You Sang to Me

by Beverly Jenkins

  “I’m honored by your faith in me, Jane.”

  “It’s a faith you’ve earned.”

  Outwardly, Anita was a study of sedate calm. Inside however, she was jumping up and down like a kid at Christmas.

  “I do have one concern, though.”

  The party screeched to a halt. “And that is?”

  “When was the last time you took time off?”

  “When I came down with mono last year.” The work on that same Foreman issue left Anita so mentally and physically drained, she’d come down with mono and had to be hospitalized for a few days.

  “But no time off for yourself.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I’d rather work. I’ve wanted to be a lawyer since I was eight years old. Both my parents are lawyers. My work is my life.”

  “I’m not trying offend you, but you need more balance if you want to be a partner here.”

  “But you just stated you liked my hard work.”

  “I do, but I don’t want to make you a partner only to have you drop from exhaustion every time we catch a case. I need you to learn to step away now and again.”

  Anita kept her face neutral. “So what do you recommend?”

  “Ten days off—”

  “But—”

  “In Hawaii. It’s one of the most beautiful places on the planet and it’ll offer you a chance to get some rest and recharge your batteries. Beneath all that glam of yours, you’re exhausted and, whether you admit it or not, it shows.”

  Anita wanted to argue. The Bentley case still had a ton of small details needing to be nailed down and since she’d ridden point, she was supposed to handle them. She couldn’t do that if she was in freaking Hawaii, but the determination in Jane’s eyes let her know that the Boss Lady wouldn’t be moved by anything Anita had to say, so she sighed instead.

  Jane’s small smile showed her approval of the silent surrender. “Thanks for not turning this into a knock-down, drag-out argument. If it’ll make you feel better, the firm will be footing the bill as part of the bonus you’ve earned for the Bentley matter.”

  It didn’t.

  “I’ll also be giving you an agenda, because I want to make certain you enjoy yourself.”

  Anita stared in disbelief.

  But Jane didn’t seem bothered by that, either. Instead, she said, “Val has all your travel documents, so check with her.”

  “And when am I leaving?” Anita asked.

  “The day after tomorrow so get what you need from your office and go home and get some sleep. I don’t want to see you back here until you return from vacation.”

  Tight-lipped, Anita stood. “Thank you.”

  Jane nodded.

  Back in her own office, Anita plopped down angrily in her leather chair. She didn’t like being ordered to do this, even though a little voice inside agreed with Jane’s assessment by pointing out that the only life Anita had outside of her BlackBerry was her long-distance relationship with Greg.

  She stood and walked over to the window of her high-rise office and looked down on the sprawling city that had become her home. She loved L.A.—the hustle, the bustle, the crowds. What in the hell was she going to do in Hawaii?

  On the drive home, Anita’s happiness over the news from Jane was tempered by the directive to go to Hawaii, but deciding to embrace the happy part, she called her mother. Anita was born in New York. Her parents divorced when she was young. Her mother, Diane, retained custody but Anita spent her summers with her entertainment lawyer dad, Randall, in California where he had moved after the split. Loving him was easy because he was so carefree and open, but loving her controlling, sharp-tongued mother was work.

  The call went through to Diane’s clerk, a man named Basil Watts. “Morning, Basil. Is the judge available?”

  “Hi there, Anita. Hold on. I’ll see.”

  Anita didn’t know what her mom’s schedule for the day might be, but hoped she wasn’t in the middle of court. For Diane, work trumped everything. Anita was accustomed to her mother’s devotion to her work and when she was young, she’d always longed to rank higher on her mom’s to-do list. However, as she grew older, she realized that would never be.

  A second later her mother was on the line. “Anita. How are you?”

  “Fine, Mother. You?”

  “On my way to the bench, so this call has to be quick. How’s Greg? Sylvia said he’d be stopping in to see you on his way to Tokyo.” Sylvia was Greg’s mother.

  “He did, but he was so busy we didn’t have time for more than a quick dinner.”

  “Have you set a date yet?”

  Anita shook her head at her mother’s single-mindedness. “No, but we’ll do it when he gets back.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  She could see her mother consulting her watch. “Jane told me this morning that she’s considering me for partner.”

  “Considering? Not recommending? You know those are two different things, don’t you, Anita?”

  “I do, Mother.”

  “Well, let me know when the latter precedes the former. For the record, I agree with Greg. You should be considering a firm here on the East Coast.”

  So much for my good news, Anita thought to herself. “Okay, Mother, I’ll let you get back to your duties. Just keeping you in the loop.”

  “Set the date for the wedding just as soon as Greg returns. We’ll talk then.”

  End of call.

  Later, Anita got a much better reaction from her father in Peru via Skype. He was one of the top entertainment lawyers in the business. When she told him, his face lit up the screen. “A consideration is just a few inches from recommendation, baby girl. So proud of you. Wow! When did this happen?”

  “Today. Jane said she loves my work and my fearlessness.”

  A smile creased his handsome face—he was known for his good looks, as well. “Congratulations. Were I there, we’d be breaking out the champagne.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” He was her most favorite person in the world, bar none.

  “You call your mother?”

  “Yes. She said to let her know when Jane recommends me for partner as opposed to considering me.”

  He sighed audibly. “Good old Diane. You can always count on her to ruin the party.”

  “Dad,” she said warningly.

  “Sorry.”

  The small smile playing across his lips showed he wasn’t really, but it was okay. She loved them both and was accustomed to their snipping at each other.

  “Did you call Greg?”

  “He’s in Tokyo. I sent him a text but no reply yet.” She filled in her father on their short dinner date last evening. “He still wants me to move back East. Said I should be partner with Sheridan by now.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “That I’ll stick with Jane presently.”

  “Good girl.” Unlike her mother, her father had his misgivings about his only child marrying Greg, but he loved Anita enough not to make an issue of it. Most of the time.

  Anita said gloomily, “Oh, and Anita’s making me go to Hawaii.”

  “Why the long face?”

  “Because it’s a vacation.”

  He laughed.

  She smiled. “What’s so funny?”

  “You, sweetheart. You look and sound so much like your mother.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment you know.”

  “And you should, but Hawaii’s beautiful.”

  “But I have work to do here.” She explained the Bentley case to him and about the final issues still needing to be handled.

  “Did Jane say why she wanted you to go on vacation?”

  “Said she needs me to stop and take a breath every now and th
en. I think it’s because of the mono I caught last year.”

  “I’ll be wiring her the biggest bouquet of roses I can find.”

  Her eyes widened with alarm. “Why?”

  “For making you take time off.”

  She sat back against her chair, folded her arms and pouted mockingly. “I knew you’d take her side.”

  He chuckled. “And you were right.” He studied her silently for a moment. “I know you love your work, Anita—you get that from your parents and there’s nothing wrong with it. However—”

  “However?”

  “I need you to tap into both your gene pools, not just your mother’s.”

  “Meaning I should run around with actresses, go to all-night parties and be a jet-setter like you?”

  He dropped his head. “Touché. No, but I do want you to put some fun in your life, girl. You can’t take your BlackBerry with you to the other side. Let go sometimes.”

  “But I do,” she replied coming to her own defense, even though they both knew she was lying like a kid busted with a hand in the cookie jar.

  He laughed again. “Oh, really? When was this?”

  “Greg and I went to Cancun two years ago.”

  “And how long did you stay?”

  She looked down at her lap and refused to meet his eyes. “A day and a half.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “But Greg had something come up at the office.”

  “That probably could’ve been easily handled by someone at the office. Not trying to be mean, but I still don’t see what you see in him.”

  “Greg’s nice.”

  “Yes, he is, but nice and boring shouldn’t be what you settle for, sweetheart.”

  She looked away. In reality she had been a trifle disappointed by the abrupt end to what was supposed to have been a long relaxing weekend in Cancun, but they’d both taken work along, so they hadn’t really planned to do that much relaxing. His having to head back let her return to work, as well.

  “Have you two set a date yet?”

  She shook her head tightly.

  “Okay,” he replied quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ll turn off the interrogation lights. You called via Skype to share good news, not to be criticized by your old man.”

  She showed a small smile and tried not to dwell on her father’s assessment of her life because she knew he meant well. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  They spent a few minutes talking about the movie shoot he was on in Peru, then he regaled her with all he’d seen and done. “The mountains are amazing! I’m planning to come back down here just as soon as I can find the time. You should come with me.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He didn’t look as if he believed she’d actually come through, but he let it go. She was thankful.

  “I need to get going, but let me ask you one thing.”

  “Ask away.”

  “What did you have at Hector’s last night for dinner—the wrap and salad you always order?”

  “Yes, I did, why?”

  “You’re in a rut, baby girl.”

  She sighed. “No, I’m not. I like the wrap and the salad.”

  “You’ve ordered that every time you and I’ve eaten there for the past what—two years? You know what I pray for?”

  She chuckled. “No, what?”

  “That some kind of way, you run into a situation that knocks your socks off and makes you see life from a whole new set of eyes.”

  “Bye, dad. I love you.”

  He grinned. “Love you, too. And try to enjoy Hawaii.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, matching his grin and signing off.

  That night while lying in bed, Anita mentally replayed their conversation. In spite of his assessment, she didn’t consider herself to be in a rut. She simply liked her life uneventful. Ordering the same dish from a menu didn’t constitute a rut—or did it? Being with Greg didn’t constitute settling—or did it? Admittedly, Greg wasn’t the most gregarious or adventurous person in the world but then again, neither was she. Growing up with her mom in their Manhattan high-rise, she’d had a well-ordered, drama-free existence that consisted of school, music lessons and church on Sundays. She hadn’t had a lot of friends, and those she did were on the same track of high achievement. They’d grown up to be doctors, lawyers, senators and other people of distinction. None had ever been busted for drugs, drinking or mooning. Her mother considered Greg an ideal catch because his PhD parents had raised him with the same goals. He might be boring but she’d never have to worry about him cheating on her, which was the reason for the divorce of her parents. Her father once said being married to Diane Whitehall was like living with an ice tray. Anita knew Greg loved her, but there was definitely none of the heat in the relationship that would make anyone mistake it for the stuff of one of Val’s romance novels, and she was okay with that. They slept together but were in agreement that there was more to life than sex.

  So she decided her dad was wrong. Her life didn’t need shaking up. Randall Hunt was a creature of surprise and excitement but she had her mother’s steady one-note genes and she was okay with that, as well. She checked her phone to see if Greg had responded to her earlier text. Nothing. She turned over and went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  Pilot Steve Blair hated L.A.—the smog, the fast pace, the concrete, but he needed L.A. to stay in business, which was why he was setting down the small Gulfstream jet that evening at the Van Nuys municipal airport twenty miles outside the city. Ferrying big-money types from California to Hawaii’s high-priced playgrounds on behalf of a Honolulu-based outfit was the straw that stirred his economic drink. Working for them ensured he could afford to run his chopper tour business at a loss and still live and enjoy life in the Aloha State on his own terms. He and the copilot, Cheri Davis, would be picking up a lone passenger in the morning, a woman named Hunt.

  After taxiing to the area outside the single hangar, he and Cheri went through the checklist to shut down the plane. Cheri was a petite, coffee-colored woman originally from New Orleans. She’d earned her wings with the air force and, like Steve, hired herself out to supplement her income.

  “I’m going to miss flying with you, Cheri.”

  Tomorrow would be her last run. She was getting married next month and moving back to her native Louisiana. “I’ll miss you, too, Steve, but the rest of my life calls.”

  They’d been flying together for a few years, and he liked her because she was no-nonsense, knew her way around an aircraft and always showed up for the job alert and on time.

  Cheri said, “I’ll take care of the lockdown and meet you back here in the morning.”

  “You’re not coming in to say bye to Ferg?”

  “Uh, no. If you need to get in touch, just text me. I’ll be at my sister’s in L.A.”

  Ferguson Parker was also a Hawaii-based pilot but was temporarily manning the hangar’s office. He and Cheri had had an ill-fated love affair a few years back. He had broken her heart and she’d had nothing to say to Ferg since. Steve always felt bad about how things had turned out because he’d introduced them. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He grabbed his backpack and headed for the office.

  Steve and Ferg were marine buddies who met during boot camp at Parris Island. They’d also served together during the hellhole that was Iraq. Like Steve, Ferg was in his late thirties, but unlike Steve, Ferg was blond and blue. Both men lived on the island of Kauai—Steve with his landlady, Mrs. Tanaka aka Mrs. T, and Ferg in the wide-open emptiness of Waimea Canyon.

  When Steve entered the office, Ferg was seated at his desk, his attention on the screen of a laptop.

  “Hey, Ferg.”

  “Hey, Cap. How was your flight in?”

  “Easy
.”

  “Cheri with you?”

  “Yeah, but she’s gone to her sister’s place for the night.”

  Ferg shook his head. “I really screwed up with her, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did. She’s getting married next month, so tomorrow will be her last run with me.”

  “If I could do it over—” His voice trailed off.

  Steve was of a mind that if Ferg was given a second chance, he’d do right by Cheri, but life rarely handed out seconds and besides, Cheri had moved on.

  Ferg shut down the computer. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  They chose a steak house not far from the hangar, and once they were seated and placed their orders, they caught up on their respective lives. “How’s the dog?” Ferg asked while downing his beer.

  Steve looked up from the baked potato he was filling with butter. “Fine. Left him with Mrs. T.” The dog was a large male Rottweiler appropriately named Dog. Steve was technically his owner but they often shared custody.

  “Good. How’s your mom and dad?”

  “They’re good.” Steve’s family was in the oil business and had been since the early twentieth century. Ferg’s folks owned a construction firm in Iowa. Coming from such different backgrounds it was hard to fathom why they were friends, but serving their country and having each other’s back in the midst of the horror and carnage of Iraq made them close as brothers. At one time, there’d been three of them: Steve, Ferg and David Tanaka, but David lost his life to an IED in the streets of Baghdad and nothing was ever the same for the two friends he had left behind.

  “So when are you coming home?” Steve asked.

  “In a few days, hopefully—if the old man doesn’t let that young girl kill him.”

  Steve laughed. The hangar’s owner, a World War II vet named Tate was touring Europe with his thirty-year-old bride. Ferg had been running the place for the past two weeks, and this was Steve’s first time seeing him since he had left the island. “Do you want me to do a flyby of your place next time I go up?”