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“Okay, Sean. We have an appointment.”
When we get there, Sean finds on-street parking for the SUV and walks me in to the restaurant. The wine shop is right next door, but Glunz, established in 1888, sells much more than wine. Rebecca is at a small, highly polished table that rests on old hardwood flooring. In front of her is a pint glass of the draft beer on offer. A large bar sits in the back of the smallish space.
“This is pretty good.” She lifts the glass and salutes me.
“I’ll have the sangria,” I tell the server.
“You’ll love it. It’s the Glunz family recipe.”
Rebecca nods but doesn’t say anything. After too much silence I break down. “Did you ask me here to get drunk or to hear about Paris?”
“Neither.” She drinks some more, the liquid going down rapidly. When the server places the wine glass in front of me, she hands him her glass. “I’ll have another. Along with coconut shrimp and fries. Hope that’s okay, Micki.”
He moves away just as Frederick Lanscombe walks in the door doing an exaggerated double take when he sees me.
“Back from your travels, I see. I had the impression from Rebecca you were going to be away a little while longer.”
“My plans changed, so here I am. I have a preliminary report on Greenberg’s social media accounts. I’m still working through the email. He has five different accounts, four through his office computer and one more that’s only on his laptop.
The server places a foaming glass in front of Rebecca as Fred snaps out, “Buffalo Trace, on the rocks.”
By the time he gets his drink, and the food arrives, we’ve been uneasily studying each other for at least ten silent minutes. I finger my neck, aware something is up.
Rebecca takes the lead. “Fred wanted to a have a private conversation before the decision about the partnership is made public.”
I take a swig of wine and wait. And wait. And wait.
Fred sips his bourbon. All the time in the world. When all that’s left is ice, he signals for another, and I watch him go through the ritual a second time.
Then he clears his throat. Meanwhile, Rebecca and I have been nibbling on the flatbread.
“As you know, we only have space for one new partner at the present time.”
Yeah, yeah. Get on with it. Not that I really want to know. But I have to know.
“You are an exceptionally well-qualified candidate.”
That sounds good. My spirits raise a bit.
“However.”
My stomach plummets.
He licks his lips as if I’m a prime piece of steak. “The partners have offered the position to Hayden Forbes-Cartwright. We see him as more likely to bring in prestige clients. Despite glowing reviews from some of the other clients on your work, Congressman Greenberg is not impressed with your work on his case and that weighed heavily on our decision.”
“Did the fact Hayden is Tyler Miller’s nephew weigh heavily in the decision?”
Rebecca chokes on her beer. Fred glares. “Personal relationships were not in the equation.”
Yeah, right.I pick up my glass to take another sip of wine and realize it’s empty.
Fred throws back the rest of his drink. “You’ve worked as a valued member of our staff for eight years and I wanted to give you the privilege of a personal meeting. We all hope you’ll stay on as a senior associate.”
I look him in the eye. He shifts his gaze away. “Another opening should come up sometime in the next four years and you’ll be in an excellent position for promotion.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.May as well resign now. My jaw is granite. If I don’t loosen up, I’ll crack my teeth.
* * *
