She hung a trio of small still lifes in the entranceway while Sissy went back to work. While the rain pounded outside and Sissy's keyboard clattered, Savannah began to enjoy the simple pleasure of decorating, of choosing a space and bringing it to life. By the time she'd gotten to the second floor, she was humming under her breath.
Unwilling to hammer there while Jared was with a client, she leaned paintings against the walls she'd chosen for them, moving down the hallway and eventually into the office across from Jared's.
The former office, she thought, of the former Mrs. MacKade. No, she remembered. Not Mrs. MacKade. Jared had said she hadn't taken his name.
The walls here were a deep rose, the trim almost a jade, reversing the theme from the lower office. Regan had turned it into a comfortable and efficient sitting room. There was a desk, of course, but there were cozy chairs, tables, books. And, when she poked into a cabinet, a coffee maker, cups.
Here, Savannah supposed, Jared could entertain or interview clients in a less formal atmosphere. Or perhaps he could use it to relax, unwind. Or maybe he was considering taking on an associate.
It occurred to her then that she knew very little about his work, or his plans, or what his workday was like.
She'd never asked, Savannah reminded herself— and why should he discuss cases with her? She knew nothing about the law except the problems she'd had with it, fighting to stay one step ahead of the system and keep her child.
He would have discussed them with his wife, she thought, then cursed herself for falling into that typical and pathetic mind-set.
Setting her thoughts on the job at hand again, she stepped out into the hall just as Jared's door opened.
"I'll have a draft of the contract sent out to you in a couple of days," Jared was saying. Then stopped, looked, and smiled. "Hello, Savannah."
"Hello. I'm sorry. I was arranging the paintings."
"You going to introduce me to this beautiful young woman, Jared, or do I have to make my own moves?"
"Savannah Morningstar, Howard Beels."
"Savannah Morningstar. That's a name that suits you." The big, barrel chested man of abo
ut fifty shot out a hand the size of a small ham and gripped Savannah's. His eyes, a twinkling blue set in pockets and folds of creased skin, were alight with male admiration. "You working for this shyster?"
"In a manner of speaking." Savannah recognized the look, the squeeze. She'd seen and felt it hundreds of times before, and after a quick survey she judged Howard Beels as harmless. She let her smile warm, because she knew he would take it home with him and sigh. "You hire this shyster, Howard?"
He gave a gut-rattling laugh. "A man needs a clever lawyer in this dirty old world," Howard told her. "Jared here's been mine for, what is now? Five years?"
"Just about," Jared murmured, intrigued by the easy way Savannah handled, and entertained, one of his top clients.
"What do you do, Howard?"
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that." He had yet to let go of her hand. And he winked. "I'm a dabbler. How about you?"
"I'm a dabbler myself," Savannah told him, and made him laugh again.
"Savannah's an artist," Jared put in. "The next time you come in, Howard, you'll see her work on the walls."
"Is that so?" His sharp eyes homed in on the painting leaning against the wall behind her. "That your work there?"
"Yes."
He released her hand to cross to it. Despite his size, he hunkered down easily to study it. "It's right nice," he decided, liking the way the colors flowed and the way the flowers she'd chosen to paint seemed crowded together, more alive than perfect. "How much something like this go for?"
Savannah shifted her weight to one hip. "As much as I think I can get," she said dryly.
Howard slapped his knee appreciatively before he straightened. "I like this girl, Jared. I'm going to give you my card, honey." He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled one out. "You give me a call, hear? I think we could have ourselves a negotiation over a picture or two."
"I'll do that Howard." She glanced at the card, but it gave no clue to his profession. "I'll be sure to do that."
"Don't let any grass grow under your feet, either." He gave her a last wink before turning to Jared. "I'll expect those papers."
Savannah smiled at his retreating back. "Quite a character," she murmured.