Page 28 of From the Courtroom to the Court
"Come in," Emily says and steps aside. "Did you find parking?"
Leah realizes it's a typical question she uses to break the ice with clients, because the area where her house is located has plenty of free street parking.
"Yes, right in front," the tennis player answers and enters the living room of her student's house.
The interior of the home is more beautiful than Leah imagined. That combination of the classic elegance that South Carolina houses have with modern details enhances its charm. The ceilings are high and create a sense of spaciousness, while the floors are made of a material that the tennis player can't quite determine. The living room preserves a marble fireplace that seems to have been there for more than a century, but instead of the heavy furniture of yesteryear, there's a modular sofa in neutral tones with linen cushions and a minimalist wood and metal center table. An industrial design pendant lamp hangs over the dining table, which is a perfect blend between rustic and contemporary: reclaimed wood with black steel legs.
"Your house is impressive, Emily," Leah verbalizes as the lawyer invites her to sit.
Emily smiles and scans her living room with her eyes.
"I'm delighted with the result," she explains. "It belonged to my grandparents; the house is very cozy, but the lot was immense, so I made two divisions and sold them. I kept just enough and also preserved much of its origin."
"I would have loved for mine to be more in this style. Don't misunderstand me, I like it a lot, although perhaps it's too big and modern."
The fleeting thought of being in that house crosses Emily's mind, having dinner one night or breakfast one morning after...
"Must be dinner," the lawyer clears her throat when the doorbell rings and smooths out invisible wrinkles in her pants. "I ordered some food while you tell me what you want to consult me about."
Emily disappears and when she returns to the living room, she does so carrying two bags. She approaches the table and takes out some packages that smell so good that Leah immediately starts salivating.
"I hope you like roast beef sandwiches," Emily says and signals for her to sit at the table. "The ones from Giselle's are my favorite."
"I haven't tried them," the tennis player laughs at Emily's astonished face.
"Prepare yourself to taste a delicacy then," she opens a can of blonde beer, "which we will of course accompany with this elixir."
The sandwich is filled with well-seasoned roast beef cooked in a wood-fired oven for more than twenty-four hours. The result is veal that's like butter, soft and light, melting at the first bite.
"Damn, this is good," says Leah as she chews and closes her eyes. Then she takes a sip of the ice-cold beer.
"Told you," Emily takes pride in her choice.
A few minutes later, the women are back on the sofa. Emily has asked Leah to provide context for what she needs, and the tennis player has begun her account, updating her on everything that's happening with Aaron. She explains Mia's past, though she omits certain details that she believes aren't hers to tell; she shares what's necessary for Emily, as a professional, to advise her.
"The previous lawyer didn't do a bad job, but I think he could have achieved more," Leah concludes.
"In cases like these, the options are few, though there's always some alternative path to take," she tells her. "At my family's firm, we've already handled similar cases, and I can help Mia. First, before telling you anything else, I need to see all the documentation she has on the case. That way, we'll begin to get an idea of which strategy to lean towards and, above all, know what we have against us and in our favor."
Leah is fascinated. Emily speaks with firmness, with a composure given by experience. Her mother wasn't wrong in assuming the lawyer really likes her job.
"Emma will be the lead attorney," Emily continues, "I'm now handling a somewhat tedious case and can't neglect it, so she'll take care of everything necessary, and I'll help her."
"I'll ask Mia to prepare everything," Leah answers and takes out her phone to note down the details. "We also need to talk about fees; I'll take care of those."
Emily shakes her head.
"We'll talk about that later, don't worry."
The doorbell rings again, and Emily frowns. She apologizes to Leah and gets up to walk to the door. When she opens it, she finds her neighbor, a much older woman who takes excessive care of herself and appears much younger than she is. The woman hands her a pamphlet inviting some of those living in the area to attend a summer barbecue that she and her husband are organizing. Emily smiles at her and accepts the paper; she doesn't read it, she won't attend. Although she doesn't dislike the woman, she knows that her non-liberal position doesn't align with the lawyer's values.
When Emily returns, Leah is standing in front of a piece of furniture where several photographs are displayed; she studies them calmly, and the lawyer can't find her more beautiful. She doesn't know what's happening to her, but something urges her to approach her, to breathe the same oxygen. When she reaches Leah's back, the woman turns, and Emily, in a surge of confidence and desire, passes her hand over the tennis player's neck, raising it in a caress, and presses against her lips to kiss her. At first, Leah doesn't move, though as soon as she feels the softness of Emily's skin, she takes her by the waist and pulls her close. The kiss lingers, it's slow, exploratory, and both are enjoying it. An annoying and repetitive sound is the only thing that manages to separate them.
"Sorry," Emily says, pulling away from Leah, "it's my work phone, and if it rings at this hour, it's because it's important."
Leah nods, dazed. She touches her lips while watching Emily turn to pick up the device. She reprimands herself many times because she isn't free to go around kissing women; she has a relationship with Stella that, although she's clear they aren't in love, deserves respect.
"Yes, right now, let me open my laptop," Emily says as she turns on the device and covers the earpiece. "It's my father," she whispers, "I'll be with you in a moment."
