Page 26 of A Walking Shadow

Connelly greeted her at the door. “You made it home before dark.”

“Told you I’d try.”

He wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you. What were you yapping at Eleanor about? No, let me guess, you were sharing your bore yourself to death the night before a court appearance advice.”

“You know me too well,” she laughed.

“I know you just the right amount,” he countered. “So, what’s it going to be tonight—penne in vodka sauce or Riley’s mac and cheese?”

“That advice is for junior attorneys. I have a better way to burn off nervous energy.” She caught his hand and pulled him toward the stairs.

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“The kids are sleeping over at my brother’s place again, right?”

“Right.”

She dropped his hand, loosened her hair from the knot at the back of her neck, and unzipped her sheath dress. It puddled around her feet, and she stepped out of it and ran up the stairs, pausing to smile over her shoulder at him when she reached the landing. He was, as the saying goes, hot on her heels.

12

Friday

Judge Macomber’s deputy clerk was waiting just inside the courtroom doors when Sasha and Ellie entered the room.

“Hi, Charlie.”

“Sasha. And I take it this young woman is Eleanor Prescott?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ellie offered her hand with a confident, easy smile and no trace of nerves.

Sasha felt like a proud parent. Evidently, noodles and a three-hour-long biopic about an obscure sculptor had worked like a charm.

Charlene ‘Charlie’ Rush gave Ellie a quick handshake before turning her attention back to Sasha and getting down to business.

“The Judge wants to see you and opposing counsel in chambers as soon as Mr. Simmons gets here.”

Sasha nodded, unsurprised. She’d have been surprised if Judge Macomberhadn’tpushed for a settlement. As Sasha understood it, the monopoly case on the judge’s docket involved fourteen regional trucking companies as defendants and wasa multi-district morass. She didn’t have time for what was likely to be a morass of another kind—one with novel legal theories bordering on the frivolous, a plaintiff with a worldview bordering on the fantastical, and a counterclaim whose merits had already been decided by a small claims court. Not only was Sasha not surprised by this turn of events, she was counting on it.

But all she said was, “Understood.”

Gray Simmons arrived a few minutes later, his tie askew and his unbuttoned suit jacket flapping as he burst through the door. “Am I late?” he panted. “That marshal at the security checkpoint—Toland—targeted me for a full-body search.”

Sasha and Ellie hid their grins with varying levels of success. Charlie just shook her head and gestured for the attorneys to follow her. Simmons gave Sasha a look that was equal parts bewildered and pleading.

She took pity on him and explained, “The judge wants to see us in chambers. I assume to explore settlement.”

He nodded unhappily and straightened his tie while they trailed the deputy clerk to the door to the judge’s chambers.

Judge Kathleen Macomber sat behind her burnished desk, her black judicial robes hanging neatly behind her from an antique coat rack. A handheld steamer sat on the windowsill beside it.

“Counselors, let’s sit.”

She stood up and walked over to the oval table that stood in front of a wall of books and gestured for them to follow her. They did, and then they waited for her to sit before pulling out chairs and joining her at the table.

Once they were seated, Charlie, who was hovering behind the judge, leaned forward. “Do you want this to be on the record, Your Honor? Should I get Valerie?”

Judge Macomber shook her head. “No. We’re all set here, Charlie.”

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