Page 76 of Hula Girl

“This is exactly what your ex Bryce was doing when he tried to speak directly with your client. You know, when you were off in Maui getting insta-engaged?”

I’m completely thrown and only manage to stutter out, “Wh-what?”

He sighs with impatience. “He was trying to get our client to admit that Randall wasn’t competent to represent the case in your absence.He’sthe one going after Randall.I’mtrying to protect him.”

“But, I still don’t understand. Randall may be a little forgetful, but he’s still capable.”

“He’s been coming in to the office less. He’s less involved in cases. He only took on your case because he saw fit to spend firm money on an all-inclusive vacation for you. That alone, is evidence—”

“Manny, please.” Everything he’s said is true. So, too, is the fact that Randall has been withdrawn. More often than not, when I’ve seen him in the past few months it’s when I’ve caught him staring off into space. Engaging him in conversation had been difficult, but I’d attributed that to him having things on his mind. I hadn’t inquired after him when he stopped coming into the office on Saturdays or started coming in later and leaving earlier during the week. I’d built him up as not just a brilliant legal mind, but an indestructible surrogate grandfather all these years.

The truth is, what I can only see now is that I didn’t want to absorb all the changes. I didn’t want to acknowledge any kind of decline. It was too painful. And now that I realize what I had willfully denied, I feel incredibly guilty. I should have been helping him, not ignoring the signs I was too afraid to accept.

Manny meets my eyes. Neither of us looks away for a long moment. Finally, his shoulders sag.

“I take no pleasure in this, Ava,” he says. “I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true. Yes, I have believed I have the better instincts for running this firm for quite a long while, but that doesn’t mean I ever lost respect for Randall. I only want to see him off in a way that pays tribute to everything he’s accomplished. I would be grateful if you could help me do that.”

“Me?” I ask with a startled laugh. I have to blink back the tears that have once more filled my eyes. My emotions have been doing overtime today, starting with Ford and now with Randall.

“Yes. He adores you. You are one of his greatest achievements, to be honest.”

“Wait,” I say. “You’re givingmea compliment?”

He hesitates before giving in and laughing. “Ava. I can admit that Randall made the right decision in hiring you.”

I take in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Manny.”

“You’ll do what you can?”

“I, uh, yes. I will.”

He purses his lips together before giving me a nod. And then he walks out, and I’m alone in Randall’s office. My hands are still full. But I stay in the same spot, taking in everything anew. Randall’s big desk is the perfect reflection of the man I always thought him to be: sturdy, high-quality, comforting. But looking closer, I can see that the corners are scuffed from years of use. The wood is worn where Randall leaned his forearms on it as he engaged in heated debates with other lawyers in the firm, including me. If it’s to keep being a useful piece, it will need a little more TLC than it’s seen in recent times.

So will Randall. He deserves to have the time and freedom to enjoy a true retirement. Resolved that this will be my mission going forward, I nod to myself and then head back to my office.

30

Ford

In one of my last acts of deference to my father, I’ve dressed up for his dinner party, wearing a slim fit navy-blue Hugo Boss suit paired with a starched white shirt, no tie. I’m standing on the second-floor balcony of his Pacific Palisades home, taking in the last sherbet hues of the sunset over the ocean in the distance. But I’m also keeping an eye on the arrivals in the circular drive below where a valet service has been set up.

The cocktail hour started fifteen minutes ago, and most guests had arrived on time. But Ava and her mother are not yet here. I’m contemplating calling her when I spot her white Acura RDX pulling into the drive.

I turn away and step back into the great room being used for cocktails, intending to rush downstairs to greet them. There are bistro tables scattered around a full two-sided bar in the center of the space. Senior has invited fifty people to this dinner, and it doesn’t appear that anyone has declined. The chatter is loud, overpowering the cellist and violinist in the corner who were meant to provide elegant background music. Dinner will be served downstairs in the garden. It’s been set up by the catering company with long tables, and Italian bulbs have been strung overhead, making this look more like a wedding reception than a simple dinner party. I might be suspicious of this decor, fearful that Senior wants to push this into something more than a spontaneous engagement party, but I know that his girlfrienddu jourhas a flare for event planning. She was probably tickled to help organize this soirée.

“Ah, there you are.”

I turn to see Randall Miller and a woman I assume is his wife ambling toward me. I stopand shake his hand, though I wish I had waited for Ava and her mother at the valet rather than risk getting caught up like this. With no other choice now, I wait for an introduction.

“Yes, this is …” he says, hesitating. “This is … my wife.”

“Alice,” she says, offering her hand.

She’s small in stature with a tidy gray bob and a ready smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say. “Ava thinks the world of you both.”

“Oh, we just love her right back,” Alice says. “But it was a surprise to hear about this engagement, I have to say.”

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