A few minutes later, they both pulled into the valet at Harbor House. The Old Man and Joe were waiting in the lobby.
The Old Man kind of still had it, Elizabeth had to admit. His six-foot-four frame was leaning over the hostess stand, and he was doing that thing where he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. That hostess was a goner. She was laughing at whatever he was whispering in her ear and tilting her head just so.
Poor Joe, on the other hand, would never get the time of day from that type of woman. A bull in a china shop, a good half foot shorter and half foot wider than the Old Man, and with less than half of what the Old Man had up top.
“Hey, it’s my dream team!” the Old Man boomed as he shook Kenny’s hand and turned to envelop Elizabeth in a hug. “I know you are going to miss me—don’t try to hide it. Especially you, Elizabeth honey. My right-hand gal!”
Elizabeth wanted to be annoyed, but she felt a rush of pleasure at the compliment, hating herself a little bit for her response. Give me a gold star and I’m all yours, she thought.
The hostess led them to a round table right at the water’s edge. A waitress scurried over, and the Old Man ordered a steak (rare, the only way it should be eaten, he said with authority). Really, steak at a seafood restaurant? thought Elizabeth, but she kept her mouth shut and nodded pleasantly as she ordered her usual salad.
“Your wife must be delighted to have more time with you at home these days,” began Elizabeth politely.
“Are you kidding me?” The Old Man laughed. “A third wife doesn’t want to spend time with you. She wants to spend time with your money.”
Joe and Kenny laughed uproariously as if it was the funniest thing they had heard all month. Elizabeth managed an awkward smile at the old, tired line whose time had come and gone.
“In any case,” the Old Man continued, “this lunch isn’t about me. It’s about the future of our group. Joe and I have some news we would like to share with you.”
Elizabeth stiffened involuntarily. Crap, maybe Kenny was right. Here it comes, she thought.
“This is how we see it,” Joe interjected, cutting off the Old Man. “You both are great. And you would both make a great cochair with me.”
Right, Elizabeth thought. But I am the clear choice.
“Look,” Joe continued, “we want a modern, fresh take on things, so we are looking hard at the both of you. You both would get it done.”
Well, I certainly would, thought Elizabeth. Kenny, not so much.
“Here’s what we are thinking,” Joe went on. “Elizabeth, you are working on Project Greysteel for Grey Corp. There probably isn’t a more important client for the firm.”
“And they will need a new partner to take care of them,” said the Old Man.
Elizabeth was surprised to hear this. Again, she knew the Old Man would be passing that relationship on to someone else. But she thought she had it in the bag. Since when was Kenny in the picture? Greysteel was her deal. Not her client yet, but definitely her deal.
Joe continued, “Elizabeth, I know you are running the merger, but we need Kenny to be brought in now too. I want you two to run it together. Share all key information with him, and run important strategic thinking by him. You guys have always been such a great team. We need to be sure we are covered, okay? Make sense? And we need to know how the client views you both before we make any big decisions.”
She definitely got it. She would do all the hard work per usual, and Kenny would get the credit. Kenny, the man who had signed her welcome back card after having George as follows: “Hope you had an awesome vacation!”
“Of course,” replied Elizabeth tightly. “I don’t think you gentlemen have anything to worry about in terms of coverage, but I agree we should always function as a team for our clients, and we will continue to do that.”
“And I’m sure it will be helpful to have me around when you have that kid stuff, Elizabeth,” interjected Kenny.
Not cool, Kenny, thought Elizabeth with a little flair of anger. No, it’s fine, she told herself. And it’s not a secret that I’m a mom. Anyway, Joe and the Old Man are smarter than to fall for that shit.
The food arrived, and Elizabeth was thankful for the interruption. Joe began complaining to the waitress because his tomato looked “just fucking unacceptable.” The Old Man and Kenny started talking about a different deal. Elizabeth ate her salad and prayed that the lunch would conclude quickly.
Elizabeth knew she would swallow her pride and do things on their terms. It’s how she had always done it and why she was still hanging in there at the firm. And there were worse people to be tethered to than Kenny. If he got it, he got it. But that wasn’t going to happen. She was better.
She had to relax. She should put some time into planning the weekend with the girls.
Heather really shouldn’t have cancelled, thought Elizabeth. Sure, Heather operated at a whole different level now than her four old friends, but she should be careful. She was getting so famous now that the four of them might be the only women who would still treat her like a normal person. To them, she would always be a small-town girl from Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, one of a group of five former residents of the left hall of the second floor of the Choates dormitory.
The five of them—Heather, Elizabeth, Carmen, Martha, and Sara—had been a unit since that first day of college more than twenty years ago. The next years brought new cities, jobs, marriage, and children, all of which conspired to push them apart. Somehow, they managed to remain good friends despite the fact that their lives had unfolded very differently. To be fair, some of them were closer than others. Carmen and Martha had always had an especially close bond. But they continued over the years to find time to be all together as a group.
After more than two decades of friendship, they probably knew each other better than their own spouses knew them, and certainly better than their own children knew them. Women’s lives are funny like that. It becomes so easy to forget that girl you were at eighteen. The girl who was ready to set the world on fire, without a glimmer of the compromise and disappointment that was to come. If you are lucky enough to have just one friend to remind you of that girl, you might manage to hold on to a piece of her.
Elizabeth didn’t want to forget that part of herself, so she worked hard to stay in touch with her four old friends. Those old friendships felt even more important to her now because she had chosen a profession—law—that seemed to be unique in its ability to wear down a person’s confidence and passion. And today was no exception.
In any case, this was the year all the girls were turning forty, and Elizabeth had hoped they could do something extra special to commemorate the occasion—but not a repeat of the Vegas debacle when they had turned thirty (Carmen’s idea, of course). It had taken her a week to recover from that particular event. No, they should come up with something more dignified for this milestone.
Maybe she could get Carmen to help. But she knew Carmen would probably come up with an excuse as to why she didn’t have time. She had a lot of excuses to choose from. She ran her Gold Coast neighborhood association, entertained frequently for her husband Mark’s colleagues and clients, had been the PTA president from the second her daughter had started formal schooling, and was now managing the renovation of her and Mark’s new vacation home in Lake Geneva. Carmen had the firm belief that she was at least as busy as the other four of them. Elizabeth was dubious (really, unless you had worked in a big job like Elizabeth’s, you had no idea how demanding they were), but Carmen was her friend, so she tried to be respectful on the point.