Page 151 of Dial L for Lawyer
I take three quick steps and launch myself off the platform, pulling my knees to my chest in what is definitely not a super-mega-ultra anything, but does produce a satisfying splash that soaks both Serena and Michaela.
When I surface, sputtering and wiping water from my eyes, both of them are applauding.
"Not bad," Serena says, swimming over to me. "Though I think Michaela oversold your technique."
"Hey!" Michaela protests from above us. "That was awesome! But watch this!"
She takes two running steps then executes a perfect cannonball that would make any eight-and-one-quarter-year-old proud, sending another wave washing over us.
"Show-off," I mutter, but I'm grinning.
We spend the next hour in the water—racing, diving, and generally acting like we're all eight years old. David eventually joins us, though he maintains his dignity by using the ladder instead of the rope swing.
By the time we drag ourselves back to the deck, the sun is starting its descent toward the horizon, painting everything golden. Serena collapses into the chair next to mine, wrapping herself in a towel.
"I love this place," she says, looking out over the lake. "I'm glad we came."
"I'm glad too," I tell her, looking at her and feeling nothing but absolute certainty. Before now, I'd never brought anyone here. This house, this family time—it was always just David, Michaela, and me. Adding someone else felt too risky, too permanent.
But watching Serena fit so seamlessly into our summer tradition, like she's always been part of it, I feel like every risk we took to get here was worth it.
"So," David says, settling back into his chair with a fresh beer, "you were saying something about the Kingsley brothers going into business together?"
Serena perks up, tucking her legs under her. "Business together? Like what?"
"Caleb thinks we should be brave like you and start our own law firm," David explains.
"That's brilliant!" Serena says immediately, and I love how her face lights up with excitement. "You two would be unstoppable."
"See?" I tell David. "Expert opinion."
"Expert opinion from someone who ate nothing but anxiety toast for her first month of business ownership," David points out.
"Anxiety toast is a perfectly valid food group," Serena protests. "And it worked. I'm still in business, aren't I?"
"More than in business," I correct. "You're thriving. That crisis management contract with Bennett's pharmaceutical company alone is bigger than most firms' entire client base."
She ducks her head, but I can see she's pleased. "I got lucky with timing. Corporate America is having a lot of crises these days."
"It's not luck," David says. "You're good at what you do. Really good. And Caleb's right—watching you build something from nothing is inspiring."
"So you're considering it?" Serena asks, leaning forward. "A Kingsley firm?"
"I'm considering it," David admits. "The corporate world is getting more cutthroat every year. At Luminous, I spend more time in budget meetings than actually practicing law."
"Plus," I add, "we'd get to be selective about our clients. Take cases that matter, not just cases that pay."
"Cases that pay do matter when you have an eight-year-old," David points out, but his tone is thoughtful rather than dismissive.
"Dad," Michaela calls from where she's building some kind of elaborate sand castle near the water's edge, "are you and Uncle Caleb going to be business partners?"
"Maybe, monster. Would that be OK with you?"
"Of course. It means I get neep-o-sheep-em," she announces without looking up from her construction project.
"Neep-o-what?" David asks, his face scrunching up in confusion.
"You know that thing where kids get stuff just because their parents have stuff?" Michaela clarifies. "Neep-o-sheep-em! It's like... inheriting but you're not dead. You just get extra candy or a LEGO set when your uncle is rich." She looks up, sees us all grinning, and shrugs. "I learned it in school. It's a real thing, look it up."
