Gretchen backed up to make room for her. “You’re lucky you’re good at your job.”
“You’re lucky I’m good at my job.”
That was true. Gretchen had hit the lottery the day Addison applied to be her office manager. Not only was she more capable than ten people, but also for some reason she put up with Gretchen’s shit. “You’re right. I’m sorry. If I buy you coffee from ToeBeans, will you forgive me?”
“I already forgive you, but I’ll accept the offer anyway.” She held out her hand, palm up. “Spring for a muffin, too, and I’ll even go get it.”
“Deal.” Gretchen pulled money from her bag and handed it over.
“Tell Alexis I said hi.”
Addison grinned and grabbed her coat. “Be back in a half hour.”
“A half hour? ToeBeans is one block away.”
“But Zoe might be there.” She emphasized the point with a suggestive twitch of her eyebrows.
Addison had a crush on Zoe Logan, one of Alexis’s employees and her future sister-in-law. It was just one in a dozen ways Gretchen’s life intersected with Colton’s, because Zoe’s brother, Noah, was one of Colton’s best friends. It was her own nightmarish game of six degrees of separation, and it was a miracle the two of them hadn’t bumped into each other over the past year because of their mutual friends alone.
But those mutual friends were one of the many reasons she’d run out on him the morning after the wedding. If they’d tried to make a relationship out of their night together, their friends would be put in the awkward position of choosing sides if things went sour. And things would go sour eventually, because she was a Winthrop and therefore carried the toxic gene of chaos and greed that infected everyone who came in contact with them. Last night was evidence enough of that, wasn’t it?
Gretchen carried her stuff into her office and stared at the phone. Addison was right. She needed to call Jorge back and get it over with.
She dialed his number and prayed for his voice mail.
No such luck.
“I hope you are calling with some good news for me,” he answered.
“I’m sorry, Jorge—”
“No, don’t say that.”
“There are hundreds of attorneys around the United States you could call.”
“There aren’t. You have the exact skills and experience we need.”
“I have clients here who need me.”
“Do we need to increase our salary offer? I can go to our donors and—”
“No! Money has nothing to do with it.”
She could’ve sworn he actually let out a relieved breath. She understood. It was hard enough to raise money to fund legal services. Any donor would be rightfully pissed to know their money was going to pay for some greedy lawyer.
“Look,” he said, his change in tone suggesting a change in tactic. “What about coming out here for Christmas to help us with our annual donation drive? You can meet the staff, review some of our cases. You know you work over Christmas anyway.”
Gretchen pressed her fingers to her throbbing temple. How could she say no to that? And it was true. She did work over Christmas. She usually worked on Christmas.
“Just give it another couple of weeks to think about it,” Jorge pleaded. “Let me send you some information.”
“Okay,” she agreed. Reluctantly. “Send me what you have.”
“You’ll think about it some more?”
“Yes. But I should warn you that I highly doubt my answer will change.”
“Well, the best present you could give me right now would be to at least give me more time to convince you.”
Gretchen ended the call and massaged her forehead, where her light tension headache was starting to throb with the thud of guilt. No more than five minutes passed before her inbox dinged with the sound of an incoming email. Jorge hadn’t wasted any time.
G—
Thanks for humoring me. I hope after you have a chance to review our work and our priorities for next year, you’ll do more than that and actually consider my offer. Send me your thoughts, or better yet, let’s talk about it in person. We could use the extra set of hands to put together our donation boxes for the refugee center. Leticia would also love to see you, and you won’t believe how big the girls have gotten.
Best,
J
Yeah, so reading that only made the guilt worse. Gretchen hadn’t seen Jorge or his wife and their twin daughters in at least seven years. She’d been friends with both of them at Georgetown Law and had visited them every summer for a few years after graduation. But then she’d opened her own clinic, and there was never enough time after that.