Expectations

“We both know the answer to that.”

“Then maybe you should turn him over to Mike or Roger.”

“I’ve tried. They want my clean-cut mug to be the one in front of the jury. And I don’t have any problem with that, as long as they let me do things my way.”

“Uh-oh…”

“What?” Already feeling the old tension mounting, Adam stretched his neck. Mike was getting greedy in his old age and was starting to make him uncomfortable. The question was, how far would he go? And how far would he push Adam?

“Mike wants to talk to you.”

The words had scarcely left Cheryl’s lips when Adam heard Mike’s gruff voice.

“Where the hell are you, Adam? We’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“I’m out of town. Cheryl says we’ve got trouble with Whitehead.”

“Those records will put him behind bars.” Mike paused to blow his nose. “We’ve got to come up with a way to keep the district attorney from getting his hands on them.”

“You mean a legal way, don’t you, Mike?”

Mike cursed. “Adam, you gotta get with the real world, buddy. No one plays fair anymore. You insist on that, you’ll lose every time.”

“My record is pretty good so far.”

“Things are changing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mike grunted. “It means we gotta be flexible. I should fire that secretary of yours for trying to start trouble between us. Look, this is a competitive business. You don’t need me to tell you what’ll happen if you fall from the top. It takes money to live the way we’re accustomed to living.”

“What’s going on, Mike? My stand on this should come as no surprise. I’ve told you before that I’m not willing to bend the rules.”

“Dammit, do you picture yourself wearing a suit of armor and riding a white horse? Everybody’s entitled to a defense. Who are you to say where that responsibility begins and ends?”

Adam sighed and rubbed his temple. “Last check, I was your partner. Listen, we’ve been over this before. I’m no saint, Mike, but I don’t break the law. I’ll give Whitehead the best honest defense there is. You can’t ask me for more than that.”

Angry frustrated silence.

“Mike?”

“Don’t worry about Whitehead, Adam. Roger will take care of it.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the line went dead. He didn’t want the case, but he hated letting Mike make him feel like a schoolboy who couldn’t handle a tough assignment. Things were changing. Mike had been his mentor for years. Only now, the more closely Adam looked at the firm’s senior partner, the less he liked what he saw.

“Is something wrong, dear?” his grandmother called from the dining room.

Adam propped his elbows on his knees and tapped his forehead with the phone. He needed to get back to work. He was losing his edge. The political machinations of the sixteen lawyers who worked at the firm had always provided an exciting challenge for him. He hadn’t minded Roger and others like him, struggling to climb the power ladder, stepping on anyone in their way. Adam had eagerly pitted his wits against theirs and had come out as one of Mike’s three junior partners. But he was getting tired of the grind. Now office politics seemed just another distraction, an irritant.

“It’s nothing,” he replied at last, shoving himself to his feet. Jenna was still in the dining room, drawing him back. When she was around, the last thing he wanted to think about was San Francisco or his career.

“Are we ready for ice cream yet?”

AFTER DINNER, Jenna made Ryan do some reading at the table while Mrs. Durham helped her with the dishes; Adam went to pick up a video. Dinner had been delicious, but she hadn’t been able to eat more than a few bites. The roast beef, carrots and potatoes with gravy she’d swallowed churned in her stomach as a bout of nausea visited her early tonight.

“Mom, what’s this word?”

Jenna took a deep breath and looked down at the book her son held out to her. She helped him sound out familiarity, read the word in context, then kissed his cheek.

“You like Adam, don’t you?” she asked.

“He’s cool. I can see why Dad would hang out with him when they were kids. Adam says they used to go bodysurfing in the ocean all the time.”

All the time before she and Adam got together. After that there was nothing but enmity between the two young men.

“I’m sure you’ll do plenty of that yourself in a few years,” she said.

“So we’re going to stay in one place for a while?”

Jenna mussed his hair. “I’ve told you we’re going to be here until I’m old and gray. What, do you want me to sign a blood oath?” She gave him a reassuring smile. Her son had experienced enough emotional distress in his eight years. She wouldn’t uproot him again. Dennis had moved them five times in the past twenty-four months. Each time he lost his job he dragged them to another Oregon city to “start over.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“It’s no sacrifice, love. I like it here, too.”

Adam returned with the video, and Jenna lost her son to his innate charm, which was surpassed only by the promise of an ice-cream sundae.

“Mom? Do you want one?” Ryan asked, helping Adam dish it out.

The thought of more food, of any kind, was almost enough to send Jenna running for the bathroom. “No, thanks. I ate too much at dinner.”

Adam glanced up and caught her eye, giving her a searching look, but she dried her hands on the towel, hung it under the cupboard and excused herself.

“I’ll spend another hour or so in my studio, then I’ll go to bed early,” she said.

Ryan’s face registered disappointment. “You’re not watching the movie with us?”

“Not tonight, honey.”

“Mom, are you all right? Are you sick or something?”

Jenna shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You go and get some rest, Jenna dear,” Mrs. Durham said, carrying a dish of ice cream to her husband, who was already sitting in front of the television. “And don’t worry about getting up early. We have no reservations for tomorrow night. I’ve given Pamela the day off, and Mr. Robertson will be coming in later than usual, just in time to start dinner. I was hoping Adam would take us all for a drive along the highway. It’s been months since I’ve been anywhere fun. Would you like to come along?”

Jenna declined politely. Highway 1 followed the coast and made her carsick even when she wasn’t feeling nauseated to begin with. “It will be nice for you to get out. I’ll look after the place while you’re away. Sorry to miss out on the movie tonight,” she added, and hurried upstairs to get her sweater before going to her studio through the back door. She needed to escape her son’s hero worship of her old boyfriend—and from that same man’s unsettling presence.

A ROILING STOMACH woke Jenna long after everyone else had gone to bed. She darted across the hall, stopping only long enough to lock the door behind her, and bent over the toilet just in time.