Free The Right Time by Delaney Diamond

the colors of which changed from day to day, depending on which outfit she wore. Today the black frames matched her black pantsuit.
    “Good morning. Anything for me today?”
    By now he’d hoped to have received an invitation to the annual cocktail party at founding partner Brit Wong’s Atlanta home, an invitation that was the unofficial precursor to being voted in as a partner. Every day he checked his box, ever since he learned the invitations had been printed.
    Lena pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll come soon,” she said.
    “No doubt about it, but I’m getting antsy,” he confessed, something he’d only admit to her.
    As he turned to leave, she said, “I saw Keith Wong in the office today.”
    “What’s he doing here?”
    Keith Wong was Brit’s only son. An attorney himself, he was a legal administrator working out of the Atlanta office.
    “Not sure. Probably reporting back to his father. Or…it might have something to do with you.”
    There she was, being clairvoyant again.
    “You know that for sure, or are you guessing?”
    “I’m pretty sure.” She lifted a file out of the cabinet and shut the drawer. Lena walked over to her desk, dropped the file atop a stack of papers, and rested her fist on her hip. “It’s good for you, bad for the lead attorney on the Creplar case.”
    Creplar, Inc. was an Atlanta-based software company being sued by ten of its top engineers, who alleged they were not adequately compensated for their designs. It was the Holy Grail of projects, representing thousands of billable hours thanks to mountains of paperwork, multiple depositions, and plaintiffs who not only refused to back down, they’d scoffed at earlier attempts to settle.
    “I was told to call Wong’s office when you arrived,” Lena said in an ominous tone.
    “Then go ahead and make that call. By the way, I’m meeting a potential client for coffee at two. Would you—”
    “Make a reservation at the restaurant across the street? Already done.”
    Ransom went into his office and hung his jacket on the coatrack near the door. He sat down in his chair and tapped his fingers on the oak desk. If there was a problem on the Creplar case, as Lena suggested, the lead attorney could be on their way out and Ransom might have an opportunity to shine.
    He signed off on letters Lena had drafted, printed, and placed on his desk. The call from upstairs didn’t come until almost lunchtime, when he was five minutes into proofing a document prepared by one of the junior associates.
    It was Mr. Wong’s secretary. “Ransom, Mr. Wong would like to see you in his office, please.”
    Ransom stood right away and donned his suit jacket. On his way, he glanced into Lena’s office, and she smiled and gave him the thumbs-up sign before ducking her head back to the paperwork in front of her.
    Ransom exited on the top floor of the building, where Wong’s secretary ushered him through with a smile. Since there weren’t that many offices on this floor, it was very quiet. She knocked once on the double doors, pushed them open for him, and closed them after he walked through.
    Ransom could only remember being in this office one other time in the eight years he’d worked at the firm, so everything seemed brand new to him. Heavy mahogany furniture covered in shiny leather dominated the décor, and the bookshelves lining the walls contained framed certificates, as well as law books.
    Brit Wong sat behind his huge desk and looked up from a file he was reading. He motioned with his hand. “Ransom, come in, come in.”
    He was a slight man with a head full of grizzled hair and a black mustache and beard peppered with gray hairs. Years ago, he arrived in the United States from China and, because of a limited command of the English language, was forced to work menial jobs until he improved. Eventually he put himself through college and started the firm with Abraham and MacKenzie, both of whom he had outlived. Like many