Page 78 of Finding You
Astrid glared at the woman and stood up a little straighter. “I wouldn’t miss it, Charlotte. I am being honored with an award for my pro bono work on behalf of those less fortunate. Remind me why you are here since you weren’t involved?” Her voice was cutting and I smirked. My girl was a savage.
This Charlotte person narrowed her eyes. “It’s a big night for the firm, and as one of the most trusted senior associates, I was asked to represent us here tonight.” The woman looked smugly at Astrid, and I felt her beady eyes travel up my entire body.
She grabbed the elbow of a balding man who had his face in his phone. “Have you met my husband, Dr. Keith Meyer? He is a gastroenterologist at Mass General.”
Astrid shook his hand. “This is my boyfriend, Declan Quinn.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist and squeezed tighter. I gave them both a firm handshake. Charlotte’s eyes widened just a bit when I shook her hand. Good to know her poker face wasn’t that good.
The two of them stood for a moment, glaring at each other. Reminded me a lot of whenever I had the great misfortune to be in the same room as Marcus Flint.
Since neither of them was willing to break this awkward staredown, I decided to step in. “Astrid, darling, can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll head over with you, sweetie.” She reached up and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Excuse us,” she said to Charlotte and her husband.
As soon as we were out of earshot she leaned in. “I hate that woman.”
“She is vile,” I agreed.
She punched my shoulder. “Thank you! She is my nemesis. She is always trying to undermine me to get ahead.”
I laughed. “Then she is a demon hell spawn. We should fix her up with Marcus Flint when her doctor hubby dumps her.”
Astrid raised an eyebrow at me. “I wouldn’t even wish her on Marcus.”
“Oh, please. I wish antibiotic-resistant chlamydia on him almost daily.”
We giggled as we headed to one of several bars throughout the massive space. Lawyers sure did love their booze. Having multiple bars served dual purposes—it made it faster to get a drink and also helped people spread out within the massive space. I tried to take inventory of the event and the venue. I knew Cece and Liam would have questions. They were all about wedding planning right now.
Cocktails in hand, we found a spot and surveyed the room.
“See that group over there?” Astrid gestured to a raucous table of younger-looking folks. They seemed to be having a blast, but on the whole looked a bit shabbier and unkempt compared to the rest of the crowd.
“Those are the public defenders. They usually get pretty rowdy.”
“And those tables up front,”—she gestured to where we had come from—“those are the BigLaw tables. All the largest law firms jockey for the first row of tables to show off their wealth and influence. Everyone will be wearing a Rolex and talking about their boats and planes. Most will be with their second or third wives, so watch out for flying hair extensions.”
“What about the senior citizens back there?” I nodded toward the far side of the room.
“Oh, those are the federal judges. Mostly old white guys still on their first wives. That table next to them are the state court judges. They will never mix or mingle. Federal outranks state, and judges are generally obsessed with rank.”
I nodded, sipping my drink and taking in the scene. It was like a middle school cafeteria but with lots of money and influence.
“Oh shit,” Astrid said, choking on her champagne.
I patted her back. “What?”
“Shit. It’s my mother.”
I scanned the room, which was useless as I had never seen the woman in my life.
“Oh no, she’s spotted us. Stand up straight and look her in the eye. She can smell weakness.”
"Astrid, I did not expect to see you here.” Justice Wentworth was a tall, imposing woman in her sixties wearing a black gown and some serious jewels. Her hair was cut short, and she wore minimal makeup. Still, I could see the mother-daughter resemblance, as she was quite striking.
“Mother, I’m being given an award. Of course I had to show up. It’s for such a good cause.” Astrid’s voice had changed. It was pinched and forced and high, totally unlike her normal speaking voice. Like she was trying to modulate every syllable to maintain control.
“And who is this?” she asked, unsubtly giving me a disappointed once-over.
