Fiction Friday: Tough Defense Part 1

Charlotte sighed out the kitchen window. These moments in the morning were the only ones she could truly call her own. She studied the mother dove on the tree branch overreaching the deck. “If only,” she thought. She chugged the dregs from the coffee mug, took one last whiff of the fresh roses she’d cut, and slipped on her heels. The day stretched out before her, and Charlotte knew exactly what it held. It was going to be a long one. On her way out the back door, her heel caught in the spool of wire by the table. Oh Kip, she thought. Not another project.

This case had come to her in what she assumed was the usual way. Before the divorce six months ago, she never had need for cases like these. But come to her it had, and she was now the lead attorney on the case. Generally she found rhetoric thrilling; proving a point in court sent shivers down her spine. When she was with Darren, she had been able to pick and choose which cases to accept and which ones to hand down to the junior partners. She chose only the meatiest ones for herself. She would indulge herself in late nights of frantic research and early morning coffee-fueled client meetings because these things were intrinsic to who she was. And she was great at them. But this case. This was positively one for the junior lawyers, and now it was just Charlotte.

Kip had moved in with her shortly after the divorce. Not as a reaction to the split, but as one of those circumstances of cosmic import over which we seem to have no control. Ever since they were kids, Charlotte had been close to her sister, so when Kip arrived on her doorstep just days after Darren moved out, Charlotte really hadn’t been that surprised. She would never admit it to Kip, who took all sentiment as an invitation to make herself permanently at home, but Charlotte was glad for the company. In some ways, Charlotte envied Kip’s bohemian lifestyle (she’d never had that artistic wandering impulse herself), but most of the time it made her appreciate her stability. At least it had when she’d had it.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” the receptionist (was her name Elizabeth? Liz?) greeted her as she walked through the door. She mumbled something under her breath and darted over to her desk. Despite the fact that she had been at the firm for a few months, the names of the people in the office still managed to elude her. She would never admit it to anyone, but Charlotte saw her employment there as temporary, a stepping stone. It was a newer firm in one of the shining glass buildings downtown. Charlotte saw herself in one of the more established firms. She liked the heft of their name anchoring hers on her business cards, the clout they allowed her both in the courtroom and out of it. But news travels fast in the legal world, and what had happened between her and Darren had spread like wildfire. Charlotte couldn’t help reminding herself every now and then that there had been a time when she could have entered any law office in the city with her head held high. She would dole out condescending looks to lawyers at other firms as if to say, “It’s nice, your position here. At least it’s something.” At the time, her status as half of a power couple lent her a sense of entitlement. They had been featured in society magazines, every picture flawless, exuding success through the ink on the page. Little did everyone know that the relationship behind the perfect haircuts and the immaculate clothes was more porous than the paper on which their accolades were printed.

There is no time for this, Charlotte coaxed herself. Today was the day she would win. She had to.

* * * *

(To be continued…)

Text only ©2011 Jessica Cocita. All Rights Reserved.

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