Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [42]
“Tell him I’ll get it to him this week,” I said.
“Got it. Number two, your father called. Like, thirty times since you left, and four times since I talked to you Friday morning.”
“What did you tell him?” I had let Amy know that I’d be in Woodland Dunes, and I’d given her the number of Long Beach Inn just in case there were any emergencies, but I had asked her not to tell my father, or anyone else, where I was.
“I said you’d changed hotels in Chicago, and I’d lost the number of the second one.” Amy giggled at the thought that she could be so irresponsible.
“Great. Let him know I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll call him then.” I tried to wipe the thought of that from my mind. “What’s next?”
“The people from Your New Home called about that dep next week.”
I groaned. Your New Home was a big Internet client that was being sued for cybersquatting. One of their executives needed to be presented for his deposition next week in Delaware, but now that I was discovering information about my mom, I wanted to keep my schedule open if possible.
“Give it to Magoo,” I said, referring to Miguel Barragan, one of the cyber-law attorneys.
“No problem. What else do you need?”
I sighed. “An extra year.”
“You’re coming back today?”
“Today or tomorrow.” I was purposefully vague. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone I was going to Portland.
“All right. I’ll hold down the fort.”
Ten minutes after I hung up with Amy, I received a call from the arbitrators asking me to appear that morning for a reading of the decision. I felt that flicker of anticipation in my belly, that excitement I experienced whenever a verdict was back. In this case, I had a feeling that I might lose, and I would have to take the case to trial, but the nervous stomach was still there. These moments of anticipation were one of the reasons I loved being a trial attorney. You never knew what the outcome could be. It made for sleepless nights, but it was fun just the same.
I called Beth Halverson and asked her to bring Sean McKnight to the arbitration building.
I logged on to the Internet. Using a travel site, I checked the day’s flights from Chicago to Portland. There was one that left at 1:00 p.m. Perfect, I thought, checking my watch. The arbitration decision would be read at ten, which would only take a few minutes. We could return to McKnight headquarters and discuss our next move, which should take until no later than eleven-thirty, and then I could grab a cab to O’Hare. It was cutting it close, but I would make do. Matt wouldn’t talk to me over the phone about it, but he was clearly suspicious of my father. I wanted to know why. I wanted to meet my sister’s husband, and I wanted to help find her.
I clicked on the one-o’clock flight, then selected a red-eye return flight that left around midnight and would put me back in New York at seven in the morning. I could grab an hour or two of sleep and be in the office before lunch.
I fed my credit-card information into the computer, thinking I would be exhausted tomorrow, but it would be worth it. Today, I would meet my sister’s husband, and that was closer to Caroline than I’d been in two decades.
Someone had leaked the news of the arbitrators’ decision to the press, and a number of reporters, cameramen and photographers were loitering outside the room. When they saw me they went from bored chitchat directly into action, pressing microphones and camera lenses to my face, shouting questions. I pushed past them, elbowing a few in the process, thinking inanely that I was glad I had worn my red suit, but I wished I’d put on some more makeup at the office.
“How do you think your case went?” they yelled. “Are you expecting a victory?” “What will you do if the decision goes against you?” “Do you think the rumors of Sean McKnight’s problems with the Fieldings company will affect the decision?”
“All right!” I yelled, because they were starting to frighten me. Luckily, my outburst worked the same