Graham took a deep breath, turned and gave Becca a big plastic smile.
“Thanks for the news!” he said.
“You’re not deceiving anyone you know,” Becca said as she strode passed him into the building.
Graham chuckled to himself. Becca always read him. He always felt he could play her but it never worked out.
He followed her into the Georgetown-style building, responding to greetings from students and fellow lecturers, walked into the hallway and went into the professors’ lounge to get a cup of tea.
“Hey Graham!” Pete called from one of the tables.
“Hey,” Graham replied, his hands fumbling with the box of tea bags.
They made the usual small talk, although Graham added the juicy details of his car being impounded by the delightful Minnie McArthur, and Pete laughed as Graham described his gender-assumption faux-pas. Still, Graham emphasized the woman clearly knew her stuff but made no mention of how attractive she was, or her foul language.
“Stargazing tonight?” Pete asked once the tea was sufficiently mashed.
“Sure.” Graham’s anticipation lit up; he’d forgotten about the clear skies tonight. “Theseus meteor shower should be targeting the Big Dipper. Around eleven?”
“Eleven’s good.”
Leaving the lounge, Graham was smiling and looking forward to the time he would spend behind the telescope, his eyes on the night sky, despite what Becca would no doubt tease him as a bro-date. Which was the only sort of date he had these days.
He passed different offices barely looking into any of them as he made for his own, then stood and the door and sighed at the small table overflowing with books and files of varying sizes.
“Someone’s got a lot of work,” he said to himself. “But hey. Tenure.”
He tossed his briefcase on the chair beside him, pulled off his tweed jacket and hung it on the coat hanger on the back of his door. Finally ready to start the day, he made for his table and drew open the windows before taking his seat.
“What to do, what to do,” he muttered rummaging through the stuff on his table.
Although what he really wanted to do was call up that nice mechanic lady and see if another apology for his attitude might help thaw a little something between them. She was younger, which wasn’t an issue for him—is it ever for men like me?—but she seemed a bit headstrong. He liked that in his platonic friends, those like Becca, but it had been a problem with him and his ex. She refused to compromise on anything. Ever. When she got an idea in her head, that was it—rubber stamped, sealed, delivered.
Minnie knew her own mind. But would she try to change his?
He dragged open a drawer got out a pen to review the early papers from four of his more eager students. Nothing official with these, just hints and tips for when they sent in their first-year essays. He lost himself in this for the next hour, when he was gently interrupted.
“Hey professor.”
A guy with a backpack stood in the door, twentyish. Someone who sat near the back in most of Graham’s lectures and his name was lost.
“I dunno what’s up but your car is smoking in the parking lot,” the boy said.
Graham spun in his seat to the window, his brows twisted in confusion.
“Your car, red Nissan, smoke,” the boy said.
“Oh no,” Graham said, and rushed from his desk.
He pushed the boy aside as he made for the parking lot, running amidst the stares of curious colleagues.
Outside, past the rows of vehicles, he found the hood of his car open and a head buried inside.
“Don’t worry, Graham,” Pete said, halting Graham’s rushed approach. “I called that mechanic. She’s on it.”
Graham’s eyes widened as he realized who Pete was talking about. Minnie McArthur, in her full overalls, was the person leaning into the car engine. She glanced around the hood and fired him a sarcastic salute, before returning to the work at hand.
“Why?” he asked almost shouting, but caught himself.
Why was he annoyed?
“Well, you’re welcome,” Pete said, walking back into the building.
Graham glanced around as if looking for someone to help him take Minnie away.
“Sorry about that. Car’s okay, just a little problem with the radiator,” Minnie said shutting the hood of the car. “Needs a tune. I inherited the old banger with the garage.”
“Thank you,” Graham said cautiously.
“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly as she fidgeted with a spanner before putting it back in her tool box.
Graham stood watching her pack her stuff, the silence thick.
She finished packing, paused as if waiting for applause, then made for her truck.
“Hey, your rag,” Graham called after her, picking up the discarded item from the hood.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said blankly.
Graham held on to the rag for a second.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Seriously, forget me being a douche bag earlier. I’m sorry about that. Truly.” He was surprised at how easily that all tumbled from his mouth. Probably because he meant it. “What’s going on?”
Minnie took a deep breath then made as if to say something.
6
When Minnie drove into the college parking lot and sighted smoke rising out of the red car, she thought, Urghh, not that car.
She took her service seriously and loaning a client a vehicle like this should be straightforward and a decent experience for them. But this guy had already proved to be incapable of filtering his inner thoughts, so handing over a faulty car was asking for another verbal bashing. She’d fix it before he knew it.
Bringing her truck to a stop, she got out and picked up her tool box from behind.
She surveyed the college grounds, watching students walk briskly from building to building, some heads down, eyes on their phones.
Once she trudged to the smoking car and popped the hood, she paid little attention to the guy who called her—Pete—standing beside the car.
“It just started smoking. Nobody really knows what happened,” he informed her. “We’re not even sure whose it is.”
“Busted valve, I guess,” Minnie replied. “I’ll get it fixed, don’t worry. Guy driving it is Graham Kowalski. Old dude. Nice hair. You know him?”
“Oh, of course, Graham. Yes, he said his was in the shop. Glad you were local.”
She nodded and worked quietly, thinking of the phone call she just received.
I knew the deal on the place was too good to be true. Damn!
Draining the radiator and replacing the faulty part, she was engrossed in figuring out her next move, of confirming the lawyer was serious and then retaining one of her own.
Expensive.
She hadn’t noticed Graham running towards the car until he uttered the exclamation of, “Why?”
Pete must have had someone locate him. She’d hoped to sort out the problem and be on her way without him knowing she screwed up.
Unavoidable now, she raised her head and flicked a salute, then completed the job. After exchanging a couple of words, she walked back to her truck with her toolbox when Graham called after her giving her back her rag.
After he asked her what was wrong, she thought to herself, He’s a law professor, for crying out loud.
“I think I’m getting sued and I don’t have a lawyer,” she said quietly. “Know anyone cheap? And good?”
“Wonder where one can find a law professor?” he said feigning ignorance.
“Don’t be stupid.” She turned to leave.
“Wait. I can help. Or rather I have some lawyer friends who could.”
“You sure?” she asked hopefully.
“Sure.” He brought out his phone and flicked to a calendar. “When’s good to chat? I’ll give you a call.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks,” she said, quite surprised.
She told him an
ytime today would be ideal, and walked away, hands deep in her pockets and her head down.
“Cheer up,” Graham called from behind.
Minnie pulled her left hand out of her pocket and gave him a weak thumbs-up, not looking his way, but faintly hopeful at last.
7
Graham paced his office, hands on his head and perspiration dotted his sky-blue shirt.
What an absolute ass.
So eager to impress, to make up for what was, after all, a silly little mistake, he’d committed to helping Minnie in what was really quite a serious situation.
Ass.
He walked to his computer, stared at the screen for some time before continuing his walk around the office.
This is so not what I expected.
He felt a sharp pain in his leg as he noticed he had hit it on the chair he kept for visitors.
“Ouch,” he muttered.
“Someone’s worrying about stuff.” Becca stood at the door leaning on the edge, sipping on a smoothie.
“Well, this is more than just stuff, B.” Graham knelt to massage his leg.
“What happened this time?”
“Oh, something happened.” He stood and handed her the sheets of paper he just printed—supposedly a spot of brief research before priming one of his former students to call Minnie.
Becca scanned through, glasses on her nose. “I don’t see anything of importance here.” She held the summary out for Graham.
He didn’t take them. “Look at who’s representing the plaintiff.”
Becca took the papers back and gradually her mouth opened in shock. “Holy smokes! It’s the wicked witch of the west.”
Graham cracked a smile and finally took the papers from Becca. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Glenn Hardy is a shark and a half,” Becca suggested.
“Expensive, though. Might not be available.”
Becca thought a moment more. “Julia Hernandez was sharp, and she’s doing well for herself.”
“Already thought of Julia, but she’s specializing in divorces right now.”
“Laura … Laura…” Becca snapped her fingers, searching for the name.
“Laura Schlurberg,” Graham finished for her. “Now Laura Smith, which makes things easier for everyone. But she’s on maternity leave for six months.”
Becca whistled at the extended leave. “Mr. Smith must do well for himself.”
Graham bit his lip. “I’m thinking of dipping my toes back in.”
“You?” She laughed but stopped when Graham didn’t join in. “Graham, nobody wants to go against their ex-wife in court.”
“What if I don’t have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice.”
“I promised I’d help. The only folk available are way out of her budget. And Sophia … she was always a bully. Even when things were good between us. She thought I was … less than I should be.”
“You don’t need to prove anything, Graham.”
He heaved a heavy sigh and thought of the different ways he had imagined redeeming himself in Sophia’s eyes after she took everything from him after they split. Including his dignity.
Well, almost everything. He’d hidden a couple of things she couldn’t touch.
“I don’t know, Becca. I thought about it, and … I really want this.”
“If you take this case, you are gonna lose the tenure,” she informed him. “Because it’ll look petty. It’ll look like you can’t let go of the past. And they don’t want a petty professor.”
“I’m not being petty. I’m helping someone in need.”
Becca pursed her lips and swallowed back whatever barb was about to spill forth. She knew him as well as anyone and plainly concluded his mind was made up. “Whatever you do, remember you’re actually going to be representing someone, not yourself. You want revenge on Sophia—”
“It’s not revenge,” Graham said. “It’s … it’s doing the right thing.”
“Just don’t do anything silly”
“I won’t.”
“Okay then. Oh, and better go brush up on your arguing skills. From what I just read, court is in two weeks.”
8
Minnie walked into the college building, heading for Graham’s office where he told her to meet him earlier. She was wearing a short green dress she had chosen after taking a ridiculous amount of time to decide what made her look feminine without appearing to put herself on display. This was a serious meeting, not a date.
Arriving at his open office she found him at his desk, pen behind his ear, looking at a file.
“Hey,” she said knocking on the door frame.
He raised his head and smiled at her. “Hey, come in. We got a lot to do.”
She took a seat on the other side of the table and took out a big manila envelope from her purse. “This is everything on the property.”
Graham took the envelope from her and started through its content.
They sat in silence.
Minnie watched Graham read the contents of her envelope. He didn’t seem bothered by the absence of conversation, nor by her fixed attention on him.
People walked by.
Cars started outside and drove away.
Others arrived and idled. Doors closed.
“You said a friend of yours is gonna be here,” she said.
“He’s not coming,” Graham replied without taking his eyes off the paper. “I’ve volunteered to represent you. Pro-bono.”
“Pro-bono? That means free, right?”
“Correct.”
“Why?” she asked, a bit surprised.
“Well, there’s really no need. Just a waste of money and the case is winnable.”
“Yeah?”
“In your favor of course,” he added.
“Hope you know what you’re doing.” Her eyes stung with worry. She blinked away the tears.
“Of course I know what I’m doing,” he said tapping his name tag on his desk.
Minnie chuckled, dispelling any notion of tears.
She looked round his office while he made notes. Her eyes met a star chart on the wall behind him. “Into astrology?”
Graham looked up from what he was doing. “Astronomy.”
“Well, what’s the difference? Both involve staring at stars.”
“Nope. Astrology is hokum that suggests the time of year you are born dictates your personality type, and can also predict the future. Astronomy is a study of actual stars and things that are real. Quantifiable.”
“Someone’s passionate about his hobbies.”
Graham placed his pen down, seemingly happy to break off. “My mother always said to aim for the stars and you might hit the moon.”
“And this is you aiming?”
“Dreaming, I guess.”
“And did you? Hit the moon, I mean?”
Graham spread his arms. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Minnie stood to look closer at the star chart, leaning over the desk. Graham hadn’t moved. She realized her cleavage lingered mere breaths away from Graham’s head.
He snapped his eyes away from them, pretending he hadn’t been gifted an accidental eyeful.
She blushed and sat back in her chair, and fiddled with her phone waiting for Graham to speak. Neither mentioned the moment, although they did drop into personal information—Graham’s position here at the college, his potential tenure, a bit about his colleagues; Minnie told him about her parents’ sudden deaths, her rekindling of a high school romance, and how she set up here mainly to be around him but stayed despite the relationship sputtering out.
Then it was soon back to business.
“Let’s get this straight,” he said at last. “You bought this property from a certain Mr. Aaron Fletcher. You paid him and now you’re being told that the property wasn’t his to sell, and you’re being sued for acquiring the property fraudulently, obstructing the true owner’s business opportunities, and a host of other things.”
“It is quite a lot but nothing I can’t fix.” Graham twitched his eyebrows, eyes dropping for a split second to her chest again, before focusing on meeting her gaze.
Minnie broke into a smile and took the envelope from him.
“You take copies?” she asked.
“Yup. I did.”
Minnie stood to leave and made for the door slowly, hoping Graham would call her back or something.
“Hey, Minnie.”
Minnie turned immediately, her heart racing with excitement. Although her flashing herself at him was unintentional, she admitted to herself a certain degree of excitement that he’d most certainly looked.
“Yes,” she said.
“We need to meet later today once I’ve traced the paper trail. We’ll have a lot more to discuss. Maybe Beston’s this evening at seven?”
Minnie’s hopes deflated like a burst tire. She had hoped he would ask her on a date or to grab lunch away from the case. Or maybe he couldn’t do that with a client. Perhaps that was it.
“Okay then,” she said unenthusiastically.
She walked out of the office, across the hallway, and out of the building.
9
“You like him, don’t you?” a voice called from behind her as she fumbled with her keys to open her car.
She turned. Startled, she dropped her keys. Raising her head up, she found a tall red-haired woman looking at her.
“And you are?” she asked defensively.
“Professor Rebecca Bigelow, professor of law ethics and assistant dean, law faculty at the University of Willowshire, right here.” The woman raised both her hands.
“Huh,” Minnie said, ceasing her fumbling and gripping her keys properly.
“Becca. I’m Becca,” she said, sighing and rolling her eyes.
“Oh! Graham’s talked about you.” Minnie said in realization.
“Good things I’m sure. But I did ask you a question.”
“Oh. That.” Minnie’s cheeks turned red again in embarrassment.
“I know you like him. I saw you chatting when I passed by earlier. Body language is an open book to me. Just know that he’s gonna be a lot of work and you’ll have to make a real effort.”
“Huh?”
“You should say thank you, hun. I just gave you some great advice.” Becca folded her arms.
Fixing Him, Fixing Her: A Short Romance Page 3