Page 1 of The Sweet Life

Chapter One

The high-pitched wail of a phone alarm dragged attorney Sage Rosetti from her recurring nightmare—the one where she stood naked in the front of a packed courtroom as the judge ruled in favor of her client’s ex.

Over the alarm, Sage heard her assistant Brenda’s voice and realized that she had fallen asleep at her desk again.

“Trust me, Sage can sleep through almost anything. This is the third time this week she’s pulled an all-nighter,” Brenda said.

Sage didn’t think her team finding her asleep at her desk was a good look and tried opening her eyes, but apparently her body wasn’t taking orders from her brain.

“Doesn’t she have a partner or friends?” asked another woman, whose voice was almost as annoying as the alarm that had gone blessedly silent.

“No. All she does is work.”

Hey, she had friends… Family counted as friends, didn’t they? Sage managed to pry one eyelid open. Hovering by her desk were the blurred faces of Brenda and the junior lawyer who’d been assigned to Sage’s team yesterday afternoon.

“If that’s what it takes to make partner at this firm, I’d better start applying elsewhere. Work-life balance is a priority for me.”

Sage snorted at the idea of work-life balance—but she must have snorted in her head, because the two women kept talking as if she weren’t lying with her face on her keyboard, eyeballing them.

“Sage is ajuniorpartner,” Brenda informed the newest member of their team. And given how the founding partners felt about her inability to toe the company line, she would remain so until the three octogenarians either retired or dropped dead.

“Really? I thought she’s one of the most sought-after divorce attorneys in Boston and makes the big bucks.”

“She is, and she does. It’s just that the founding partners are—”

Brenda’s intention to share their low opinion of the founding partners with a brand-new associate was the impetus Sage needed to lift her bowling-ball-heavy head off the desk. “What time is it?” she rasped, peeling the keyboard from her cheek.

“Time that you picked a new alarm for your phone. It’s been proven that the Radar alarm ringtone elevates people’s blood pressure and makes them grumpy,” Brenda said, handing Sage her cell phone with a pointed look.

Sage ignored her assistant’s insinuation that she was grumpy first thing in the morning. In her opinion, the morning didn’t officially begin until she’d consumed at least one grande Americano.

Bleary-eyed, she held the screen to her face. Nothing happened.

“You might want to fix your hair and your, uh, face. You were drooling,” Brenda added, a smile flirting with her lips.

Sage pushed to her feet, feeling every minute of the time she’d spent asleep at her desk. Her knees creaked as if she were eighty instead of thirty as she hobbled to the closet-size bathroom off her office. She might not be an equity partner, but that tiny sink, mirror, and toilet more than made up for the bonuses she missed out on.

Sage winced when she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the sink. No wonder her phone didn’t recognize her face. Her hair looked like she’d had a good time in bed with the partner she didn’t have and didn’t want, if her clients’ relationships were an example of the price you paid for love. Her smudged mascara made her look like a raccoon, and thanks to the drool, there was a streak of red lip stain dangling from the corner of her mouth to her chin. She couldn’t decide whether she looked like a rabid raccoon or the bride of Frankenstein.

As she finished up in the bathroom and washed her hands, she heard Brenda say, “Forbes, Poole, and Russell… Oh, hi, Ms. Rosetti. Carmen, of course. I’ll get Sage for you.”

Sage darted from the bathroom waving her hands and mouthing,I’m not here!

Carmen Rosetti was her grandmother. Ninety percent of the time, Sage adored her, but the other ten percent of the time, her grandmother got on her last nerve. Lately, it had been closer to twenty percent of the time.

Sage hadn’t visited her family on Sunshine Bay in months due to her heavy caseload, and there was no one who did guiltbetter than an Italian grandmother. Carmen knew every last one of Sage’s buttons to push, and she pushed them like a gleeful toddler.

“Sage, do you—” the junior lawyer began, her overloud voice nearly drowning out Brenda, who was in the middle of covering for Sage.

“I’m sorry, Carmen. She left the—” Her assistant sighed. “Yes, I did hear that. She just returned to the office for her phone. Here she is.”

Sorry, Brenda mouthed, handing the phone to Sage.

If the junior lawyer followed through with her plan to quit, Sage was requesting a low talker for her replacement. “You’ll have to make it quick, Nonna. I’m due in court in an hour.”

Three hours, actually, but she had to see how far she’d gotten on the briefs before she’d fallen asleep. They were due to opposing counsel this afternoon. She prayed she hadn’t hit the Delete button with her cheek.

“Work, work, work, that’s all you do. No time for your family. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

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