In Your Corner
Page 91
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“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” She takes a seat across from my desk and drums her fingers on the armrest. “If we had given you the love and attention you needed as a child, you wouldn’t have had to look for it elsewhere.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “You can’t take the blame for my choices.”
“You made those choices because you had to.” She sucks in her lips and sighs. “You were so competent, even as a child. So independent. You never asked for our help, never seemed to need us. You made it too easy to let you deal with things on your own. But I often wondered if it was the chicken or the egg. If you had been a different person, would we have treated you the same?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I don’t remember being any other way.”
We sit in silence for a long moment, and then Mom leaves her seat and wanders around the office, trailing her fingers over the polished bookshelves and the ornate moldings around the windows.
“Believe it or not, we are very proud of you. Starting up your own firm, obtaining the financing, finding clients. I’ve been following your case against Farnsworth through the court documents. I never believed his defense. Although I wasn’t there for you, I know my daughter. And I know Farnsworth. I believed you at the hospital when you said he propositioned you.”
She believes me. Afraid of embarrassing myself with the kind of emotional outburst frowned upon in my family, I just nod.
“Your lawsuit was very brave, but also naïve,” Mom continues. “As a junior associate, you’re only starting to learn the ropes. But you had to know he would use every resource at his disposal to make you drop the case.”
“I didn’t think it would get this bad.” I point to the pile of papers on my desk. “He just sent those today. And he always seems to be one step ahead of me.”
Sympathy fills her eyes. “That’s just the start.”
I look down at the settlement offer on my desk and then I tear it in half. “Mom…” I draw in a ragged breath. “I need help.”
“I know,” she says softly. “That’s why I came.”
***
The next week passes in a blur. Mom lends me the money to cover the cost of hiring contract lawyers to help with the paperwork until the sale of my grandmother’s house goes through. She finds the time to stop by every day to help me with strategy and tactics. Ray charms the pants off her in under five minutes, and she never once asks him to take his feet off the coffee table, nor does she ask why he lives on our client couch. She brings him coffee, buys his paper for him, and smiles every time he calls her ma’am. She does suggest the blue corporate couches would look better than Ray’s comfy Victorian, but I tell her that couch is special and even if Ray finds a new place to hang his hat, I’m keeping it.
But even with Mom’s help, Farnsworth predicts my every move. Except for the two witnesses who gave evidence early in the case, everyone else is too scared to talk. Ray drags his surveillance friend in to check things out, and they discover our computers have been hacked. Not only that, they trace the hack to Farnsworth & Tillman.
Ray explodes and stomps around the office cursing and muttering to himself about how only Farnsworth and Reid would have the nerve to pull this off. Mom tells him to watch his language. He tells her he’s been in places so bad the words he’s saying would be considered a lullaby. Mom says that may be true, but she’s over twenty years older than him and she expects a certain propriety in her presence. She suggests he curse outside. He says, “Yes, ma’am,” and storms out the door.
As soon as he steps outside, Mom starts laughing. She laughs until her eyes water. I’ve never seen my mother laugh like that before. She says although she still doesn’t fully approve of my choice of friends, Ray’s not too bad. My eyes water too.
***
With the Farnsworth file under semicontrol, Ray plans a surveillance mission, trailing Bob and Clive around the city. He got a tip that they frequent a boxing gym, and he’s pretty sure they’ll have to take off their casts to fight. Although Ray wants to go alone, I insist on tagging along. After reading his reports for so many years, I want a taste of the action. The new Amanda isn’t tied to her office. Sometimes she likes a little bit of fun, and what is more fun than going on a stakeout with Ray?
We trail Bob and Clive around the city in Ray’s Jeep until they pull up in front of an all-night boxing gym. Ray finds a side door, and we slip inside and hide behind a wall of lockers. A pang of nostalgia fills me when I see the makeshift boxing ring in the center. I miss Redemption. But more than that, I miss Jake with an ache that reaches into my soul.
Why the hell have I been staying away from two of the most important things in my life? If I want to embrace the Amanda who asks for help, associates with unsavory characters, runs a law firm with mostly pro bono files, and goes on stakeouts in the middle of the night, I need to embrace that part of myself too. I can’t give up. I’ve dishonored myself by staying away. And that has to change.
A cough from Ray wakes me up, and I turn my attention back to the ring. A middle-aged redhead with curves to die for throws her arms around Bob and greets him with a big smooch. Ray snorts under his breath, and I jab my elbow in his ribs to keep him quiet.
“Silence. Name of the game,” I whisper.
I am treated with the scowl to end all scowls. I stifle a laugh.
Bob climbs into the ring and peels off his shirt. Then he peels off his casts and tosses them to the floor. Over in the far corner, Clive does the same. My heart leaps in my throat and I film the action on my phone while Ray takes pictures of them punching and grappling, unbroken arms flying in the air. The redhead slips into Bob’s corner and cheers him on.
“No, I’m sorry.” She takes a seat across from my desk and drums her fingers on the armrest. “If we had given you the love and attention you needed as a child, you wouldn’t have had to look for it elsewhere.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “You can’t take the blame for my choices.”
“You made those choices because you had to.” She sucks in her lips and sighs. “You were so competent, even as a child. So independent. You never asked for our help, never seemed to need us. You made it too easy to let you deal with things on your own. But I often wondered if it was the chicken or the egg. If you had been a different person, would we have treated you the same?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I don’t remember being any other way.”
We sit in silence for a long moment, and then Mom leaves her seat and wanders around the office, trailing her fingers over the polished bookshelves and the ornate moldings around the windows.
“Believe it or not, we are very proud of you. Starting up your own firm, obtaining the financing, finding clients. I’ve been following your case against Farnsworth through the court documents. I never believed his defense. Although I wasn’t there for you, I know my daughter. And I know Farnsworth. I believed you at the hospital when you said he propositioned you.”
She believes me. Afraid of embarrassing myself with the kind of emotional outburst frowned upon in my family, I just nod.
“Your lawsuit was very brave, but also naïve,” Mom continues. “As a junior associate, you’re only starting to learn the ropes. But you had to know he would use every resource at his disposal to make you drop the case.”
“I didn’t think it would get this bad.” I point to the pile of papers on my desk. “He just sent those today. And he always seems to be one step ahead of me.”
Sympathy fills her eyes. “That’s just the start.”
I look down at the settlement offer on my desk and then I tear it in half. “Mom…” I draw in a ragged breath. “I need help.”
“I know,” she says softly. “That’s why I came.”
***
The next week passes in a blur. Mom lends me the money to cover the cost of hiring contract lawyers to help with the paperwork until the sale of my grandmother’s house goes through. She finds the time to stop by every day to help me with strategy and tactics. Ray charms the pants off her in under five minutes, and she never once asks him to take his feet off the coffee table, nor does she ask why he lives on our client couch. She brings him coffee, buys his paper for him, and smiles every time he calls her ma’am. She does suggest the blue corporate couches would look better than Ray’s comfy Victorian, but I tell her that couch is special and even if Ray finds a new place to hang his hat, I’m keeping it.
But even with Mom’s help, Farnsworth predicts my every move. Except for the two witnesses who gave evidence early in the case, everyone else is too scared to talk. Ray drags his surveillance friend in to check things out, and they discover our computers have been hacked. Not only that, they trace the hack to Farnsworth & Tillman.
Ray explodes and stomps around the office cursing and muttering to himself about how only Farnsworth and Reid would have the nerve to pull this off. Mom tells him to watch his language. He tells her he’s been in places so bad the words he’s saying would be considered a lullaby. Mom says that may be true, but she’s over twenty years older than him and she expects a certain propriety in her presence. She suggests he curse outside. He says, “Yes, ma’am,” and storms out the door.
As soon as he steps outside, Mom starts laughing. She laughs until her eyes water. I’ve never seen my mother laugh like that before. She says although she still doesn’t fully approve of my choice of friends, Ray’s not too bad. My eyes water too.
***
With the Farnsworth file under semicontrol, Ray plans a surveillance mission, trailing Bob and Clive around the city. He got a tip that they frequent a boxing gym, and he’s pretty sure they’ll have to take off their casts to fight. Although Ray wants to go alone, I insist on tagging along. After reading his reports for so many years, I want a taste of the action. The new Amanda isn’t tied to her office. Sometimes she likes a little bit of fun, and what is more fun than going on a stakeout with Ray?
We trail Bob and Clive around the city in Ray’s Jeep until they pull up in front of an all-night boxing gym. Ray finds a side door, and we slip inside and hide behind a wall of lockers. A pang of nostalgia fills me when I see the makeshift boxing ring in the center. I miss Redemption. But more than that, I miss Jake with an ache that reaches into my soul.
Why the hell have I been staying away from two of the most important things in my life? If I want to embrace the Amanda who asks for help, associates with unsavory characters, runs a law firm with mostly pro bono files, and goes on stakeouts in the middle of the night, I need to embrace that part of myself too. I can’t give up. I’ve dishonored myself by staying away. And that has to change.
A cough from Ray wakes me up, and I turn my attention back to the ring. A middle-aged redhead with curves to die for throws her arms around Bob and greets him with a big smooch. Ray snorts under his breath, and I jab my elbow in his ribs to keep him quiet.
“Silence. Name of the game,” I whisper.
I am treated with the scowl to end all scowls. I stifle a laugh.
Bob climbs into the ring and peels off his shirt. Then he peels off his casts and tosses them to the floor. Over in the far corner, Clive does the same. My heart leaps in my throat and I film the action on my phone while Ray takes pictures of them punching and grappling, unbroken arms flying in the air. The redhead slips into Bob’s corner and cheers him on.
