“It would focus on your experience.”
I had the sense that the meeting had become more important to him than he’d anticipated, always a good sign.
“I’ll need a bit more than that.”
“All right,” I said. “But only for one of them. Imagine a little girl, around eight years old, sitting at a legal desk surrounded by law books, including one that says ‘Personal Injury.’ She’s scribbling on a yellow legal pad, looking harried, and reaches over to the phone and says into the speaker, Dolores? Can you bring me another chocolate milk? At that point, the screen fades to black, and words appear as if being typewritten onto the screen.
“When you’ve been injured on the job and need help with your medical bills, you don’t want a lawyer who’s new on the job. You want a lawyer with experience. You want someone who’s won millions of dollars for his clients. You want Joey Taglieri.”
When I finished, Joey began to grin. “I like it.”
I nodded without responding. I’d learned over the years that saying nothing was often the best thing I could do when it came to a client who was considering pulling the trigger.
No doubt, Joey knew that, too, because he leaned back in his chair again. “You should know that I’ve checked into your background,” he said. “After you talked me into this meeting, I called your old boss.”
I felt my chest constrict. “Oh,” I said.
“He was vague, as bosses always are, but he said that you went out on your own a couple of months ago. You told me you had your own firm, but you didn’t mention that you just started it.”
I felt my mouth go dry “My firm might be new, but I’ve been in advertising for thirteen years.”
“He also suggested to me that instead of talking to him, it would probably be better if I called to get recommendations or opinions from your current clients.”
“Oh,” I said again.
“Do you think I could do that? Contact some of your other clients?”
“Uh… Well…”
“That’s what I thought you might say. If I were to guess, my suspicion is that you don’t have any other clients as of yet. So after I spoke to your boss, I drove by your office this weekend. Turns out I recognized the place. A former client of mine owns the place. It’s not exactly the kind of office that inspires confidence.”
I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “For the most part, I meet clients at their place of business. And if you want to talk to previous clients, I can probably get you some names. I’ve worked with dozens of clients in the Charlotte area.”
“I know that, too,” he said, raising his hand. “I called a few of them already. Three of them, to be exact. They’re still with Peters and they weren’t thrilled at the idea of talking to me until I told them I had no intention of telling Peters anything about it.”
“How did you…?”
When I trailed off, he finished the question for me. “Know who to contact? You’re good at your job and I’m good at mine. But anyway, each of them said you were terrific. Very creative, very hardworking, and very good at what you do.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know that while I’m not thrilled with the idea of being your first, and only, client, I’ve been trying to convince myself that it probably means you’ll have more time to work on my campaign. Frankly, I’m not sure I’ve gotten there yet. But after seeing what you’ve done, I’ll admit that I’m impressed with the thought process you put into all this.”
He stopped there and I took a deep breath.
“What exactly are you saying?”
With my head spinning after the meeting with Taglieri, I drove to Emily’s house. Had it not been for the navigation system on my phone, I never would have been able to find it. Though not far from my home, I’d never detoured through that particular neighborhood, and the main access road wasn’t particularly well marked. The lots were heavily wooded and the homes were midcentury modern, with large windows, cedar plank siding, and main levels that rose and fell with the topography.
After pulling up the drive, I followed a curving walkway that passed over a koi pond and led to the front door. When Emily opened the door, I was struck again by the warmth of her smile.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” she said. “For some reason, I thought your presentation would take longer. Come on in.”
If the argument with Vivian made it hard to concentrate and the meeting with Taglieri left my head spinning, then stepping into the home of a recently divorced woman with whom I’d shared a bed made the day seem even more surreal. It felt wrong somehow, inappropriate, and I reminded myself that I’d simply come by to get my daughter. It was no different than picking her up from my mom’s, but even so, the feeling that I was doing something illicit only intensified as Emily motioned toward the stairs.
“The kids are up in the playroom with Noodle. They finished lunch about half an hour ago so they haven’t been up there that long.”
I nodded, making sure to maintain distance between us. “Did they have a good time?”
“They’ve had a great time,” she said. “They’ve been laughing a lot. I think your daughter is in love with the dog.”
“That doesn’t shock me in the slightest,” I said. “How did Noodle do with the hamsters?”
“He sniffed the cage for a few seconds and that was about it.”
“Good.” I put my hands in my pockets, the voice inside my head continuing to whisper that I shouldn’t be here, that my presence in Emily’s home was inappropriate. Turning away from Emily, I surveyed the room. With an open floor plan and shaded sunlight streaming through large windows along the rear of the house, it was comfortable and eclectic, with odds and ends scattered throughout the room, the home of an artist. On the walls, I spotted a handful of large paintings that I assumed she’d done.
“You have a beautiful home,” I said, trying to keep the conversation innocuous.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding far more at ease than I was feeling. “I’ve actually been thinking about selling the place. There’s too much maintenance, and a couple of the rooms are in serious need of renovation. Of course, I’ve been saying that ever since David moved out. I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”
“I didn’t notice,” I said. “Are those some of your paintings?”
She moved closer to me, not too close, but close enough that I was able to catch a whiff of the honeysuckle shampoo she used. “Some of my older work. I’ve been wanting to trade a few of them out for some more recent paintings, but that’s been on the back burner, too.”
“I can understand why the gallery owner loves your work.”
“They remind me of when I was pregnant with Bodhi. They’re darker and less textured than a lot of what I do now. Moodier, too. Of course, I was sick as a dog for months when I was pregnant, so maybe that has something to do with it. Hold on a second.” She walked toward the staircase. “Bodhi? London?” she called out. “Are you still okay?”
In chorus, I heard their answer. “Yes!”
“Your dad’s here, London.”
Footsteps pounded overhead and I caught sight of my daughter peeking through the railings. “Daddy? Can I stay longer? Bodhi has an extra light saber and it’s red! And we’re playing with Noodle!”
I looked toward Emily. “It’s fine with me,” she said with a shrug. “She’s keeping Bodhi busy and happy, which makes my life easy.”
“Maybe a few more minutes,” I called up. “But we can’t stay long. Remember that you have dance tonight.”
“With Ms. Hamshaw?” Emily asked. When I nodded, Emily went on. “I’ve heard some pretty interesting things about her. And by ‘interesting,’ I mean not particularly good.”
“I’m not sure London enjoys it all that much,” I admitted.
“So pull her out.”