Forever Beach by Shelley Noble Page B

Don’t worry about the should haves.
    Sarah loosened her grip on the briefcase and concentrated on breathing evenly and trying to relax. It was important to be rational and calm, not let the situation get the best of her. Convince this woman to take her case . . . if it even came to that.
    It was another five minutes before Reesa hurried toward her, looking frazzled but determined, and huffing like she’d run a mile instead of across the street from the parking lot. She was wearing the same or similar suit that she’d been wearing on Friday morning.
    She stopped when she got to Sarah, held up a finger while she gulped for breath.
    â€œI need to get more exercise,” she said, when she finally got her breath back.
    Sarah thought she could use a vacation, but she didn’t say so. She needed Reesa. Later, she could take a vacation. Actually she could use a makeover and a shopping spree, though Sarah had never seen a fashionably dressed social worker. The work was too get down and get dirty—or worse. Still, Reesa deserved something nice. Maybe she and Karen could take Reesa to one of those one-day spa places—after this was over.
    â€œNow,” Reesa said, moving toward the double glass doors. “Just answer her questions in a calm voice. She doesn’t go much for desperate pleas or shows of emotion. She wants to know what kind of case you have and if she thinks you’re worth it. She may not decide today. I faxed over the particulars. Hopefully she’s had time to give them a good look.”
    Reesa pressed the elevator button. It opened immediately.“And don’t say anything extraneous once we get out of this elevator.”
    â€œOkay.”
    She gave Sarah a quick reassuring nod. Four floors later they stepped off into a large foyer with gray industrial carpeting, a curved reception desk, and several black-and-steel chairs for waiting clients.
    The receptionist knew Reesa and they stood chatting for a minute before she told Reesa to have a seat.
    â€œThis doesn’t really look like a humanitarian-minded office,” Sarah whispered as they sat side by side looking out a tinted window to monochromatic treetops.
    â€œIt’s distinguished. Projecting an image of strong, reliable legal advice. They have clout.”
    Sarah took a breath. “If you say so.”
    â€œMs. Cartwright will see you now,” the receptionist said, as if she hadn’t just been chatting with Reesa a few minutes before. She showed them into an office behind a door of wooden grillwork. Reesa gestured for Sarah to precede her, then stepped in after her. The door closed soundlessly behind them. It was a bit intimidating.
    The woman at the desk stood. “Reesa, good to see you.” She didn’t smile but shook hands.
    â€œIlona. This is Sarah Hargreave, the woman I told you about. I sent over her report.”
    It seemed to Sarah that time stopped, while she silently repeated, Fix the now, fix the now . Then slowly Ilona Cartwright turned to Sarah, and Sarah felt a jolt from the sheer energy of her personality.
    She was a tall, light-skinned African American. Impeccably and expensively dressed, she’d been half smiling, the kind ofsmile businesspeople give to each other, devoid of affection. It stayed on her face as she turned to Sarah.
    She didn’t blink as she took Sarah’s measure.
    Sarah had to force herself not to step back. She had no idea what the lawyer was seeing in her or even what she was thinking.
    The lawyer finally broke eye contact and rummaged through the folders on her desk. “I’ve been busy and didn’t really have time to look over these, if you’ll . . .” She gestured for them to sit down in the chairs opposite her.
    She opened the folder and read while Sarah held her breath.
    S ARAH H ARGREAVE . F OR a moment Ilona was afraid she’d lost her mind. There must be hundreds, possibly thousands of Sarah Hargreaves. Because