Page 29

" W ill you excuse me a second?" I said to Emily, and then I walked down the hall to the front door. But my new guest started pounding on the door.

I yanked it open. "What do–Max? What are you doing here? Come in and have some cake. It's chocolate."

"You always say chocolate the way a person dying of thirst would say Evian, December." She thrust a bouquet of wildflowers at me. "Little housewarming present, even though you couldn't be bothered to invite me over."

"That is so sweet. Maybe they'll fit in a paper cup? And you know I was planning to invite you over when my furniture arrived. I'm totally going to hit you up for help to unpack, old buddy, old pal." I smiled hugely.

"Oh, no. Not that shark grin. I'm always in trouble when it's the shark grin."

"Shut up, already. I have someone I want you to meet. This is?—"

"Emily! It's so good to see you again. What have you been up to?"

"Max! I haven't seen you since the fundraiser. How have you been?" She gave Max a big hug.

"I'm great. Working with December at her new firm, now. What about you? How was Atlantic City?"

"Oh, same old, same old. Not to be trite, but you win some, you lose some." She grinned and put her plate and fork in an empty plastic bag. "Now, I have to get going and check my e-mail before the kidlets get home. It was so nice to meet you, December. If your stuff ever gets here, and you need any help to unpack, let me know. Oh, and we're going to have a block-wide garage sale and then a barbecue the week of July Fourth some time. We'd love for you to join us at either or both. Bring this sweet southern girl with you, please."

Max fanned herself with one hand. "Oh, it's an honor just to be here, darlin'."

I offered the plate with the rest of the cake to Emily. "Thank you so much. You should take the rest of this home to your family."

"Oh, no. You keep it and eat it for breakfast or something. I don't want to lose points on the Welcome Wagon scale. See you later." I watched through my window as she crossed to the house right next to mine.

I turned back to Max. "Wonder if she'd be willing to swap houses? Did you see that beautiful garden? What are those little purple flowers all over the front?"

"Impatiens."

"No, I'm not impatient. I've just got a yard full of weeds, and I want a garden like that. Now." I laughed. "OK, maybe I am impatient."

"No, not impatient, impatiens. The name of the flower, December."

I rolled my eyes. "Like I've had time to be Nature Girl during the past fifteen years, between college, law school, and working. I know a rose from a carnation, but the rest are mostly just Look at the Pretty Flowers ."

Max leaned against the counter and folded her arms. "There's never a better time to learn. Except not right this minute, because I'm taking you out to dinner at Mama Yang's. Put some shoes on, girlfriend, and let's go. Giant cactus margaritas are on me."

I grabbed my sandals. "Are shorts OK? And, um, cactus margaritas? Sounds . . . prickly. Not to mention odd for a place called Mama Yang's . . ."

She picked up my purse and handed it to me. "This is Florida, darling. Shorts are always OK. Especially for someone who has an ass like that. How does a lawyer who sits all day long have an ass like that? It's so unfair."

I started laughing. "Like your ass isn't one of the Seven World Wonders. And why exactly are we comparing asses?"

As I locked my door, I glanced at Emily's house, where a minivan had pulled up in the driveway, and a couple of cute kids were chattering at full speed and top volume as they swarmed out of the car. I sighed again. For the forty-second time.

Stop that!

"Max, remind me again why I ever thought I'd fit in here in Leave it to Beaver-ville? Not to look a gift house in the mouth, or whatever, but I'm not exactly PTA material, like my sweet neighbor. They're all gonna hate me, aren't they? And how do you know Emily, anyway? Have you been trolling bake sales for chocolate chip cookies?"

"I'm driving, December, because you need to get a good drunk on. I met Emily at an AIDS fundraiser for the northeast Florida Beauty Queens for Literacy Alliance. We had a Vegas theme and raised over fifty thousand dollars. It was a great time, for a noble cause, plus I got to wear sequins."

I looked at her as she slid into the driver's seat. "What more can a girl ask for? Emily's a beauty queen, too?"

Max started the car and laughed. "Not exactly. Emily was our celebrity guest. She's a professional tournament-poker player. One of the top players on the circuit. I guess she came close to winning the World Series of Poker last year."

I twisted around in my seat to stare back at the minivan. "Emily? A poker player?"

"They call her The Psychic on the circuit because she's uncanny about spotting tells. Claims to be able to spot a bluff from a mile away."

"What's a tell ?" It sounded familiar, but I wasn't much of a card player.

"A tell is a twitch or a quirk that gives you away. Like if somebody always scratches his ear when he's bluffing, or taps his cards twice if he has a great hand."

"Come on, they don't really do that. Do they? The top players?" I was skeptical. I mean, it made for fun plot twists in movies, but would professionals be so unaware of their own tics?

Also, how cool would it be to have Emily along in depositions and at trial?

I didn't realize I was smiling until Max did an exaggerated shudder. "Uh, oh. You're doing the shark thing again. Who's in trouble this time?"

"Addison Langley and Sarah Greenberg, if they try to push me around again. And I'm not making a shark look. That was a smile."

Max shuddered again.

"Fine, so it was a sharky smile. They teach us those in law school. Can we get to the margarita portion of the evening's entertainment already?"

"You're still pissed off about the calls from those attorneys on the Deaver case, aren't you?"

I'd filled her in during the afternoon, while we researched insulin and diabetes. Max had been furious when she heard about the intimidation tactics. I'd found myself back in my familiar role as the voice of reason; much more comfortable for me than the inner gorilla I'd channeled during my two phone calls.

My motto was put the civil back in civil litigation. Of course, my other motto was take no shit, make no excuses.

OK, so I see the contradiction.

Max pulled to a stop in the parking lot, and I stared at the flickering neon sign that read MAMA YANG'S Fine Oriental Cuisine.

Then I sighed. Again.

"Argh! Forty-freaking-three! That's it! If you hear me sigh again tonight, hit me! No, make me do a shot of tequila. I'm sick of feeling defeated before I've even begun to fight. A shot of tequila is plenty of incentive to stop this sighing crap."

I blame the tequila for my ending up in jail.