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