But today the cavalcade failed to penetrate the black hole of doubt and apprehension that had become a vortex in her soul, a void threatening to swallow not only her sense of humor, but her sense of self.
When April emerged from the jetway, Gracie met her with a forced smile and what she thought was her usual energy. April filled her in on the meeting with Ben, Cole, and Gracie reciprocated with a tale of the trip to the judge’s house and the advice he’d given her.
“Washington, D.C.?” April asked in true surprise, as they reached Gracie’s Corvette in the parking structure.
“Yes. Both of us need to be there, and we should leave in the morning. I’ve already booked a flight. We want to be in position at first light Monday.”
“So, how does my presence help?”
Gracie felt the answer stop in her throat, and April noticed. She reached out and touched Gracie’s shoulder as she closed the Corvette’s tiny trunk.
“Gracie?”
“Yes?” Gracie responded, accelerating the intensity of her smile.
“You’re not fooling me, you know.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Something else has happened that’s really affecting you, and you’re not telling me. Is it Dad’s resistance?”
“Maybe. In part,” Gracie said.
“What else?”
“Let’s… get back to my floating palace and we’ll talk. I figured you could stay the night in my guest cabin.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, but I want answers.”
Gracie took a deep breath, her eyes shifting to the concrete floor of the garage, the dam of emotion threatening to break. But once more she pulled back and smiled at April.
“Not now, okay?”
April nodded slowly as she watched Gracie’s eyes. “Okay.”
The short trip to Ballard and Shilshole Marina was interrupted by a brief grocery stop, but within an hour the two women had settled into the main parlor of the O’Brien yacht. Armed with fresh coffee and renewed control, Gracie related the previous hours of setbacks, trying to keep it matter of fact and professional and positive, chuckling in all the right places and making light of her own concerns. Arlie’s worried daughter, Gracie figured, needed more reassurance than she did. But to her surprise, April stood without warning and pointed up the narrow stairway to Gracie’s bridge.
“Come up here a minute with me, okay?”
“Sorry?”
“To the wheelhouse.”
“I call it a bridge.”
“Whatever.” April was already up the steps and sitting on the side couch that enabled guests to sit and watch the “captain” steer the yacht when under way.
“Sit,” April commanded when Gracie had joined her, standing uncomfortably by the command chair.
“Here?” Gracie asked, pointing to the command position.
“Yes, Captain Kirk. Sit, please.”
“All right. I’m sitting. Now what?”
“Look out there, toward the bow. Tell me what you see.”
“What?”
“Out there, Gracie. What crosses your mind.”
Gracie studied the horizon, testing the various descriptive phrases she might use, none of them triggering an appropriate response.
“April, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what you see. You see the impossible incarnate, Gracie. There was no way a twenty-six-year-old newly minted female lawyer could possibly arrange financing for a yacht this big, let alone live on it, but you did. There was no way you could get that job with Janssen and Pruzan, but you did. There was no way you could get past the blows you’d had as a little girl from a disastrous family background and become a well-balanced, sophisticated, smart, and dedicated adult, who could find a way to make it into and through law school, but you did.”
“April—”
“No! Now listen to me carefully. You are vastly more capable than you seem to realize or give yourself credit for, and while a little self-doubt is always healthy, I’ve got a news flash. You’re a fallible human being and you are not going to get perfect anytime soon.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t! You’re acting like you should have seen everything coming. That fool in D.C. who just dumped us, your senior partner’s response, the billionaire client who already sucked in two women in the firm and is obviously very good at it, are all things you couldn’t have foreseen. You’ve done more in the previous forty-eight hours than ninety percent of the lawyers in America could have or would have done, but you’re in uncharted waters, so you’re kind of innovating as you go along, and that means some moves are going to be wrong.”
“I’m just worried, okay? Your dad’s future is at stake here.”
“And yours isn’t?”
Gracie looked up, thoroughly startled. A long silence passed between them as she met April’s eyes, at a loss for words.
“You’ve pulled out all the stops for him, Gracie.”
“Well… of course. He needed good legal representation immediately.”
“No, Ms. Gracie, he needed you! And he needs us, along with our respective expertise and support.”
“We’ve got to get this fixed,” Gracie replied. “I’d never forgive myself if—”
“Gracie, look at me. You know, don’t you, that I’m more than a little aware how much Dad — and Mom — mean to you?”
Gracie nodded and tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Sometimes,” April continued, her voice softening, “sometimes I think you get a bit embarrassed by, that, but we’re not just friends, Gracie. We’re sisters in so many ways. They’re your family, too. And I know you’re in an impossible position, trying to play the probative lawyer keeping your professional distance, when you’re really representing your family. And I know you’re as frightened for him as I am.”
Gracie sighed again, her hands clasped, her head down as she listened.
“Here’s the point. Don’t playact the senior lawyer with me. Save that for clients who aren’t your family. I know you too well. I have faith that it’s all going to work out, but you’re scared to death for Dad, for your job, your reputation, and your own very human reactions. Right?”
Slowly Gracie nodded and looked up at her, her voice uncharacteristically quiet and metered. “I’m pretty frightened, April,” she said, as a single tear began its journey down her cheek, tentatively at first, gathering speed until it fell away from her face and landed on the polished wood-grain surface of the instrument panel.
“I know you’re scared,” April replied. “I could tell the moment I walked out of that jetway that something had gone very wrong today and shaken you. And you are entitled to get shaken once in a while. So admit it to both of us, okay? Don’t just give me a clinical analysis and pretend you don’t need a good cry.”
April leaned over and drew Gracie to her, hugging her tightly as the dam broke at last.
FORTY THREE
MONDAY MORNING, DAY 8 SEQUIM, WASHINGTON
Arlie sat in disgust for a few seconds before deciding to search under the hood of his car for the genesis of its refusal to start. He pulled the appropriate T-handle and got out, lifting the hood, eyes falling instantly on something sitting on one side of the engine that he’d never noticed before. It was a cylindrical metallic object roughly ten inches long, and apparently part of the engine assembly. But he couldn’t recall its function, or whether it could be blocking the car’s starter. He reached for the object, his hand touching the metallic surface and triggering a hidden electrical circuit. The psychological impact of a small firecracker exploding from beneath the device caused him to jump back, adrenaline following the shock, a tiny burst of smoke wafting from the object and marking the reality that the harmless device had been wired to wait for his touch.