At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (10 page)

“Okay, I get it.” Sophie put her mug down. “Really. I do. You can stop.”

Brooke looked at her blankly. “Stop what?”

“Stop trying to convince me that I should go into
practice with Jesse because he’s so overworked. Jesse put you up to it, right?”

“Jesse is overworked, but I didn’t know there was a possibility that you’d be coming to work with him.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are we talking about it?”

“Because Jesse only brings it up every chance he gets.”

“It’s no secret that since your uncle retired, Jesse’s plate is overflowing. And now with the paralegal having left …”

“Liz is gone?” Sophie frowned. “Jess didn’t mention that.”

“She left last week. Went back to Jacksonville so her kids could be closer to her family. Friday a week ago was her last day.”

“So Jesse really is the only person in the office now?”

“Jesse and Violet, who’s had to come back to work full time until he can find someone to take her place, and I’m sure you know that Violet is irreplaceable.”

“So he’s really three people down in the office,” Sophie murmured. “Liz, my granddad, Uncle Mike.”

“Has he considered one of those temp services?” Grace joined the conversation.

“I don’t think he’s had time to, well, time to think,” Brooke told her.

“My granddaughter might be able to help out,” Nita said as she rose, her
PAST TIMES
mug in hand. “She’s been working for a lawyer over in Annapolis for the past couple of years, but she might be looking to make a change.”

“I’ll mention it to Jess,” Brooke said.

“He can call me at the shop. Which is where I need to be.” Nita glanced at her watch. “I like to have a few hours in the morning to putter, move things around, before I open.”

“I need to get going, too.” Clay stood. “I’m supposed to pick up Wade and go look at some equipment that a brewery over near Rehoboth is selling.”

“I guess I should get going as well.” Brooke drained her mug—pink with white letters that spelled out
CUPCAKE
. “Monday is my big baking day. I was in extra early this morning, so I convinced myself that I could take a break, but break’s over.”

Grace sighed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to be off now, too. I’m meeting with the new president of the historical society to discuss this year’s project for an article to run in this week’s paper, assuming I can write it fast enough.” She stood, one hand on the table to give her leverage. “Seems everything takes me longer these days. My fingers don’t move as quickly on the keyboard and my right hip is giving me trouble this week. Getting older can be so tedious at times.”

“Thanks for letting me join you this morning, Miss Grace.” Sophie rose, her mug in her hand. She reached for Grace’s mug, which had been left on the table. “I’ll take this up to the counter for you.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. Well, I hope I see you again while you’re visiting.” Grace patted Sophie on the arm.

“Maybe I’ll stop back in another morning.”

“Oh, do. We’re here every day. Sometimes the group is larger, sometimes smaller. It all depends on
who shows up on any given day, but all are welcome. I hope you feel welcome, too.”

“I do, thanks.” Sophie carried the mugs—her plain white one, Grace’s with
THE ST. DENNIS GAZETTE
written in white on marine blue—to the counter, where she handed them over to Josh. He nodded his thanks as he whipped up a cappuccino for a woman who watched him intently.

“Did I hear you say you walked, dear?” Grace appeared to be waiting for Sophie on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop.

“I did.”

“Would you like me to drop you off somewhere?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m enjoying the freedom of just taking off and walking wherever this morning. It’s such a nice day.”

“A bit chilly for me, but at least the sun is toasty.” Grace drew gloves and her car keys from her bag. “If you’re sure …”

“I’m sure, but thanks.” Sophie gave a quick wave, then buttoned her jacket against the breeze as she crossed the street. She really hadn’t given much thought to her destination, but now that she was out and about, and fueled by caffeine, she headed toward Old St. Mary’s Church Road and the law offices of Enright & Enright. Jesse wouldn’t be back from court, but Violet would be there, and Violet was the person Sophie really wanted to see.

At the sound of the opening door, Violet turned sharply to peer into the hall.

“Oh, Sophie. It’s you.” Violet sounded relieved.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Sophie came
into the reception area, and as always, felt an urge to lower her voice. The dark hardwood floor was covered with an ancient Oriental carpet, and the paintings on the walls were of early St. Dennis street scenes and early Enright ancestors. The walls were wainscoted below richly colored wallpaper, and the furniture was all well-polished mahogany. The room was quietly elegant and well appointed, and bespoke of decades of legal matters resolved calmly with expertise and civility.

“Jesse’s not back from court yet.” Violet returned to her desk, where a large stack of paper awaited her. “I was just trying to sort the mail.”

“I thought he’d probably be out most of the morning. Actually, I thought I’d stop in and see you for a few minutes.”

“That’s lovely, dear, but I don’t have much time to socialize.” Violet rested one hand on the pile of envelopes on the right side of her desk. “The mail is just overwhelming these days. Since Liz left last week, it’s been all I can do to keep up with it.”

“I heard that Liz left.”

Violet nodded. “We put an ad in the paper as soon as we found out she was going to leave, but Jesse hasn’t had time to go through the résumés we’ve gotten in response. I’ve tried to sort them, weed out the ones that obviously won’t work—you know, the ones with all the misspellings, including the name of the firm, and the ones without experience. But even that’s getting away from me these days.” Violet heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m just too old for this.”

“Maybe I can help.” Sophie pulled a chair over to
Violet’s desk. “Pass the résumés over here and I’ll see if I can get that pile down for you.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Violet slid the entire pile of envelopes across the desk. “There’s another stack on Jesse’s desk. I left them there with the hope that he’d have time to look them over during the weekend, but apparently not. It doesn’t look as if they’ve been touched.”

“My fault. I insisted on making him take me to see that boarded-up restaurant on River Road.” Sophie opened an envelope and glanced at the cover letter. No experience. Into the trash it went. She looked up at Violet and grinned. “No point in wasting anyone’s time with applicants who clearly aren’t qualified.”

“I suppose I could have done that myself, but I didn’t feel right making that decision for Jesse.”

“You’re as much a part of this firm as Jess is,” Sophie told her. “Didn’t you work for my grandfather for, like, forever?”

Violet laughed. “It does seem that way. I did try to retire when he did, but then along came Jesse, and while I admit I was skeptical about him for a time, he did win me over.”

“Skeptical because of our dad.” Sophie nodded. She knew the story.

“Yes.” Violet met Sophie’s eyes without apology. “Your father was a scoundrel. I suppose he still is and always will be, though God knows why he should have been. He was always loved and he was raised right, and he still turned out to be a scoundrel. Your grandmother was my best friend, and he broke her heart. Some things you don’t forget. Some you can’t forgive.”

“I have a hard time understanding him, too.” Sophie started to open another envelope, and Violet passed her a letter opener with a silver handle. “Actually, I don’t understand him at all.”

“He was always a handful, that boy, but once he hit high school, he became worse. Always in trouble of one sort or another. Made it through college somehow, though he was bounced out of the first school he went to. Law school, he barely graduated, but he did pass the bar. Then he met and married that lovely Delia and had those three sweet children …” Violet shook her head. “Whatever possessed him to leave her—and them—I’ll never know. Your grandmother Rose told me that he had no contact with Delia and the children after he left. He just walked away from that family, and she never did know why. Oh, I understand he did pay some child support, but still, what kind of a man does a thing like that?”

“No answers here.” Sophie shrugged. “He met my mom after he left Delia, and they had Jesse and then me. Then he met someone else and he left us as well. Now he’s onto his fourth wife—at least I think she’s his wife, but I’m not sure that they’re actually married. I don’t know if his divorce from Pam—she was wife number three—is final. I think the new woman is a lot younger than he.”

“I’d say she was a gold digger, but since he was disbarred, I don’t suppose he’s making as good a living as he could have.”

“I don’t know her—don’t know anything about her—and I haven’t seen him, so there’s not much I can say.”

“It has to weigh on you, though.” Violet’s hands rested atop the letter she had yet to begin to read.

“Oh, it does. At least, it used to. These days, I guess I just feel that he’s made his bed—literally—and he’s going to have to live with the choices he’s made.”

“How is your mother? I haven’t seen her in years.”

“My mother is great. Terrific. She has a successful career—she’s made partner in the firm she works for—and she has what looks like a solid relationship with a very nice man. I don’t think she has a lot of complaints about her life these days.” Sophie balled up another résumé—no legal experience—and sent it overhand to the trash can. “I’d say all of us have weathered the storm that was Dad and we all came out okay. Of course, Judd’s still really young, so the jury’s still out on him. Then again, with Pammie for a mother, who knows how he’ll turn out.”

Sophie was aware that there was an edge to her voice every time she spoke of or thought about her father, and she knew that Violet had picked up on it, because the older woman fell silent. It was hard to talk about him, harder than she ever liked to admit. The years after he’d left them for Pam had been painful for all of them. But in the end, things had worked out well enough. Her mother had been forced to take out loans to go back to law school, but after a few low-level jobs, she’d landed one she loved and had excelled. Craig hadn’t yet been accused of siphoning funds from a client’s account—charges he vehemently denied even as he was disbarred—so the Enright name hadn’t yet carried the stain it would later bear. Jesse and Sophie had gotten through college and law school on student loans, which they were both still
paying off, but the end was in sight on that score. So while they’d been down for a while after Craig left them, they were never really out, thanks to their mother’s strength and smarts and her no-excuses approach to life.

Funny, Sophie thought—her father’s first wife, Delia, had managed pretty well, too. After Craig had dumped her and their children, Delia started writing mystery stories—at first to amuse herself at night after her kids, Nick, Zoey, and Georgia, had gone to bed. She’d found she was good at it, and eventually found the nerve to submit her writings to a literary agent, who found a publisher for the first three of what would become dozens of bestselling mysteries. Delia Enright was to this day one of the top-selling writers in the country. Her latest book sat on the coffee table in Sophie’s living room.

“Funny how both your mother and Delia blossomed after Craig,” Violet said.

“Funnier yet that I was just thinking the same thing.” The lesson wasn’t lost on Sophie. Could she rise above her failed relationship and flourish, as her mother and Delia had?

Perhaps, but maybe not while she remained in the DA’s office.

“Well, I guess a lot of women find themselves once they’re on the other side of a bad relationship,” Violet went on. “I’m not sure why, but a lot of women really come into their own. Maybe it’s because they want a new direction in life, and that makes them focus on what’s important to them. Some women find strengths they never knew they had—strengths they might never have found if they’d stayed in a relationship
that proved to be bad for them. Sometimes all we need to grow into the person we were meant to be is a little push, however painful that push might feel at the time.”

“Not everyone has that kind of strength. Not everyone can find their way out, or see beyond where they are.” Could she?

“True,” Violet agreed. “But we’ve handled our share of divorces in the years I’ve been here, and I’ve seen a lot of women who changed their lives for the better when they had to.”

“Change is harder for some people than it is for others. It’s not always easy, knowing what’s the best course to take.” Sophie could attest to that.

“No doubt. But all of life’s a challenge, you know, and eventually, it all comes back to the choices we make. Sometimes the choices that are the hardest are the ones that, in the end, lead us to where we’re supposed to be.” A small smile played at the corner of Violet’s mouth. “Sometimes we have to go out on a limb to find what makes us happy, what makes our lives complete.” She looked up at Sophie and added, “Choices, don’t you know,” before focusing her attention on the piece of mail she’d just opened. “Everything comes back to the choices we make.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes and stared across the desk at Violet. Had Jesse told her about Sophie’s current dilemma, about her cheating boyfriend and her infatuation with the boarded-up restaurant on River Road?

The phone rang and Violet answered it, taking a message for Jesse, and after a brief, cordial chat with the caller, hung up.

“I know that voice mail is all the thing these days,” Violet said as she jotted down the message, “but it goes against my grain to make a client go through the motions. I’d just as soon talk to whoever calls myself. It’s the only way to find out what people really want when they call.” She rose and took the message into Jesse’s office, where, Sophie assumed, she’d leave the note on his desk.

“Oh, by the way, I saw Enid Walsh on Sunday. She’s younger than I, but she’s had her problems over the years and doesn’t get around very well these days. Anyway, after you brought up her name on Saturday, I kept thinking I should call and see if she needed anything. That would be the charitable thing to do.” Violet sat back down at the desk and rolled her chair forward. “She said it had been ages since she’d been to church—can’t drive anymore because the arthritis in her legs is so bad and her vision isn’t what it used to be—so of course, I offered to pick her up. I think she’s looking poorly these days. I saw her back in the fall, and I can see where she’s failing. Poor dear. It must be so lonely for her, having her whole family gone.”