Page 8 of The Emma Special

Florence, the lady Emma interviewed with last week, was as sweet as pie, but Florence was leaving. After the first week, a measly five days, Emma would be on her own in the big office full of hot-shot attorneys.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” Katie said with a playful punch to Emma’s shoulder.

“I’m feeling more like a kitten right now, but I sure do appreciate the encouragement.”

Katie leaned over and wrapped Emma in a bear hug. “I love you, Em, but you really have to get out or I’ll be late.”

“I’m going. Okay. Love you. See you at five.”

Emma climbed out of the tank, brushed her hands down her borrowed skirt, and held up two thumbs for Katie through the window.

Nothin’ to it. Best friend behind her. New job before her. She hummed Maria’s “I Have Confidence” song as she pretended to be super brave.

The front office of Anderson and Associates was homier than the bare place she shared with Katie. Large paintings depicting ancient European buildings on rocky mountainsides were spread over dark wooden walls, a glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, and mottled tile floors ran from beneath the bar-style front desk. The strappy heels Emma had borrowed from Katie clicked against the floor.

Florence lifted her head and flashed a beaming smile. “Good morning. Thank goodness you’re punctual. Are you ready to get started?”

The warm welcome melted the tension in Emma’s shoulders like hot butter. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Florence unlocked a lower drawer of the built-in desk. “You can store your personal belongings here. Let’s start in the copy room this morning because we have loads of things to do in there.”

Emma placed her purse in the drawer and locked it away. Making copies sounded easy enough.

As it turned out, she needed a certificate and extensive training to use the behemoth of a machine. Twelve setting selections later, the massive copier was pumping out replicas, bundling, hole punching, then dumping them into a tray on the side.

Florence pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Next, we’re going to place them in these binders and label them for each party.”

Five black binders were laid out on the counter. “I kinda thought everything would be digital.”

Florence sighed. “The county courthouse doesn’t have the capability for digital exhibits. Everything must be in physical form.”

Once the massive amount of paper was printed, Florence and Emma returned to the front desk. They spent fifteen minutes going over the various options on the phone, then Florence made a few test calls so Emma could answer.

“You’re doing great,” Florence said as she hung up the phone. “I need to powder my nose, but when I get back, we’ll go over email and the office messenger system.”

“Okie dokie.” Emma clasped her hands in her lap and turned her swivel chair toward the computer. On the monitor, a screensaver with a bright flower swayed in the wind. Emma lowered her brows and whispered, “You’re not so scary.”

She turned to the phone. “You either.”

The old building was quiet except for a few voices of people on calls drifting down the hallway from other offices. She hadn’t crossed paths with a single person other than Florence all morning. Was it always going to be this… boring?

She picked up the phone receiver and lifted it to her ear. There was no dial tone unless she pressed the outgoing call button first. She punched in Allison’s number.

“Hello?” Her friend sounded wary.

“Hey, psst, it’s me. Just testing out my new phone.”

“Emma,” Allison laughed. “Get back to work.”

“Got it. ’Kay, love you. Bye.”

Emma spun her chair in a half circle and back again the other way. “Focus,” she commanded and pulled the contraption closer to memorize the buttons. She put the receiver to her ear again. “Transferring you now... Hold, please… Why, no, I’m not free tonight, I’m very busy with work. Very important work.”

Lifting her shoulders, she propped the phone between her ear and shoulder and reached across the desk for a pen. “Thank you for calling Anderson and Associates.” Emma adjusted the phone to the other ear. “This is Anderson and Associates. How may I direct your call? Hello.” She lowered her voice. “Hi, there. Thank you for⁠—”

The front door opened, and James Moore strode into the lobby wearing a suit and tie like he was born in it instead of naked like everyone else. With a briefcase in one hand, and the slow removal of his aviator sunglasses, he was the image of male perfection.

The sight of him was like a shot of pure adrenaline. What was he doing here? She was trying not to be nervous on her first day of work when she didn’t know anything, and in walked the vision from her dreams.