Exposed (18 page)

“In the Seattle Tower? Why? The elevator takes a half-hour to go twenty-seven floors!”

“Because I like it. Just the same as you do.”

“I’m only there because it’s across the street from my apartment house.”

“Nice try,” I said. “But I’m going to open my own office. I’ll be glad to show appreciation for any referrals. I’d like to retain you on an ‘of counsel’ basis. We’ll agree on terms.”

“Want to walk back to my place and discuss those terms?” he asked.

I laughed at him and told him I had to go. As we walked past a rack of free papers, I saw
The Source of the Sound
was still making a fuss about the mystery man feeding the poor of Pike Place Market.

Just then, the chef of Place Pigale stuck his head around the corner and said, “Tonight’s our night, right, Tony?”

Tony threw a quick nod at the chef, then a fast glance at me and I could see a frown. Suddenly, I knew why.

“It’s YOU!” I said in a low voice. “You’re the one feeding the homeless down here!”

“Don’t be silly. Why would I do that?” he asked, but his voice didn’t have the swagger it needed to convince me. “What’s in it for me? Where’s my self-interest?”

“Because this is where you came from. This is what you do. This is who you are!” I threw back at him. I knew I was right. And in that instant, he knew I knew it, too.

“Jess,” he said in a low voice, “a lot of people will suffer if you say that to anyone else.”

I leaned over, and for the first and last time, ever, I kissed him right on the lips, but in a friendly way. “Not a word,” I whispered.

It took a while to build my practice, even though there was plenty of legal help around. The implosion of Moore & Associates put a lot of lawyers on the street, even if a number of them had a pretty good book of business.

Some stayed with what was left, about one-tenth its former size and renamed Love, Moore, PLC, after my former husband and his new wife, Ashley, the girl I defended from the cocaine charge and who just graduated from law school.

Good for her. I sent a card instead of attending the open house.

I already had my support staff in mind. Claire came first to help me out.

“Was that your son?” I asked her about the arrest at the hotel.

“It was,” she said. “He’s something, isn’t he? Just like his father. But he’s as smart as he is handsome.”

“And how did he think the arrest went down?” I was fishing. I knew what Claire’s son had seen on the monitor from the room adjoining the one where I set up Max Moore. I wanted to know what he said to Claire.

“Oh, he never tells me the details of his police work. Scares me too much, especially for his family and my grandkids.”

But as she turned away, I swear I heard a smile in her voice. “Two of the other officers might be asking you out, though.”

For the first month, we were only in the office two days a week, then three. Then four. I mentioned to Sarah that I needed someone to help out when we saw each other at a very special occasion: She and Lily were getting married.

“I am so happy for you two!” I cried when I got my turn for a hug and spent a minute with them.

I asked if I could hire them both, but Sarah immediately said no, I would have to choose.

“It was one thing to work together before, but now that Sarah and I are married, I really don’t think we can work in the same office,” Lily said.

“Besides, we want to have a baby, and Lily is much more maternal,” said Sarah.

The simple, factual way she said that, each of them looking at me and not to each other for confirmation, brought tears to my eyes.

• • • •

We capped the work at four days a week, including court appearances, and left the schedule very flexible. I upped rates to the point where the cost to upper-end clients limits the work and allows me to provide services pro bono whenever a case catches my eye as deserving special representation.

Sometimes I pay other lawyers to help people who can’t afford their services. Like Tony, for instance. And, being Tony, half the time he won’t take the money. He keeps saying he’d prefer to work out a private arrangement. I love him for being exactly who he is, even if he hides that from everyone else.

The fee structure more than pays the bills, and gives me enough time to be nearly anywhere in the world, when I want to be there. If I want to be there.

That’s why I’m on this flight, on my way to visit a favorite, handsome and very wealthy friend. He loves to show me off on his yacht in the Mediterranean and said he wanted to give me something very special for my 30th birthday.

He knows how to treat me, and he knows exactly what I like, in every way. There are people in Europe who enjoy things that you can only imagine. If I told you more, I wouldn’t be invited again. So I won’t.

On the way back, I’m going to stop in France and visit Uncle Marcel and Genevieve, and my very special niece. She’s coming to the US next year to spend the summer with me. I’m going to show her the San Juan Islands. It will be significant for each of us.

Don’t be offended if I politely decline an offer to buy me a cocktail. It’s not personal; it’s just who I am, and I am not obligated to entertain. It’s my choice.

Some would judge me as “immoral,” to use that ugly word. But every time they look twice at me sitting in the airport, laughing and enjoying who I am or walking down the street with a light step, and they condemn me, it’s because they fear.

They fear because, deep down, they know they are lying to themselves. I’m not that different.

Jessica Love simply made different decisions.

The End