Between Sisters - Kristin Hannah [41]
She thought about calling Harriet, then discarded the idea. She'd studiously avoided her therapist in the past few days, even going so far as to cancel her regular appointment. Their late-night session had been depressing and disturbing; frankly, Meghann was doing a good enough job at depressing herself. She didn't need to pay a professional to help her.
She retrieved her briefcase and handbag from the bottom desk drawer and headed for the door. She allowed herself a last look at the room that was more of a home to her than her condo and quietly closed the door.
As she walked down the wide marble hallway, she noticed that her colleagues were avoiding her. Success was a virus everyone longed to catch. Not so failure. The watercooler whispers had been rampant in the past weeks. Dontess is losing it . . . cracking up . . . just shows you what happens when you have no life.
The comments were quietly made, of course, in hushed and hurried tones. She was a senior partner, after all, the second name on the door in a business where pecking order was everything. Still, for the first time in her career, they were questioning her, wondering if the Bitch of Belltown had lost her edge. She sensed the same curiosity from her lawyer friends.
At the closed door of Julia's corner office, she paused and knocked gently.
“Come in.”
Meghann opened the door and entered the bright, sunlit office. “Hey, Jules.”
Julie looked up from her paperwork. “Hey, Meg. You want to go out for a drink? Maybe celebrate your first vacation in a decade?”
“How about celebrating my decision to stick around?”
“Sorry, Charlie. I've taken a month a year for the last decade. Your only time off generally comes with novocaine.” She stood up. “You're tired, Meg, but you're too stubborn to admit it. What happened last week would mess with anyone's mind. Let yourself feel it. You need a rest. I recommend at least a month.”
“Have you ever seen me rest?”
“No. That makes my point, not yours, counselor. Where are you going to go?”
“Bangladesh, maybe. I hear the hotels are dirt cheap.”
“Funny. Why don't you use my condo in Hawaii? A week by the pool is just what the doctor ordered.”
“No, thanks. I can't drink anything that comes with an umbrella. I think I'll just watch Court TV or CNN. Listen for my voice on Larry King Live.”
“I won't change my mind, no matter how pathetic you seem. Now, go. Your vacation time can't start if you don't leave.”
“The O'Connor case—”
“Continuance.”
“Jill Summerville—”
“Settlement conference on Friday. I'm handling it personally, and I'll conduct the Lange deposition next Wednesday. Everything is handled, Meg. Go.”
“Where?” she asked quietly, hating the neediness in her voice.
Julie moved toward her, touched her shoulder. “You're forty-two years old, Meg. If you don't have anywhere to go and no one to visit, it's about time you reassessed. This is a job. A damn good one, to be sure, but just a job. You've made it your life—I let you, I'll admit it—but it's time to make some changes. Go find something.”
Meghann pulled Julie into her arms, gave her a fierce hug. Then, feeling awkward with the uncharacteristic display of emotion, she stumbled backward, turned around, and strode out of the office.
Outside, night was closing in, drawing the warmth from a surprisingly hot day. As she neared the Public Market, the crowds increased. Tourists stood in front of flower shops and outside bakery windows. She cut through Post Alley toward her building. It wasn't a route she often chose, but she didn't want to walk past the Athenian. Not now, when she felt vulnerable. This was the kind of night where it would be easy to slip from grace and, honestly, she was tired of the fall. It hurt too much to land.
In the lobby of her building, she waved at the doorman and went up to her condo.
She'd forgotten to leave the radio playing. The place was jarringly silent.
She tossed her keys on the entryway table. They clanged into a floral-carved Lalique