“Hmm?” Ted asked. He already had three thick folders and hours of work in front of him.

“The Memphis Horns,” Lester said. “Andrew Love played sax.”

Ted put down the file and listened. He wasn’t sure what to say. He supposed he had heard these sounds from time to time his whole life and never paid attention. Or maybe he didn’t have the right ear for them. “Nice,” he said.

“Nice?” Lester guffawed. “The man played with everyone from Otis and Aretha to U2 and Willie Nelson.”

“Like I said. Nice. Show me why you think this case is going to work.”

They continued to wade through the files, Ted alternately making notes and giving advice on how to track down potential clients. They’d arrived at a workable partnership, Lester putting in the most hours and Ted providing the guidance and legal expertise. The fifty-fifty split provided a comfortable income for both, but more importantly for Ted, the arrangement freed up his time, which he now devoted to his revived legal career.

“That’s the last,” Lester said.

The clock over the bar read 3:40—ten minutes fast but reliably so. “Quitting time,” Ted said. He thought about getting a beer but decided to wait for his partner’s sake. Lester maintained that he earned a five-day sobriety chip every week, and as soon as the sun set on Friday he celebrated each milestone. But never before.

“They should be along soon,” Lester said.

“Showtime at 4?” Ted asked, though he didn’t need a reminder. “Today is special.” The events of twelve months earlier were as present as yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And the next hour or so was going to be tough.

“Nothing to celebrate before sundown,” Lester said.”

The front door swung open, ushering in Kenzie and the Preacher. Ted’s day brightened immediately.

“My favorite clients,” he said, waving them over. Kenzie grinned happily when she saw him. The only thing different about her was her hair. She was letting it grow out again, but it would still be months more before she would once again have that flaming wild mane.

“Your only clients,” Lester said.

“Sad but true,” Ted said with a laugh. Suing developers, contractors, engineering firms, and numerous agencies and departments of New York City on behalf of various community organizations—all cases unearthed by Kenzie, the Preacher, or other kindred souls—constituted exactly 100 percent of Ted’s legal business outside of his partnership with Lester. It kept Ted busy.

They made room in the booth, and Lili came over to deliver drinks. “A Stella for the lady, two Diet Cokes, and a Miller Lite for the Preacher. Have I got it right?”

“Thank you,” Ted said. He took a sip of his soda and hid his grimace. “And if you would be so kind, can you turn on the sound on the television and put on NY1? There’s breaking news coming in a few minutes.”