In the Stars (16 page)

The eyes are the window of the soul.
        —English Proverb

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I
find the Coffee Café no problem. When I walk inside, a little chime on the door tinkles and I mutter, without realizing I am doing it, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets her wings.” I know it sounds dumb, but my thoughts go to my Grammy. Maybe this means that since I let her go, she can finally get her wings and be free too.

I look around. Natasha, Natasha. Who in here could pass for Natasha with that gorgeous British voice? I should have said I’d be wearing a red shirt with a gold pin in the shape of a star, or something, like in the movies. There are three women sitting alone at their tables. I have just decided that one near the bathroom is Natasha, because she has incredible jewelry and an expensive Blu suit, when the door opens beside me. I step to the right so the people entering can get by me, just as I hear the voice at my side.

“Hello, you must be Charley.”

I turn with a smile, hold out my hand and my jaw drops slightly. I recover quickly and play it off, turning my open mouth into a drawn out “Hello!”

It’s the girl I saw yesterday. The one with the sexy black hair who hugged Josh on the street. My stomach flips. The one he is probably going on a dinner date with. She is even more exquisite up close . . . perfectly manicured nails, bright red. A curvy, taut body, with the perfect hourglass shape. Bright blue eyes and that huge mouth stretched into a pleasant smile.

“Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll get some coffee,” Natasha suggests after introducing herself. “What would you like?”

I squint at the menu behind the counter. “Uh, I’d like a double chocolate mocha, please.” I reach for my wallet but she waves it off.

“It’s on the company’s dime, so don’t worry about it.”

I glance around the café for an empty spot. The café is darling; wooden tables and chairs that are stained a deep brown. Pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the Coliseum and Angel Falls, done in black and white and in matching wooden frames hang on the walls. If you look out the window, you can see the twin Bankers Hall towers looming high above and people walking by on the sidewalk. In the corner there is an empty table, a little off from the others, and it looks like the perfect place to have a job interview. If that’s what this indeed is.

I sit down and skim the headlines on a newspaper someone had abandoned here while I wait for Natasha. A home invasion in the North East. The President of the United States to attend a charity ball hosted by George Clooney to support Hurricane victims. Carter Clinton loses major fraud case.

The second chair at the table is pulled back and Natasha sits. She places a steaming mug in front of me and the second one she keeps.

Even the mugs are unique. Not your average coffee-to-go cup made of paper with a plastic lid, these ones are glass. They have maps on one side and mine has a picture of the Sistine Chapel and Natasha’s is of Buckingham Palace.

“This is a really cute café,” I note and take a sip of the scaling liquid. Delicious.

“Yes, I spend way too much money coming here every day,” Natasha admits. “They make the most succulent chicken wraps every Tuesday and I have become a complete addict." She leans back and continues. “So, thank you for coming to meet with me on such short notice. We’ve been tossing around the idea of adding an additional counsel for some time, and the position was recently approved by my boss so I figured I should hurry up and get on it.”

I listen, making inconsequential noises and nodding along. I take another sip of my coffee and she carries on.

“So I was about to post the position on our web site when I ran into Josh. We got talking and he mentioned you, said you are an outstanding lawyer who stumbled into a bit of bad luck recently. I told him I’d think about it and he forwarded me your CV. I have to admit, I am highly impressed.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to tell me about what happened at your last law firm?” Natasha’s eyes are kind and after the disaster at Jameson and Jameson with my last interview, I decide to tell the truth right off the bat. If I get this job, I don’t want to hide my past forever and have it come back and bite me one day.

“It’s a bit of a long story, but when it comes down to it, I made a mistake.” For once I’ve decided to own up to it. It was my mistake, I know this deep down. Whether or not Grace was out to get me, I still should have double checked the brief after it was bound.

I continue. Without giving away any confidential details relating to the firm, I tell her the basics. Brief to opposing counsel, bound by my assistant, that included Brad Pitt, an email and a highly classified draft prospectus on a future deal. I should have checked, but I didn’t. I assumed that my assistant wouldn’t do something like that, whether by accident or on purpose, it didn’t matter. I was fired and I probably deserved it.

I swallow. I have played the victim for too long, especially where, when I think about it long and hard, I know the situation was on me.

“You don’t deserve to be fired over a mistake so small,” Natasha frowns. “I would have expected to receive a warning or maybe not be given a bonus that year, but firing seems harsh, especially for a brand new associate.”

“That’s what Josh said.”

“Well, he’s right. They must have suffered some collateral damage to have gone all the way and fired you. That really is rough, I’m sorry.” I appreciate her compassion and decide to tell the rest.

“There is a little more to the story. They have now taken the situation to the Law Society of Alberta and a hearing is going to be scheduled. They are pushing for disbarment, although I don’t think it will go that far. But I need to let you be aware of the situation in case that were to happen.”

Natasha waves it off. “Honestly, we need someone young, compassionate and driven to work with our at risk youth. If you were to be disbarred, although I agree with you that it would be a very unlikely outcome, then we would simply change your job title to Paralegal and one of us would handle your court appearances. Your position itself would not change.”

I am touched. “So, you guys don’t mind?” Professionalism is out the window and I can feel the tingling in my nose and throat that signals the waterworks are about to begin.

“I was friends with Josh’s older sister in high school after my family moved from England. I go a long way back with the Mahoney’s and I came to learn a long time ago to trust Josh’s judgment more than anything else. I have never seen a more dedicated, hardworking and honest individual than Josh. If he gives you the gold stamp of approval, then that’s all I need to know.”

I am in shock. “So,” I begin shakily. “So are you offering me the job? This isn’t just an initial interview?”

“Of course! I thought I mentioned that on the phone earlier. I can tell you more about the job, if you’d like. You will work closely with the police force, government social workers and the foster care program in particular. You will assist with the legalities of fostering to adopt and removing children from at risk environments. To warn you, the pay will not be anything close to what you would have made at Carter Clinton, although the hours should be better. There are seven lawyers in our team and I’m sure you’ll fit in well. If this is something you are interested in, I will get the paperwork printed up tomorrow and have it couriered to you.”

“Yes, absolutely! That sounds,” I choke back tears of joy and try again. “That sounds like my dream job. It’s exactly the type of position I dreamt of in law school and I would be honored to be part of your team. Thank you.”

“Lovely. I am having dinner with Josh and my boyfriend tonight, want to catch up since it’s been a while. I’ll have to tell him how delightful it was to chat with you.”

“Your, your
boyfriend
? I thought you were interested in Josh,” I sputter. “So, you’re not going on a date with him?” It’s none of my business, of course, and she has every right to be offended, but she just laughs.

“Of course not! I could never date a younger man, no matter how amazing. Besides, you should know him well enough to be certain he would never cheat on you.”

We shake hands, drain the final drops of our coffees and stand. “Cheat on me?” I echo. “As if we were dating?”

“You are dating, are you not? You are so lucky to have him.” Natasha says, pushing her chair in. We grab our mugs and place them on a return tray near the door.

“He’s a good friend, but I don’t really ‘have’ him, per se. Not yet, at least.”

“Oh, here I assumed you two were dating. The way he spoke of you . . . I was certain you were his girlfriend.”

I shake my head. “No, we’ve been friends for a few years but that’s it.” Although that might change, I think hopefully. Now that my head is screwed on right.

We are on the street now. Natasha turns toward the courthouse and I thank her again.

“I’ll get you the paperwork tomorrow. I’m thinking you can start in a week or so.”

“That sounds great.”

“Brilliant. Well, you have a good day. It was lovely to meet you.”

I wave goodbye and walk home, mulling over the events of the last few days. Josh isn’t dating someone new. He gave her a hug on the street because she’s an old friend of his sister’s. He also mustn’t be too furious with me, since he passed on my résumé. I have a job now, something that I never expected to happen in a million years.

I enter our apartment and find Heather on the couch. She’s on the phone and hangs up when she sees me.

“Hey, how was it at your mom’s?”

“Good. I gained a lot of clarity.”

Heather leans forward. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“What?” I ask innocently.

“You and Josh?” She hints. She gracefully rises from the couch and comes to stand in front of me.

“I’m going to call him,” I admit. “He got me a job at the courthouse. He helped me out with the Carter Clinton mess.”

“And?” Heather prompts. She places her hands on her hips and gives me a warning glare. “I talked to your mom. She said you’ve had a change of heart about the whole ‘I can’t date my best friend’ thing.”

I shrug. “Well, if you talked to her, why do you need to hear it from me?”

“Because. Do you mean it? Are you actually going to give Josh a chance?”

I smile. “I’ll let you know after I talk to Josh.”

Her scream of frustration as I walk to my bedroom and close the door makes me laugh. I pull out my phone and punch in his number. Before I hit send, I take a long breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

This is it.

And then the phone rings.

If you love something, set it free.
If it comes back, it was and always will be yours.
If it never returns, it was never yours to begin with.
 
       —
English Proverb

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I
t’s Josh. I know before I even pick up the call that it’s him.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” Josh says, words rapid and business-like. “I got off the phone with Natasha. She said that you seemed great and a perfect fit and that you got the job. That’s wonderful news!”

He sounds genuinely happy for me which makes me smile. I lie back into my pillow and cradle the phone between my neck and ear. “Thanks, I’m really excited for it. She’s going to give me the paperwork for it right away and I start next week. I really appreciate you putting in a good word for me, Josh.”

“Of course. Look, I have to go, but I wanted to call and make sure you are okay.” The tension is still evident, and his words are a bit forced, but I’m sure once I tell him what I need to, he’ll be fine.

“I’m good now,” I reply and add quickly, “I know you’re busy, but before you go, I have to say something. I’ve been thinking about, you know, you and me, and I think maybe we can give it a shot. My parents were friends and now look at them! They’ve been married for forever. Anyway,” my words are uncomfortable and I hope I sound the way I want to sound, “do you want to go out for dinner or something and put everything I said in Victoria behind us?”

There is silence on the other end. I take the phone away from my ear and check that there is still a signal. Yup, he’s still there. Finally Josh clears his throat. “Charley, look, let’s go back to being friends. We’ll hang out, we’ll talk, I’ll help you out and you’ll have my back, but let’s not force the dating thing, okay? What happened in the cemetery was probably for our own good. We’re good together, but not as an item, like you said. Don’t force yourself to look for feelings that clearly aren’t there.”

“I’m not,” I protest, sitting up with a frown. I didn’t think I’d have to beg! What the heck? “I honestly was shocked when you spilled your feelings to me, but it’s sunken in now and I think we could make it work. I miss you really, really bad. I love you, you’re my best friend. I’m not forcing anything!”

Josh chuckles and I hear people talking on the other end of the phone. He’s at work, I’m sure, and must feel awkward talking about this in front of his coworkers. “Charley, we’ll hang out. I’m swamped this week, but maybe next week after you start the new job we can get together and grab a coffee. You don’t have to pretend like you want to date me now just so you don’t lose me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

He doesn’t understand. My talk with my mom, my flash of clarity I had about my Grammy, all these things have opened my eyes. It’s not like I’m rebounding on him or anything! Why is he brushing this off?

“You don’t get it,” I begin, but Josh cuts me off. “Charley, drop it, all right? Let’s not rehash everything, let’s not overanalyze. What has happened has happened, and we need to move forward. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hear a click and the sound of the dial tone. Heather must have been waiting outside the room, because instantly the door opens and she pops in. “You talk to him? What did he say?”

“He doesn’t want me after all,” I confess. “He wants to move on and go back to being friends. It was awkward and weird and I don’t get it. Why would he confess undying love for me last week and then blow me off when I try to get him back?”

“You hurt him,” Heather muses. She sits cross legged on the floor and twists into a side bend yoga pose. “I don’t think he intentionally blew you off, it’s probably more that he thinks you are taking him back out of pity or something. I mean, you made it clear that you thought the idea of the two of you together was ludicrous. Why should he believe you’d change your mind so fast?”

“I’m not changing my mind.” I scowl at my roommate. “Honestly? I couldn’t see what was right in front of me before. All I’ve done is open my eyes to the truth.”

Heather twists to the other side. “I know that and you know that, but think about how Josh feels. Last time he talked about the two of you dating, you laughed in his face. You need to give him time. Let him go back to being your friend. Go back to work, get your life on track. And then, you’ll see. The hurt will heal. He’ll come around when he sees that you aren’t just saying this. When he sees you mean it, he’ll be back, I promise.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. He’s been in love with you for years. I’ve seen him watch you when you are across the room. I’ve seen him jump at the sound of your voice and light up when he’s near you. You can’t get rid of love like that in a week or a month or even a year, no matter how hard you try. He loves you, Charley, and he finally got the courage to tell you and you crushed him. He needs to heal before he can accept you back. Just give him time.”

Time.

Time can be a funny thing, I think later as I stand in the shower before going to bed. Time made Drew almost unrecognizable to me. It made me see him for what he really was. Time since my Grammy died has made me grow up, become the woman I knew was hidden away somewhere. Time heals. Time changes.

•

The following weeks fly by. I start my position at the Calgary Justice Services and immediately feel as though I am where I need to be. I have more cases thrown at me right from day one than I ever handled at Carter Clinton, but now these are ones I am passionate about. A child whose parents are in prison. An infant found abandoned in a dumpster on Stephen Avenue and needing a foster family while the police and social workers try to locate her birth parents. A nasty custody case with a highly unfit mother fighting desperately to keep her four and five-year-old daughters.

My dad returns from his humanitarian adventures and my mom gets almost giddy at his return. I realize again just how special a true love relationship is when I watch the two of them together at our family dinners. And it makes me miss Josh all the more.

Josh and I email and text at least twice a day. He doesn’t drop by the apartment anymore the way he used to, but the tone in our messages is light again. Friendly. Time, as Heather promised, not only makes my heart long for him more, but also makes him soften towards me.

I receive the summons in the mail for my hearing at the Law Society of Alberta. At 11th Avenue and 2nd Street, on July third, at ten thirty in the morning, my fate will be determined. I throw myself into preparations for the meeting. I call a few old contacts at Carter Clinton and beg them to give written statements about my work ethic. When they refuse, probably due to fear of retaliation by their employers, I turn to my current co-workers, former law professors and outside colleagues, anyone who can vouch for me as a person. Natasha, among others, writes a five-page brief, outlining my credentials and personally vouching for me.

Josh meets me for coffee four times, each time bringing examples of other hearings where the defendant got off with nothing more than a warning. “These will be good to show as evidence,” Josh explains as he hands me the various memos. “It displays a pattern that the Law Society typically has followed, and will be huge in helping you out.”

Every meeting with Josh is better than the last. He smiles more. Our eyes meet and hold a little longer. I am continually tempted to blurt out the sorry fact that I do in fact love him, but I hold myself back.

Wait. Wait for the right moment.

And time keeps ticking by.