Page 7 of Falling for Roxanne

I heard a muffled noise in the background and Kyle excused himself for a minute, the unmistakable smack of a kiss coming across the line.

“Sorry about that man. Wife is looking extra good today.”

He was happy, and he deserved it. I celebrated his joy with Mindy and the kids. I just didn’t like the spark of something like envy I felt when he spoke lovingly about his wife.

Like his life didn’t really begin until he found love . It made me feel resentful that my life would be lesser by comparison…a man with a child and a successful career, but no soul mate, no long-term lover to go home to.

I could share his joy about being a father. It was the widower thing that I stumbled over. I didn’t know how to be a husband without a wife when Heather died, and I still didn’t know. It was a huge obstacle in my mind and heart—that the hopeful, romantic part of my life had ended abruptly and left me with my hands full and a lonely future.

Some people remarried, Kyle had told me many times. It didn’t matter that he said it or that it was true. It mattered that I’d watched him and now Drake find someone, members of the bachelor’s club who were about my age and were having such happiness in their personal lives.

I remember that when it was new and exciting, and we had all those years in front of us. It was hard not to be jaded, to give rude, soothsayer style warnings that it could all be gone in an instant.

I was a lucky man, with my practice and my son and my friends. I had nothing to complain about and I told myself to quit being a whiner. Everyone got lonely sometimes and that was no reason to mope around.

Kyle and I ended our conversation and I had potential interns to interview. I selected the two I wanted to consider and then opened Sydney’s email containing the key to the code numbers that gave me their demographic data.

My first choice was a Caucasian female, native English speaker, and the second choice was a Latino male, bilingual. His name was Ronaldo Colon, and the first choice---that was Roxanne Parks.

That name. The same one that I said I wouldn’t forget anytime soon. The one who had asked me for an application after my Trial Practices course and had brushed her fingers against my hand by accident and fired up every nerve ending in my body in the process.

It felt like kismet that she was the student whose application had spoken to me as so outstanding, that her teasing about the internship coming along just as she was in my class suddenly took on a significance I couldn’t find a name for. She was in the right place at the right time to be the intern in my office this semester.

The fact that this spelled trouble with a capital T didn’t escape my notice, not after the sudden pull of attraction I had felt for her. But it would be discriminatory practice to refuse to offer her the internship on the grounds that I found her attractive. I knew how to control myself, and I’d do the same this time. I’d be so busy, in fact, that I’d probably never see her. At least that was the story I told myself at the time.

CHAPTER 6

ROXANNE

At the end of class on Monday, I closed my laptop and updated my calendar for the coming week. I’d already completed the first case study and submitted sample arguments for it ahead of time, so I didn’t have any homework for Trial Practices this time. I’d be prepared to present my arguments next week, and that cleared up some time in my schedule. Maybe I’d make it to a yoga class one day or go get a massage with the gift card I’d been carrying around for months.

“One last thing. Would Roxanne Park please remain after class for five minutes so we could have a word?” Professor Bell said.

My cheeks flushed instantly. Cathy elbowed me and then made a rude gesture indicating that she thought that his summons was some sort of innuendo. I rolled my eyes at her, but my racing pulse belied my outward calm. After I gathered my things nonchalantly, I made my way down the steps to his desk and paused there expectantly, hoping my face was a mask of professional serenity.

“Ms. Park, after reviewing the applications for the internship at my law firm, I determined that yours was the most outstanding. I’d like you to answer a couple of questions for me before we proceed. If you have a moment, I’d like to discuss the hours and duties of the internship and find out what you think of a couple of current cases in the news, not ones I personally represent, in the interest of privacy.”

“Very well,” I said, trying to hide my elation.

“Are you familiar with the Sanchez case?” he asked smoothly.

“Yes. If you want the public facts of the case I can provide those, but the main factor I can see as a future attorney and as a voter is that the police department had spearheaded a witch hunt for Ricardo Sanchez because he resisted arrest, and the DA’s office is carrying the flag and trying to railroad him, asking that the video footage of him in a convenience store at the same time the abduction took place be made inadmissible. The DA and the chief of police should answer for this, and they’re trying to take away a man’s freedom unjustly while the real perp walks free with no one investigating them.” I said it hotly, thinking as soon as I stopped that perhaps I should have toned it down a little.

“You’re certainly passionate about the topic, and you know the broad strokes of the case. I’m personally more disgusted with Peter Ransom, the attorney representing Sanchez, than anyone else in the situation, because a first-year law student would have known all the ways the defendant’s due process rights have been violated and put the brakes on this case before it got to a hearing. He’s bumbled his way through, angling for a plea bargain that will, at best, cost Sanchez years of his life behind bars.” Professor Bell shook his head. “So, it’s possible I get as wound up about this case as you do, in my own way.”

I couldn’t help smiling. Then he continued, “If you were filing paperwork on the Simpson-Grathler case that just closed last week, the embezzlement—and you found what you believed to be an error in the paperwork, a significant one that could change the entire outcome and result in a party we all know to be guilty being able to file an appeal, what would you do?”

“I’d photograph the paperwork and submit it by email to my supervisor, along with an explanation of the situation as I understood it, and if he or she chose not to act on it, I’d send the same information to the attorney and judge on the case. If a guilty woman got a mistrial or an appeal on the strength of an administrative error, that would be unfortunate, but I’d rather see an embezzler walk free than violate their rights to a fair trial,” I said. “And I realize that by sharing the photo and information with the defense and the judge, I’d be dismissed from the firm. The case paperwork is a matter of public record, but I’d be countermanding a decision to ignore the error and potentially embarrassing the firm in the process.”

“Good answer. But you’ll run up against a lot of ethically gray scenarios in your career, so it’s best to stop and consider your options and the potential consequences before you answer so quickly. I agree with your assessment of the right course of action, but you could find yourself throwing away your career by going over a senior partner’s head to share information he chose to suppress. As long as you’re willing to risk it, it’s your choice.”

“I don’t plan to compromise my integrity or pervert the justice system based on my personal sense of who deserves punishment or not.”

“No one ever plans to, Ms. Park. But we sometimes get a God complex and think we know better than anyone else. It’s a good idea to have a support network whose judgment you can trust. That way when you’re faced with a dilemma, you can discuss it without using details protected by privacy law and get an honest opinion. I don’t suggest anyone in your own firm though. People you think you can trust have their own interests at heart more than you’d expect,” he said.

“Thank you for the advice,” I said. “Any guidance I can take on board from you is a bonus to the internship. I know you by reputation, and it would be an ultimate arrogance to do anything other than to listen closely to whatever you offer.”

I said it as evenly, as matter-of-factly as I could, all the while trying to hide how ecstatic I was that this was going so well. He agreed with me on every point and had thought that I was the best candidate to work alongside him at his prestigious private practice.

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