“Her name is Theresa Wellman. She hit a bad patch and lost her daughter.”

“Misplaced her, like under the bed or something?”

“Lost custody to the father.”

“And this little bad patch that caused such an overreaction?”

“Alcohol, neglect.”

“Ah, the daily double.”

“But she’s changed. She cleaned herself up and got a new job, a new house. I find her inspiring, actually. And now she wants at least partial custody of her daughter.”

“What does the daughter want?”

“I don’t know. The father won’t let anyone talk to her.”

“And we’re involved why?”

“Because she is a woman who has changed her life and is now fighting for her daughter against a man with power and money. She needs someone on her side.”

“And that someone has to be us?”

“Isn’t this why we went to law school?”

I glanced down at my desk drawer. “No, actually.”

“Victor, I told her I would do what I could to get her daughter back. I’d like your help.”

I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t like this case, didn’t like it one bit. I mean, who the hell can tell which is the best parent for a kid? Let someone else take the responsibility. But Beth hadn’t been happy in our practice for a while. She hadn’t said anything directly to me, but I could see the discontent in her. I was increasingly worried that she would end the partnership, find something more fulfilling, leave me in the lurch. I didn’t think I could keep the firm going all on my own, and, truthfully, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. The only thing that would keep me trying was the utter lack of anyplace else to go. So if helping out in one of her pity cases was a way to keep my partner on board, then I didn’t have much choice.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet her.”

“Thank you, Victor. You’ll like her. I know it.” She paused for a moment. “There’s something else.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It is.” She looked away with embarrassment. “I’m being evicted.”