Galena folded stapled sheets into thirds and slid them into an envelope.
“You’re not going to read them?” a suited man across a table said.
“Not right this moment,” Galena said.
The man lifted a mug and sipped. “You’ve a legal friend.”
“I have no friends.”
“How much do they charge?”
“Who?”
“You know ‘who’.”
Galena smirked. “Your nerves are showing.”
“Not certain why—they’ve got no reason to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I tell the truth.”
“But you’re an attorney?!”
He grinned, buttoned a trench coat, and slapped bills atop the table. “Once those
papers are signed, phone my office. If need be, it can make arrangements to pick—”
“I can drop them off.”
He nodded, placed a fedora-like hat on, and ambled past tables packed with brunch-
eating guests and tray-toting waitresses to a front entry door.