“Good, good.” He nods, thankful to be done with the small talk. At least with me. He claps his hands and looks around. “So, where are these insurance guys? They playing at being fashionably late?”

I follow his glance to the clock on the wall that says 10:02. He’s right, that isn’t the way things are done around Williamson County. I look to Jeff with a raised eyebrow that he answers with a shrug as though he couldn’t care less.

He simply takes another sip of coffee, letting out a loud sigh of contentment.

As if Jeff’s sigh is their cue, the door behind me opens and we turn as one to see the Everlife team arrive. ‘Fashionably late’ is definitely saying something about this crew. Blake looks sexy and smart, in a black suit, grey tie, and glasses I’ve never seen him wear before.

But the other three men with him are on an entirely different level. I’ve never seen ‘walking money’ until right this moment. If someone told me the older gentleman was wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit, I’d believe it without hesitation. The suit is obviously custom tailored, accented with a large-faced watch and a red power tie.

A younger guy trails behind in a navy suit, eyes locked on the man who’s obviously an Everlife big wig.

And leading the group is a well-dressed man with a briefcase. He takes the first chair at the table, the older man sitting beside him.

Blake and the young guy sit in the stacking chairs, though the young guy looks less than excited about the worn seat.

Don’t worry, a little dirt never hurt. Except maybe your dry cleaning bill.

“Your Honor, my name is Raymond Walsh, attorney on retainer for Everlife Insurance. Please forgive our delay this morning. We were unsure what floor your courtroom was on.” Mr. Walsh gives the room a look of repressed condescension, his face impassive but the impression clear enough. “May I present my client? Mr. Frederick Neilhouse, representing Everlife Insurance.”

“Mr. Walsh, Mr. Neilhouse, let’s get started,” Judge Hopkins says crisply. At second glance, either he’s got something in his left eye or it’s starting to twitch. Probably not a good sign for Everlife. Judge Hopkins might know his courtroom isn’t exactly on par with what’s up at the capital in Superior Court . . . but that doesn’t mean he’s to be disrespected.

I try to catch Blake’s attention to warn him to have his guy chill out with the fancy-schmancy talk and snobby looks, but he’s staring solidly at the back of Mr. Neilhouse’s head. Frederick, that’s what the attorney said his name is.