Page 16 of A Legal Affair
A high-powered investment broker in Houston, Kennedi loved shopping, fine dining, live theater entertainment and international travel. She made lots of money and could afford to indulge her ultra-luxe tastes. Just over an hour ago, she’d posted several pictures of her and Aunt Phyllis taking catamaran cruises around beautiful islands, snorkeling in turquoise waters, whale watching at sunset, enjoying a private safari tour, eating exotic foods and living their best lives.
Daniela liked Kennedi’s post and commented:I’m so jelly!
Kennedi DM’d her two minutes later.
You and Aunt Pam could’ve joined us if you hadn’t quit your job, brokie!
Scowling, Daniela sent back an eyeroll emoji.
Her cousin’s reply came lightning fast.
I’m just saying. You set yourself back financially and for what? To play private eye with your brothers???
Daniela’s scowl deepened. Kennedi was three years older than her. They were inseparable as kids but had drifted apart in recent years. Kennedi didn’t approve of her life choices, and Daniela thought she was becoming more and more of an insufferable, materialistic boss bitch. But despite their differences, they were family, and there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other.
Another message popped up on the screen.
At least you had the good sense to enroll in law school. You’ll be 30 when you graduate, and God only knows how much worse the job market will be by then. But having a law degree should put you in a better position than you’re in now. How’s your portfolio looking? Don’t sell off any tech or energy stocks without talking to me first!
Daniela sucked her teeth in exasperation. Next time she’d think twice before commenting on one of Kennedi’s social media posts.
If you’re done lecturing me, I’ve got work to do.
Daniela sent her message, and before Kennedi could respond, she clicked off her phone, then got up and went in search of her textbooks to begin what promised to be a long, grueling night of reading.
On her way down the hall, she passed her mother’s bedroom and paused at the half-open door. A tender smile touched her lips as she gazed across the room at Pamela Roarke, fast asleep in the heavily quilted sleigh bed. The curtains were drawn closed on the waning light of early dusk, casting the room into deep shadow.
Sleep had softened the lines of worry and fatigue etched into her mother’s face. For as long as Daniela could remember, Pamela had always worried—about her children, about working enough hours at the hospital to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, about caring for the sick and elderly at church—about everyone but herself.
She’d been widowed when her husband was killed in a machinery accident at the textile factory where he worked. Daniela was less than a year old, barely weaned off her mother’s breast milk, when a grief-stricken but resolute Pamela Roarke embarked on a nursing career to help raise her three children. They’d all been forced to grow up quickly—Pamela included. The young widow learned how to clip coupons and stretch a dollar at the grocery store, and Daniela and her brothers soon learned how to fend for themselves during the long evenings when their mother couldn’t be there to fix dinner and check homework assignments.
Although Kenneth was the eldest, it was Noah who’d stepped in to fill his father’s shoes, assuming responsibility for Daniela when Kenneth’s only concern was running the streets with hisfriends. It was Noah who’d fed and bathed his baby sister, who’d dispensed the horrid cough syrup she’d swallowed only after he threatened to turn off her favorite cartoon. It was Noah who’d exclaimed over her stick-figure drawings and taped them to the refrigerator for their mother to coo over when she got home in the morning. And it was Noah, not Kenneth, who’d always comforted Daniela after a nightmare by reassuring her that their mother wouldnotleave them, as their father had.
Although Daniela didn’t remember her father, she’d always lived with a keen understanding of the transcendent bond her parents had shared. She knew that they’d both dreamed of buying a little ranch in the Hill Country and enjoying their golden years surrounded by frolicking grandchildren and wet-nosed puppies. While it had been years since Pamela spoke of it, Daniela knew her mother still secretly clung to that dream. It whispered in her eyes every time she and Daniela drove through the scenic countryside on an antiquing excursion, or to pick peaches at their favorite orchard outside town.
More than anything, Daniela wished she could reverse the hand of fate and bring back Patrick Roarke so that he and Pamela could grow old together. But since Daniela couldn’t resurrect her father, the next best thing was to give her mother a slice of the future she’d always envisioned.
Hoyt Philbin was willing to shell out the kind of money that would turn their mother’s dream of owning a ranch into a reality.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Daniela couldn’t pass up.
Even if it meant deceiving an innocent man.
6
Caleb stayed at the office late to work on a law review article focused on progressive prosecution. Stacks of legal journals, lecture notes and appellate briefs littered every available surface of his desk. It was slow going, though, because even after an intense midday workout, he felt restless and cagey, too distracted to make much of a dent in his writing.
At 7:15 he called it quits, grabbed his messenger bag and headed out the door.
On his way to the parking lot, Evander McGhee caught up with him, easily matching his long strides. He was the same height but fifteen pounds slimmer, with deep brown skin and eyes the color of burnt coffee.
“I can’t believe you’re cutting out early,” he joked.
“It’s after seven,” Caleb said.
“Which is early for you,” Evander pointed out.
Caleb grunted. He typically worked sixty hours a week, sometimes more, depending on deadlines. He was widely published in leading law reviews and was considered one of the university’s most prolific tenured professors. Evander was no slouch, either.
