just can't come to grips with it."
"He cheated on you?"
"Of course not! It involves a case."
"You know how legal talk bores me, dear."
But still, Victoria told her the story of Steve handing over evidence that helped convict his client. By the time Victoria finished, The Queen was left with a landing strip the width of a popsicle stick. The surrounding skin was flaming pink.
"I don't know, dear. What Stephen did doesn't sound that terrible to me. His client's a murderer who was going to get away with it. At least Stephen took him off the streets for a few years."
"But that's not his job. You don't understand, Mother. It cuts to the essence of the profession. A lawyer who'll do that . . . who knows what else he might do? If Steve represents a corporation, will he give away trade secrets if he decides the company's behaving badly? In a divorce, if his client tells him she's been cheating on her husband, will he tell the judge? Once you break the rules, where does it stop?"
"Did I mention that Carl is a fantastic golfer?"
"What?"
"He wants to take me to Scotland, play all the great courses."
What a breathtaking leap, Victoria thought, her mother vaulting to her own love life without breaking stride.
Of course, she already devoted nearly five minutes to my problems. How much more could I expect?
Victoria decided to surrender. What else could she do? "That's fascinating, Mother."
"Carl's family came over on the Mayflower. Personally, I never cared for cruises, though the S.S. France had foie gras to die for. Which reminds me. Are we going to the club for my birthday?"
"It's up to Steve, Mother. He's picking up the check."
"If he mentions that chili dog place on the causeway, tell him to forget it."
"Will you be bringing the fantastic golfer?"
"Of course. It will be the perfect time for our announcement."
"What!"
"Don't furrow your brow, dear. Little lines today, deep ditches tomorrow. And don't worry. Carl and I are not getting married." She smiled mischievously. "Yet."
"I had no idea the two of you were so serious."
"Because you don't listen to your mother. All wrapped up in your own problems. My life drifts along, unnoticed and unadorned."
"Hardly, Mother. Don't project your personality onto me."
"Nonsense. You're my only child, Victoria. My entire life. "
There was no way to win the argument, Victoria knew.
"As for Carl," Irene continued, "I haven't been drawn to any man this way since your father died. We fit together so perfectly. He has such a— je ne sais quoi —I find almost indescribable."
Something felt out of kilter, Victoria thought. The Queen made men swoon, not the other way around. "So what exactly is the big announcement?"
"Sur-prise," Irene sang out. "You'll have to wait. But I'll say this. I haven't been this happy in years. Just look at me. Am I glowing?"
"Your crotch certainly is, Mother."
* * *
Well, that was useful, Victoria thought ruefully as she crossed the Broad Causeway on her way back to the mainland. Indian Creek Country Club was to her left across a narrow channel. She had played tennis there as a child, had consumed gallons of root beer floats in the clubhouse restaurant, had learned to sail in the calm waters of the bay. She hadn't envisioned an adulthood filled with complications, both professional and personal. When her father was still alive, when her mother seemed to care for more than just herself, the future promised rewards that thus far eluded her.
I have to make decisions. About Steve. About me. About life.
Ten minutes later, she was on Biscayne Boulevard, stopped at a police barricade. A parade passed by. A steel band from one of the islands. Marchers carrying signs that either celebrated some holiday or protested conditions in their native land. From five cars back in line, she couldn't tell which.
She decided to go with her gut. Wasn't that what Steve always taught her?
"Throw away the books, Vic. Go with your gut."
Okay, so he'd been
"He cheated on you?"
"Of course not! It involves a case."
"You know how legal talk bores me, dear."
But still, Victoria told her the story of Steve handing over evidence that helped convict his client. By the time Victoria finished, The Queen was left with a landing strip the width of a popsicle stick. The surrounding skin was flaming pink.
"I don't know, dear. What Stephen did doesn't sound that terrible to me. His client's a murderer who was going to get away with it. At least Stephen took him off the streets for a few years."
"But that's not his job. You don't understand, Mother. It cuts to the essence of the profession. A lawyer who'll do that . . . who knows what else he might do? If Steve represents a corporation, will he give away trade secrets if he decides the company's behaving badly? In a divorce, if his client tells him she's been cheating on her husband, will he tell the judge? Once you break the rules, where does it stop?"
"Did I mention that Carl is a fantastic golfer?"
"What?"
"He wants to take me to Scotland, play all the great courses."
What a breathtaking leap, Victoria thought, her mother vaulting to her own love life without breaking stride.
Of course, she already devoted nearly five minutes to my problems. How much more could I expect?
Victoria decided to surrender. What else could she do? "That's fascinating, Mother."
"Carl's family came over on the Mayflower. Personally, I never cared for cruises, though the S.S. France had foie gras to die for. Which reminds me. Are we going to the club for my birthday?"
"It's up to Steve, Mother. He's picking up the check."
"If he mentions that chili dog place on the causeway, tell him to forget it."
"Will you be bringing the fantastic golfer?"
"Of course. It will be the perfect time for our announcement."
"What!"
"Don't furrow your brow, dear. Little lines today, deep ditches tomorrow. And don't worry. Carl and I are not getting married." She smiled mischievously. "Yet."
"I had no idea the two of you were so serious."
"Because you don't listen to your mother. All wrapped up in your own problems. My life drifts along, unnoticed and unadorned."
"Hardly, Mother. Don't project your personality onto me."
"Nonsense. You're my only child, Victoria. My entire life. "
There was no way to win the argument, Victoria knew.
"As for Carl," Irene continued, "I haven't been drawn to any man this way since your father died. We fit together so perfectly. He has such a— je ne sais quoi —I find almost indescribable."
Something felt out of kilter, Victoria thought. The Queen made men swoon, not the other way around. "So what exactly is the big announcement?"
"Sur-prise," Irene sang out. "You'll have to wait. But I'll say this. I haven't been this happy in years. Just look at me. Am I glowing?"
"Your crotch certainly is, Mother."
* * *
Well, that was useful, Victoria thought ruefully as she crossed the Broad Causeway on her way back to the mainland. Indian Creek Country Club was to her left across a narrow channel. She had played tennis there as a child, had consumed gallons of root beer floats in the clubhouse restaurant, had learned to sail in the calm waters of the bay. She hadn't envisioned an adulthood filled with complications, both professional and personal. When her father was still alive, when her mother seemed to care for more than just herself, the future promised rewards that thus far eluded her.
I have to make decisions. About Steve. About me. About life.
Ten minutes later, she was on Biscayne Boulevard, stopped at a police barricade. A parade passed by. A steel band from one of the islands. Marchers carrying signs that either celebrated some holiday or protested conditions in their native land. From five cars back in line, she couldn't tell which.
She decided to go with her gut. Wasn't that what Steve always taught her?
"Throw away the books, Vic. Go with your gut."
Okay, so he'd been
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