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“Covington called. I hear your temporary suspension is over.” Retta waited until her cook put a salad in front of her and one in front of Jessa and left the room before she continued. “That should be good news, but you seem distracted.”
Gabby. Stupidfucking Gabby.“Sorry. I had a run-in with a person I’d like to forget.”
“Is this related to the Bartholomew case?”
If she talked about it, issued the warning to Retta, then maybe she could forget Gabby and move on. “Law school, actually. Gabby Bruin, now Gabby Fielding, though she might have changed her name again since she’s divorced.”
Retta made a humming sound as she spooned out the salad dressing from a gravy boat then handed it to Jessa. “I know the Fieldings and read about her ex-husband’s death. A tragic ending for a savvy businessman.”
Jessa wasn’t in the mood to hear anything that made Gabby a martyr.
“She’s convinced there’s some great conspiracy out there...” Wrong word.Conspiracysounded negative, and Jessa regretted it the minute she used it. “Sorry.”
Retta’s eyebrow lifted. “About what?”
Jessa bounced back and forth between thinking she should and shouldn’t tell. “You don’t want to hear this.”
“I remember Gabby.” Retta smiled. “Very bright.”
Perfect all the time. That was Gabby. “Uh-huh.”
“Probably the smartest in your class.”
Enough with the pro-Gabby chat. “But not very motivated. She got married and then got really weird.”
Retta frowned. “My memory is that she used her degree to help her husband set up a very lucrative business. She reviewed documents and... Well, I’m sure you’re not here to compare grades.”
“She’s convinced you’re involved.” Jessa blurted out the words. The need to dunk all that positive Gabby talk in a vat of reality overwhelmed Jessa. But then she saw Retta’s face and her unreadable, unblinking expression. “I mean, it’s not like the group did anything to Baines, right?”
“You aren’t privy to any Foundation work that happened before you were considered for membership.”
Jessa remembered that disappointed tone from law school. She’d overstepped. “Okay.”
Retta put her fork down. “I’m also a little concerned about how easily you talk about the Foundation when you have neither information to draw conclusions about it nor a nuanced understanding of our work.”
Time to regroup. Jessa realized she’d let hearing all the rah-rah stuff about Gabby’s brilliance feed her rage and tried to pivot. “I was worried about you because she mentioned that reporter Rob Greene. It sounded like they—the two of them—were digging around in Baines’s death and in other deaths.”
An uncomfortable backpedal. The kind Jessa had promisednot to do again when she’d started at her current firm. Less blame-shifting and more responsibility. Shading the truth on that affidavit had taken her on a detour, but until the Bartholomew case she’d gotten back on track.
This time Retta pushed her plate to the side as if she was ready to deliver an in-depth,this is going to stinglecture. “Since we last met, your life has turned around. Do you regret that?”
“No, of course not.”
“I told you there was a price associated with my assistance. Confidentiality. Dedication. Commitment.”
Jessa made that her personal vow. “I remember and intend to give you all three.”
“Let’s hope that’s true.”
Jessa’s brain shifted into overdrive. She tried to think of a way to ease Retta’s fears and get back on her good side. “If you want, I could misdirect Gabby. Meet her and point her back to suicide, away from the Foundation.”
Retta wore an unreadable expression. “Neither the Foundation nor the group behind the Foundation had anything to do with Baines’s death. His death has nothing to do with our work.”
This just got worse and worse. “Oh... right. I thought, but I can...”
“Ignore that reporter, Jessa. Talking the way he does, I doubt he’ll be a problem much longer.”
Chapter Forty-Two
