Page 53 of The Emma Special

“Has anyone talked to you this morning?”

“Mr. Anderson placed another coffee order. It’s been eerily quiet. Kind of nice, actually.”

He ran a hand up the side of his neck and around his face. “Usually I have days, weeks, maybe even months.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t have a script. I requested to be the one to tell you, but I don’t know how to do this, and I hate it.” He dropped his forehead back in his hands. Shoulders lifting with a deep inhale, he seemed to be fortifying himself. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She smiled encouragingly. “You got this. Spit it out.”

“Anderson and Associates is letting you go.”

“Go where?”

“They’re firing you. That’s what the call was about last night. Somehow, you sent the entire file for the Hamilton case to the defense counsel. It’s over. They blew a dozen holes in what was supposed to be a million-dollar case.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Florence is returning this afternoon to fill in and train another assistant. They want you to clean your desk and be ready to leave before lunch.”

He kept speaking, but her ears stopped listening. A low foghorn blew through her senses and grew louder until all she understood was an overwhelming mental noise that crowded out every thought and feeling.

She stood, unsure of what was happening, then she was moving. Stepping one foot in front of the other as she floated down the hallway. Miss Joy said something as she passed her office.

Emma kept going. She walked around her desk. Unlocked the bottom drawer and found her phone.

With shaking fingers she tapped Katie’s name on her recent call log.

“Good timing!” Katie answered on the fourth ring. “I just sat down before the lunch rush. What’s up?”

“Can you come get me, please?”

“Oh! Um, yes. Yes, I’ll be right there. Let me talk to⁠—”

“I’m so sorry. Normally I would walk, I–” Emma’s voice broke, and she blew out a breath. “I don’t think I can walk anywhere with my stupid leg today. I’m really sorry⁠—”

“Girl, stop. I’m coming. I’m glad you called me. You at the office?”

“Yeah.”

“Be right there. Hang tight.”

Not much belonged to her—a few bobby-pins in the top drawer, her favorite pen, and a cute pink mug. She put the mug into her purse then took it out again. Did she want to take it? James had given it to her a couple weeks ago. It appeared on her desk with a lollipop inside and the note: “Keep your chin up. You’re doing great. -J.M.”

The mug itself was simple, but it had the right kind of weight to it that made everything taste better. There was no handle, but the sides curved into her palms as every good mug should do—then of course there was a small golden “E” on one side. She traced the letter with the tip of her finger.

She’d keep her chin up all right. Right as she walked out the door and didn’t look back. With a firm clunk she set the mug back on the desk.

The phone rang. She had the receiver to her ear before the first ring finished. “Anderson and Associates, how may I direct your call?”

“Good morning, Emma. This is Sharon Moore. How are you?”

Oh no. No, no, no. She couldn’t handle the sweet voice of James’s angelic mother right now. Not when her own heart was breaking into a million little confetti pieces. “Just dandy, ma’am. How are you?”

“Fair to middlin’. Did that storm disturb you last night? At one point I thought that thunder would tear the very roof off over my head.”

Emma searched her mind for any memories of a storm, but nothing surfaced. She’d been too busy drowning in her own pity party. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“You must’ve been sleeping like the dead. Any damage at your place?”

Emma shook her head, then belatedly spoke. “Not that I noticed.”