Chapter 24: Garrity

Two weeks later, a man on a ladder painted my name on the front window of Calloway Partners.

He worked in gold leaf, one letter at a time, and the whole office came down to the sidewalk to watch.

CALLOWAY GARRITY, it said, in letters a foot tall, facing the river and the Stroud tower on the other bank.

"It's backwards," Bea said, from a folding chair.

"It's reversed," said the painter, from the ladder. "It reads right from the street."

"It reads backwards from where I'm sitting."

"Then sit on the other side, Bea," said Walter, who had the chair next to hers and a thermos of coffee they were sharing.

"I'm comfortable."

"You're arguing."

"I'm comfortable arguing."

Lacey stood behind them with a cardboard tray of drinks.

She had come straight from Wacker Drive, where she was already refusing to move into Everett's old office.

She wore a plain gray suit, and her lanyard hung straight.

"The new chair wants to meet you on Thursday," she told me. "She says you can say no again if you want. She enjoyed it."

"I'll bring a pencil."

A black car pulled up at the curb, and a driver got out with a pallet jack and a wrapped pallet of oats.

A card was taped to the top: To the new firm. Please do not tell anyone how much you cost.

Jonah laughed so hard he had to hold on to the lamppost.

His mother arrived last, from Phoenix, in a straw hat.

She was a small woman with his green eyes.

She walked straight through the staff and took both my hands.

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