lawyers was on trial and needed documents typed for a morning court appearance. Since Missy usually had a date, and Paige evaporated at five o'clock sharp, that left me to fill the role of emergency secretary. I didn't mind. The extra three dollars in my paycheck came in handy when the rent was due.
Which is why on Wednesday night, I was elbow-deep in typing up some of Donna's research for Wally to use in arguing a motion the following morning. Sadly, I wasn't alone. Dougie was downstairs in the basement gym, working out. Primal grunting and the clanging of the weights carried into my office through the heating vent. Wally was alternately hovering, waiting to snatch the final page from the printer, and watching CNN upstairs on Howard's television set. Everyone else had been gone for two hours or more.
I was on the final page of notes when the phone rang. In a flash, Wally was in front of me. "Aren't you going to answer that?"
"Huh-uh." I mistyped a word and stabbed at the backspace key. "Voice mail will pick it up."
"It might be a million-dollar case," he said. "You never know." He pointed to the phone.
"Jamie!" It wasn't a million dollar case. It was my mother, and she was going to cost me a half hour. I scowled at Wally. He shrugged and headed back to the evening news. "I've been trying to reach you at home but you didn't answer."
"I'm working late." I turned to the monitor to find my spot.
"You shouldn't have to work late," she said. "You should have a husband to pay your bills for you."
"I like paying my own bills," I said. If only I could.
"I want both my daughters to find good men." I could practically see her clutching a wet hankie to her bosom. "Is it asking too much to want grandchildren?"
There it was. Tortfeasor . I resumed typing, propping the phone between my ear and shoulder. I'd heard the grandchildren argument before. It didn't carry any weight with me. Not when my sister was so anxious to pair up and turn into a broodmare.
"So I invited Frankie Ritter to dinner Friday," she said, oblivious to the clicking keys. "I ran into his mother at the drugstore, and we decided Sherri should meet him. What do you think?"
Like that mattered. A crash thundered up through the vent followed immediately by a string of four-letter words. I put my hand over the receiver.
"What was that?" my mother asked. "I heard something."
I sighed. "Dougie's here working out." She could hear a spider crawling in the attic but she couldn't hear my reasons for wanting to stay single.
"Oh, good, you're not there alone. That Dougie's a good man. You should find yourself someone like him. A nice man who'll work and let you stay home with your babies. A woman should be at home with her babies. Aren't there any single male lawyers working at your office?"
The same as the last time she'd asked. "One," I said. Wally. "But he's already got a girlfriend." Howard.
"Oh, that's a shame. Well, I won't hold you up." Since there were no unattached men handy, her work was done. "I just wanted to get your opinion on Frankie Ritter."
I thought it was the worst idea since Vanilla Coke, but I wasn't about to tell my mother that. Instead, I said, "Let's just see what happens."
"Yeah." She sounded pleased. "Let's see what happens."
"Jamie."
I glanced up and dropped the phone. Dougie was standing in front of me in spandex shorts and no shirt. I'd been there, and I could have done without the replay. His chest was heaving, sending sweat running down his torso. I had an imagination, but I didn't have to use it. I could see everything.
I heard my mother say "Jamie?"
His hair was plastered to his head, and in the forty minutes he'd been in the basement, he'd grown a heavy five o'clock shadow. He almost looked hot, except he was Dougie. And, of course, the spandex thing.
"What do you think?" he asked, flexing both biceps. "Some guns, huh?"
"Jamie!" my mother yelled.
"Um," I said, hoping for Wally's return. No such luck. Lawyers were never around
Which is why on Wednesday night, I was elbow-deep in typing up some of Donna's research for Wally to use in arguing a motion the following morning. Sadly, I wasn't alone. Dougie was downstairs in the basement gym, working out. Primal grunting and the clanging of the weights carried into my office through the heating vent. Wally was alternately hovering, waiting to snatch the final page from the printer, and watching CNN upstairs on Howard's television set. Everyone else had been gone for two hours or more.
I was on the final page of notes when the phone rang. In a flash, Wally was in front of me. "Aren't you going to answer that?"
"Huh-uh." I mistyped a word and stabbed at the backspace key. "Voice mail will pick it up."
"It might be a million-dollar case," he said. "You never know." He pointed to the phone.
"Jamie!" It wasn't a million dollar case. It was my mother, and she was going to cost me a half hour. I scowled at Wally. He shrugged and headed back to the evening news. "I've been trying to reach you at home but you didn't answer."
"I'm working late." I turned to the monitor to find my spot.
"You shouldn't have to work late," she said. "You should have a husband to pay your bills for you."
"I like paying my own bills," I said. If only I could.
"I want both my daughters to find good men." I could practically see her clutching a wet hankie to her bosom. "Is it asking too much to want grandchildren?"
There it was. Tortfeasor . I resumed typing, propping the phone between my ear and shoulder. I'd heard the grandchildren argument before. It didn't carry any weight with me. Not when my sister was so anxious to pair up and turn into a broodmare.
"So I invited Frankie Ritter to dinner Friday," she said, oblivious to the clicking keys. "I ran into his mother at the drugstore, and we decided Sherri should meet him. What do you think?"
Like that mattered. A crash thundered up through the vent followed immediately by a string of four-letter words. I put my hand over the receiver.
"What was that?" my mother asked. "I heard something."
I sighed. "Dougie's here working out." She could hear a spider crawling in the attic but she couldn't hear my reasons for wanting to stay single.
"Oh, good, you're not there alone. That Dougie's a good man. You should find yourself someone like him. A nice man who'll work and let you stay home with your babies. A woman should be at home with her babies. Aren't there any single male lawyers working at your office?"
The same as the last time she'd asked. "One," I said. Wally. "But he's already got a girlfriend." Howard.
"Oh, that's a shame. Well, I won't hold you up." Since there were no unattached men handy, her work was done. "I just wanted to get your opinion on Frankie Ritter."
I thought it was the worst idea since Vanilla Coke, but I wasn't about to tell my mother that. Instead, I said, "Let's just see what happens."
"Yeah." She sounded pleased. "Let's see what happens."
"Jamie."
I glanced up and dropped the phone. Dougie was standing in front of me in spandex shorts and no shirt. I'd been there, and I could have done without the replay. His chest was heaving, sending sweat running down his torso. I had an imagination, but I didn't have to use it. I could see everything.
I heard my mother say "Jamie?"
His hair was plastered to his head, and in the forty minutes he'd been in the basement, he'd grown a heavy five o'clock shadow. He almost looked hot, except he was Dougie. And, of course, the spandex thing.
"What do you think?" he asked, flexing both biceps. "Some guns, huh?"
"Jamie!" my mother yelled.
"Um," I said, hoping for Wally's return. No such luck. Lawyers were never around
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