A Toast to the One I Loved the Most

Henry Gresham was a well known attorney. Perhaps notorious would be a better word to describe the reclusive man. Although he took on lots of small charity cases, he was ruthless in court. His winning streak was spotless. Some people attributed it to his reluctance to take on bigger cases but Minte doubted it.

Her mentor was quite a conundrum.

Although he had a strong moral compass and purposefully sought out pro-bono work, he was curt, callous and cold. Henry would go to the ends of the Earth to help his clients. The stack of coffee cups sprawled upon his desk was an alarming testament to that. Yet, Henry could never bring himself to say thank you to the waiters or his office's cleaning crew.

After months of shadowing him, Minte learned to stop questioning his antics. That didn't stop her from being surprised when he stumbled into the office screaming profanities.

And were those red suspenders?

She didn't get a chance to ask because Henry had already planted his face into the couch.

- |-

"Tell me Minte." Henry hollered as he took a swig of gas station coffee. "Do I look like a pitiful fool?"

"Yes, you do."

There was a high possibility that those would be her last words.

"Then I suppose the way we carry ourselves out is a mirror of our psyche."

He tilted his head backwards and his lithe figure began to slide down the sofa in unsightly agony. Seeing the gangly man slide down the furniture with such ease was unnerving. The movement was too smooth and the attorney was too... angular and lanky.

Upon closer inspection, she realized that his face was flushed. His cheeks were dusted with a bright red hue that rivaled his suspenders.

Minte supposed that she should get him some water.

"So what do red suspenders symbolize?" She poked as she tentatively handed him a glass.

Henry snatched it from her and downed it in one go. "I only wore these because she told me I looked good in them."

With jarring elegance, Henry sprang to his feet and procured his sunglasses. "Are you doing anything today? She'd love to meet you."

Minte had no clue what Henry meant in his stupor. He had no close friends except his old neighbor Oberon but she nodded and went along with it.

"Obviously." Minte grunted as she gestured towards the haphazard jenga tower of papers on her desk. "Somebody was too lazy to organize their file cabinet and then dumped the work onto me."

"You could burn those for all I care." Henry shrugged. "And besides, wouldn't you rather go to Helene Allard's manor?"

"Helene Allard the defensive attorney?" She echoed.

"The one and only." He mused. "Let's go."

Helene Allard was Minte's hero. But the age old adage says "Never meet your heroes."

The gravity of that saying would hit her soon enough.