Book II
Sue Patrick stepped off the elevator and onto the marble floor in the foyer at King & Stockton a week after she left Amarillo. She was classically, beautifully, and elegantly understated. In addition to truncating her name, Susanna had clipped her hair. It was now a smooth shoulder-length bob. The radiant darkchocolate luster wasn’t sacrificed, however. It still bounced and shimmered, but the new cut was smart, clean, and sophisticated.
“Good morning.” The greeting captured all of Sue’s attention. “I got the memo that said you would start work today. Welcome to King & Stockton.”
Peter Thurston entered Sue’s personal space and extended his hand. She realized she must have offered hers in return because he shook it.
“Thank you,” she said.
She was flustered and took note that he seemed pleased. Thurston gently managed the conversation. “We’re going to work together.” He looked slightly embarrassed—possibly concerned he had been presumptuous. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Thurston touched her back to guide her toward a corridor. The sensation didn’t immediately dissipate. He was one of the reasons she had accepted King & Stockton’s employment offer.
Sue met Thurston when she had interviewed at the firm. Neither sought, intended, or expected it, but sexual attraction had surged within each. During the interview they evaluated one another for reasons that transcended the job. When Thurston engaged Sue in conversation, he relinquished himself to her. He made her believe there was nothing more important or more interesting to him than she was.
“This is your new office.” He motioned toward the right. “And this is your new secretary, Marge Pasqua.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sue shook hands with the secretary.
“Marge is the best legal secretary in the world.” Thurston winked at the frumpy woman. “Even better Marge loves overtime.” Marge blushed. “You do, don’t you?”
Sue could tell Marge enjoyed the attention. Thurston kept pummeling her with compliments. “Year before last Marge worked so much overtime she made more money than some of the first-year lawyers.” Marge was shaking her head in disagreement. “Don’t shake your head,” Thurston chided her. “You know that’s true.”
Marge protested. “I’ve heard that, Mr. Thurston, but I have no way of knowing whether it’s true.”
Thurston shifted his attention to Sue. “It’s true. She did.”
He showed Sue into a nice size office with a city view. The brand-new mahogany furniture glistened. In the middle of a large, empty desk were nine thick file folders. Thurston pointed at them. “Those are your first deals. The term sheets are inside. Don Pruitt’s the client. He’s coming in this morning to go over the details.” Thurston looked at his watch. “In about half an hour. You can look over the term sheets before he gets here.” Thurston turned to leave but doubled back at the door. “Just so you know, Pruitt’s my cousin.” He stopped for a long moment and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.” Then he left.
Within a short time Sue melded into the stable of lawyers who serviced Thurston’s clients. Like Thurston they were young and aggressive. The work it took to satisfy them bordered on intolerable. She woke up every morning at four o’clock, dressed silently in her bathroom, and was in her office before six o’clock.
The routine gave her three hours each morning, before others arrived at the office, to work without interruption and allowed her most evenings to leave work by six o’clock to become Will’s mom.