Web of Lies (The Goode Life #2) - Isla Olsen Page 0,27

I’m crossing the park in the town center right now and will be at Chance’s office in less than two minutes. It’s way too late to cancel the meeting now; besides, we want this wrapped up as soon as possible, right?

Me: You’re telling me this NOW?

Jesse Cartwright: I’m sorry! Zack’s roped me in to some wedding surprise bs. I can’t exactly tell him I have an appointment at Chance’s office, can I?

I sigh in frustration. I guess not.

Me: Fine, but you owe me

I stare at the message for a long moment before deciding to add a wink emoji to the end of it prior to hitting send. I don’t want to sound too grumpy.

Jesse: I’m sure we can come to some kind of recompense *thoughtful emoji*

Me: Have fun with Zack. I’ll let you know what Chance says

I slide my phone back into my pocket and proceed to Chance’s office. Fortunately, I don’t need to wait too long to see him; I’m really hoping this can be sorted out quickly and I can get back to work.

“Hey, sorry, Jesse just texted me to say he can’t make it,” I tell Chance as I settle in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Zack’s roped him into some wedding stuff.”

Chance shrugs. “That’s okay. He might prefer to get his own lawyer anyway given this is going to divorce. Although, that being said, it’s not like you have assets to divide or custody to worry about so you can probably do it without lawyers.”

I jolt in surprise as my mind latches onto his first comment. “Divorce? Are you kidding me? The marriage is less than forty-eight hours old…isn’t there some way to just end it without going through all that?”

“There’s summary dissolution, yes, but I’ve been through your file and—”

Before he can tell me what’s up with my file, the door to his office bursts open, prompting both Chance and me to glance up in surprise as Alice Ackerman enters in a whirlwind of floral printed pantsuit and platinum blonde perm.

“Chance, I need your help,” she announces dramatically. “It’s important.”

“Alice, I’m with a client,” Chance says wearily in response to the interruption.

Mrs. Ackerman looks at me in complete bafflement for a moment before turning back to Chance. “You’re with Webster.”

“Yes, he’s a client,” Chance insists.

“Does he pay you?”

I can tell Chance is putting an unfathomable amount of effort into not rolling his eyes as he says, “Yes. And not in coupons for dog obedience classes.”

I have to bite down hard on my lip to stop myself laughing. She may as well have just given him an empty chewing gum wrapper considering he doesn’t own a dog.

“Those coupons are very valuable,” Mrs. Ackerman insists. “People pay a lot of money to have me train their dogs.”

“I’m sure they do. Anyway, what’s this urgent business of yours?”

“Well, FiFi—”

Chance holds up a hand to interrupt her. “Alice, I’ve already told you, I’m not representing animals anymore.”

“But this is an ongoing case!” Mrs. A insists. “Her custody battle. It’s—”

“Been settled,” Chance says, his face set in a stern expression. “We came to terms and you both agreed on shared custody.”

“But that was before I knew he was abusing them!” she wails, tossing her head back and covering her eyes with a dramatic flair worthy of Scarlet O’Hara.

“He’s what?” Chance exclaims, eyes wide.

“Look at this,” Mrs. Ackerman says, removing a package from her purse. “Just look.” She unfolds the package, which turns out to be an envelope of professionally developed photos, and splays them out on Chance’s desk for him to view.

“I don’t understand, what am I looking at?”

“Generic food!” she cries, stabbing at one of the photos with her index finger as though they’re discussing a crime and she’s pointing out the murder weapon.

Chance shakes his head, clearly confused. “I don’t—”

“My babies need high quality, organic food. And that monster is feeding them this garbage. He’s not fit to be a dog parent, Chance! Not fit!”

Chance lets out an exhausted sigh. “Come on, Alice, you know as well as I do if I go to Hank with this kind of complaint, all he’ll do is start in on how your house is too small for five big dogs. And, honestly, he has a point.”

Mrs. Ackerman draws back with a harsh gasp and a hand over her chest as though she’s just been mortally wounded. “You’re taking his side?”

“I’m not taking either side. I’m thinking of what’s in the best interest of the puppies here, and,