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a deal when you offered me a position here.”
    John nodded. “We still do. But the other first-year associates require delicate handling. The ones who articled with us.” Kate’s stomach sank but she kept her gaze steady. “Randall feels that after all the extra hours they put in during their articles, we owe it to them to make their career development needs our first priority.”
    The message was loud and clear: Randall believed that Kate hadn’t earned her stripes at LMB yet. There was an even more subtle message, one she’d picked up from the cool smiles at the coffee station and the muted conversations in the elevators. LMB was an exclusive club. Entry to this club for junior associates was usually gained in law school, by possession of a high-octane combination of attitude, background and marks.
    She hadn’t made the cut in law school. Her marks fell in the critical second year when the large firms recruited their clerks, thanks to working extra hours to pay her way while dealing with her ill mother. Her mother finally succumbed to too many years of grief compounded by double shifts and heart disease.
    But Kate managed to keep it together. She graduated with decent, but not stellar, marks. By then the only articling positions left were with poorly paid small practices.Although they offered a wealth of hands-on experience, the salary was peanuts and career advancement was a new ergonomic chair. She wanted complex, challenging files. Something to sink her teeth into that would pave the way to a career with a six-figure paycheck and a seat on the bench.
    Taking a position at Marshall & Associates was definitely going about it the long way. Crammed with overlarge antique furniture Madelyn Marshall had a passion for buying on weekend jaunts to Mahone Bay, the firm had a homey feel that reassured its walk-in everyday-joe clients. Kate’s articling office had been converted from an old bathroom. It had borne the slight must of its previous functions. She’d kept the window open, even in the winter, promising herself that by next year she would not be at a firm where she had to hide long johns under her suit.
    Getting her foot in the door in LMB was the first step. But it wasn’t enough. She’d played the good girl for four months. She’d worked diligently on all those family files. It was time to let them know she wasn’t going to take a backseat to the other first-year associates. “You haven’t given me any other files except family law cases. How can I show you that I can handle the files if you won’t give me any?”
    John steepled his fingers together. Kate had the feeling he knew exactly how frustrated she was. “That’s the point I made with Randall,” he said finally. “I agree with you, Kate. You’ve worked here for four months and, so far, the reports have been good.” He lowered his voice. “I had it out with Randall today. It’s time to give you some litigation files.”
    Yes .
    Triumph flushed her cheeks. But on its heels was unease. She didn’t want the partners arguing over her. She wanted to be part of the team. She wanted to be cushionedby the corporate safety net that a firm like LMB offered. The last thing she wanted was to be the hot potato in a power play.
    There’d been whispers leaked from the partners’ floor that both John and Randall had been up for managing partner last year. Randall had won the vote. Handily. Judging from Randall’s relaxed arrogance in her office earlier, it was probably true. She studied John again. Strain marked his suave features, making him look all of his fifty-odd years. It must be galling for the lion who’d founded the firm to be in a winner-take-all fight with the bullish Randall.
    John leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Kate, I want you to help me out on a file. You are probably aware that TransTissue, Inc., is one of my clients.”
    Her heart accelerated. Here it was. A chance to prove herself. She flipped open her notebook. “TransTissue