Legally Tender. Michele Dunaway

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      Chapter Two

      The insistent ringing Monday morning that invaded her dream of Antonio Banderas sweeping her away wasn’t her alarm clock. Or her cell phone. It was her doorbell.

      Christina sat straight up in bed and studied her bedroom. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t the fading of her very pleasant dream. She blinked and attempted to focus. Except for the shrilling doorbell, the noises in the house were normal and the amount of light in her bedroom was the same as it always was at this time of the day.

      Except that it wasn’t this time of day. It was an hour earlier. She’d set the clocks back yesterday, after her mother had reminded her during their weekly Sunday-night chat that Daylight Savings Time had ended. The clocks were to “fall back.”

      The insistent noise at her front door still hadn’t stopped, and Christina shifted. The clock read 6:30 a.m. Who would be here this early? Bella’s carpool wasn’t due for another hour. Christina drew on her robe and rushed through her house. She peered through the peephole, groaned and pulled the door open. “Marci?”

      Marci Smith stepped back a pace and frowned. “Christina? Did you oversleep? Remember, I’m driving today. Is Bella ready?”

      Christina’s head pounded. “School’s not for another hour.”

      Marci frowned. “What are you talking about? School starts in twenty minutes. Same time as every day. It’s seven-thirty.”

      Christina’s eyes widened. “It can’t be. The clocks went back.”

      Marci’s jaw dropped. She covered her mouth with her hand. “We don’t set our clocks back. This is Indiana.”

      “Oh, my God.” Houston, Boston, Cincinnati—everyone in the United States sets his or her clock back. Right? “You mean I’m an hour behind? I have a meeting at eight-thirty and I’m not even showered? And Bella!”

      “You go get Bella. I’ll wait here on the step. Megan’s in the car, watching a DVD. As long as I can see her, she’s fine.”

      “Bless you,” Christina said. She turned on her heel and ran. Never had she moved so fast. She had Bella dressed, her teeth brushed and her hair combed in less than six minutes. Since Morrisville Elementary had a fantastic hot-breakfast program, Christina experienced some relief as she passed Bella over to Marci. At least Christina didn’t have to worry about her daughter missing the most important meal of the day.

      She herself would miss it, however. She didn’t have time for her normal bagel, black coffee and perusal of the Wall Street Journal. Instead, she rushed about, showering and shaving in under ten minutes and hopping on one foot as she wiggled into her pantyhose and shoes almost at the same time. She applied makeup in record time, as well.

      Perhaps it was a good thing that Morrisville was such a small town. She made it to work only five minutes late. Her heels clacked on the marble tile as she entered the old brick building that had housed the law offices of Lancaster and Morris for more than sixty years.

      “Christina Jones,” she said when she reached the receptionist’s desk in the middle of the cavernous lobby. “I have a meeting with Reginald Morris.”

      “Welcome, Ms. Jones. They’re expecting you. They’re already assembled in the grand conference room. Let me buzz them and tell them you’ve arrived.”

      That grand conference room had been the room in which she’d interviewed. It easily seated twenty, and no doubt all the senior partners were already there. Waiting for her?

      She hoped not.

      “Thank you,” Christina said to the receptionist. The ornate three-story building, complete with a rotunda, was over one hundred years old. With high, arched ceilings and balconies, it had served as a county seat and courthouse before a new building had been erected in another town.

      “Someone will be down in just a moment,” the receptionist said. “Feel free to have a seat.” She indicated a waiting area with old ornate chairs.

      “I’m fine,” Christina said. She clutched the Hermès briefcase that had been her gift to herself for landing the job. She hadn’t been a shoo-in for the position. She’d competed against four other finalists.

      Five minutes later, her feet beginning to throb from standing so long in her new two-inch Italian pumps, Christina turned as she sensed motion to her right.

      “Ms. Jones.” Reginald Morris, the fifty-something man with whom she’d done almost all her interviewing, approached, and she gave him a professional smile.

      This job was the ticket to her and Bella’s future. This job represented Christina’s finally taking the reins of her own life and becoming the lawyer she’d always wanted to be.

      Even though she’d passed the bar, it had been a while since she’d practiced law. She’d graduated Harvard Law School at age twenty-four, after intense years of full-time study. She’d racked up wins in a few impressive cases after law school, been promoted to full junior partner and called an up-and-coming, promising lawyer to watch. Then Kyle Jones had swept into her life and swept her off her feet. He’d insisted that she quit work and stay home once they were married.

      She’d become pregnant with Bella, and not once had she regretted those years of “being home” with her child. But she was thirty-four now, and getting a late start. So if Lancaster and Morris had hired her only because they needed a Spanish-speaking female, fine. If they’d made her full partner only because it gave them much-needed diversity, so be it. This job had gotten her foot back in the proverbial door. Working meant being her own independent woman. It was a first step, and she’d take advantage of it. She didn’t know where she’d go from here, but she knew it would be up.

      “Mr. Morris. Good morning,” she said.

      He gripped her hand and then placed his left hand on top. “Christina, welcome. We are extremely delighted you’re onboard. Your unique talents are going to win this case for our clients and for us. I have a premonition of great things ahead. Let me introduce you to all the senior partners.”

      “I apologize that I’m a few minutes late.” Christina had learned that it was always better to be direct.

      The corners of his eyes twinkled slightly. “Let me guess. You changed your clocks.”

      “Yes,” she admitted.

      He chuckled and patted her hand before he let it go. “Everyone who moves to Indiana makes that mistake the first year. Consider it a rite of passage or a bit of Hoosier State training. Of course, the legislature recently passed a law so that in 2006 the whole state will be on one time zone. Details to follow in April. We’re this way.”

      “SO, ARE YOU READY to meet your new boss?”

      “Lousy timing, Colin,” Bruce said as his best friend peeled himself off the door frame and entered Bruce’s office.

      “When’s the meeting?” Colin asked.

      Bruce turned his attention back to the mound of papers on his desk. Even though his paralegal СКАЧАТЬ