Midsummer Night's Mischief Read Online Free

those Friday jeans or even allowing him to drift into my idle fantasies during boring meetings. It was pointless.
    Still, I couldn’t help wondering if he had noticed my special perfume. After booting up my computer, making a quick check of my appointment calendar and messages, I walked down the hall to Jeremy’s office. He stood up when he saw me and brushed caramel corn crumbs off his shirt.
    â€œHey there, Ms. Milanni! Wow. You look fantastic today. Did you do something different to your hair?”
    I’d told him a hundred times to call me Keli. We weren’t that formal around here. On the other hand, maybe the formality was his way of balancing out all the “babes” he let slip out.
    â€œThanks, Jeremy. What’s up?”
    â€œOh, I was wondering . . . I mean, out of curiosity, does the firm ever cut our paychecks early? Or, you know, give advances upon request or anything like that?”
    â€œI don’t think so. Not that I’m aware of. Would you like me to check with Beverly?”
    â€œNo, no. That’s okay. Forget about it. Hey, it’s almost time for the meeting. I’ll see you in there.”
    He slipped past me, heading toward the men’s room. I shook my head, wondering what kind of financial difficulties Jeremy had gotten himself into. Probably just shopping for a flashy new car. Or maybe this was about the student loans he was always bemoaning. Whatever. Not my concern.
    I went back to my office to grab my coffee and a notebook, then went to Beverly’s “conference lounge.” One of the cool things about working at the firm was that our meetings often happened in the comfortable room outside Beverly’s corner office. Instead of gathering around the long table in the conference room, we settled ourselves on sofas and stuffed chairs. Beverly’s grandfather, the original Olsen and the founder of the firm, had outfitted the space with a fully stocked bar and a cigar cabinet to treat his more important clients. We usually had just fruit or cookies.
    â€œOkay, people. Let’s get started.” Beverly took her usual seat in the leather high-back chair by the window.
    The other partners, Randall Sykes, a wiry forty-something with a closely trimmed Afro, and Kris Rafferty, a slender woman with dark, silky-straight bobbed hair, sat in the circle of chairs with us associates, six in all. Not only was Beverly the senior partner, but she was also like our beloved Queen Mother. Her silver-streaked auburn hair was wound in a high bun, lending even more height to her striking five-foot-ten-inch figure. Even more impressive than her appearance, though, was her integrity. No doubt about it, Beverly commanded our respect and affection and returned it tenfold. She’d go to bat for any of us.
    â€œKeli, why don’t you go first?” said Beverly. “I think you may have the most interesting client this week.”
    This was our regular Thursday morning conflicts meeting, where we all briefed each other on the cases we were working on. It was called the conflicts meeting because it was meant to keep the firm from accidentally taking on cases where our representation of one client might conflict with the interests of another. Of course, we used law office software programs to keep track of clients and avoid conflicts, but these meetings also helped maintain our sense of community.
    â€œWell,” I began, “my new client is Eleanor Mostriak. Eighty-four years old, widowed. I’m preparing her will, which is pretty standard. However, for the not so standard part, I’m also assisting her with the sale of a major new asset. You might say that she discovered a treasure in her attic.”
    Everyone leaned forward a little as I told them about Eleanor’s discovery of the long-lost Shakespeare folio. When I described the book and its condition and mentioned the appraisal value, I could hear impressed murmurs all around. Someone