Page 3 of Ask for Moore

He rattled off Marty’s phone number, and I put it at the top of my notes along with the details he’d given me. “All right, I’ll give him a call in the morning.”

He beamed me a smile full of approval. “You might want to call your old law firm, too.”

My brows drew together. “How come?”

“They’re representing the bastard who plans on suing Marty.”

2

Waverly

Iwas absorbed in the research I was doing when the phone on my desk buzzed. Seeing the number for an internal line pop up on the caller ID, I tapped the speaker button to answer. “Waverly Duncan. How can I help you?”

“Mr. Arnoult would like to see you in his office, Miss Duncan.”

My head jerked up when she mentioned the named partner. “When?”

“Now.”

My fingers trembled as I set down the pen I’d been using to take notes. “I’ll be right there.”

Wishing for about the millionth time I had an office that offered me even a modicum of privacy, I cringed when I glanced at the attorney in the cubicle next to me. Jack was a fourth-year associate who started in the same cohort as me, and we’d found ourselves in competition with each other for cases many times over the years, with me coming out on top more often than not.

Jack’s dark eyes gleamed with spiteful satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like you’re in trouble.”

Being called into a named partner’s office was nerve-inducing, but there was no way that I’d ever let him see how anxious I was. Pasting on a confident smile, I retorted, “Since I haven’t done anything wrong, it’s more likely that he’s giving me a big case or a promotion.”

Jack’s lips pressed into a firm line as he smirked. “Uh-huh, I bet that Mr. Arnoult wants to talk to you about being on the partnership track, even though nobody else has been called in and they’ve only just begun reviewing our performance. Because you’re just that important.”

I wasn’t surprised by the snickers from the cubicles closest to us. Although I’d gotten my JD from Northwestern University’s Pritzker School of Law—a top-tier law school by anyone’s standards—I had always felt out of place at the elite law firm where I had been a summer intern and was hired as a junior associate after graduation. Working here for years hadn’t lessened my discomfort because I didn’t fit in with the other lawyers who all came from better backgrounds than mine.

Less than one percent of students at my law school got full-tuition scholarships, and I knew how lucky I’d been to snag one of the coveted grants. However, living expenses in Chicago weren’t cheap, and I’d taken out almost one-hundred thousand dollars in school loans by the time I graduated. With a monthly payment almost as much as a mortgage, I still lived in the same crappy studio apartment, didn’t own a car, and bought most of my clothes from resale shops. Luckily, I was used to being on the outside, so their crap didn’t get to me much.

It took me about an hour each way to commute to the office, but I used my time on the train to keep up with various law journals. My reading had come in handy in several cases, something which had earned me the attention of the firm’s partners—and the ire of my peers. Competition was fierce among associates, with everyone wanting to come out on top.

Grabbing a notebook and pen, I muttered, “If by important, you mean a better lawyer than you, then yes.”

My parting shot earned me a dirty look from Jack and reluctant laughter from the other four-years. Putting him in his place helped settle my nerves, but I had an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach by the time I reached Mr. Arnoult’s office.

Judy looked up from her desk outside his door. “He’s expecting you.”

Her lack of greeting wasn’t a surprise. She saved her warm welcomes for partners or clients.

“Thanks.” I tapped on the door, and a masculine voice called, “Come in.”

Peeking my head inside the office, I murmured, “You wanted to see me?”

Mr. Arnoult looked up and smiled. “Yes, Miss Duncan. Please come in and have a seat.”

After dropping onto one of the chairs in front of his desk, I smoothed the hem of my skirt.

“It’s recently come to my attention that you’re licensed to practice in Wisconsin and Indiana as well as Illinois.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. After passing the Illinois bar, I took the exams in Indiana and Wisconsin the following February and July.”

“Taking the bar three times over is an interesting choice.” He pulled a manila folder toward him and flipped it open. “Especially while accruing in excess of twenty-one hundred billable hours during your first year with us, taking advantage of the maximum numbers allowed in our associate shadowing program, and exceeding our recommended number of pro bono hours.”

As happy as I was that the tone of this meeting was so positive, I was a little perturbed by how much attention Mr. Arnoult was paying to my personnel file. “It definitely would have been a lot easier if the Uniform Bar Examination had been implemented a few years earlier. At least then I could have skipped the test in Indiana.”

---