable if nothing else. “When?”