Chapter 13: Counselor

I didn't sleep.

At nine the next morning I walked into my mother's law firm in the same navy dress I had worn to the gate.

The receptionist stood up. "Ms. Alden, your mother is in a meeting."

"I know. It's the partners' lunch."

"She said not to..."

"I know what she said."

I kept walking.

The conference room had glass walls and a long table, and the board sat around it in dark suits with salad plates.

My mother sat at the head, with a pen in her hand.

She saw me through the glass, and the pen stopped.

I pushed the door open.

"Millicent." Her voice was perfectly level. "This is not the time."

"It's exactly the time. You're all here."

A man with white hair set down his fork. "Is this the daughter?"

"The one from the video," a woman murmured.

"Yes," I said. "The one from the video. I came to tell you something about your partner."

"Millicent, leave," my mother said.

"Fourteen years ago my father died on Route 9."

Nobody moved.

"The police report says he was alone, that he lost control on a wet road. That report is false."

"Sit down," my mother said, very low.

"A drunk man in a silver Mercedes crossed the center line and hit him. A nineteen-year-old pulled my father out and heard him speak before he died."

"This is a grief episode," my mother said to the table. "She has had a terrible week. I'm so sorry."

"Three days later a young associate on the Winslow account went to that boy's house with ten thousand dollars."

The white-haired man looked at my mother.

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