“Yeah . . . but her feet.” Matthew shuddered. “Anyway, my vote is that we lay low and hope she just forgets about the spying game. She forgets about eighty percent of everything, so maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The feeding frenzy surrounding the courthouse had intensified during the forty-five minutes we’d been at lunch, leading me to believe that Linda Adams’s nomination would probably fall within the 20 percent of things the judge remembered.

Shortly after returning to chambers, the judge sauntered over to my cubicle, sunglasses on, carrying three plastic bags full of briefs. “Sheba. You will be pleased to know that Eddie found my bridge this morning.” She tapped on her tooth.

I found myself saying the most improbable thing. “Wow. That’s great. What a lovely bridge!”

“Eddie found it under my desk. You people are clearly blind if he found it and you couldn’t.” As if cleaning her toilet everyday wasn’t horrendous enough. Now Eddie was doing reconnaissance on her teeth. “Just don’t screw up what we talked about earlier,” she said with a wink. “I’m leaving now but we have lots to do. We are rilly busy.”

Leaving? It wasn’t even 2 PM. “Hey, Janet. What, ah, what’s up with the judge?” I asked sweetly, meandering to her desk. Janet was petting a shimmering book titled Holiday Scrapbooking.

“Ah, oh. Yeah—she’s going to Mark’s house for Thanksgiving.” She motioned me closer to whisper in my ear. “She’s not coming back until Monday but I don’t want you know who to know that.” She nodded menacingly at Roy’s back.

“She’s taking a day off? But I thought she never did that?” I leaned forward, awkwardly cupping my hand around Janet’s ear.

“This is a first,” Janet whispered in a hush. “Apparently, Mark insisted that he wanted to spend what would probably be his last Thanksgiving with Bob and demanded that they stay through the weekend. So Sheila, it’s your lucky day—or days, I should say.” Telling secrets was fun.

My phone rang as I returned to the clerks’ cave.

“Sheila Raj.”

Heavy breathing—not this again. “This is Robert Nussbaum and I’ll never get to spend another Thanksgiving with my brother because of that—” Click.

Cheers erupted outside. I peered below and saw a speck that must have been Linda Adams dazzling the crowd. Cheers again. My chest tightened, evidencing a scarcity of air. The room went out of focus. I don’t recall any thought processes, but a daring plan had definitely been set in motion.

I turned off my computer, collected my belongings, and marched over to Matthew. “The judge won’t be back until Monday. Nor will I—I’m going home to Virginia for Thanksgiving. You’re welcome to join.”