Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) (8 page)

In my mind’s eye, I can see adding Shelby to the chaos. In the next breath I have to laugh at my own ego. What’s to say she would want to join the circus that is my life? It’s not as if I’ve got everything all figured out and if she needs anything at the moment, it’s stability. I’m still working on dealing with getting through the day and coping with Callum’s death, the strains of managing the practice and coping with being everything to my daughter. At this point, I don’t think I’m prize partner material. Just as I come to that fateful conclusion, one of Ketki’s games pops up on the console with loud, garish music and announces Game Over.

I hope it’s not prophetic, but I suspect that it might be.

“So you see, if we were able to snag some bigger fish with deeper pockets, we would be able to fund all of this charity work for clients who don’t really stand a chance of winning and maybe make a profit for a change,”
Garrett Treadwell smiles, finishing his presentation with a flourish.
 

I look around the conference room and much to my dismay, everyone in the room appears to be nodding in appreciation.
Crap, he seems to have everyone on board — even all my former classmates from law school. What happened to integrity and doing the practice of law for the greater good? What happened to vanquishing evil no matter what the cost?
Am I the only one who remembers that it was supposed to be one of our founding values at Hunters’ Crossing? As I watch everyone eat up Garrett’s every word, I am resigned to the fact that perhaps I am. Garrett is absorbing all the attention as if he is some sort of A list movie star.
 

I want to tell him that this is not an audition for a reality TV show. This is real-life. There are no retakes. Real people’s lives are impacted by the decisions we make in this boardroom. This isn’t just show and tell. I’m trying really hard to separate my personal dislike for his approach to life from the matter at hand. Personally, even though I am his mentor, I think he’s a narcissistic pinhead. Even so, I’m not so narrow-minded that I don’t understand that if we don’t change the financial climate of the firm, we are not going to be able to offer health insurance benefits to everyone. I rely on those health insurance benefits to get therapy for Ketki’s autism. Talk about your proverbial rock and hard place.

Clearing my throat, I lean forward and address my colleagues, “While I concede that Mr. Treadwell has made some valuable points, I hesitate to completely change the complexion of our firm to chase a few dollars in this tight legal market. We have spent a great deal of time and effort to establish a reputation in our legal community. We have some standing among our peers. I don’t want to throw that away just so to chase some ambulances, as it were. What about the principles that we were founded on? We went into business for a specific purpose: are we going to give that up just so that we can notch up an arbitrary profit margin?”

Garrett openly scoffs at me as he replies, “Mark, even you can see that all your principles won’t do you any good if this business goes under. Are you living in some fantasyland?”

His utter lack of respect toward me is completely insulting. We’re not chowing down on burgers at some corner bar, we are in a formal business meeting that is being recorded for posterity. Instinctively, I sit up straighter in my chair as I level a dark stare at him and ask, “Are you sure that the ink on your degree is dry enough for you to be asking those kind of questions, Mr. Treadwell? I will remind you that the reason you have a job is because my partners and I founded this firm on the principles that you’re so quick to dismiss. I am well aware of the financial holdings of this firm. At no time did we ever discuss that this firm was anywhere close to folding. The only thing we were discussing was an adjustment to compensation packages. At the moment, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe we’ve gotten a little too generous. Perhaps the associates are feeling a little too entitled.”

Anita, the associate who works with Susan raises her hand and responds, “Mr. Littleson, I hope you understand that I am profoundly honored to work here and grateful for the help you give associates.”

“You are a world-class
butt kisser
,” Garrett hisses under his breath toward Anita.

I have to take a moment to collect myself, because I’m busy considering options that I want to say (but probably shouldn’t). The kid has no place being in the business of helping people as far as I’m concerned. If I had a magic wand, the snively-earwig would be sanitizing porta-potties for a living. Fortunately for him, I don’t run the world. I just have to operate in it. I simply don’t understand how phenomenally brave, smart young men like my brother die and entitled rich losers like this guy live footloose and fancy free — it just doesn’t make any sense. Before I can even rearrange my chaotic thoughts into some semblance of a coherent response, Susan, the other senior partner present today, walks up behind Garrett.

“Mr. Treadwell, do you have something you would like to share with the rest of us?” she challenges.

He ducks his head as he responds, “No ma’am.”

Susan just narrows her eyes at him as she instructs, “If it was good enough to say to your colleague, you should feel comfortable sharing it with the group. Otherwise, you shouldn’t have said it to your colleague. It was incredibly rude. This is a professional office. However, something tells me that perhaps you’ve forgotten that we comport ourselves with some decorum in this workplace. This is not the same as watching the playoffs with your buddies in your den.”

Garrett blushes as red as I’ve ever seen him and he responds, “Yes, ma’am.”

Susan turns to me and asks, “Mr. Littleson, do you have anything to add?”

“I am not blind to the fact that we need to make some changes, but I suggest we do a trial run and try to take a couple of new clients in the new areas and see how it changes the complexion of our office. I don’t want us to make wholesale changes without understanding what it might do to our structure. I want to dig a little deeper.”

“That sounds like a reasonable, balanced approach to me,” Susan agrees. “Do you want to focus on Med Mal or product liability?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Let me do some soul-searching.”

“MARK, I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT you’re here this morning. Doesn’t your trial start this morning?” I ask, looking out the front door. I’m barely able to make out the neighborhood in the early morning dawn.

He glances down at himself in his casual outfit and asks, “I suppose you wouldn’t believe I was just out for a run?”

“If it wasn’t five in the morning and I didn’t live 17 miles from you — oh wait, Ketki told me that it’s actually 17.93 miles from you — I might actually be more inclined to buy your story. However, it is actually five in the morning on a really big day for you. Shouldn’t you be sleeping or inhaling copious amounts of coffee or something?”

“Can’t do that,” he states simply.

“Can’t do what?” I ask, far too sleepy for this conversation.

“It would be rude, because you can’t,” he answers.

“It’s not that big of a deal. You know my eating habits are weird. You didn’t have to deprive yourself just for me. None of that explains why you’re here,” I reply, as I go over to the round hanging chair and sit down, tucking my feet under me.

“When we talked last on the phone, you seemed pretty nervous. I thought that you might want some company until Jade and Diamond can get here,” he explains.

I start to weave the fringe on the blanket that I pulled over my legs as I admit, “I am nervous. I’ve hardly ever gone to the doctor before this, let alone had surgery. The whole experience is strange to me. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you,” Mark says running his hand through his short cropped hair and pacing around my small living room. “I put Ketki in summer camp because I thought the trial might hit this week, but there was no way to plan for this too.”

Something about Mark’s meltdown over my cancer strikes me as funny — perhaps it’s because it’s five o’clock in the morning — and I let out an audible snicker as I respond, “Of course you couldn’t plan for this! When exactly were you supposed to plan for it…before you met me?” I ask, challenging him on his logic.

“Still, you don’t have anybody. I should be there for you. It’s the right thing to do,” Mark argues.

“Not that I’m judging anybody — because, you know I’m not in any real position to do that — you and your friends are the
weirdest
people I’ve ever met…and that’s saying something because I was raised in a
cult
.”

He looks like he’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cross-examine me as he comments, “I think I’ll ask more questions before I decide whether I’m offended.”

“No, seriously… look at it from my perspective: I’ve been alone for a really long time — pretty much all by myself wandering through life. One day, I stop to get a tattoo because I got some spectacularly good news and instead got pitched onto a path that completely changed my life. Okay, it’s not like that’s never happened to me before. I’m used to the rug being pulled out from under me.”

“I’m so sorry for whatever role I’ve played in making this worse for you,” Mark murmurs as he walks toward me to give me a hug.
 

I hold my hand to stop him as I continue, “It was a little strange, but not the strangest thing that happened that day. I walked away feeling scared and lonely, thinking to myself that normal people can call their mom and get chicken soup and have a good cry. The oncologist that I went to see was kind of a jerk about the fact that I didn’t have any support system around me. I couldn’t explain to her without completely baring my soul. You’ve met the woman, you can understand why I didn’t want to disclose anything to her. She didn’t listen to me then, just like she didn’t listen when she started randomly cutting parts of me away.”

The muscle in Mark’s jaw visibly tightens as he responds, “Well, you don’t have to deal with that jerk anymore. You like Doctor Charleston, right? I met Hugh once when he was testifying on a colleague’s case. Even though he was on the other side, his testimony was still very fair and open.”

I hug one of the pillows from the chair close to me as I answer candidly “Yes, he’s wonderful. He took the time to carefully answer all my questions. It was great. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m saying; everything with your friends has been great. Almost too great, why are they this nice to me? I’m just a random customer in their shop.”

Mark comes over and squats down beside the chair as he says, “I don’t know about that. I don’t think there’s anything random about you. Call it the teachings of my people, my personal quest in life, the things that being Ketki’s dad taught me—or all of the above, but I don’t believe in random coincidence.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Your coincidences haven’t worked out quite like mine,” I mutter under my breath
 

Mark shrugs as he retorts, “I don’t know, a fair number of them haven’t been a real picnic. Anyway, as I was saying, I believe that you are in my life for a reason and I am in yours for a purpose. I don’t know what that purpose is. Maybe it’s as simple as somebody to keep Ketki on her toes while she plays video games, or perhaps something much more profound, but we don’t really know. I can’t speak for Rogue and the Ailíns’, but I for one am glad you chose to come into Ink’d Deep.”

“Mark,” I argue, “I told that quack that I didn’t have a family, but you all have made a big fat liar out of me. I just think it’s weird. My
own
family doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me — why do you guys care so much?”

“Something tells me that’s part of the reason that everyone cares so much. I’m almost as new around here as you are, but from what I understand family means a lot to this group. They love deeply and have lost a great deal. If they can help protect you from the evils of the world, what’s the harm in letting them try?”

“Mark, what if it’s worse than everyone thinks? I don’t want to let everyone into my life only to hurt them later,” I confess as tears gather on my lashes. I’ve been trying to hold back my panic and fear for days. Some days I do better than others, but the reality of it, always starts to creep back in.