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ChapterFourteen
Another Fourth of July came and went. Tourists flocked to the island, simmering with excitement, tossing countless wads of cash across bar counters and screaming out across the night sky as fireworks burst above. Perhaps as a sign from the universe that Mallory needed to “calm down,” Zachery developed a summer cold that kept her home for most of the festivities, watching reality TV and placing washcloths across Zachery’s forehead. Throughout, she tried to shove all disappointments into the back alleys of her mind.Brodie wasn’t right for you, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep trying. Love is out there. It has to be.
The week after the Fourth of July, Mallory was involved in the final decision to hire another part-time secretary for the Katama Lodge. It came down to three women in their thirties, two of whom had families on the island. Mallory eventually sided with Tanya Reichardt, a woman with twin boys and a husband who worked on the freight lines. Tanya was clearly hardworking and organized, with a fiery streak of wit that put Elsa, Mallory, Janine, and Nancy in stitches.
“We need that kind of energy at the Lodge,” Nancy agreed when Mallory and Elsa announced their final decision. “I fully support it.”
Tanya shadowed Mallory for a half-day and then started work Monday, July 11th, the same day that Mallory began her internship at the Sheridan Law Offices in Oak Bluffs. That morning, she woke up a good two hours before her normal time and stood bug-eyed in the shower as water scalded her.Could she really handle this?Was she insane?Eight years of school meant she couldn’t officially become a lawyer until the age of thirty-three, which felt like a lifetime away.
As she sipped her coffee alone in the kitchen, her eyes dropped to the empty highchair. She wondered what Lucas and Zachery were doing right that minute. She could imagine it: Zachery strewn with apple mash. Lucas eating his cereal, his hands sticky from helping Zach. Her guys. Her boys. But it was time to move on.
Susan Sheridan’s daughter, the twenty-four-year-old Amanda Harris, greeted Mallory in the front office with a magazine-ready smile and a big mug of coffee. She was gorgeous, all sharp edges and professional fashion, the sort of woman you’d see on a college campus’s pamphlet.
“It’s so awesome that you want to work in law,” Amanda said as she got Mallory settled at her desk. “I fell in love with law as a little girl, watching my parents do what they do best back in Newark before the divorce. I used to make up little arguments to fight with my brother, doing cross-examinations and showing evidence to support my claims. He was always more of a numbers person and thought I was crazy.”
Mallory laughed, wishing she could find some examples of her “lawyer senses” from her childhood. She’d certainly argued with Alexie a fair number of times, but never in an “intellectual” way.
Amanda outlined Mallory’s work for the day: transcribing interviews with clients, answering phones, reading court documents, and filing evidence. It was all partially related to the work Mallory had done back at the Lodge, with the added benefit of feeling like it was “for” something. It wasn’t that Mallory didn’t believe in the Lodge’s mission— it’s just that she’d checked in one too many green-smoothie-drinking women pumped up with Botox who spoke endlessly about meditation and “healing.”
She wanted to make a difference.
Susan and Bruce were terribly busy those first few days, buzzing in and out and placing large stacks of papers on her desk, saying, “Sorry! I know it’s a lot!” Throughout, Mallory just kept her head down and made herself work hard. It was what she did best.
The morning of the fourth day, Susan appeared at her desk with a thumb drive. She placed it in the center of the desk and said, “I just conducted an interview with my new client, Brodie Thomkins.”
Mallory’s heart began to pump hard, threatening to jump out of her chest.
“But I’m going to have Amanda transcribe the interview. Unfortunately, you’re a part of the active investigation and can’t be involved.”
“Of course,” Mallory stuttered.It’s better this way. Distance. You need distance.
But Susan went on, almost talking to herself. “He’s a tender guy. Sensitive.” She paused, adjusting her suit jacket around her hips. “Anyway, it’s looking like it won’t go to a proper trial. We’ll display our evidence to a judge here on the island.”
“Is that better?” Mallory asked.
“Hmm. Difficult to say. I think juries can be tricky, especially if the person in question has developed a reputation for themselves that juries can’t see beyond,” Susan offered.
Mallory nodded. Gossip was a powerful thing. It had probably put countless people in prison for life.
Mallory pushed herself through the remainder of the day. Later in the afternoon, on her way to the bathroom, she eyed Amanda, typing furiously, her brow furrowed. The headphones latched to her ears probably buzzed with Brodie’s voice. Mallory burned with curiosity. What on earth had he said?
Mallory typed furiously through her own transcriptions, throwing herself into a divorce case between a wife and husband based in western Massachusetts. The man accused the woman of destroying his vehicle with his golf club. The woman accused the man of loving his golf club and his vehicle far more than he loved his family.
The transcript was far more distressing than funny. Mallory blinked back tears, fearful that all relationships ended this way. They always ended up broken— just two sad and lonely people at their two-year-old’s birthday party, so angry that they couldn’t look at each other in the eye as their son tried to blow out the candles.Stop thinking about that.
Amanda entered Mallory’s office, heaving a sigh and ducking down to glance at the profoundly blue sky, still reigning overhead. She placed a massive stack of papers on the edge of Mallory’s desk and said, “Gosh, what a day. My fiancé is tempting me with Mexican food outside.”
“You should go!” Mallory exclaimed. “I can file the rest of that paperwork.”
Amanda looked as though Mallory had just offered her the world. “Are you sure?”
“Totally. I don’t have plans this evening, and my son is with my ex. It’s no trouble at all.”
Amanda thanked her profusely before she scuttled out the door, her dark hair flying out behind her like a flag. Mallory grinned inwardly, stirring with sadness. In truth, she wished she had somewhere to go.
Piece by piece, Mallory filed the paperwork away, listening to light classical music as she worked. Bruce and Susan remained at the office, ducking in and out of each other’s offices and speaking in murmurs that Mallory couldn’t quite make out. They were preoccupied; no chance they would duck in to bother her. Hopefully, they thought her to be just as dedicated as they were. Hopefully, they thought: she’s got what it takes to make it.
Probably it was a delusion. But delusions were all she had.
