Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,103

before she found another job—then what?

If she could find another job. What were the chances now? It wasn’t as if Calvin would send her off with a glowing letter of recommendation . . .

“Ms. Henley?”

Sarah didn’t realize how far she’d drifted away until she heard Joe say her name. “Do you have any questions?” he asked.

She startled back into action. Smiled at Joe’s client, went through the motions of asking her a few handfuls of questions.

Once again, they were finished much earlier than if Chapman had been running the deposition. Sarah had at least three hours before she had to return for the one in the afternoon.

She repacked her laptop, then left the room without saying anything to anyone. She needed to make lists. Plan. Think through how she was going to live now, from the moment her plane touched down at LAX tonight.

Change her flight, too—she needed to do that. She wouldn’t be going on to Spokane tonight. A whole list of actions she could tick off one by one.

She unlocked the door to her room and stood just inside for a few moments, wondering which task she should tackle first. But a lethargy had already begun seeping into her bones, and the tiredness overwhelmed her.

Sarah pulled back the covers on the bed, pried off her shoes, then slipped between the sheets still wearing her expensive wool suit. It had been easy to be brave and principled last night when she explained all her motives to Joe. But now that she was alone again, she had to wonder whether she had done the right thing—for her.

“I’m not going to be one of those people who pretends the law doesn’t apply to me,” she’d told Joe. “Look what happened to the partners in our firm—is that the kind of lawyers we want to be?”

She knew what kind of lawyer she wanted to be—what she’d wanted from the moment she ever decided to become a lawyer in the first place. Back then she had an image of her future self wearing fancy clothes just like these, feeling strong and smart and capable, feeling confident and in charge of her life, unafraid and in total control.

And she had experienced moments just like that, Sarah thought—enough that the young dreamer inside her felt proud of all she had been able to accomplish.

But that young woman hadn’t factored in Joe Burke. Hadn’t factored in love. Hadn’t realized that at some point Sarah might have to make a choice between her personal life and her professional one.

Well, now she’d made the choice. And her dream of being a happy, successful lawyer might have disappeared in the bargain.

Sarah indulged in that melodramatic, self-pitying thought for one whole, luxurious minute before groaning and making herself sit up. She got out of the bed and went to her laptop case to retrieve a legal pad from the side. Then she sat back against the pillows, pulled the sheets over her cold legs, and began to make her list.

Change plane reservation.

Schedule meeting with Calvin.

Prepare final report and case analysis.

Sarah heard the dings of two text messages in quick succession.

The first was from Mickey:

I assume you warned him?

The second from Joe:

It’s happened.

Thirty-nine

Sarah quickly checked one of the law blogs she always read. There it was, the featured story:

AL MILTON, KENNETH FEINBERG, OTHERS INDICTED

The United States Attorney’s Office for the Central District of California announced this morning the indictments of Albert Milton, Kenneth Feinberg, and other lawyers within the Milton Feinberg law firm for charges including racketeering, mail fraud, and bribery, stemming from alleged illegal payoffs to clients. Attorneys for Mr. Milton and Mr. Feinberg deny the charges, but indicate their clients will cooperate with authorities by surrendering to law enforcement within the next 24 hours.

The indictments follow several months of investigation . . .

Sarah quickly texted Joe her room number. Within minutes there was a knock on her door.

He strode into the room, a curse on his lips.

“How bad is it?” Sarah asked.

“Bad. A buddy of mine from the firm called, said it’s World War III over there, everybody pointing fingers, people cleaning out their desks, calling clients, trying to take as much business with them as they can before the whole place folds.”

“What are they saying about you?” Sarah asked.

“As far as anyone knows, I’m off here in the wild blue yonder and don’t know anything. Luke—that’s who called—asked me if I wanted him to box up my desk, too, and send me a list of all my clients’