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Menus were passed around. Be
“What should I wear?” Barb asked Rebecca as Clay hid behind his menu.
“Something new,” Rebecca said.
“You’re right,” Barb readily agreed. “Let’s go shopping Saturday.”
“Good idea.”
Be
After a few bites, Be
Clay chewed and nodded as if he couldn’t wait to meet all of Be
“Anyway, Ian owes me some favors, most of them do down there, and so I just popped the question.”
It took Clay a second to realize that the women had stopped eating. Their forks were at rest as they watched and listened with anticipation.
“What question?” Clay asked because it seemed that they were expecting him to say something.
“Well, I told him about you, Clay. Bright young lawyer, sharp as a tack, hard worker, Georgetown Law School, handsome young man with real character, and he said he was always looking for new talent. God knows it’s hard to find. Said he has an opening for a staff attorney. I said I had no idea if you’d be interested, but I’d be happy to run it by you. Whatta you think?”
I think I’m being ambushed, Clay almost blurted.
Rebecca was staring at him, watching closely for the first reaction.
According to the script, Barb said, “That sounds wonderful.”
Talented, bright, hardworking, well educated, even handsome. Clay was amazed at how fast his stock had risen. “That’s interesting,” he said, somewhat truthfully. Every aspect of it was interesting.
Be
“What, exactly, would I be doing?” Clay managed to get out.
“Oh, I don’t know all that lawyer stuff. But, if you’re interested, Ian said he’d be happy to arrange an interview. It’s a hot ticket, though. He said the resumes were flooding in. Gotta move quick.”
“Richmond’s not that far away,” Barb said.
It’s a helluva lot closer than New Zealand, Clay thought. Barb was already pla
“Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Clay said, collapsing under the weight of his newly bestowed broad shoulders.
“Starting salary is ninety-four thousand a year,” Be
Ninety-four thousand dollars was more than twice as much as Clay was currently earning, and he assumed that everyone at the table knew it. The Van Horns worshiped money and were obsessed with salaries and net worths.
“Wow,” Barb said, on cue.
“That’s a nice salary,” Clay admitted.
“Not a bad start,” Be
It was not comforting to know that Be
“How can you say no?” Barb said, prodding with two left feet.
“Don’t push, Mother,” Rebecca said.
“It’s just such a wonderful opportunity,” Barb said, as if Clay couldn’t see the obvious.
“Kick it around, sleep on it,” Be
Clay was devouring his salad with a new purpose. He nodded as if he couldn’t speak. The second Scotch arrived and broke up the moment. Be
According to a recent article in the Post, Be
Their steaks arrived just when the salads were finished, thus sparing Clay another tortured moment of conversation with nothing to stuff in his mouth. Rebecca was ignoring him and he was certainly ignoring her. The fight would come very soon.
There were stories about the Guv, a close personal friend who was putting his machine in place to run for the Senate and of course he wanted Be
Clay thanked Be
When Clay was certain they were gone, he asked Rebecca to step into the bar for a minute. They waited for their drinks to arrive before either spoke. When things were tense both had the tendency to wait for the other to fire first.
“I didn’t know about the job in Richmond,” she began.
“I find that hard to believe. Seems like the entire family was in on the deal. Your mother certainly knew about it.”
“My father is just concerned about you, that’s all.”
Your father is an idiot, he wanted to say. “No, he’s concerned about you. Can’t have you marrying a guy with no future, so he’ll just manage the future for us. Don’t you think it’s presumptuous to decide he doesn’t like my job so he’ll find me another one?”
“Maybe he’s just trying to help. He loves the favors game.”
“But why does he assume I need help?”
“Maybe you do.”
“I see. Finally the truth.”
“You can’t work there forever, Clay. You’re good at what you do and you care about your clients, but maybe it’s time to move on. Five years at OPD is a long time. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t want to live in Richmond. Perhaps I’ve never thought about leaving D.C. What if I don’t want to work under one of your father’s cronies? Suppose the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of local politicians does not appeal to me? I’m a lawyer, Rebecca, not a paper pusher.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Is this job an ultimatum?”
“In what way?”
“In every way. What if I say no?”