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“Did you see anyone familiar get on?”
My head swings back and forth in negation. “But I wasn’t paying much attention, and the bus got crowded.
I thought he was furious before, but now Max’s anger boils over. “I can’t believe you were so negligent. Careless. Stupid.”
“Max, stop.” Cress’ wail gets his attention.
He takes off his glasses and cleans them with a microfiber cloth. That action allows him to get himself under control. “Did anyone get off and follow you?”
“At Water Tower Place? Lots of people, but no one followed me as far as I could tell. No one came into the cloister,” I tell him.
“No protection. You could be dead right now.” Max underlines the danger. The quiet menace is scarier than the explosiveness that came before.
“Did you say Case could get fired over this?”
“Up to JL.”
“Not his fault. I took advantage.”
“That’s selfishness on your part. He fell asleep. That is his fault.” Max’s tone is uncompromising.
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
Max glowers, unconvinced by my lukewarm acknowledgement. But the scariness has drained away.
Cress puts an arm around me. “Come sit down and tell us about your adventure.”
I tell them how I escaped, the friendly Uber driver, breakfast, including the awesome dessert waffle, and hanging out in the cloister.”
When I finish, Max still sounds upset. “You thought that was worth risking your life?”
I flush like a chastised ten-year-old.
“We need to go to Lou’s,” Cress says, trying to calm things down. “The breakfast is to die for.”
“And you could have,” Max says to me, unforgiving.
Like a little kid, I tell him, “But I didn’t. Here I am, full to bursting, and very much alive.”Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nahsings in my head, but I decide not to add insult to injury.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?—L.M. Montgomery
Micki
My phone sings, but the generic ringtone tells me it’s not JL. My heart hurts as I think of him in Vancouver, uncertain about his mother’s condition. While I’m not fond of Louisette, I want her to recover.
When I look at the screen, I see Unknown Caller. Sam? I don’t think he has this number, the fourth I’ve had in the last few weeks. Probably a sales call of some sort. While I debate, the sound stops. Whoever called leaves a voice message. One that surprises the hell out of me.
“This message is for Michelle Press. I’m Kath Brandon, Clay Brandon’s wife. Jarvis Howard tells me you are looking for a legal job with a nonprofit. JL raves about how wonderful you are. And you’re interested in social justice issues.”
She clears her throat. My curiosity sharpens as her message goes on. “GSU has been setting up a nonprofit foundation with that mission, and I’d like to meet with you about the possibility of bringing you on as the head of our legal team.”
Practically dropping the phone in my excitement, I press callback.
“Hi,” a cheerful voice greets me. “Is this Michelle Press?”
“Yes. I’m returning your call.”
