My question has piqued her interest. Something in her stance has changed, as if I’ve gained a slight upper hand. I don’t know how law firms work specifically, but if it’s anything like the graphic design field, it must not occur that often that clients request to work with one of the younger professionals. She’s probably in the second half of her twenties, max thirty. That doesn’t mean a thing, though. She’s good, and she’s who I—who we—want.

“I saw your name in the Boston Globe, a few months back,” I say.

The slight part of her lips tells me she knows what I’m talking about, but I continue anyway. “You won the case for that dementia patient who lost her legs because of a medical mistake. Refused to settle. Got those bastards to pay.”

“That…” She exhales slowly, then looks back at me. “That was an exception. There was a lot of luck involved. We have lawyers much more experienced who—”

“I don’t care about that. What I care about is finding someone who will fight for my dad as much as a family member would. And what I saw in those media reports and court transcripts? It was someone who fought and someone who cared. That’s what we want.” I’m a little breathless as I stop talking. Ever since Dad’s stroke three months ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about much else, and now that I have a chance to do this for him, I can’t imagine not succeeding in keeping her with us.

“I…” Her gaze drifts to her left, where row after row of fir trees stand, soon to be chopped, sold, and decorated. Something’s still bothering her, but I can see her resolve slowly fading. I hate being this insistent, but right now, I don’t have a choice.

“Is it the distance?” I ask, trying to meet her gaze. “Because if it is, we can make sure to get adapted transport for my dad to get to you, or we can pay for a hotel for you to stay close to here.” I take another step forward, twisting the fabric lining the inside of my coat pockets between my fingers. “Is it a money problem? Because if it is, just name your price.”

She jerks back, brows furrowing. “No, of course it’s not that.”

“Then what is it? What will it take?”

She doesn’t answer, making my pulse increase even more. This situation feels like it’s slipping through my hands, and I don’t know what else to say. So I go with the only thing left. “Is it because of that night?”

Her head jerks up so fast, it almost makes me jump. “You…”

“What?” I say in a low voice.

“Nothing, I just…” She shakes her head. “I wasn’t sure you remembered.”