Page 40 of The Light Year

"Harrison Black," the attorney says, nodding crisply at everyone at the table as he takes a seat next to Barbie. "My client, I presume?" he asks her, offering a hand and shaking hers more gently than he would have shaken a man's.

"Barbara Roman," she says, blushing at the way her hand feels tiny in his large, strong one. She feels a rush of confidence as she realizes that Harrison Black is a take-charge kind of man, and with a smile, Barbie sits back in her chair to make eye contact with her father and brother.

Above the long, shiny table is a chandelier that throws sparks of light onto the polished wood, and George Mackey sits forward, folding his hands as he leans his elbows on the table and glowers at Harrison Black.

"I trust our attorneys have given you the paperwork that you requested," Senator Mackey says. "And I'm sure, as you can see, that we're all understanding that I have final say over what happens withmymoney."

Harrison Black clears his throat and snaps open a briefcase, pulling out a file that he slaps on the table. "With all due respect, Senator, I've read the paperwork, and I think it leaves some gray areas that could be open to interpretation."

"Such as?" George Mackey thunders. At his left sits Ted, who is watching Barbie with a mildly amused expression on his face.

Barbie knows good and well that when he received his own inheritance three years prior, he'd spent it on a boat and taken that boat out into the Atlantic Ocean with a captain, a full-time butler, a chef, a casino dealer, countless boxes of Cuban cigars, five friends, and a bevy of women who’d gotten paid to join them and keep the men company. All she's asking to do is to use her own inheritance how she wants to, and it's infuriating beyond belief to watch her brother look at her as though she's asking to do something wildly outrageous with the money.

"As you know," Harrison Black says, flipping open the file and turning the loose pages one by one until he gets to the page he wants. "Marion Mackey died unexpectedly and, correct me if I'm wrong, there are still lingering questions surrounding her passing."

Senator Mackey's face goes beet red. "She drowned. Marion got drunk, and she wandered out onto the beach and drowned."

Harrison Black leaves an unfilled pause that feels like a canyon has opened up in the center of the room. Everyone around the table, Barbie included, hangs on the edge of this massive gulf, waiting to see whether they're going to fall in.

"I've requested the police reports," Harrison Black says, returning to casually flipping pages. "And apparently there were some questions about how a woman who had only two or three glasses of wine in her system might have stumbled out onto the beach and drowned in a shallow tide pool."

"She just did," George says loudly, spreading his palms to the sky as if this is the most obvious thing in the universe. "That's all there was to it."

"I beg to differ," Harrison Black says. "As luck would have it, my brother-in-law is on the police force in the next township over from where Mrs. Mackey drowned, and he was able to ask around. There were definite indications that the police had... backed away from the case, if you will."

Barbie's heart thumps wildly in her chest, and she feels faint. There were indications that the police backed away from finding out the true cause of her mother's death? Why would they ever leave a woman's untimely death a mystery?

"That's preposterous!" Senator Mackey shouts, slamming a meaty fist on the table and causing everyone to jump. "They determined that it was an accident. Case closed."

Harrison Black looks at George Mackey across the table and says nothing for the longest minute that Barbie has ever livedthrough. The ticking of a clock on the mantel of the room is audible as everyone sits there, waiting to see who will crack first.

But when Harrison Black finally speaks, it's not because he's folding—on the contrary, it's because he's making his next move.

He slides a paper across the table to George Mackey. "I've written up a legally binding document for you to sign that releases the funds to Barbara Roman that were intended as her inheritance from her mother. Marion Mackey set up these trust funds for her children to receive the money on their respective thirtieth birthdays, whether or not she was alive. That she isn't with us anymore does not make the fund null and void, or put its delivery into question."

"No," George Mackey says with wild eyes. "No. I think I'm a better judge of what's best for my daughter and for my family than you are, Mr. Black."

A slow, knowing smile spreads across Harrison Black's face. "Well," he says, standing up and closing the file. "There's no statute of limitations on murder or manslaughter in New Jersey, so perhaps we'll be seeing more of you in the press than you'd bargained for, Senator." Harrison Black drops the file into his briefcase and snaps it shut with finality and gives George Mackey a smile. "The ball is in your court, sir."

jo

. . .

They’ve done it:Bill and Jo have arranged the cruise, gotten her mother to fly down from Minnesota to stay with the children for five days, and gotten themselves to Miami to embark upon a cruise to the Bahamas.

“This is the smallest room I’ve ever seen,” Jo says in wonder, turning around a few times inside a cabin the size of a closet. She isn’t even sure where to put her suitcase, but it feels perfect.

“We won’t be spending much time here,” Bill says. He’s stepped into one corner of the room and is assessing the porthole window and the bed that’s smaller than the one they sleep in at home. “But I can ask about an upgrade if you want. I didn’t know we’d be packed in here like sardines.”

Jo laughs and shakes her head, feeling giddy excitement about the start of this adventure. It’s never occurred to her to ask her mother to watch the children so that she and Bill can do something alone, and while she’d been hesitant at first, she’s now thrilled with their decision to get away.

“I love it,” Jo says. She walks over to Bill and puts her arms around his waist, letting the side of her head rest on his chest. “It’s perfect.”

Bill relaxes in her arms and puts his hands on her lower back. “Do you want to go upstairs and get a drink so we can wave goodbye to Miami as we set sail?”

“Oh, let’s!” Jo says, stepping away from him. She slips her feet back into the low heels that she’s worn for the occasion, and they head up to the bar on the top deck.

With two Harvey Wallbangers in hand, Bill finds Jo holding a spot for them at the railing overlooking the Port of Miami. The mood in the air is festive; the ship’s long, low foghorn blows above them, and ever so slowly, they push away from the dock.

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