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Magellan. Brittany can help out while I’m in Savannah.”
    ______
    After Clarice left, Tom turned on the gas logs in the small fireplace in the living room and sat in a leather recliner watching the flames. The harsh reality that John Crane had left him nothing except the hassle of dealing with the IRS and the responsibility of closing down a law practice hurt more than Tom wanted to admit.
    While the fire flickered, Rover lay at Tom’s feet. The dog’s world was simple. His master’s presence was enough to bring him contentment. No such person inhabited Tom’s world. He was as isolated as a castaway on a desert island, a man alone in a city of millions.

chapter
THREE
    T he following morning Tom unpacked the boxes he’d brought home from the office. He took out the photo of his mother taken during a trip to Callaway Gardens when he was five years old. Quiet and reserved, she taught high school English composition and literature for twenty years. Her death from breast cancer when Tom was a junior in high school took away the only ears he knew would listen.
    Caught in a web of joint grief, Tom and his father shared space in the same house for a year and a half until Tom left for college. By the time he graduated four years later, Tom had convinced himself that he’d grown stronger through the tragedy because it forced him to be more self-reliant. This became a mantra, and he repeated the theory whenever he told someone about his past. Not everyone was convinced. A girl Tom dated shortly after moving to Atlanta told him it sounded like something a redneck football coach would tell one of his players. They only went out to dinner once after that.
    Tom’s cell phone buzzed. It was an unfamiliar number.
    “Hello,” he said.
    “Tom, it’s Arthur. I called your office, and the receptionist told me you no longer work at the firm. What in the world happened?”
    Tom’s stomach twisted into a knot.
    “I met with the three main partners after you and I talked yesterday. We lost a major client. I was the first of several casualties.”
    “Did you tell them about our conversation?”
    “No. You asked me to keep it confidential until you had a chance to talk with Mr. Snyder. I didn’t want to violate your instructions.”
    “Talking to Lance was a formality. If I’d known your job was in jeopardy, I would have given you permission to bring it up. Who’s the real decision maker at the firm? Give me his direct number. I’ll call him as soon as we hang up and get this straightened out.”
    Tom was shocked. It wasn’t the response he’d expected.
    “Uh, I’m not sure how they operate. But I doubt they’d be willing to change their minds—” Tom stopped.
    Joe Barnes, Reid McGraw, and Olson Crowther would do anything to entice Pelham Financial into their fold. They’d reinstate him in a second and might even throw a cocktail party to celebrate his return. But asking Arthur to step in made him feel like a kid on a baseball team begging his father to intervene with the coach. It ran counter to every independent bone in Tom’s body.
    “Thanks,” he said. “But it’s time for me to move on. If I can’t trust the judgment of the people I’m working with, Barnes, McGraw, and Crowther isn’t the place I want to be for the long term.”
    “I can appreciate that,” Arthur replied thoughtfully. “I’ve had the same conversation with employees over the years. Trust among coworkers is as much a key to our business as it is to yours. But are you sure about this?”
    Tom searched his heart one last time. He knew if he turned down Arthur’s offer of help, it was the end of one road. Where the next road might lead was uncertain.
    “I’ve cut the tie,” Tom said with finality. “When I find another job, I’ll let you know if the new law firm can provide the kind of representation you deserve.”
    “That will take time to determine.”
    “Yes, sir, because you deserve the best legal advice available. Do I have your