Page 28 of A Million To Fall

“That’s her,” my dad says, chest inflating like a birthday balloon.

“That’s incredible,” Mr. Longfellow exclaims. “You do terrific work. Your organization is mentioned at court all the time. Judges and mediators alike regularly recommend NorthStar. What a worthwhile endeavor.”

“And so selfless,” Mrs. Longfellow adds, nodding.

The crystal chandelier above the dinner table floods the room with enough light that the flush in my mom’s cheeks is impossible to miss.

“Oh well, that’s very flattering. I… it’s a calling, really. And incredibly fulfilling.”

“So fulfilling that there have been nights when she slept in her office because she was working on something urgent,” my dad says, beaming with pride.

My mom swats his shoulder playfully.

“I bet it’s challenging,” Mrs. Longfellow muses. “Emotionally, financially?”

My mom dithers. “It certainly can be. I’ve had to learn not to get too emotionally invested.”

Mr. Longfellow gives a knowing grunt. “I can relate. Took me a long time not to bring my cases home with me.”

“I vividly remember the first child death Orson prosecuted.”

Mr. Longfellow nods. “Couldn’t sleep for days. The crime scene photos were burned into my retinas,” he says. “But tell me, how do you make payroll and provide legal assistance? Your clients don’t pay for services, correct?”

“Brandy may be five-foot-nothing with the face of an angel, but she’s an aggressive fundraising queen,” my dad booms. “She even got my law firm to agree to a multiyear donation north of three million dollars. All tax deductible, of course.”

“Honey…” my mom whispers, the blush returning to her cheeks.

“Ah, Archer told me you were a lawyer. Civil, correct? Which firm?” Mr. Longfellow asks.

I take the opportunity to check my phone under the table, hoping for a message from Jake. Some kind of update on Boston. But it’s virtual crickets.

“McClausky & Trench in Minneapolis. We do a lot of transactional work. I specialize in mergers and acquisitions,” my dad says.

I drop my phone back in my lap.

Mr. Longfellow wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin that’s embroidered with a cursive L. I didn’t realize people still use cloth napkins. What a pain it must be to wash those after every meal. “I’ve heard of McClausky. You have offices all over the U.S., right? Do I remember correctly that last year’s merger of two online retail giants was handled by your firm?”

I didn’t think my dad’s grin could get any wider, but the corners of his mouth practically meet his earlobes. “Indeed. I was lead counsel on that merger.”

I can’t help but smile at how much my dad sounds like he’s auditioning for a TV ad.

Mr. Longfellow lifts his glass. “Well done. Clearly our children come from good stock.”

Cattle following a map. Who knew?

Archer flashes his dad a smile, reaching for my hand. “Told you I got lucky.”

I feel almost feverish with the heat creeping up my neck.

Then Archer clears his throat, expression sobering. “Mrs. Monroe, I’ve been thinking about something you said.”

My mom tilts her head expectantly.

“About how dangerous that window is when people are trying to leave a bad relationship,” Archer continues, his tone earnest. “You mentioned helping with the legal stuff and programs. But that’s once these people come to you for help, right? Where do they go in the meantime? Like, when they first leave?”

The tapping in my head quiets with the genuine concern in Archer’s face.

“I mean, not everyone has someone they can stay with,” he says. “Or, like, the money or whatever to just… disappear.”