Miller's Time (Southern Charmers 2)

“You okay? What can we do?”

“This, being here with me while we wait for the next train wreck to barge through the door.”

“How’s your finger?”

“Sore. I’m sure my notes need a full review because they’re riddled with errors.”

“Lucky for you, attention to detail is one of my many specialties. Up,” Scottie motions upward, “I’ll look.”

I move, thankful for the break.

Miller leads us to the sofa, and I sit with my head on his shoulder, processing all that’s happening and hoping his part in this comes soon. It can go either way, the worst being that I lose my right to practice law.

“Give me your hand, Princess.”

I do as he asks, sighing in relief when he gently rubs my injured finger.

“Have you heard anything about my house?”

“Cleaners are there. After today, my rates are going up.”

“Why?”

“Because Annie is leading the charge, and Lynda is with her. They have Janie, Mom, Stephanie, and Darby all on a chat going from room to room for inspection. Dad and Pierce lasted about ten minutes. My landscape crew is afraid to ask to use the bathroom.”

“Oh my. Maybe I should give them a bonus.”

“Baby, I saw the floor to ceiling stack of wrapped gifts in my office for everyone. You may need to slow the spending for a while.”

“It’s Christmas, Miller! I enjoy giving gifts, and this year there’s a whole new meaning to it all!”

His chin dips down and he stares at me warmly, “Yeah, I got that.”

“It’s special this year. New baby, new house, new families merging, it’s a joyous occasion.”

“It would be equally joyous without seventy-five gifts I’ve got to haul all over town.”

“It’s not seventy-five,” I argue.

His eyebrows arch and I figure he’s counted them.

“Fine, whatever.”

“As long as my gift comes in a box with a designer tag,” Scottie throws in, still proofing my notes.

“Oops,” I tease, and his head pops up with an expression of horror.

“Why do I sink any faith in a woman who lets her Dior booties get soiled?”

“It was a beautiful sacrifice! Darby needed me.”

“Stand back when body fluids are gushing,” he rebukes. “Don’t you know anything?”

“You make it sound disgusting.”

Miller grunts, but it’s not his usual grunt. It’s loaded with something else. Then I realize Scottie has used his power of diversion again. He’s moved my attention to something ridiculous.

I don’t have time to comment when there’s a knock at the door. Miller eases me up, kisses me quickly, and reaches for his suit jacket. Scottie does the same. I smooth my hands down my dress, fluff my hair, and put on my mask, answering the door.

My breath catches in my throat when I find Mr. Redmond and Mr. Reid waiting on the other side. Both men, older in age, are standing strong, dressed in power-suits, and looking grim.

“Miss Rhodes, may we speak with you?”

My mind spins with the surreal situation facing me. The three founding men never give personal visits. They request your presences in a conference room, they shake your hand at a function and don’t remember your name, but they have no interest in stepping off their floor to interact.

But these men are standing in front of an office I left months ago, waiting for me to invite them in.

I snap to reality, stepping back and gesturing forward.

“Gentleman, how can I help you?” The right greeting would be ‘Sir’ or a touch of gushing. But instead, I walk to the middle of the room, purposely not going behind the desk.

“We learned you recently resigned your position.”

“I’m not sure how recent. I left in September.”

This gets a reaction, both men sharing an uncomfortable glance.

“Miss. Rhodes, regardless of what employees of this firm may believe, we are involved in the day-to-day operations. I review employment reports weekly, and not one of them has documented your exit,” Mr. Reid informs me. “Your departure would have gotten my attention.”

“I can’t imagine why my leaving wasn’t reported. I have not been getting compensated, so the resignation was relayed to payroll.”

Mr. Redmond’s expression turns stricken, his eyes filling with hurt. “Do you honestly think we care about the money? This is about losing you. Your talent and expertise are irreplaceable. We’ve been watching your career for years.”

This information comes as a shock. Then a blast from a few weeks ago slams into me. Ian trying to keep my money, wanting to meet with Evin, the letter questioning my stability—all of it falls into place. “Ian didn’t tell you?” I question.

“Ian? My nephew Ian?” Mr. Redmond replies.

“Yes, I withdrew my money a little while ago. He’s known for over a month.”

“No, he neglected to share.”

“I guess that explains why he wasn’t amenable to my transfer. He must have thought I was coming back.”

“Fucking asshole.” Miller doesn’t hide his hatred.

“I wasn’t aware you were familiar with me.” I try to bring the focus on me and not that Miller insulted Mr. Redmond’s family.