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I tear my gaze away from the courtyard and turn back to look at the Place with its mown and rolled lawn and the ornamental fountain in the middle with small children wading while their parents watch.
The walks are filled with people promenading and window shopping. Kurt stands next to me and points to the right. “Down there is the house of Victor Hugo, the author ofLes Miserables. You know it?”
“I saw the musical.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Of course. Everyone likes Andrew Lloyd Webber.” After a pause, he says, “That is where the awards dinner will be. Very convenient for you.”
At that moment, my continuing exhaustion takes over and my body slumps. Kurt grasps my suitcase in one hand and takes my arm with the other. Quickly moving through the courtyard, I make it through the heavy glass doors and collapse onto a couch in the foyer.
“I’ll check you in and collect your key.” Boot heels clack along the tiles as I lean back with my eyes half closed, trying for deep breaths. When his hand falls on my shoulder, I jump up, heart racing.
“Let’s go.” He dangles an actual key. “A porter will bring up the bags.”
Once I’m in my room, suitcase and computer case delivered and on the luggage rack, I slip off my shoes, sip a glass of water, and try to focus. The junior suite has an original beamed ceiling and a collection of fine antique furniture. The carpeting is plush, the bed a combination of modern mattress and antique four-poster. No bed curtains, which suits me just fine.
I’m too tired to appreciate the finery, except for the amazing bathroom. Marble walls, floor with tiny tiles, shower, tub, toilet, and bidet, I can see myself enjoying the luxury, eventually. I’m sure the amenities are top notch, but now I’m dog-tired, even after sleeping on the plane. After a few minutes, I put my phone next to the bed, and set the alarm. A quick nap might perk me up.
The sound of “Viva La Vida” shakes me awake. Darkness all around makes me wonder if someone came in and blindfolded me. The only breathing I hear is my own, but I still can’t be sure I’m alone. My heart races. When I put a finger up to my face, all I feel are my eyelashes. A rush of heat flows through me, making my cold extremities tingle.
Rolling to my side, I fumble around for the phone. When the screen lights up, the time is four-thirty. Missed call. Rebecca Masters. Butterflies start up in my stomach, but not the good kind. This has to be bad news. Maybe my latest case has some new twist. I can only hope that’s all it is as my finger stabs call back.
“Micki.” My mentor’s smooth contralto offers no clue.
“Hi, Rebecca. Sorry I missed your call.”
“No problem. It’s early in the day here.”
“You must have called at the crack of dawn.”
“Umm,” she says, noncommittal.
“Something urgent? A problem with the case? Or do you just want to know how I like Paris?” I can hear a quaver in my voice that undercuts my stab at light banter.
“Micki, you know I’ve always been your strongest supporter in the firm. After all, I hired you when I was managing partner, even though I had to push several members of the partner committee to support me.”
“They were?” This was news to me. The firm never divulges committee votes, just the outcome.
“I heard about your meeting with Fred.” An excruciating silence ensues and I’m not sure of the protocol. Should I say something or wait for her to continue? Rebecca is a stickler for following correct procedure, and this situation is out of the realm of my experience.
“Yeah.”
“How much do you want this promotion?’
“I want it more than anything.” And it’s true.
“You’re going to go through hell for this effort. Even if you get the promotion, the environment will stay hostile as long as Fred and Tyler are around. You know that, right?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “The same, or worse?”
“Hayden will lay traps and bad-mouth you. Anyway, after Fred spoke with you, I was livid. Told him off. But it won’t do any good. You really will need to watch your step because he and Tyler are determined to have Hayden as the next partner. He’s been canvassing the partners, and I know he has a lot of votes.”
“What do you suggest?” Numbness washes over me. “Should I sue for gender discrimination if the partners choose Hayden?”
“No point. If you sue, you might win, but you will never work here again, no matter the outcome. Beside the fact that you won’t find a talented lawyer willing to take the suit. And a court case will deter other firms from hiring you.” She heaves a sigh. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But if you threaten to sue, they’ll offer you a payout—generous but not enough to retire on.”
I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to give up. If I’m not promoted, I’ll figure out the next step.”
She clears her throat. “My advice is, show them how brilliant you are, but start looking around for other options. You want to leave on your own terms.” We’re both silent for a while. “You might find something even better.” Her encouragement rings hollow.
