Stand up, sweetheart, the real lawyers need the conference room

I didn’t move. I just slid my coffee an inch to the right and folded my hands. Brittany rolled her eyes and turned to the receptionist. ‘Sweetie, can you escort my sister-in-law to the lobby? She’s clearly lost.’ The receptionist’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked at me. I gave her the smallest shake of my head. Just then the double doors opened and the client walked in — Mr. Alvarez, the CEO Brittany had been chasing for eight months. He scanned the room, spotted me, and broke into a grin. ‘Hannah. Good to see you again. I trust you’ve reviewed the revised terms?’ Brittany’s face did something I will remember until the day I die. It just… collapsed inward. ‘Hannah?’ she whispered. Mr. Alvarez kept going. ‘I told my board I’d only sign if Ms. Reyes was lead counsel. Her brief on the Whitfield merger was the cleanest work I’ve read in twenty years.’ He pulled out the chair beside me. Brittany was still standing. Her husband — my brother Daniel — was staring at the carpet like it owed him money. I finally looked up. ‘Brittany, you can sit at the other end. The real lawyers need this side of the table.’ I said it gently. No venom. Just the same flat tone she’d used on me at every Thanksgiving since 2018. She sat. Her hands were shaking. I slid one of the manila folders down the polished wood toward her. ‘Since you’re here, you can take notes. I’ll need three copies of the redlines by Monday.’ Mr. Alvarez chuckled. Brittany opened her mouth, then closed it, then picked up a pen. After the meeting, Daniel caught me in the elevator. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell us you made partner?’ I watched the numbers tick down. ‘I did. Three years ago. At the Christmas party. Brittany was talking over me about her kitchen renovation.’ The doors opened. I stepped out. ‘Tell Mom I’ll bring the wine on Sunday.’