Free Fat Chance by Rhonda Pollero Page A

for partners.”
    He paused in the doorframe and glanced back at me. “Yeah, I know. Guess we’ll be ordering new letterhead.”
    Becky was going to be frosted. She’d been working like a slave for five years with a single goal in mind—making partner. As I called Feldman to reschedule, I silently prayed Ellen would tell Becky before lunch. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, especially not to my dearest friend in the world. I also knew there was no way I could stay mute through lunch if she didn’t know. Crap.
    Not when the new partner was Tony. After he left, I imagined what kind of wedding we’d have and what our children might look like. Foolish, yes. But out of the question? No. Okay, so I’m iffy on the children part, but if Tony came back and asked me to marry him in the next five minutes, I think I’d say yes. He was positively made to order. Putting the whole employer-employee thing aside, he definitely piqued my interest. He was gorgeous, polished, and so not Liam McGarrity. The employer thing wasn’t really an issue. I knew three or four paralegals, administrative assistants, and secretaries who’d ended up marrying their bosses. I could be happy going from support staff to pampered spouse.
    As I went back to packing for my jaunt to the courthouse, I wondered how my life could have changed so dramatically in less than twenty-four hours. The last thing I did before leaving my office was to slip the medallion into my purse.
    The police might not care who the teenage girl was or howshe died, but I did. And I wanted to know how she died holding Jonathan’s medallion.
     
    “I ’M STARVING ,” J ANE SAID when she joined me near the podium. “How long is the wait?”
    “Ten minutes,” I said, holding the plastic square thing that would buzz, flash, and vibrate as soon as our table was ready. My stomach gurgled as the scents of dozens of different foods floated all around me. I was eyeing the cheesecake case, trying to decide which decadent dessert I’d order to go. In my life, cheesecake for dinner was a totally acceptable entrée.
    Liv and Becky arrived a few minutes later, just as the plastic thing started to buzz and flash. “Great timing,” I said, following the waiter as he led us through the large, busy restaurant.
    Jane and I shared one side of the booth, while Becky and Liv settled in opposite us. The food was great, but the restaurant tended to be noisy, so we all leaned forward on the polished wood table. One look at Becky’s gloomy green eyes confirmed she’d heard about the new partner.
    Liv, as always, was cheery and telling us about her latest coup—her company, Concierge Plus, had landed the Semple-Gilmore wedding reception contract. “Ask me what the budget is?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
    Jane, always the accountant, sighed, “I don’t want to know. It always amazes me when rich people spend a small fortune to celebrate marriages that have the shelf life of arugula.”
    Liv’s perfect lips pressed together in a perfect pout. Not uncommon, since Olivia Garrett had perfect everything. Thank God she’s my friend—if not, I’d have to hate her for being so incredibly beautiful. Even the waiter, who I was surewas gay, couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he asked for our drink orders.
    Ignoring the waiter, I said cheerfully, “Liv’s going to do such a spectacular job on the wedding that both parties are going to have her cater not only their divorce but also all future weddings. It’s job security.”
    Liv said “Damn right” and opted for champagne while the rest of us ordered the tropical iced tea. Champagne sounded good, but I was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t appreciate my showing up for our first staff meeting with a blood alcohol level of point-five.
    Toying with the paper band holding her utensils together, Becky guessed, “Five million.”
    Liv shook her head, then focused on me.
    “The supermarket chain Gilmores?” I asked.
    She