Sondra was alone, with enough time to adjust her coral-colored lipstick in its mirrored surface.
War paint, she chuckled to herself, clicking the lid shut and popping it into a dedicated pocket of her new designer bag. She needed lots of it these days. Her boss hadn’t been herself since her husband had died tragically, smothered by snow, killed by a madman. Sondra had had to pick up the slack in all departments, including creating a cheerful, professional mood every single day.
The doors parted to reveal one of the slickest offices in South Lake Tahoe, the envy of all the other lawyers in town.
[ I
nsert action. Sondra does something—saves Riley. Runaway horse? Then: kick from Sondra that makes Riley Fox get skeptical, like she should be. Then back to the real story of a deceptive client.
]
S
ondra’s door flew open. Her boss stood outside, wet with snow, the outfit that appeared so immaculate that morning now bedraggled and muddy around the cuffs.
“You okay?” Sondra asked.
Her boss sighed and pushed wet hair off her forehead. “Dandy.”
“You know what you have to do now, don’t you?”
“Sure wish I did.”
“Sit.” Sondra directed Riley Fox to one of the plush waiting-room chairs. “Listen. I can help with this. I’ve studied the paperwork and news reports. A good thing is, you trust people. You defend people who
look guilty to everyone else. But this is different. This is your life on the line. Now you should examine that instinct to trust, okay? Time to look on the dark side. He’s bad, Ms. Fox. You need to take him out.”
Her boss tossed her a rare smile. “I’m so lucky to have you on my side,” she said, leaning forward to listen.
[Add that her boss has a hot love life and has to decide between two very different men. Sondra nudges her the right way.].
S
ondra had totally accidentally overheard a few strained conversations taking place in Ms. Fox’s office. “Busy day ahead,” she said, keeping the mood light but professional.
Riley slipped gracefully out of her light jacket and hung it in a spacious double closet flanking the entryway. She stood for a little longer than usual, looking unusually troubled. “I need time this afternoon. An hour.”
Sondra reviewed all the appointments she had booked and how hard she had worked, organizing them, and nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Take an hour and a half, two o’clock on.”
Her boss’s eyelids looked huge as they drooped over unhappy eyes. “Thanks.”
Sondra watched the door close on her office. She would cancel urgent cases, but that’s what she did, watched her boss’s back.
Another relationship bites the dust, she thought. She flipped through the contacts list on her computer, writing down the relevant three, picking up the phone, thinking about what she needed to say to cancel ’em and leave ’em happy regardless.
Another hour and a half wasn’t going to solve their problems, she thought, punching in the first number, but Sondra had never mistaken this guy for the right guy anyway. Her boss would get over it and figure out what was what eventually.
“Hello,” she said into the phone. She explained about the double-booking of clients, all her fault, such busy times, her boss so hugely successful and all. While the client squawked and she took it, she straightened files on her desk and pondered the future. Things in the present appeared so blighted.
Five minutes later, after being subjected to some painfully accurate verbal abuse, she could finally hang up the phone and allow herself a silent parting thought:
Things would end happily.
Somehow.
A n hour after lunch, Sandy glided into Nina’s office. “Mr. Brink-man is here.” She often gave nonverbal cues about new people coming through the door. This time she betrayed nothing, not even the cock of an eyebrow.
Perplexed, Nina came around her desk and went into the front office.
The man standing there turned around. She had to keep herself from
War paint, she chuckled to herself, clicking the lid shut and popping it into a dedicated pocket of her new designer bag. She needed lots of it these days. Her boss hadn’t been herself since her husband had died tragically, smothered by snow, killed by a madman. Sondra had had to pick up the slack in all departments, including creating a cheerful, professional mood every single day.
The doors parted to reveal one of the slickest offices in South Lake Tahoe, the envy of all the other lawyers in town.
[ I
nsert action. Sondra does something—saves Riley. Runaway horse? Then: kick from Sondra that makes Riley Fox get skeptical, like she should be. Then back to the real story of a deceptive client.
]
S
ondra’s door flew open. Her boss stood outside, wet with snow, the outfit that appeared so immaculate that morning now bedraggled and muddy around the cuffs.
“You okay?” Sondra asked.
Her boss sighed and pushed wet hair off her forehead. “Dandy.”
“You know what you have to do now, don’t you?”
“Sure wish I did.”
“Sit.” Sondra directed Riley Fox to one of the plush waiting-room chairs. “Listen. I can help with this. I’ve studied the paperwork and news reports. A good thing is, you trust people. You defend people who
look guilty to everyone else. But this is different. This is your life on the line. Now you should examine that instinct to trust, okay? Time to look on the dark side. He’s bad, Ms. Fox. You need to take him out.”
Her boss tossed her a rare smile. “I’m so lucky to have you on my side,” she said, leaning forward to listen.
[Add that her boss has a hot love life and has to decide between two very different men. Sondra nudges her the right way.].
S
ondra had totally accidentally overheard a few strained conversations taking place in Ms. Fox’s office. “Busy day ahead,” she said, keeping the mood light but professional.
Riley slipped gracefully out of her light jacket and hung it in a spacious double closet flanking the entryway. She stood for a little longer than usual, looking unusually troubled. “I need time this afternoon. An hour.”
Sondra reviewed all the appointments she had booked and how hard she had worked, organizing them, and nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Take an hour and a half, two o’clock on.”
Her boss’s eyelids looked huge as they drooped over unhappy eyes. “Thanks.”
Sondra watched the door close on her office. She would cancel urgent cases, but that’s what she did, watched her boss’s back.
Another relationship bites the dust, she thought. She flipped through the contacts list on her computer, writing down the relevant three, picking up the phone, thinking about what she needed to say to cancel ’em and leave ’em happy regardless.
Another hour and a half wasn’t going to solve their problems, she thought, punching in the first number, but Sondra had never mistaken this guy for the right guy anyway. Her boss would get over it and figure out what was what eventually.
“Hello,” she said into the phone. She explained about the double-booking of clients, all her fault, such busy times, her boss so hugely successful and all. While the client squawked and she took it, she straightened files on her desk and pondered the future. Things in the present appeared so blighted.
Five minutes later, after being subjected to some painfully accurate verbal abuse, she could finally hang up the phone and allow herself a silent parting thought:
Things would end happily.
Somehow.
A n hour after lunch, Sandy glided into Nina’s office. “Mr. Brink-man is here.” She often gave nonverbal cues about new people coming through the door. This time she betrayed nothing, not even the cock of an eyebrow.
Perplexed, Nina came around her desk and went into the front office.
The man standing there turned around. She had to keep herself from
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