by Alex Harris
Chapter 3
Marlowe Sharpe had designed her office to fit her life style. The lobby was full of antiques collected from garage sales, auctions and second hand stores, a drop down secretary desk hid office supplies, a wire meshed armoire held active files, and her secretary’s desk consisted of file cabinets supporting a barn door that had been refinished by Marlowe herself. Since clients rarely lingered in the outer office, Marlowe had gone with simple but stout leather chairs rescued from an estate sale, between which sat an end table from her great-great grandfather’s ranch up in Seligman. The look and feel of country comfort continued into her office where instead of a desk she had a slab from a 250 year old alligator oak tree, cut and polished after it bit the dust in a huge wind storm some years back. Instead of client chairs, she had favored an old oak couch she found at a garage sale and had re-done in dark mahogany brushed leather. Topping off the oak tongue-n-groove floor, she herself had done, was a Navajo rug given to her by friends of Summer’s when she opened her doors after passing the State Bar. People who knew such things, often told her it was a mistake to use the rug, to walk on it. It should be on the wall to admire. However, when Richard Yellowhorse’s grandmother unrolled it in the office, she said, “this rug is to live on, walk on, learn on, and to soak up spirit.” So soak up spirit it has.
Marlowe Sharpe showed her last client of the day out the door of her downtown law office, turned to Joan, her trusty, cranky, cantankerous secretary and asked what was on the agenda for court the next day.
“Your calendar is all screwed up. Division 2 became Division 5, 5 became 3 and on and on. The cases on law and motion for 2 will be over in the Verde, I have them all moved to Wednesday, and your Prescott cases will be heard in 3, by Judge Roberts. This reassignment will be awhile shaking out. I told the judicial assistants they need to be patient with you lawyers. There’ll be more than one of you in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The long term illness of one of the favorite judges left the dockets chaotic in Superior Court. Everyone in the legal community was struggling with the recent changes including the judges themselves. Politics shown through the jockeying for peachy assignments in both the Verde courts and in Prescott. Marlowe’s practice was Prescott based because she and Oriole had an agreement Marlowe would avoid the Verde cases that Oriole investigated. However, occasionally, Marlowe would end up with a Verde case, but never one her daughter had worked.
Joan prepared to close the office: putting the morning’s files on Marlowe’s desk, turning off the computers and the always full coffee pot, before grabbing her oversized shoulder bag and cooler containing left-over take out. Joan had worked for Marlowe for over 25 years. She was a fixture in the legal community as a formidable opponent. Even the judges gave her a wide berth. But, Joan had a heart of gold, rescuing clients as well as abandoned animals. Joan never took clients home to raise, but did give them a basket of food and a kick in the pants to get them on the right road.
“See you tomorrow. I’m going to get on home and change for the square dancing class. My new partner is going to take me out for Chinese afterwards. He’s kinda cute.” Joan prattled on with a new excitement.
“Just you be careful. I expect to see you in here bright and early. No late nights and watch out for Jason. You don’t know enough about him yet.” Marlowe moved into the protector role with her long--time friend and secretary.
“I know. Walk slow, be cool, and drink lots of water.” Joan reiterated the mantra Marlowe told all her clients. “But you know, it’s kinda fun to be in this mode. How many years since I had a date, let alone any other kind of activity. He likes the things I like. He is self supporting. He’s going to buy dinner. That means something. The last time I went out I ended up with the check while the dude escaped through the back door.”
“I’ll tell you like Chalcey told me, put a quarter in your boot in case you have to make a phone call.”
“I’ll have my cell phone and anyway, when was the last time you had to use a pay phone? A quarter won’t get you anywhere nowadays.” Joan locked the door to the office and walked with Marlowe to their cars.