The Willard (2 page)

“Your room number is 414 and our staff will be happy to assist you with anything you need during your stay. I understand you have an important meeting this afternoon. I’d be happy to arrange for a car to take you to your appointment.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary,” said Catherine. “I’m very comfortable with a cab.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Miss. The ambassador is a very good friend of the hotel and it would be our pleasure to offer you this service. It will give you more time to rest before your meeting. I believe you need to leave at 2 o’clock. Would that be acceptable?”

“That would be fine,” she found herself answering.
How does he know I have an appointment and that it’s at 2:30?
She chalked it up to the ambassador’s office making very detailed arrangements.
I guess this is how business gets done in these rarified circles
. “Yes, that would be excellent. Thank you, Mr. Chase.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Parker. Michael will see to your bags.” Yet another bellman appeared and this time she let the luggage go with him.

No cab equals extra tip money. It’s a wash. Oh, for the love of Pete, I can’t nickel and dime everything I do if I’m going to fit in with one of the biggest international business firms in D.C
. And with that, she turned on her expensive heel and made her way to the elevator, aiming for a bit more confidence with each step.

Once Michael had deposited her bag on the luggage stand and she had rewarded him with a generous tip, Catherine surveyed her surroundings. She had a beautiful cherry bed and a velvet chair and ottoman that practically begged her to sit back with a good book. But it was the view of the National Mall and the Washington Monument that sealed the deal. At that moment she decided she would get the job, no matter the obstacles. This was the world she wanted to live in. Not the extravagance necessarily, but the feeling of being at the center of things and having a purpose. No, she wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Especially not when it had come in such an unexpected way.

After law school in Cincinnati, Catherine had passed the bar exam and taken a job with a small firm in her hometown of
Dayton, Ohio. She hadn’t planned to return to Dayton or even to take the Ohio bar. Her sights were set on digging into cases where she could help people in a big city prosecutor’s office, preferably New York. Dayton was too small, too familiar. It was even too “brown.” She had always thought the buildings of downtown Dayton looked like they were clad in mud. Catherine wanted the bright lights and soaring glass skyscrapers of New York and the plethora of criminal cases that came along with the city. The altruism bug had bitten her early and helping others had become her mantra. Becoming a doctor was out because she nearly fainted every time at the sight of blood so the law was the next best thing. She would use her brains and ability to argue for a good cause and help put bad guys behind bars. She even toyed with the idea of a future in politics and was itching to get in the game.

Three weeks before her graduation, the call came from Dayton. Her father was in intensive care after a massive heart attack. Though they were never especially close, she raced home to be at his bedside. After four long days, the decision was made to discontinue life support and her father passed away. Then there was the funeral to plan and details to manage. She made it back to school just in time to take her final exams. Years of devotion to her studies paid off and she graduated with her class. Graduation was a celebration for most, but Catherine walked the platform with no family or friends in attendance. They were still grieving in Dayton. That afternoon she packed up the last of her belongings and left the tiny apartment she had shared with two other students. No fanfare, no reminiscing. Her mother was a mess. Her father hadn’t done much with the family finances and there was a mortgage to pay, not to mention her own school loans. Her brother lived nearby and had a wife and two kids with another on the way. His wife wasn’t shy about telling him that his duty was to her and to the kids.

“Your sister’s a big-time lawyer now and doesn’t have a husband to deal with, so this is her problem.” At least that’s how Catherine’s aunt had relayed the story to her.

So five boxes, a coffee maker, and a stack of textbooks went into her Honda Accord and she made the one-hour drive to the house on Fisher Lane where she had grown up. One week after the bar exam, she took a job with a small firm in Dayton that handled mostly bankruptcies, divorces, and small property claims. There would be no saving the world here—just trying to save the family home and keep her mother together. And that’s what she did, day in and day out for four years until her mother joined her father in Magnolia cemetery and she and her brother split the meager proceeds from the sale of the house.

“You should get a bigger share,” said his wife, Amy. “You’re the oldest and she’s a lawyer. She probably makes a couple hundred thousand a year. Why should she get the same as you?”

“She makes $62,000 a year and she’s spent most of it taking care of Mom. Leave it alone, Amy.”

It was the one and only recorded appearance of a backbone her brother Chris had ever shown with regard to his wife. The money was split evenly between Catherine and Chris. Amy used Chris’s half to put an above-ground pool in their back yard. Catherine used hers to finance a week-long mission trip to help build wells in Africa. She wanted time to think about her future and to do some good at the same time. It was in one of the poorest places on earth that she met one of its richest men, and eventually found herself sitting in a five-star hotel two blocks from the White House.

Robert Tombac wouldn’t have thought twice about staying at the Willard. He’d likely stay in the largest suite they had and he wouldn’t have turned down the bellman when he came for the bags at the curb. Where he should have looked out of place was in a muddy field in Sierra Leone. Even in this
unlikely place and wearing a t-shirt and cargo trousers he looked like he exuded money. But when Catherine first spotted him he was elbow-deep in a ditch securing the last pipe in the run. He bounded up out of the ditch and jogged with a gaggle of shirtless children to the pump handle a few yards away and with a huge smile, he began to work the handle until the water was running fast and clear. After much cheering and dancing, the adults shooed the children away from the pump and began filling their containers. Tombac made his way over to the group that had just arrived, which included Catherine.

“Eight down, two to go! Ready to work?”

He almost seemed to bellow at the new arrivals, but his enthusiasm was contagious. Over the next two weeks, the group worked hand in hand with Tombac and his team and built out the remaining two wells and a bonus well in a nearby village. While they worked, he talked with each of the volunteers and everyone noticed right away that he had a special affinity for Catherine.

“Dirty old man,” some twittered out of earshot.

But nothing untoward was happening with Tombac and Catherine. In a couple of days he had learned she was a bright woman with a good heart. She was also a twenty-nine-year-old attorney at a crossroads in her life. She wanted to do something important and felt that getting down in the mud in a third world country was a good way to start. It almost seemed to him that she was doing penance for the fact that she’d been unable to do anything outside of her family circle over the past four years. Robert Tombac had made billions spotting talent and opportunity and when he saw both in one place he knew lightning could strike. When they returned to the States, he contacted Catherine and told her about a chance to do good for others on a global scale and he introduced her to the world of international business law.

Catherine thought she had a pretty good idea of what that meant.

International business law. Sounds like a bunch of overpaid lawyers raping and pillaging the people and resources of the globe. No thanks
.

It took a few months but Robert, as he insisted she call him, finally was able to show her the big picture.

“More and more governments around the world are concerned with the impact energy development, manufacturing, and most other types of industry have on the planet as a whole. To combat this, they’re enacting laws to control everything from resource management to air pollution to fair wages. The bigger the company, the more they need to put a good face on what they’re doing and that means getting ahead of the laws with new technology to show they’re not only following the rules but actually developing new ways to go above and beyond them. That means technology, and who is willing to invest in new technology by way of tax incentives and trade agreements? Foreign governments. Therefore, international business law has a hand in how workers, property owners, businesspeople, and the kids down the street from the plant drinking the local water supply benefit or suffer from development.” It was a pitch he made to her daily until she started to see the potential.

What’s more, one of the largest and most effective (read: prosperous) firms in the country was looking for someone with Catherine’s skill and passion. Could he make the introductions for her, he asked? Two days later she was Robert’s guest at a reception for the ambassador of a Middle Eastern country known for soliciting western business. He, too, was impressed with Catherine, so much so that he picked up his cell phone on the spot and called one of the partners at Cameron, Hanson and Smith. That was one week ago and this afternoon she would meet with Lawrence Cameron IV and try and convince him that a small-firm lawyer from Dayton with four
years of experience and only three court appearances to her credit would be the best possible new associate for their international firm. Word on the street was that nobody at the firm brought in less than $350,000 a year plus perks including international travel and a reported seven figure expense account for wining and dining billionaire investors.

It’s not selling out. To have a big impact you have to play with the big boys and this is how they play
, she reassured herself.

It was a lot to take in. For the past few days Catherine had tried on and rejected outfit after outfit and styled her hair up, down, straight, and “business wavy.” She’d polished her resume and practiced her answers to the most common interview questions including where she saw herself in five years and what “Who Packs Your Parachute?” means to the philosophy of business. She was as ready as she was going to get. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read 12:02 p.m. The crack-of-dawn flight she’d taken had gotten her here with time to spare. Lunch was out of the question because her stomach was a ball of nerves. Maybe the concierge was onto something with his suggestion that she rest before her appointment.
Just a power nap
.

After setting the alarm on the bedside table and two on her iPhone, she wanted one more backup so she called the desk and asked Edward Chase for a wake-up phone call at 12:45 p.m.

“It will be my pleasure, Ms. Parker. Do enjoy your rest,” he said.

I believe I will do just that, Mr. Chase
, she thought to herself. She took off her heels and suit, hung them on a hook in the bathroom, and wrapped herself in the luxurious hotel robe. She also unpacked the suit she had brought for the interview, still in its dry cleaning plastic. On the lapel she had pinned the one item she owned that wasn’t a knock-off or found in the clearance bin, though it was secondhand. Her grandmother’s diamond brooch sparkled against the dark blue of her best Ann Taylor suit (45% off last season). Even though the diamonds might be a little
flashy for daytime wear, it was very elegant and she felt like her grandmother was with her when she wore it. It was a one-of-a-kind piece her grandfather had had made for her grandmother when their oldest daughter had gotten married. Gramma Aida would know how to handle these bigwigs and Catherine was glad she had brought it. She pulled off the plastic protector and hung the suit in the closet. Then she slipped between the sumptuous sheets and, with one last glance at the Washington Monument through the window, she drifted off to sleep.

She awoke suddenly at 12:43 before any alarms went off. Her room was hazy, like the afternoon sun was playing tricks with shadows, but it was barely after noon. She stood up and crossed the room trying to shake the sleep from her mind.

Midday naps can really be disorienting
.

She yawned and started toward the window but stopped in her tracks. She rubbed her eyes and was shocked that at second glance it still appeared the Washington Monument was gone. Well, not gone exactly but only the bottom portion was there. A good two-thirds of it was missing! What had happened over the past forty-one minutes? She hadn’t felt an earthquake. Then it hit her. It had to be terrorism. It was 9/11 all over again. Her heart caught in her throat and she pulled back the drapes to see what kind of panic must have ensued below, but what she saw was even more confusing. There was no panic, just the regular slow procession of traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue. Only these weren’t cars or SUVs. They were carriages and solitary horses with riders. And when she turned again to look at her room, Catherine knew something was very wrong. Her suitcase was gone and in its place was an antique valise. The furnishings in the room were different, even the doors.

Where is the phone?
She couldn’t find it and she felt like her head was full of cobwebs.

Boy, I’m having some dream. At least I hope it’s a dream
.

She located the phone, an ancient-looking contraption, and she lifted the receiver to her ear. After an unfamiliar ringing noise on the line she heard the reassuring sound of Edward Chase’s voice come back to her.

“Mr. Chase! What’s happening? I woke up and the monument has been destroyed!”

“There is no problem, Ms. Parker. Your carriage will be here to take you to your appointment precisely at 2 o’clock. It’s a lovely spring afternoon although I would recommend you bring your wrap. The winds tend to change here without warning,” he responded, with no hint of sarcasm. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Parker?”