by Carsen Taite
“Yes?”
“Mr. Barkley hasn’t filled out a financial affidavit, which I imagine stems from the same reluctance he has to talking to pretrial services. For all I know, he might be considering retaining other counsel.”
“Go ahead and step back, and I’ll handle this.”
Stevie was barely back to counsel table before Solomon started admonishing her client.
“Mr. Barkley, I understand you have not spoken to pretrial services, nor have you completed the paperwork necessary for me to continue the appointment of the public defender’s office to your case. Do you plan to hire an attorney on your own?”
Barkley shifted in place, but he didn’t answer.
“You have every right not to speak to pretrial services, but I can’t use taxpayer dollars to fund your defense until you do the minimum required of you to show you can’t afford to hire counsel.” Solomon leaned across the bench and fixed Barkley with a hard stare. “Ms. Palmer is a fine attorney. If you want to keep her, complete the paperwork before you leave here today.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stevie watched the exchange with mixed feelings, but she didn’t have long to wonder what Barkley would decide. The rest of the proceeding went like clockwork. The judge set a date for trial in the spring and entered an order denying bail. The minute he gaveled the hearing to a close, Barkley held out his hand and said, “I need the form.”
She waited and watched while he filled it out, which didn’t take long considering he had very few assets. His job had paid well, but it was gone, and she imagined he’d lived like a lot of twenty-five-year-olds, thinking they’d save when they were much older. He handed the form to her without another word, and merely nodded her way when the bailiff herded him into the holdover. Stevie watched him go wondering how the hell she was going to get him to open up to her. Frustrated, she gathered her things and walked out of the courtroom with Emily following close behind.
“Was Solomon asking you about a motion for a competency examination?”
“Maybe.”
“The guy’s not incompetent, you know.”
“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t.”
“Are you going to file?”
Stevie hunched her shoulders. “I haven’t decided. Are you going to get me that early discovery?”
“I’ll try.”
“In the meantime, maybe you could tone down the rhetoric. ‘Flagrant disregard’? If you talk like that to the press, they’ll skewer this guy before he has a chance in court.”
“That’s my job.” Emily jabbed her shoulder. “Besides, you’ve said much worse about my witnesses in the past.” She waved. “I’ve got to get back to the office for a meeting. I’ll talk to you later.”
Stevie watched Emily go, reflecting on her words. She had said bad things about government witnesses in the past when she needed to in order to make her case. She liked to think she never stretched the truth too far out of recognition, but they all did what they had to do to advocate for their clients. She supposed it was a little like politics, which led her back to thoughts of Meredith Mitchell. Despite having lived most of her life in DC, Stevie had never in a million years thought she’d be dating a politician, having written most of them off as fake and power hungry, but Meredith struck her as uniquely genuine.
You barely even know her. Her internal voice spoke the truth, but with it came another revelation, equally true. But I’d like to.
Chapter Three
Stevie swatted away Hannah’s hand and reached for the zipper on her pants. She’d asked Hannah, the case coordinator for the PD’s office, to help her figure out what to wear to the wedding, and Hannah had taken on dressing her as her personal mission. “When I asked for your help, I meant big picture. I have the mechanics down.”
“Right. Sorry. I might be a bit of a micro manager.”
Stevie smiled. “I probably should’ve gotten a clue by the way you boss us all around at the office.” She started to turn toward the mirror, but Hannah held her in place.
“Give me one more minute.” Hannah fiddled with her lapel and then placed a hand on each shoulder and turned her around. “Take a deep breath and then tell me I’m the master of fashion.”
Stevie stared at her reflection, hardly able to believe the transformation. She was no stranger to suits, but this midnight blue, vintage cut was next level. “Who am I and what have you done with the real Stevie Palmer?”
“Oh, she’s still there,” Hannah said with a huge smile. “We just brought out your inner movie star. Those stodgy politicians are going to die when you walk in the room. Just you wait. You’ll have every woman in the room trying to take you home.”
“Sounds great except for the fact…” Stevie let her voice trail off. She was about to bring up the fact she was attending the wedding with a date, but was she, or was escorting Meredith Mitchell merely a matter of convenience? She hadn’t spoken to Meredith since their brief phone conversation earlier in the week followed up by a text to say she’d send a car to pick her up at five p.m. today. For all she knew, she was meeting Meredith at the wedding. What would Meredith tell people about who she was? An acquaintance? One of the many people who testified in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee? Stevie stared into the mirror. This wasn’t her. Why was she pretending to be something she wasn’t just because a pretty, accomplished woman had coaxed her into it?
“I don’t think I should go,” she said, but her mumbled declaration was drowned out by the sound of her doorbell.
“Sounds like your chariot is here, and just in time.” Hannah brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “Any longer and you’d probably get wrinkled or spill something on yourself.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Stevie took a deep breath and braced for the evening ahead. She’d said she would go, and she always kept her word. Besides, there was no way she was going to disappoint Hannah by tugging off the outfit she’d so thoughtfully put together after consulting all the current fashion mags. “I promise not to spill anything on my clothes. At least not until everyone is too drunk to notice.”
“That’s my girl. Now go get the door before your carriage turns into a pumpkin. I’ll lock up.”
Stevie squared her shoulders and strode to the door determined to be confident. She swung the door open and was shocked to see Meredith standing on her front porch, dressed in a deep burgundy A-line, one shoulder gown. “Wow.”
Meredith grinned. “Wow is right. That suit is stunning.” She reached out and touched the sleeve of Stevie’s jacket. “This looks like Dior?”
“It is. Vintage.”
Stevie turned at the sound of Hannah’s voice and recognized her attempt to keep from grinning with pride, but she was failing miserably. “Senator Mitchell, meet my colleague and fashion consultant, Hannah Bennett.”
Hannah took Meredith’s extended hand. “I merely played a small role in dressing your date.” She waved her hand to indicate Stevie’s outfit. “The charm is all her.”
Stevie watched Meredith’s face for a reaction to the word date, but Meredith’s expression didn’t change. She crooked her elbow and said, “Ready to go?”
The drive to the wedding venue was a delicate dance between wanting to talk to Meredith, but being ever conscious her driver could hear their every word. Stevie settled on shoptalk. “Thanks again for agreeing to take up the sentencing issue. You have a new fan base at the office.”
“I’m guessing my reputation for championing the underdog was a bit lackluster before?”
“Not exactly, but your background comes with a natural bias toward the accused.”
A frown flashed across Meredith’s face, but it faded quickly into a lazy smile. She reached her hand across the seat and squeezed Stevie’s. “Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in the bureaucracy. Thanks for reminding me there are real people affected by the decisions we make. Now, enough about work. I think we’re in for quite the party tonight.”
Stevie embraced the opportunity to learn a bi
t more about Meredith’s personal life. “Which bride invited you to the wedding?”
“I’m friends with both, but it was definitely Addison. We met when she was at the solicitor general’s office and I worked for DOJ, years ago. And I was a guest lecturer at Jefferson College when she was dean of the law school. She’s a good friend even if our schedules make it hard to connect in person. And of course everyone knows Julia Scott.”
“Well, I know of her, that’s for sure.”
“Sorry, I forget we run in different circles.”
Nothing about Meredith’s friendly manner had changed, but the comment stung. “Not everyone can be one of the cool kids, I suppose.”
“Whoa there, that’s not at all what I meant. What I should’ve said was if you have to run in circles here in DC, then Julia’s someone you have to know. Her campaign work is legendary, and if you’re a Democrat elected to office, you have her to thank—directly or indirectly. And of course, now that she’s President Garrett’s chief of staff, she’s the gatekeeper for all things politics.”
“Got it. Sorry about that. I might be a tad sensitive.” Stevie looked out the window as the car pulled to a stop in front of the massive National Buildings Museum. “And I might be a little out of my depth. Is this where the wedding is being held?”
“This is the place.” Meredith squeezed her hand again and leaned forward to speak to her driver. “Erica, we might be pretty late.” She handed Erica a slip of paper. “They’ve arranged quarters for all the drivers, but feel free to take off if you want. I’ll text you when we’re ready to go.”
“Thank you, Senator. I’ll be waiting when you’re ready to go.” Erica was out of the car opening Meredith’s door within seconds, but by the time she’d walked around to the other side, Stevie was already standing on the sidewalk. Erica winked and tipped her hat. “See you both later. Have a wonderful evening.”
“Are you ready to go in?” Meredith asked, appearing at her side.
Stevie watched the crowd of well-dressed guests making their way into the building. Half curious, half trepidatious, she put on her best courtroom game face. “Absolutely.”
They’d barely made it halfway up the steps of the building before a small crowd of reporters swooped down on them, and Stevie stiffened as they shouted questions. “Senator Mitchell, any comments about the upcoming primaries?” “Will your father be attending the wedding?” “Senator Mitchell, who’s your date?”
Meredith smiled and waved, but didn’t otherwise respond. Stevie thought she’d done a good job of hiding her discomfort, but Meredith’s whispered words told her otherwise.
“Not a fan of the press, are you?”
“Not really.”
“Bad personal experience or just general disregard?”
Stevie was impressed at the insight, but this wasn’t the place to have this conversation. “A story for another day.”
“Then I’ll hope that we have another day in our future,” Meredith said, her eyes full of promise. “Rest assured there will be no reporters inside.”
A moment later, they checked their coats at the door and walked into the main entry. Stevie craned her head, gazing at the tall columns in the center of the room basked in glowing light.
“Pretty amazing, right?”
“Amazing doesn’t do it justice,” Stevie replied. She started to say more, but a booming voice from behind startled her.
“Meredith Mitchell, didn’t I teach you to show up earlier than this for important events?”
The man speaking was tall and handsome in an older gentleman kind of way, and he looked vaguely familiar, yet it wasn’t until he scooped Meredith into a hug that Stevie recognized him as Meredith’s father, James Mitchell, the former governor of New York and the beautiful older woman next to him must be Meredith’s mother. Stevie watched their affectionate exchange with a trace of envy.
“Stevie, these are my parents, James and Anna Mitchell. Mom and Dad, this is my friend, Stevie Palmer.”
Stevie shook their hands. “Nice to meet you both.” It was. Kind of. But mostly it was strange to meet Meredith’s parents so soon into their dating lifespan. To add to the strangeness, a male version of Meredith appeared at their side.
“Hey, sis, did you bring a date? We only saved you one seat. Jen’s watching them for us.”
Stevie watched Meredith’s face twitch slightly, but she covered it fast with an introduction. “Stevie, meet my brother, Michael. He runs a data analytics company because he lacks the social skills to run for public office.” She play-jabbed her brother in the side. “Isn’t that right, Mikey?” Before he could reply, Meredith said “Actually, we already have seats reserved. We’ll catch up with you all at the reception.” She grabbed Stevie’s arm and steered her in the opposite direction. “Sorry about that.”
“No need. Did you know your family was coming?”
“Yes, but I really didn’t think it through. They’re all so connected with this crowd, I’m used to seeing them pretty much everywhere I go.”
Stevie started to ask Meredith what the “it” was that she hadn’t thought through, but before she could come up with a way to form the question that didn’t sound confrontational, Meredith gestured toward a row of tables covered in white cloth and lined with glass flutes. “Glass of champagne before we find our seats?”
“Drinking before nuptials. Brilliant idea.” Stevie filed away her question and followed Meredith to the table, grateful not to talk about anything too serious in the festive crowd. Although the champagne bar was fairly close, it took forever to get there since Meredith was stopped every few feet by someone she knew. She was gracious to everyone even when it was apparent she barely knew the person who’d approached her. They were steps from the table, when a handsome woman in a tux pulled her into a hug. “They just let anyone in this place don’t they?”
“I guess so, if you’re here.”
“Somebody has to keep the crowd in line.”
Stevie watched the exchange and noticed another woman standing beside the tuxedoed woman wearing an Army dress uniform. The colonel leaned close and whispered. “Let me guess, you’re not in politics.”
“Not even close.”
She stuck out a hand. “Zoey Granger, nice to meet you.”
Stevie returned the firm grip. “Stevie Palmer. Since you seem to know your way around, care to give me a play-by-play?”
Zoey grinned. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m constantly playing catch-up.” She motioned to the woman in the tux who had buttonholed Meredith. “That’s my girlfriend, Rook Daniels. Former fixer, she’s now—”
“The White House communications director.” Stevie shook her head. “I thought she looked familiar.”
Zoey nodded. “She went to law school with Julia Scott, and Julia’s the one who coaxed her out of her private practice into government life.” She cocked her head. “And you’re here with Senator Mitchell. But you’re clearly not in politics, so I’m guessing lawyer.”
“You’d be right.”
“You could swing a cat in this room and hit a lawyer every time.”
Stevie glanced around at the formally dressed crowd and figured most of the lawyers in this room probably made more in a month than she made in a year. “True, but I’m afraid this isn’t my usual crowd. I’m a federal public defender.”
“I knew we had something in common. If you decide to hang around with this crowd, I predict we’re going to be good friends.”
“Who’s hanging around with what crowd?” Rook approached with Meredith, and they passed around glasses of champagne. Zoey took the glass Rook handed to her and inclined her head for Rook’s kiss. Stevie watched them intently, wondering how they’d met and if their love was still new. Lost in thought, she started at the soft hint of Meredith’s breath near her ear.
“I see you’re making friends with the gang.”
Stevie grinned. “There’s a gang?”
“There is. Rook is not just a good person t
o know, she’s good people. I haven’t had much time to get to know Zoey, but if Rook loves her, then she’s top-notch.”
“Are all your friends politicians?”
“You’re not.”
“Evasive answer.” Stevie wondered again if Meredith considered her only a friend, but she didn’t want to press the point. Not here. Besides, this wasn’t her crowd and it never would be. Rook and Zoey and Addison and Julia might be solid people, but no way could she ever fit in here. Too much money, too much power and concern about appearances. She resolved to enjoy this evening and then go back to her life in the trenches where her version of champagne was a ten-dollar a bottle Prosecco served not in fancy crystal glasses, but from whatever wasn’t already in the dishwasher.
* * *
During the ceremony, Meredith glanced over at Stevie who was watching Addison and Julia at the front of the room with rapt attention. What was Stevie thinking? Was she dreaming of a romantic wedding of her own or was she merely being polite and biding her time until the reception started? Bringing a date to a wedding had been a stupid idea. First off, the entire first part of the evening involved sitting in a room and being quiet. It was like going to a movie without the snacks. No time for interaction, getting to know each other. Second, and most important, the entire romantic wedding experience gave the wrong impression. Who wouldn’t end up dreamy and romantic after an entire evening spent celebrating happily ever after?
Happily ever afters were fine for people like Addison and Julia who’d already reached the pinnacle of their careers. Addison had a lifetime appointment to the bench, and Julia could write her ticket on the speaking circuit after her stint as White House chief of staff was over. Meredith sighed. Her career was only just starting to take flight. Two years ago, she’d captured the national spotlight with her rousing speech at the Democratic National Convention, and since then the murmurs had started, asking when she planned her presidential run. All of these events had been carefully planned; in fact almost every action in her life had been carefully plotted to maximize her chances at success.