bookcases. It had the self-conscious appearance of a southern study. It looked out of place in the Minneapolis suburbs—until Clay opened his mouth. After decades in the snowy north, he still floated the long adjectives of a native Georgian drawl. How often had he watched Clay’s southern cadence grab a tired Minnesota jury and hold their focus—long after his opponents had left them exhausted and wanting to go home.
The hair was a shade grayer, but the smile had not changed; the one that made you feel the sun shining on your shoulders alone. If it was a trial lawyer’s trick, it was an excellent one.
After a few more moments, Clay picked up his phone and called a young attorney, who hustled in to retrieve the brief. As the door closed, Clay turned his full attention to Jared.
“My favorite lawyer, all grown up and practicing solo. Things going well? Jessie still with you?”
“Yeah. On both counts.”
“I would have paid her double if she’d come here with me.”
“And would have worked her twice as hard.”
The smile returned, with a gentle laugh.
“How long’s it been since we waltzed out of Paisley?”
“Two years this month, Clay.”
“Ever regret it?”
“Nope,” Jared lied.
Clay shook his head and grinned.
They spoke for nearly an hour, catching up. How large had Clay’s firm grown? Nine associates, he answered, none partners yet. Clay asked if he’d kept in touch with people from Paisley—to which Jared answered no.
He did not ask the same of Clay. Clay’s best friends, even people he’d graduated from law school with, had once been his Paisley partners. Jared wondered how many Clay had even spoken to in the twenty-four months since they’d asked him to leave the firm.
Jared did not rush it. Clay always circled before approaching his point, and they had not seen one another much since Paisley. At last, Clay crushed the stub of his cigar into an ashtray on the credenza behind him.
“I read about the Wheeler case in the Minnesota Bar Journal,” he said.
“Yeah. That was disappointing.”
“If you’re tiring of the rigors of a solo career, you know my offer still stands.”
The words were a courtesy, a preamble; Clay’s eyes showed it. He hadn’t brought Jared over tonight for another offer to join him in his practice.
“Thanks, but no. You couldn’t afford me.”
Clay laughed again, then reached for another cigar. “Been back to your hometown lately?”
Jared was jarred by this change in tack. “No. I haven’t been up to Ashley for a while.”
Clay sliced the cigar tip with a gold cutter, placing it unlit in his mouth.
“I have a case I want to refer to you.” He lit the cigar with a match from the desk and puffed another ragged ring. “It happens to involve some characters from around your old hometown.”
“What kind of case?”
“A significant case. A difficult case. Maybe another one of those ‘breakthrough’ cases you and all the associates at Paisley used to talk about.”
Immediately Jared wondered at the cost—and the problem with a big-ticket case Clay would be willing to refer away. As much as he liked the old man, Clay wasn’t the type to part with a decent lawsuit out of professional charity.
Clay cocked his head, as though reading Jared’s mind. He was good at it—seeing through the eyes into the heart. When a juror or client needed winning over, his accent would deepen and soften, taking on a gentle hint of intimacy—vowels washing over consonants like warm honey. Jared had heard it dozens of times in the courtroom. He heard it now.
“Maybe you’re feeling reluctant about getting back on the horse,” he drawled, “so soon after your experience in the Wheeler matter. I am also sure there is the issue of the cost of another venture such as the Wheeler case. Set you back a bit?”
“Yes.” Over forty thousand dollars. Jared felt that familiar pang of discouragement that had been his daily companion lately. He didn’t leave Paisley with thirty major clients in tow. Or own a building. Or have nine associates staying at the office till midnight to impress him. That money was all he had—and a bit more.
Clay leaned back in his chair, his eyes shadows of the concern in his voice. “I know it’s got to be tough. I’ve been there. Makes you want to crawl into a deep hole for a while. But when Mort Goering called me about taking over this case from his office, I thought of you. Immediately. That is what you need, you know. Turn things around.”