Hidden Hearts (9 page)

Her stomach flipped at the idea of a media firestorm and her hand shook as she manually unlocked the door to her beat-up Honda.

Penn stared at the car. “I’m totally unimpressed.”

She smirked. “This is what all the high-powered attorneys are driving right now, didn’t you know that? This is why I can’t say no to this client. I have a senior associate who is totally riding my ass in a job I need to pay off my unforgiveable student loans.” She pointed at her chest. “I just started a month ago! No isn’t in my vocabulary.”

Penn grabbed her extended finger. “Lawyers rarely point, counselor. It’s confrontational. You need to learn that.” She let go and pointed at her heart. “I choose.” Before she walked away, she thrust three Chloe
books into her hands.

She leaned against the Honda, her foot madly tapping the curb. She’d never spoken to anyone with that much fervor. She should have felt victorious since her client was going to win, but instead she felt like a loser, a card-carrying member of Heartless and Burned.

****

When the elevator reached the eleventh floor, she stood taller and clenched her briefcase as she crossed the marble floor. Hartford and Burns was classy and no expense was spared. Finely coiffed receptionists greeted clients and motioned to the Italian leather sofas while they retrieved beverages served in crystal glasses. The dress code was incredibly strict. She’d heard an attorney had once been fired after he’d lost a cufflink and dared to attend a meeting without changing his shirt.

She settled into her small office and checked her calendar. She felt strong after her confrontation with Penn, and she picked up the phone to cancel her plans with Alicia. Then she heard Blanca’s voice in the hallway. Like all of the attorneys she was dressed in a sharp power suit with a conservative blouse and business pumps. Her short black hair was pulled back in a clip revealing stern brown eyes and a long forehead that was constantly creased in displeasure. She didn’t bother to come in as she was far too busy and important to cross the threshold of a junior associate’s office.

“Everything went well, I hope,” she said in her robotic voice.

“Yes, I’ve got the sample.” She held it out in case she wanted to inspect it. “I just wish our client wasn’t evicting an old lady.”

“I understand,” she said in a voice that implied she didn’t care. “Emotionally this is more difficult, but our focus must be on Mr. Rubenstein. Correct?”

“Absolutely,” she said assuredly. She tapped a stack of folders on the edge of her desk and set them in her outbox for show.

Blanca offered a single nod. “I’ll see you in the conference room in ten. I expect you to take the lead.”

She continued down the hallway and CC deflated in her chair. She swiveled toward the window and stared at the mountain range in the distance. It used to be called Squaw Peak but had been changed to something more politically correct. It jutted toward the sky, and she could see the gray trails carved into the side. It was relaxing to think about hiking up the switchbacks, which she’d done a few times with two of her co-workers. Of course, Alicia would never do something so dirty. She abhorred hiking or sweating.

Her phone buzzed and the receptionist announced the Morgans had arrived. She raced into the bathroom and locked herself in a stall. At least five times a day she hid for a few minutes, unable to sustain a self-assured expression on her face for more than two hours at a time. She didn’t know how the other juniors did it. She heard confidence in their voices and saw the way they swaggered into meetings. Yet, she felt like an impostor and often resisted the urge to scream, “I have no idea what I’m doing!”

After three deep breaths she charged out of the bathroom and glided into the smallest conference room, the one reserved for the junior associates. She glanced across the table at opposing counsel and nearly toppled over—Alicia. She was scribbling notes on a legal pad and only offered a passing gaze as CC slid into a chair next to her client Hailey Morgan.

She hadn’t seen Alicia in six weeks, but she looked as she always did—completely put together. Not a strand of her blonde hair had escaped the tight bun she wore and the Armani suit fit as if custom made. CC imagined her own locks wildly situated on her head after baking in her non-air conditioned car, and she knew her cotton dress shirt was horribly wrinkled. 

And how Alicia found the precise choice of jewelry and shoes amazed her. She spent hours trolling the accessory department just to find a belt that had a speck of color that matched a chosen blouse while CC’s focus on shopping only lasted long enough to buy a few outfits.

Alicia sat in the chair next to Dusty Morgan, Hailey’s brother. He’d only surfaced after a public notice advertised the death of Carter Morgan, their father. She imagined he wouldn’t have paid any attention to Carter’s death if three million dollars hadn’t been at stake. He leaned back with his hands across his chest as his sandy brown hair flopped in his face. 

At the head of the table was Steven Kraft, the mediator who’d been assigned by Judge Fitch after their one court appearance ended with him breaking off the head of his gavel as he attempted to silence the shouting
siblings.
At the time Dusty had been represented by a different law firm, and she hadn’t realized he’d changed representation.
Is it coincidental he picked my ex?

Blanca sailed into the room and quickly introduced herself to Alicia and Dusty before taking the seat next to Hailey. She carried no files nor held a legal pad, indicating CC was on point.

Kraft glanced in her direction before his gaze shifted back to the papers in front of him. When the Sweatinator scratched his head, she caught a glimpse of the puddle underneath his arm.

“Let’s begin,” he said. “Our goal today is to find some common ground so we do not waste any of the court’s valuable time. Ms. Carlson?”

She nodded and cleared her throat, thinking of the most persuasive and succinct way to present her argument. “Miss Morgan has always been in her father’s life. She made sure he was placed in an excellent care facility—”

“Yeah, right,” Dusty interrupted. “Put him away so she could spend his money.”

“That’s not true!” Hailey shouted. “I’ve always cared for
Dad!”

“That’s such B.S.!” he shouted back and they were off.

Two minutes later, after she and Alicia had practically crawled onto the conference table to separate them, both had returned to their respective chairs.

Kraft looked up, nonplussed. “If that happens again, I will leave and make a decision without input from either of you. Continue, Miss Carlson,” he directed.

“Miss Morgan paid the bills,” she said firmly, “and she visited regularly, which is documented in the visitors’ logs, and yes, she used some of the funds to ease her suffering.”

“Some of the funds?”
Dusty exclaimed. “You call twenty thousand dollars on clothes, makeup and
shoes
some
of the funds?”

She grabbed Hailey’s arm before she could react and her client slumped back in the plush leather chair. She had said nearly the same thing to her when she’d reviewed her finances but that was her right as the attorney.

“Mr. Morgan has appeared at the eleventh hour to claim half of an estate that doesn’t belong to him. We agree that as the son, he is entitled to an inheritance; however, it should only be a fourth, not half.”

“So seven hundred fifty thousand instead of one and a half million,” Kraft summarized, writing in his notes.
“Okay, your turn Miss Dennis.”

Alicia folded her hands on the table. “We believe he should have half. Yes, Mr. Morgan made some decisions he regrets regarding his relationship with his father, but…” She paused and stared sympathetically at Hailey. “So did Miss Morgan. She misused his money, which in our opinion, is just as neglectful as absence. Thus, both of them have committed transgressions that are unfortunate and irreversible, so let’s stop fighting and call it even.”

He scribbled in his notes and opened a file. She glanced at Alicia and her unreadable expression. She’d never watched her work and only knew she was regarded as a solid attorney. She’d stated her case plainly while CC didn’t feel she’d argued the facts well. It was always hard to justify a split between siblings that wasn’t equal unless one child truly deserved to be lionized and the other demonized.

Such was not the case with Hailey and Dusty Morgan. Both were spoiled children, but if she lost it was significant to H and B since they were guaranteed twenty percent of Hailey’s cut.

“Is that all, Ms. Dennis?” he asked.

She frowned.
“Actually, no.
I believe there is one more matter that the court needs to consider.” She pulled a file from her briefcase and three eight-by-ten photos dramatically spilled onto the conference table. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said.
“How clumsy of me.”

Hailey gasped and CC knew they were in trouble. Before Alicia could scoop up the photos, CC caught a glimpse of three shadowy figures standing outside a building with a lighted sign that read Popperz.

“We need to talk,” Hailey whispered.
“Now.”

CC smiled at the Sweatinator. “Could we have a few minutes with our client before Ms. Dennis continues?”

Kraft looked at Alicia, as if gaining her approval. “By all means,” she said confidently with a blithe smile.

CC knew that expression. She’d seen it every time Alicia proved her wrong during their relationship.

Blanca joined them in her office. “What’s going on, Hailey?”

She looked troubled and her gaze couldn’t find a focus. “I’ve struggled with a little drug problem. I’ve got it under control now, but I’m pretty sure those pictures show me making a deal.”

“Shit,” Blanca hissed. She turned to CC. “You didn’t know about this?”

“No, I—”

“I’m taking over,” Blanca said heading out the door.

They returned to their seats and Alicia still wore her pleasant smile. 

The Sweatinator looked at her. “Continue.”

She handed him the photos. “These photos show Hailey Morgan outside Popperz, a bar known by local PD as a drug haven. You can see Miss Morgan in the presence of two men who are known dealers. And this is the affidavit from Officer Laura Calhoun, the beat cop who patrols that area and has confirmed their identities.” She paused long enough for him to study the evidence before she continued. “We contend that Miss Morgan has used much of the money to support her cocaine habit and her inheritance will most likely go to such endeavors in the future.”

“Endeavors?”
Blanca rolled her eyes. “May I interject?”

“By all means,” Kraft said, leaning back in his chair.

“These pictures are inconsequential. My client is clean and who she chooses to converse with is her business.” She turned to Alicia. “She’s never been arrested for selling or possessing?”

“No.”

“Never been picked up for DUI?”

“No,” Alicia said slowly.

“In fact, she’s never even been questioned as a witness. True?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. These photos prove nothing. I’d like to have my client drug-tested.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Alicia said. “Just because she’s clean now doesn’t mean she was then. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t used her father’s money to purchase drugs in the past.”

Blanca waved a hand. “Wait a minute. You just said that we need to set aside the mistakes of the past.”

CC resisted the urge to smile when Alicia started to squirm, remembering that it had been
her
job to put Alicia in this position, not Blanca’s. While the firm might still prevail it would be Blanca’s credit—not hers.

“We would stipulate future drug tests as a condition of the inheritance,” Blanca added, looking at Hailey, who nodded.

Kraft wrote furiously on his pad and then set his pen down. He stared at the pictures for a long time before he let them fall to the table. “Frankly, I’m sorry your mother’s not around to inherit this money. I find both of you equally distasteful. Therefore, you’re splitting it fifty-fifty, and Miss Morgan will consent to monthly drug tests for a period of one year.”

They shook hands and everyone filed out. Blanca and CC said goodbye to Hailey, but when the elevator door closed, Blanca glared at her. “What happened?”