Free The First Law of Love by Abbie Williams

words Spicer Music , and my heart gave a sudden, unexpected thump.
    Is that …
    I wonder if …
    The sign in the door was flipped to OPEN. I couldn’t see anyone through the window, though the sun was at the wrong angle, gilding my vision. I realized the car was barely doing more than crawling along the street and that there was a truck behind me, surely wondering what the hell I was doing, so I accelerated and drove on to the law office, where I found the lot with no trouble, and parked beside Al’s rusted-out pickup. This wasn’t exactly a confidence-inspiring vehicle; I wondered if he switched it out with another when he appeared in court. Or maybe around here, people knew him well enough not to judge his legal abilities based on his wheels.
    Heart clipping along, I entered the law office to the tinkle of a bell above the door. The room smelled of coffee and books. Al was bent over a desk, pointing out something on a file folder to a woman who appeared old enough to be his mother. Both of them looked my way and both of them grinned as though I had come to inform them that they’d won the state lotto.
    â€œTish, good morning!” Al welcomed. To the woman at the desk, he said, “Mary, this is our new associate, Patricia Gordon.”
    New associate.
    I liked how that sounded. I went directly to her and offered my hand. She carefully reached to remove her carnation-pink reading glasses, which were linked to a bejeweled chain around her neck, lowering these to her ample bosom. She took my hand into both of her soft, wrinkled and much-spotted own hands, patted me twice, and then said, “Oh heavens, I wish my youngest grandson wasn’t yet married. Albert, you didn’t tell me our new girl was so beautiful. I just wish this was last year instead of this year. That way Harold wouldn’t be married to that Denise.”
    I blinked, seeing Al’s mouth lift into a smile out of the corner of my eye. The woman at the desk released my hand and continued to peer at me. She was eighty if she was a day, dressed in a pink dress with pleated sleeves and lace at the collar, matching lipstick and eyebrows drawn upon her face with great care. She smelled of a delicate, floral perfume.
    â€œTish, this is Mary Stapleton, our dear secretary.”
    â€œI’ve been at this firm since I was a girl your age,” Mary explained. “I worked for Rupert James’s father before him, God rest him now. Rupert’s retired just recently. He wasn’t as good at his job as Albert here, however. Don’t be fooled by Albert. He’s sharp as a little tack. He just looks absent-minded.”
    I choked back a giggle and nodded seriously. I said politely, “I’m happy to meet you. And thank you for the compliment.” I had never been one for being able to comfortably accept words about my looks, so I added, “I take them where I can get them, these days.”
    â€œBosh,” Mary said at once. “Those eyes of yours, blue as a spring-fed lake. You’ve had compliments by the dozen, or young men these days don’t know their rears from a hole in the ground!”
    I did giggle then, looking helplessly at Al.
    â€œNow, if you’ve got the brains to back up the looks, you’re a force to be reckoned with,” Mary continued. “You’ve got the look of it, somehow.” She gave me the kind of eagle-eye worthy of a Northwestern Law School professor, and I felt my shoulders squaring in response.
    â€œI do, and I am,” I said, and she smiled wider.
    â€œThatta girl,” Mary said, and then to Al, “Give this young lady something to do, Albert, for heaven’s sake.”
    Al showed me around the office while Mary began clickety-clacking on a computer keyboard, reading glasses back in place, pink lips pursed. My desk was to the right, just beside the front window, with a view of the activity on Main Street. I saw a computer, file