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cursory observation. Jim Johnson was kind of like a nice

painting. It was easy to stop and appreciate the artistry and

then move on.

“Dallas? Hi. I’m Jim.” Jim extended his hand.

It was a huge hand. It easily dwarfed her own. Dallas was

suddenly so nervous that she could feel her hand shaking in

his. She wanted to yank it back and tuck it at her side, but she

left it there for the token amount of time considered for an

appropriate handshake. “Yes. I’m Dallas.”

“I’m Jim,” he said again, as if his name was hard to

remember. “Thanks for coming in this morning.”

“Uh- no. I should be thanking you for making time to see

me when I couldn’t actually give you a firm time.”

“Not a problem. But we do have something that we have to

discuss in my office, if you’ll follow me?”

That didn’t sound good. Dallas’ stomach immediately

turned into a nauseating mess of tossing liquid and tight knots.

It wasn’t a pretty combination. She blamed her wobbly legs on

jet lag as she followed Jim through a maze of office doors. He

stopped at one that was open and waited for her to go in first.

It was the typical lawyer set up. A modern desk. New chairs in

front. A high backed leather chair behind. Bookcases to the

side. Huge windows behind the desk. Even from the seventh

floor, the view of downtown was pretty good.

Dallas sat and waited while Jim opened up a folder that

was waiting on his desk. He looked at it briefly, then looked

back up to her. She didn’t like the uneasy expression he was

suddenly wearing. It was a cross between sheepishness and

guilt.

“I knew you were coming in this morning,” Jim said in