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The study isn’t too far from the living room, so the din of chatter and soft jazz is audible until he shuts the door. Then the study feels more like a tomb. It’s darker than the rest of the penthouse, with book-lined walls and two large blue leather chairs. A blue-shaded Tiffany lamp sits atop a small table between them.
“Please, have a seat.”
I smile and nod, not really wanting to sit there until I do. The chair is far more comfortable than it looks. He sits, too, and I’m relieved. I half thought he might grill me while standing over me.
I’m not sure where to begin, so I go with, “You have a lovely home, Elliot.”
“Thank you, but this is really our home away from home. We keep a place in the city for convenience. Our primary home is in Brookline.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
“Anderson must be smitten with you for that ring to be on your hand.”
Not a congratulations in the traditional sense. “I consider myself lucky to be wearing his ring.”
“I would think so. You’re a junior associate at your firm, correct?”
Of course he’s looked into me. Why wouldn’t he? But that doesn’t make it any less creepy. “Yes, I am.”
“A bright young woman, according to your transcripts.”
How far back did he go? “Bright might be pushing it, but I worked hard in school.”
“And you were there on a scholarship.” He sits back, studying me. “Seems you turned a tough childhood into a goldmine.”
“My mother raised me to believe that hard work could get me where I want to be in life.”
“Hard work and a little luck, right?”
I smile, unsure where he’s going with this. “We can all use some luck in our lives.”
“And how do you like the law, since you made it your career?”
“It’s like most careers, I imagine. Good days and bad. But there are more good than bad, so I stick with it.”
“Tell me about the bad days.”
This feels like a job interview where the interviewer has already decided they aren’t going to hire me. But I push on after a breath to clear my head. “Well, to be honest, there are days when I am pushed to the limit of what I can tolerate.”
“How does helping the rich avoid taxes push you to the limit?”
“That’s just it—when I wanted to become a lawyer, I thought it was all money and glamor and catered parties … but I was naïve enough to have believed I’d get all of that by helping regular people. That’s what all the television lawyers did.” I run my finger around the rim of my glass. “Never thought I’d be getting there on the backs of those people. My people. But by helping the wealthy keep their wealth, that’s exactly what I’m doing. When the rich avoid their taxes, the government must depend more on the money from everyone else. It increases the tax burden on regular people, and the truth is, I hate that part of my job.”
He stares at me, and I can’t tell if I’ve upset him.
But he doesn’t look happy, and that panics me. “Meaning no offense, of course. I’m sure you pay your fair share?—"
But a cool smile comes over him as he says, “No offense taken, June. It’s refreshing to hear such an honest assessment of the situation from someone who straddles the lines of it. Tell me, do you want to continue the work you’ve accomplished?”
“No. I don’t.”
“What do you want to do?”
I smile, thinking about how he’s the man between me and what I want to do. “For a while, I’d thought about going into photography. A creative career for an outlet.”
“But … ?”
“But I have a law degree and I am capable of doing something useful with it. If I had my druthers, I’d work for the little guy. I’d help regular people get the justice they deserve.”
