While Matt talked, Connor strategized.

  “Here’s what I want you to do,” he said. “Remember the list of marital issues I asked you and Elena to prepare before our first meeting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Elena wrote three pages. You jotted down a few items on a quarter of a page. Go back and put some more work into that and add what should be addressed if Anne is going to be involved.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then listen to the podcasts and sermon I sent after our meeting last week. Make a note of anything that applies or gives you any insight.”

  “I already listened to the sermon about the two tree trunks on my way to Atlanta. It was good. And the podcast by the guy explaining the differences between men and women was helpful. I realize a lot of what he said included generalizations, but I could see how Elena, Anne, and I are wired.”

  Connor was impressed by Matt’s unexpected compliance. “Okay, I’ll talk to Elena. When are you returning to Bryson?”

  “Not until Wednesday evening. The next three days are packed with business meetings.”

  “Honey!” a woman’s voice called out in the background. “Abby needs your help!”

  “Just a sec!” Matt replied.

  A few moments of silence followed. While Connor waited, Anne’s term of endearment for Matt bounced around inside his head. If that’s how Matt’s ex-wife felt about him, it would be foolish to put her in the same room with Elena. Connor might talk to Anne privately but with very limited goals.

  “I have to go,” Matt said. “One of my daughters has a question about her math homework. We’ll talk soon.”

  * * *

  It was a clear, crisp fall morning, unlike any weather Liz experienced in Florida. As soon as she arrived at the office, Jessica Thorpe cornered her at the coffeepot in the break room.

  “Confidential sources inform me you went to church, and the preacher hit on you.”

  Liz immediately guessed the identity of the informant. “Becky was sitting at the next table. I doubt she heard anything that went on.”

  “Not true. She’s an expert lip-reader. And she says you and the tall, good-looking preacher man shared a brownie.”

  Liz moved toward the door. “Let’s bring in the witness so I can cross-examine her.”

  “No, no,” Jessica said quickly. “That’ll terrify her. After all, you’re one of the lawyers.”

  “Please.” Liz shook her head.

  “I’m exaggerating,” Jessica replied. “But I would have lost a bet that you’d be at church on Sunday morning.”

  “My landlady invited me and asked me to bring one of the Cuban dishes I like to cook.”

  “I’m sure that was a huge success. Did you have a good time? Max and I occasionally go to church with his folks and the kids attend Vacation Bible School in the summer. It’s a social connector, just not one I had on the radar for you.”

  Liz prepared to leave with her coffee.

  “Do you think you’ll go back to the church?” Jessica asked as Harold entered the room.

  “Hold on,” Harold said, raising his right hand. “No proselytizing at the office. Jessica, you know that’s our policy.”

  “She wasn’t proselytizing,” Liz responded. “I visited Rock Community Church yesterday and we were talking about it. It’s all voluntary.”

  “We stay away from religion and politics around here,” Harold said. “Those things can be a big distraction. That’s what cost Jeff Layers his job.”

  “Politics weren’t off the table when Judge Conklin was up for reelection,” Liz said and immediately regretted her words.

  Harold stared at her for a second, then chuckled. “Touché,” he replied. “But no employee has to contribute or attend any fundraiser that the law firm sponsors. Swing by my office in half an hour. I have a new case that I want to talk over with you.”

  “That was gutsy,” Jessica said in a soft voice when Harold left.

  “It just popped out.”

  “It’s a good thing he likes you.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said seriously and nodded. “He thinks you’re entertaining.”

  * * *

  Liz scrolled through her emails. Before coming to the law firm, she’d struggled at times with procrastination, especially when it required her to write. She often turned in papers at the last minute or even late. Putting anything off when it could be dealt with immediately was anathema to Harold Pollard. To compensate for her natural tendency, Liz had adopted a system of preprogrammed reminders on her computer that forced her not to delay. She took care of several items and copied her boss on the responses before going to his office.

  “Glad you took care of Tom Fahey’s issue,” Harold said. “He’s like me and appreciates promptness.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harold picked up some papers from his credenza. “I received a call on Friday afternoon from a woman with a possible divorce case that would involve a lot of money.”

  The state of Georgia had a quickie divorce law, and there were lawyers in town who fought over the run-of-the-mill cases that could be wrapped up in sixty to ninety days. Earlier in his career, Harold practiced a lot of domestic relations law but now limited himself to more complicated divorces that justified large fees. Liz had helped him with several of them. She found the work emotionally exhausting, especially if the care and custody of minor children was an issue.

  “The woman is married to the CEO of a tech company called Daughbert Technology based in Atlanta. They live in a big house on Morgan Drive. She’s kicking the tires for a lawyer. I’m not sure she even wants a divorce, but if she decides to file, I don’t want her to run off and hire a big firm in Atlanta. At this point, she wants to know how to protect herself financially and asked if we had a female lawyer she could work with. I told her yes.”

  Liz swallowed. “If it’s a complicated situation, I’m not sure I know enough to advise her.”

  “Don’t worry. Your main role will be hand-holder and information-gatherer. I’ll jump in if it gets technical from a financial or legal standpoint. But I want you to call and set up an appointment for her to come into the office. Sync it with my calendar.”

  “How soon?”

  “ASAP. You know how it works.”

  In a law practice that heavily relied on representing individuals, making quick contact with people who needed help was vital. Often, they would be calling multiple lawyers.

  “Okay, I’ll do it this morning.”

  Harold handed her his notes. Liz took her boss’s mix of scribble and shorthand straight to Jessica for deciphering.

  The legal assistant started reading and shook her head. “Oh, I’ve heard about this couple. Max did the stonework on their house. He said the wife was high-maintenance.”

  “Do they have any kids?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jessica glanced down at Harold’s notes and pointed to some lines of text that Liz couldn’t read. “They don’t have children together, but the husband has two children from a previous marriage. I’ll transcribe Harold’s notes. It took me two years to learn to untangle his personal shorthand.”

  “Thanks.”

  Relieved that there weren’t any children to fight over, Liz returned to her office. Fifteen minutes later, Jessica appeared with the typed information and placed the sheets on Liz’s desk.

  “They’ve been receiving marital counseling from Connor Grantham,” she said. “Any idea who that might be?”

  “He’s the minister,” Liz started, then stopped. “You know who he is.”

  “Just checking to make sure you hadn’t forgotten him already,” Jessica quipped. “Do you want me to call Mrs. Thompson and set up the appointment? Harold wants her to meet with both of you.”

  “No, he told me to do it.”

  After Jessica left, Liz read over the notes. They didn’t contain a litany of Matthew Thompson’s faults. The greater focus of Elena Thompson’s phone call with Harold had to do with the couple’s financial status and what Mrs. Thompson might expect to receive in a divorce after five years of marriage.

  * * *

  Connor arrived early at the church. Unlike the rest of the working world, Monday was his favorite day of the week. He rarely scheduled appointments and used the day to be by himself to read, study, and think. Today, he had an unusual number of phone calls and emails about his sermon. All of them had to do with heaven. One person even called the message “A Place Called Heaven,” not “A Place Called Home.” Connor knit his brow and stared at his computer screen for several seconds after reading a particularly thorny question. He did the best he could to address the questions on a topic he’d not figured out himself. He then started in on the phone calls. It was 11:00 a.m. before he reached the final two. Michelle knocked on his door and entered.

  “You’ve been busy,” she said.

  “I’d like to say I’ve been in heaven, but it wouldn’t be true.”

  “I’m not surprised. I can’t remember a sermon that stirred up more interest. Usually during church luncheons the conversation around the table focuses on local events or family activities outside the church. Yesterday, everyone wanted me to pretend I was you and talk some more about heaven. It was exhausting.”

  Connor laughed. “Maybe I’ll talk about heaven again after I figure out more what I believe,” he said.

  “I barged in because Elena Thompson has called twice this morning and didn’t want to leave a message. I don’t think she wants to talk to you about heaven. She sounded upset.”

  “I’ll wait to call until later this afternoon.”

  “If she wants to come in to see you, remember that I have a dentist appointment this afternoon and will be gone after three o’clock.”

  Connor never met alone with a woman unless Michelle was at her workstation, and he always left the door cracked open. Elena Thompson had pushed the limits. A couple of times she’d shown up when Michelle was running errands and not at her desk. When that happened, Connor left his office door wide open.

  “Okay. That’s not happening anyway until she and Matt complete the homework that I gave them.”

  Michelle was gone by the time Connor called Elena. Before doing so, he jotted down a few notes. The first part of the conversation wouldn’t require anything from him except to listen. The phone rang several times, and he relaxed as he anticipated leaving a message.

  “Connor, is that you?” a breathless Elena said.

  “Yes, sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you.”

  “Matt is in Atlanta until Thursday. I’ve cooked dinner, and there’s nobody to share it with me. Would you like to come over?”

  Elena’s husband had evidently added an additional day in Atlanta since talking to Connor.

  “Thanks, but I have another commitment.”

  “Oh,” Elena said with disappointment in her voice. “I’ve been studying the information you recommended and would like to discuss it. Matt claims he’ll be ready to meet again on Friday, which may be a good idea because we won’t have been together enough this week to get on each other’s nerves. Do you work on Friday or is that your day off?”

  “It depends.”

  Connor checked his calendar. He’d planned on going for a hike in the morning. There was a chance of rain later in the day.

  “We could meet Friday afternoon at three o’clock if that works for you.”

  “Yes. Would you contact Matt about it?”

  “Okay.” Connor cleared his throat. “What would you think about including Anne in some of our discussions?”

  “In the room with us?” Elena asked sharply.

  “Not unless you agreed and thought it would help. But it might be beneficial if I talked with her.”

  “Half the time, I feel like she’s already sitting in the room whispering into Matt’s ear,” Elena grumbled. “He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he mentioned it.”

  Elena was silent for a few moments. “Do you think there’s a chance Matt is thinking about leaving me and returning to Anne?”

  Connor felt trapped. He took a deep breath. “My opinion isn’t what’s important, and my only goal is to help save your marriage.”

  “I wish that’s what Matt wanted. I was convinced that he made his choice when he married me, but now I know he’s about to dump me and leave me with nothing.”

  “Don’t give up—”

  “Oh, I’m not giving up. Not without a fight. Maybe getting to know Anne will help you see why Matt should stick with me. She’s a master manipulator.”

  Chapter 6

  Liz met with Lamar Braxton in her office. He finished explaining what he wanted her to do as the attorney for his rental property business.

  “I’ll agree to represent you only if as a first step I can try to negotiate reasonable terms that allow people to stay in their apartments and cure any default,” Liz said. “Otherwise, I’m not interested.”

  “How much time will that take?” Braxton frowned. “I don’t want a big legal bill on top of losing rent.”

  “We’ll cap that part of the representation at three hours per case. I believe you’ll come out better with long-term tenants than a lot of turnover and empty houses.”

  “What kind of proposals would you recommend? I don’t want to have to mess around with this sort of thing.”

  Liz was ready. “No payouts of more than six months to catch up any rent in arrears. And if the tenant misses a payment, the arrangement is void, and we proceed with eviction, which the magistrate is more likely to grant if you’ve tried to work with the lessee.”

  Braxton was silent for a moment.

  “Okay,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s give it a try. It can’t be worse than what’s already happening. I’ll have the girl in my office that keeps up with the rentals get in touch with you. She’s been stressed out over it and hates going over to the courthouse.”

  “And I’ll send over a contract for this aspect of our representation,” Liz said.

  As soon as Braxton left, Liz reported the result to her boss.

  “I like that,” Harold mused. “Who says you can’t be a lawyer and a human being at the same time?”

  The phone on Harold’s desk buzzed. He pressed the speaker button.

  “Elena Thompson is here to see you and Liz,” Becky said.

  “She’s early. Put her in the main conference room and let her know we’ll be there shortly.”

  Harold looked up at Liz. “Any questions before we start?”

  “I’m not sure what to ask.”

  “Our job is to listen, not jump in with advice.”

  Harold let Liz enter before him. Elena Thompson was wearing a blue sweater and beige slacks. She placed an expensive-looking handbag on the table in front of her.

  “You look familiar,” Elena said, cocking her head to the side. “Where have I seen you before?”

  “I visited Rock Community Church yesterday with Beverly and Sam Devon.”

  “Did you stay for lunch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah.” Elena nodded and seemed to inspect Liz more closely. “You sat at the table with Connor Grantham.”

  “That’s right,” Liz replied, wondering where the conversation might go next.

  Harold spoke. “And what is discussed in these walls stays here. It’s not discussed at church, the country club, or on the sidewalk. Preserving client confidentiality in a community as small as Bryson is an obligation we take seriously.”

  “That’s good to know,” Elena said, directing her attention to Harold. “And thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. I thought I’d have to wait a week or two to see an attorney.”

  Harold took his customary seat with Liz to his left, and Elena across from her.

  “Oh, there’s no need for you to stay, Mr. Pollard,” Elena said. “I wanted to meet with one of the firm’s female attorneys.”

  Harold cleared his throat and spoke. “If the firm represents you, any of our attorneys may be involved at one time or another based on their particular area of expertise and experience.”

  “But for now, I’m more comfortable discussing the situation with another woman.”

  Harold was about to speak, but after a quick glance at Liz, he shut his mouth.

  “Fine, I’ll leave you two to go over the situation.”

  Harold left the room. Every client was different and surprises were common. But this was a first for Liz.

  Elena looked across the table at her. “I know that probably violated your protocol, but I’ve had terrible experiences with older male attorneys in the past. Mr. Pollard may be a nice man, but I’m more comfortable talking about my marital situation with another woman. You’re not married?”

  “No.”

  “Divorced?”

  “Never married.”

  “Okay.”

  Elena opened her purse and took out several sheets of paper that were folded in half. “This is background information about Matt and me along with the questions I want answered. I’d like your responses to be in writing. I’ve opened a new email account that he doesn’t know about and rented a post office box in my own name.”

  “What about a separate bank account?” Liz asked.

  “Done months ago. I’ve built it up so that I have what I need if we go to war.”

  “Understood. May I take a few moments to read what you’ve written? I might have follow-up questions.”

  “Go ahead.”

  The summary was organized and detailed, the financial information set forth in a spreadsheet format. There was a lot of background information and a list of more than twenty questions. Both Elena and Matt had been married before. He had children; she did not.

  “This is impressive,” Liz said. “How did you come up with this?”

  “A friend who went through a divorce two years ago gave me a template her attorneys used. I assumed this was the most efficient way to proceed.”