Page 8 of The Wrong Guy

It really was.

Chapter 3

WREN

“Ben, I’ve got this. You haven’t read a divorce proceeding in forty years. I handled dozens of them during my internships.” I’m trying to reassure Ben, but he’s not having it. His head is shaking back and forth the whole time I’m speaking.

“It’s only been thirty, and this is nothing like whatever amicable splits they had you work on in school. This is the big time, and might affect Cold Springs for decades. Maybe longer.” He opens a file folder on his desk, flipping through the pages so quickly, there’s no way he can focus on one before he goes to the next.

“Which will be the tenure when I’m here as city attorney and you’re enjoying the view from your front porch,” I remind him gently. “You’ve earned that and shouldn’t have to worry about this. I won’t mess it up. You can trust me.”

Ben flops back in his tufted executive chair, the only nod to his stature at city hall. The old, well-oiled leather creaks mellowly from years of use as he steeples his hands beneath his chin and peers at me from behind his thick black-framed glasses. “Walk me through it.”

He’s handing me the rope to hang myself. It’s the way he’s taught me everything over the years, which is one of the reasons I chose to work with Ben instead of some fancy law firm where I’d be relegated to years of grunt work. Ben demands greatness from me, and I’m well versed in what he expects to hear.

“First, the contract for Township—it will be the driving force behind the city’s position for the property distribution. Want me to quote it to you?” I ask with a twinkle in my eye.

A bushy brow appears above Ben’s glasses as he silently and wryly tells me to get on with it. We wrote that contract together last year, and he knows that I could recite the whole thing verbatim, backward and forward, as well as explain every nuanced detail of it. Township might be one of Jed’s construction company’s babies, but that contract is one of mine, and it’s tighter than a one-size-fits-all Spanx bodysuit.

“Second, meet with the lawyers. Jed’s hasn’t been in touch yet, but that call’s gotta be coming. He’s probably going for something dramatic, or thinks this whole thing will blow over and Chrissy will lie back down under his thumb.” I roll my eyes at my uncle’s habit of dismissing anyone of the female persuasion. “As for Chrissy’s lawyer, the appointment is later today. Officer Milson’s parked on the edge of town, keeping watch. He’ll give me a heads-up when he spots the lawyer coming into town, but I’m ready. During the meeting, my purpose is to gain intel for Cold Springs, not share information that could affect the case. We want to know the plan for Township and what they’re expecting from Jed for pushback because we all know there’s going to be a helluva lot of that.”

Ben nods in agreement, and I continue. “Third, represent Cold Springs and the city’s interests. Township is important to us, much more than a single person. Regardless of their last name.”

I add that last bit for Ben’s benefit. Cold Springs and the name Ford go hand in hand, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad, but Uncle Jed should have no more sway with this situation than Aunt Chrissy, and I won’t lean one way or the other for them just because we share a name or bloodline.

“And if the shit hits the fan?” Ben queries.

I smile confidently as I lean forward. “I deal with it.”

“Good girl,” he says with an answering smile of his own. He relaxes in his chair and takes a look around his office.

I wonder what he sees in the green-painted walls, bookcases, and framed certificates and pictures. It’s nothing fancy, but when I first came here, I saw my future—and I’ve worked my ass off every day to make sure it happens. I’m looking forward to doing more of the same for the foreseeable future too.

When Ben’s eyes settle on me again, his expression softens. “I’m gonna miss this place. But I want you to know ... I don’t have any doubts about you, Wren. I’m damn proud of the lawyer you’ve become, and pleased as a pig in muck that I had a thing to do with it.”

I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks. I haven’t been lacking in male role models most of my life. Starting with my dad, who selflessly served Cold Springs as mayor for many years. And when he made a mistake, he stepped down for the good of the city, owning up to his part and taking responsibility when it mattered.

My two brothers have dealt with shit in their own ways, both strong in their own right, either starting over fresh when it was warranted or doing the hard work from within the faulty system.

But despite their good characters, Ben has been a role model for me professionally since I interviewed him for a high school project when, impressed with my questions and fortitude, he encouraged me to go to law school. His support has been instrumental in my growth, so his compliment means a lot to me.

“Thanks, Ben. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Pshaw, girl. You’d be wherever you dang well pleased with that brain and backbone of yours, and we both know it. I’m glad you decided to stick around here instead of going to one of those fancy firms that was wooing you. Now, you go give this big-shot city lawyer a run for his money. I guar-un-tee he doesn’t have a clue what he’s getting himself into with you. Use that.” He smirks, pointing a bony finger at me.

Ben’s right. I’m underestimated a lot, usually based on my appearance. At barely five-foot nothing, with blonde hair, green eyes, and my mother’s good looks, I’m often taken for being either young or stupid. I’m neither.

I’m an analyzer, looking at situations from every angle, which lets me be strategic. I’m mouthy and confident, seeing no need to put up with bullshit unless it’s to serve my own purposes. And despite my good looks, my best asset is my brain.

It didn’t take long for the know-nothings at law school to drop their attempts at nicknaming me “Legally Blonde.” Most of them at least.

“You got it.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I look at it, quickly reading the message. “Milson says a black Lexus LS just rolled into town. Betting that’s Chrissy’s guy.” My eyes meet Ben’s, confirming that he’s going to let me handle this on my own.

He stands, pulling his suit jacket from the back of his chair as he pushes it in, and I have a moment of disappointment, thinking he’s prepping to meet the incoming lawyer. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be sitting on my front porch, getting reacquainted with Mr. Samuel Adams till about nine. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I exhale in relief. Ben is ready for retirement, but the intersection of that milestone with a huge negotiation makes it extra hard for him to let go. But he’s doing so because he trusts me.

I follow Ben out the door to the lobby of city hall, telling Joanne that it’s showtime with the lawyer. “I’ll send him to the conference room when he gets here, Wren.”

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