“How could it be…?”
He muttered, baffled.
“How could Katarina… actually be Niamh?”
The next morning, Niamh didn’t head to the office right away. Instead, she drove to Marisport.
There was a law firm in Marisport with a reputation: rumor had it that Flynn Sinclair, one of its partners, had never lost a divorce case.
Things hadn’t panned out in Aldenville, so Niamh figured she might as welry her luck here.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Rivers even for a consultation, you’ll need to book in advance. Attorney Sinclair is fully booked until the start of next year.”
“Until next year?” Niamh stared in disbelief.
Then again, these days, divorce cases kept every law firm in business. Clearly there. were plenty of people eager for a split and not having much luck with it.
With nothing to show for her trip, Niamh drove back to Aldenville and returned to her studio.
“Ms. Rivers, Mr. Brown called. There’s a dinner tonight with some of the big names in the collectibles world. He’d like you to join.”
The speaker was Quentin, a recent college grad with little experience, currently handling a bit of everything around the studio.
“I told you, just call me by my name.”
To Quentin, she was the boss.
But Niamh hated being addressed so formally, especially by people she worked with. She never felt like she’d earned that kind of distance.
“Ni… Niamh?” Quentin ventured, cheeks reddening.
Niamh couldn’t help but laugh.
“Tell Mr. Brown I won’t make it to the dinner tonight, okay?”
Mr. Brown was certainly a heavyweight in the collectibles world, but her impression of him was far from stellar.
“Niamh…” Quentin hesitated, tripping over the new familiarity. “I know you don’t really like these social things, but… our studio’s just getting started. Shouldn’t we be, you know, a bit more proactive? Maybe I’m overstepping, but I want us to do well. If we upset Mr. Brown right off the bat, I’m just worried…”
He didn’t need to finish. Niamh understood.
“…Alright. Call Mr. Brown for me–tell him I’ll be there for the dinner, right on time.”
As soon as she said it, Quentin’s eyes lit up.
Maybe it was just the enthusiasm of his first real job that made him so invested.
Niamh gave a wry smile, thinking to herself: Surely Quentin’s not worried the studio will go under before it’s had a proper chance?
Quentin hurried back to his desk and, hiding behind his computer monitor, pulled out his phone to send a quick WhatsApp message.
Marina was driving when her phone buzzed with a new notification.
2/3
Waiting at a red light, she glanced down to see a message from Quentin–just two
words:
