WHOSE WINE IS IT ANYWAY?
by Barb GoffmanI’d given the man forty years of my life, and he was replacing me with a husband-hunting hussy.
From my strategically placed desk outside his corner office, I watched Douglas McPherson striding down the long hall toward me, his quick pace typical. “A good lawyer was a busy lawyer, and a busy lawyer never had time to dawdle,” Douglas once told me. Of course, he always acted busy even when he wasn’t. For Douglas, appearances were everything.
“Arrange the Coulter depositions for early next week, Myra,” he said as he sped past my desk into his office, shutting the door behind him. He hadn’t even noticed that the extra chair beside me was empty. That’s where Jessica was supposed to be sitting. Jessica, who Douglas hired to take over for me as his secre
