Pursuit of Happiness Page 4

  “Senator Mitchell’s office, how may I help you?”

  How indeed.

  * * *

  Meredith raised her glass and motioned for Addison to do the same. “Here’s to your last lunch as a single woman.”

  “You make it sound like I’ll never have a meal again. Is that what married life is like?”

  “How should I know?” Meredith delivered the casual words with a carefree tone, but the truth was she’d begun to grow tired of personal relationships taking a back seat to everything else in her life. Addison Riley, the chief justice of the United States, was the last of her close group of friends to head to the altar, and the realization she was now the only single member of the group came with its own set of baggage.

  “You might want to consider joining the club you know?”

  Meredith nearly choked on her drink. “Of married couples? Not in the cards, for a while anyway.”

  “Why? Because of a presidential run you may or may not make in the future? Seriously, Mere, you don’t have to choose between ambition and happiness, and if you think you do, then it’s probably best to let the ambition part go.” Addison dropped her voice to a whisper. “But if you want to get the professional piece out of the way, there’s still time to get in the race this go-round.”

  Echoes of Friday night’s dinner conversation about the same subject rang in Meredith’s head. She hadn’t been able to get Stevie out of her mind since they’d parted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date with someone who had been utterly unimpressed with her position, and it had been refreshing. That Stevie was not only good-looking, but smart and articulate was a bonus, but she told Addison the same thing she’d told Stevie. “It’s not my time. Connie’s worked hard for this and she’s earned her spot. It’s always like this in the primaries—everyone jockeying for position and wanting to challenge the old guard. If Garrett had the chance to run again, he’d be facing the same kind of opposition as Connie, and he’s got the highest favorables of any second term president in history.”

  “Then you might as well go ahead and start a family so when it is your turn to run, you can check those boxes.”

  What Addison said made sense on paper, but after surviving several grueling statewide elections, Meredith knew firsthand the toll running for office took on every aspect of a candidate’s life, and she had no desire to impose the rigors of campaigning on anyone else, especially not a new love interest. Besides, she was absolutely committed to achieving her career goals before focusing her interests elsewhere. “I’m in no hurry.”

  “Well, neither was I, obviously, but here I am, a week away from being married to the most powerful woman in the country.” Addison raised her glass.

  “I think a lot of people would argue that in a race between you and Julia for most powerful woman in the country, you’d finish in a dead heat. Frankly, I don’t know how you do it.”

  “It’s not easy. I’d love to come home after work and discuss my day, but the president’s chief of staff isn’t a viable sounding board for Supreme Court gossip. We’ve learned to dance around certain topics at the dinner table. It’s not always easy, but I love her so much it’s totally worth it. This Saturday, when we say our I dos in front of all our friends and family, nothing will stand between us.”

  Meredith pointed at Addison’s dreamy smile. “I’m going to get me some of that someday. But not right now. Now, I’m going to keeping working for a better future, which means campaigning for Connie to win the election. I’ll be sitting in the front row when you swear in the first female president.”

  “Here’s to that.” Addison took a drink and set her glass on the table. “The wedding planner said you RSVP’d for one, but Julia told me to tell you that she had an extra spot held. You know, in case you want to bring someone. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It might be nice to have a wing woman.”

  “Are you scared I’m going to get drunk and sappy about my lack of a love life and ruin your special day?”

  “Not hardly.” Addison reached a hand across the table and squeezed Meredith’s arm. “I just want you to be happy. I’m the last person in the world who thinks you need another person to make you happy, but let me be the first to admit that it’s pretty fabulous when you do find someone.” She pulled her hand back and smiled. “Bring someone, don’t bring someone. You’re always welcome with us.”

  An hour later, Meredith was back at her office trying to keep her mind on her briefing, but Addison’s words kept cropping up and with them images of Stevie, dressed for a wedding. Would she wear a dress or a tux? Did she even own formalwear? Meredith was so used to black tie affairs being part of her job that she rarely considered whether it was optional. As soon as her briefing was over, she buzzed her secretary. “Do you happen to have a copy of the invite for Justice Riley’s wedding?”

  A quick knock on the door and Kate stuck her head in, waving the invite in her hand. “I loaded all the info to your phone. Pretty sure you’re not going to need the actual invite to get in.”

  Meredith took the folded card stock. “I know, but I wanted to check the dress code,” she said distractedly.

  “Your schedule’s pretty tight for the rest of the week. Do you need me to have Neiman’s send over some dresses?”

  “What? Oh no, I’m good.” Meredith stared hard at the invite until she finally located the note: black tie optional. She doubted many would deviate from the norm of long dresses and tuxes for the occasion, but the word optional gave her some flexibility. She handed the invite back to Kate. Kate had been with her since she’d run for the New York state legislature many years ago, and she trusted her implicitly, but she wasn’t ready to share the plan brewing in the back of her brain. “Did you send that packet over to Ms. Palmer this morning?”

  “I did. Delivered by courier, like you asked. She called earlier to say she received it.”

  Meredith paused as she considered whether to go with her gut or abandon this half-baked plan. “Thanks. Could you get me her office number?”

  “I’ll get her on the line, but you have to be at the Hartford Building at four, so you have ten minutes tops,” Kate said, already on her way back to her desk directly outside of Meredith’s office.

  Meredith waited impatiently for Kate to connect the call. She probably should’ve just texted Stevie or phoned on her cell instead of making a personal call under the guise of a professional one. She hadn’t fully committed to what she was about to do, but she’d lead with the packet and go from there.

  Her indecision was interrupted by Kate’s voice. “Please hold for Senator Mitchell.”

  Meredith waited until she heard Kate click off the line. “Stevie?”

  “I guess I have to call you Senator now.”

  She heard a tiniest bit of an edge behind the otherwise friendly voice. “Sorry about that. Kate has a habit of being formal.”

  “I get it. You probably have to do something to keep people at a distance or everyone would be beating down your doors asking for favors.”

  “Maybe.” She considered asking Stevie what kind of favors would top her list, but stopped short. “Did you review the packet I sent you?”

  “I did, and thank you. I can see you had your staff delve into the issue. I appreciate the effort.”

  Meredith noted, with pleasure, a warmer tone to Stevie’s voice. “I did the research myself. And I provided a copy of my findings to the rest of the committee. We’ve put a vote on hold until we have more time to fully investigate the issues you raised.”

  “Thank you. I had no idea apple pie could provide such efficient results.”

  “Well, it was really good pie. And there was ice cream.”

  “You think that was good, then I’ve got a chocolate, chocolate cake I’d like you to meet.”

  There was absolutely no mistaking it—this was flirtatious banter, and Meredith was surprised again at Stevie’s down-to-earth, easy manner which was not at all what she would’ve expected
after Stevie’s aggressive testimony during the confirmation hearing. Caught up in the fun, Meredith dropped her normal reticence and blurted out, “What are you doing Saturday night?”

  “This Saturday?”

  She heard the pause and rushed to fill the silence. “I’m sorry. I hate when people ask me questions like that. My mother does it and it’s always a trap because if we say nothing then she’s ready to pounce, and by then it’s too late to come up with an excuse for why we can’t attend whatever boring benefit she has planned.”

  “It’s okay. I’m going to be brave and say I don’t have any plans, but I’m holding my breath that you’re not about to ask me to repay you by attending some fancy benefit where everyone is dressed in tuxes and gowns and there’s a silent auction where we’re all supposed to bid on a trip to Bali to save the children.”

  “Well,” Meredith drew out the word. “I can promise no one will ask you for money, but the fancy outfits, they might be happening.”

  “I’m a little intrigued.”

  “It’s a wedding. The brides put me down for a plus-one, and now they’re hassling me about paying for the extra meal. You’d be saving me.”

  “Brides?”

  Meredith waited for Stevie to figure it out, and it didn’t take long. The newspapers had been featuring the story for weeks.

  “Wait a minute. You’re going to Justice Riley and Julia Scott’s wedding?” Stevie laughed. “Of course you are. It’s the event of the season or so the Post says.”

  “I didn’t peg you for a social section reader.”

  “I’m not, but our secretary is up to date on all things having to do with Beltway gossip, and she makes a habit of keeping me informed.”

  “Then you understand how important it is for the brides not to have an empty seat. Such a travesty might make the front page and doom their wedded bliss.”

  “Well, if I’d truly be doing you a favor.”

  “You would. I promise.” Meredith hesitated for a second. “It’s a tiny bit formal.”

  “You think? Hell, those two are the closest thing to gay royalty we get around here. I’m surprised they’d let you bring just anyone.”

  “I won’t be bringing just anyone. I’ll be bringing you. That is, if you accept.” Meredith resisted tacking on a “say yes.” She’d lobbed the ball firmly into Stevie’s court now and it was up to her to play ball. Two seconds that felt like ten ticked by before she had her answer.

  “I’d love to.”

  Meredith grinned, surprised at how much she wanted Stevie to say yes and how relieved she was when she did. Maybe this wedding would be fun after all.

  * * *

  Stevie walked the few blocks to the courthouse thankful for the temperate fall weather. When she reached the steps of the Prettyman Courthouse, home of the US District Court for the District of Columbia, she took a moment to scan the area, conscious of how lucky she was to do the work she loved in a part of the country steeped in rich history. The Capitol Building loomed in the distance, and she wondered if Meredith was there today or if she’d spent the day working at her office in the Russell Building. Either way, Meredith was likely only a few blocks away, and Stevie let her mind stray to their phone conversation and their date for the Riley-Scott wedding.

  “You don’t know for sure it’s a date,” she muttered as she pushed through the doors to the building.

  “What’s not a date?”

  Crap. Stevie looked to her right to find AUSA Emily Watkins walking next to her. “Don’t mind me. Just sorting out a particularly hairy fact pattern.”

  “Sounds like. Hey, I heard you’re the new attorney on the Barkley case. That’s mine.”

  Stevie breathed a sigh of relief. She and Emily had started working in the District around the same time, and even though they were always on opposite sides, she’d developed a healthy respect for her as a prosecutor. “Are you seeking to detain him?”

  “Yes, pending the report from pretrial services. I heard he refused to give an interview. Is that still true?”

  Any hope her client had reached out to pretrial services since she’d met with him this morning vanished. Without the interview, there would be no report detailing family history, ties to the community, prior offenses, etc., for the judge to consider in his decision about whether to set bond conditions so Barkley could be free pending trial. “Unfortunately, yes, but I’m hoping Judge Solomon can scare him a bit and maybe he’ll come around. Would you be agreeable to holding over the hearing another day if I can get the interview scheduled?”

  Emily frowned. “Personally, I don’t have a problem with it, but Stine is making us take a hard line on these cases. In fact, I’ll tell you now that the only way we’re going to work anything out at all is for him to roll over on someone. Someone big.”

  Stevie had heard that Stine, the US Attorney for DC, had instituted some tough new rules for his staff, but this was the first time she’d run up against them. “Yeah, well, considering he won’t even tell pretrial his name and whether or not he’s married, I think you’ll have to get your big fish from someone else’s line. Can you at least get me early discovery? Maybe I can use what you’ve got to nudge him into talking to me.”

  “I’ll do what I can. I’m waiting on some forensics from the computer guys that I’ll need for grand jury. As soon as I’ve had a look at it, I’ll give you a shout.”

  “Deal.” It was the best Stevie could hope for. She wasn’t entitled to see anything other than what was contained in the arrest affidavit yet since the case hadn’t been indicted, but without something definitive, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get Barkley to talk to her.

  Judge Solomon’s courtroom was milling with attorneys when she walked in. Most of them were crowded around the jury box where their clients in orange jumpsuits were leaning forward, giving their best pitch for why they should be allowed to change back into street clothes and get back to their lives. The attorneys whispered details about how the hearing would go and took notes on all the reasons why their clients were upstanding citizens unfairly trapped in the oversized net of government overreach. She spotted Barkley seated apart from the rest, looking curiously nonchalant, like he was waiting for a table in a restaurant instead of waiting on a judge to decide his fate. She slid into the seat next to him.

  “I heard you still haven’t talked to pretrial services.”

  He nodded.

  “Without a report from them, the judge is going to keep you in custody, and since you refuse to talk to me while you’re in custody, I can’t help you with your case. Plus, if you don’t complete a financial affidavit, the judge is going to make you hire an attorney. See how this works?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  Pleased she’d gotten something more than a nod, Stevie pressed on. “You’re right about that.” She leaned in closer. “Everyone in this room is focused on their own problems. No one is listening to us. Now would be a perfect time for you to tell me what you weren’t comfortable saying back at the jail.”

  He shook his head. “There is no safe place.”

  “There has to be.” She uttered the words more forcefully than she’d planned, but she was growing tired of his games. “Look, if you really did send classified information to the news, you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who has a problem spilling his guts. We can talk about the case later. All I want to know now is enough information to get you released on bail.”

  His look was sympathetic, but his reply was still vague. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  Before she could respond, the bailiff entered the room and called for them to rise as the Honorable August Solomon took the bench. As judges went, Solomon was fair and even-tempered. Stevie hoped he would remain so when he found out her client had snubbed pretrial services. When Solomon called her case, she approached the podium with Emily while the bailiff directed Barkley to a seat at counsel table.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Palmer,” said Solomon. “I understand your cli
ent opted not to be interviewed by pretrial services.”

  Stevie shot a look at Barkley who sat staring straight ahead. “That’s correct, Your Honor.”

  “Does the government have a position on this matter?” Solomon asked Emily.

  “It’s our position that the defendant should be held pending trial. He shared classified information from his employer with news outlets in flagrant disregard to whether doing so might compromise the safety of law enforcement personnel or government security. And because he has refused to consent to an interview with pretrial services, we do not have sufficient information to evaluate whether bail would be adequate to ensure his appearance.” Emily finished her spiel and glanced over at Stevie with a semi-apologetic look, but the damage was done. Stevie didn’t blame her for doing her job, but she wished she’d drawn a less qualified opponent.

  “Defense counsel, please approach,” Solomon said. He waited until Stevie was standing right in front of the bench and lowered his voice. “Ms. Palmer, your predecessor on this case mentioned to me he might be filing a motion to have Mr. Barkley examined for competency. Do you plan to file such a motion?”

  Stevie looked back at Barkley who continued to stare straight ahead as if nothing happening in this room really concerned him. Her gut told her something was off, but nothing he’d done so far was a clear sign of incompetence. “Judge, I just met with Mr. Barkley this morning. I have no immediate plans to file such a motion, but I’d like to keep my options open until such time as I’ve had a chance to spend more time with him.”

  “I understand, but I don’t want to be in the position of continuing trial dates because we’re shipping him off for an evaluation, especially since I have no plans to release him on bond pending trial. Please do whatever you have to do to speed up your decision and let me know what you decide within the next two weeks.”

  “About that, Your Honor.”