Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection

by Pandora Spocks

  “Of course. He’s a nice guy and he works hard.” She looked over the contract thoughtfully for a moment, then signed.

  “Good! Now let’s celebrate,” Michael said.

  “Yeah, maybe they have pink champagne,” Maggie quipped.

  “I have missed your smart ass,” he grinned, flagging down their server. “Two bourbons, please.”

  Chapter 30

  Life on the 50th floor settled back into routine more quickly than Michael could have anticipated. Few questions were asked about the departure of John and Ellen. Few were asked of him, anyway. He was fairly certain that Maggie would have told him if anyone was pressuring her for details. The truth was, most were content to see the pair gone.

  Maggie and Dan accompanied Michael to court for the Phillips case and the transition was seamless. A few weeks later the jury declared the retired football star ‘not guilty’. That Friday afternoon found them all gathered at Doc Watson’s.

  Michael toasted to his new team. “To Dan and Maggie, who’ve flawlessly picked up the slack.”

  As usual, one of Michael’s blondes, Delia this time, came to the pub to meet him, and they bid good weekend to everyone. Maggie had, of course, expected it this time, but felt the same pang nevertheless. I don’t know why he insists on dating these vapid women.

  Behind her cheerful smile, Michael noted a subtle glint of hurt in Maggie’s eyes as he said goodbye, and somehow it felt reassuringly familiar. When she stops looking at me like that, he realized, I’ll miss it. And they always did. The smart ones, anyway. He shook off the vestiges of deep introspection and headed off with Delia. The better to get laid, my dear.

  * * *

  Maggie loved everything about her new office. It was absolutely beautiful, like a wish granted by a genie. She also didn’t mind passing along the coffee and lunch torch to someone else. She’d met briefly with Josh. “I created a procedure log of sorts,” she told him as she handed him a thick binder. “In this I’ve outlined establishments by category, coffee or lunch. Like Mr. Rannigan said, we support local business, so those are the only ones I’ve included.”

  Josh nodded, eager to prove himself as a part of the Rannigan team. “We order on a rotating basis. Don’t be afraid to bring in something new if you find something fabulous. Just keep track of what people like and what they don’t like. It’s really pretty easy.”

  Maggie was walking past the reception desk on her way back to her office when Karen held up a one finger ‘wait a minute’ signal. “Mm-hmm,” she said into the phone, “like I said, Mr. Rannigan is really not available, but let me transfer you to one of his associates, Ms. Flynn. One moment, please.” Karen put the caller on hold. “Maggie, this is a teacher from Kennedy High School. He’s looking for someone to speak to his pre-law club.”

  Maggie glanced at Michael’s closed door. “Why can’t Michael do it?”

  Karen sighed. “He hates that kind of thing. I’m transferring him to you.”

  In her own office, Maggie perched at her desk and picked up. “This is Maggie Flynn.”

  “Hello, Ms. Flynn. My name is Joe Santiago. I teach history at Kennedy and I also run the Pre-Law Club. I was hoping Mr. Rannigan might come speak to the kids next week. I guess his secretary says he can’t do it.”

  Maggie smiled. We’ll see about that. “Exactly when did you want him?”

  “The club meets once a month. Our next meeting is a week from Thursday at 10:30. I realize that it’s short notice, but our original plans fell through. It would mean so much to the kids to have a guy like Mr. Rannigan come out. They’ve studied a lot of his cases. Congratulations, by the way, on the Phillips case.”

  “Thanks. Let me just...” Maggie pulled up Michael’s calendar on her screen and shook her head. There was absolutely nothing scheduled for next Thursday. “Tell you what, Mr. ...”

  “Santiago,” he supplied, “or Joe, really.”

  “I will make sure that Mr. Rannigan will be there next Thursday at 10:30, Joe. Now what exactly did you want him to address?”

  “I just hoped he could talk about his perspective as a defense attorney, maybe give the kids a chance to ask some questions, that kind of thing,” Joe answered.

  Maggie scribbled notes on a scrap of paper. “Perfect. I’ll let him know, and we’ll see you next week.”

  “I really appreciate your help, Ms. Flynn. I was beginning to think I’d have to cancel.”

  “You’re very welcome. And I’m Maggie.” She disconnected and sat grinning for a moment. Now to inform Michael. But first, she made another call.

  Ten minutes later she breezed into Michael’s office. He glanced up from his paperwork. “What can I do ya for, Mags?”

  She gave him her most winning smile. “I made an appointment for you for next week.”

  Michael removed his reading glasses and set them on the desk. “Oh?” he responded cautiously.

  “Next Thursday at 10:30, you are addressing the Kennedy High School Pre-Law Club.”

  Michael scowled. “Aw, Mags, you didn’t. Dammit, I hate that shit. Why did you do that?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. Reach out to the public. Enlighten young minds.”

  He shook his head. “Bullshit.”

  “And, Channel 6 News will be there. Brilliant legal mind lends hand up to the next generation!” She emphasized the headline with a wave of her hand.

  Michael smiled ruefully. “You called the news, too? You play dirty.”

  “And don’t you forget it!” she grinned.

  * * *

  At 10:15 Thursday morning, Maggie and Michael signed in on the visitors’ computer in the office of Kennedy High School. The school secretary asked a student assistant to direct the pair to Mr. Santiago’s classroom.

  “It’s right this way.” Michael turned his full wattage smile toward the waif-thin blonde who giggled nervously, never once glancing at Maggie.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. Seriously?

  They were met by Joe Santiago, a tall, fit guy of around thirty, with longish dark waves that just brushed the top of his collar. Thin silver rectangles framed bright blue eyes beneath long dark lashes.

  Not bad, Maggie thought. But the truth was that no one quite measured up. She glanced briefly at Michael, thankful he couldn’t read her thoughts. She was reasonably certain he couldn’t, at any rate.

  “Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Rannigan,” the teacher said, reaching to shake Michael’s hand.

  “Happy to do it,” Michael charmed as Maggie smirked privately. “This is Maggie Flynn, my associate.”

  Maggie shook Joe’s hand. “We met on the phone.”

  A bell rang and noisy chaos in the corridor was replaced by a group of about twenty-five students filing in and taking their seats. A photographer from the television news arrived and Joe got the meeting started.

  “Gang, this is Mr. Michael Rannigan from the law firm of Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny. He has graciously agreed to visit us today.”

  “Hey, Mr. S,” a student called out. “Who’s the hot redhead?”

  Michael chuckled. “This is Ms. Flynn. She works with me.” He shot Maggie an amused look. “I am a defense attorney. As you know, that means...”

  Michael talked nonstop for forty minutes, holding his audience enthralled. When he finished, he answered questions from the students. After the session was over and the students left, the photographer asked Michael and Joe a few questions on camera before he headed back to the station. Michael shook hands with Joe once again.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” he said. Looking to Maggie, “I’m sorry for the rude question.”

  Maggie smiled. “No worries,” she said. “I thought it was funny.”

  As she and Michael walked out into the crisp December day, she turned to him. “How about lunch, my treat?”

  “Your treat, hunh?” he asked, feigning deep thought.

  “Yes. I just got a big fat raise, you know.”

  Chapter 31
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br />   “Papaya King?” Michael asked incredulously as he stared up at the sign.

  “Papaya King,” Maggie said confidently. “You can’t tell me that you’ve lived in the city for how long? And you’ve never been here? How is that even possible?” They’d walked the several blocks from the high school to the gastronomic landmark on East 86th.

  “Because I try to eat healthy?” he ventured.

  “You, Michael Rannigan, are a snob. Come on.” Maggie pulled open the door and they went inside.

  They both gazed up at the menu. “I don’t even know where to begin,” Michael grumped.

  Maggie smiled patiently. “Allow me,” she said. Stepping up to the counter she ordered. “We’ll have two Number Fives with the New York onions and the papaya drink.”

  Minutes later with their lunch on trays, they made their way through the crowded dining room to the narrow counter along the front window. Maggie watched as Michael took his first bite.

  “Oh, my God!” he moaned through a mouthful of hot dog, bun, and onions. “How have I never had this before?”

  “Right?!” said Maggie smiling. “Now you’re hooked.”

  They silently enjoyed their feast for a few minutes. Then Michael got a thoughtful look. “Have you ever thought about finding her?”

  Maggie frowned, puzzled. “Finding who?”

  “Your mother.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth clamped in a firm line. “No. No I haven’t. Why? And what in the world made you think about such a thing?”

  Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. Just watching all the people walking by.” He gestured toward the sidewalk, then looked back at her. “For most of my life, every time I saw a big crowd, I always kind of wondered...” Maggie waited for him to complete his thought. “Well, I wondered whether one of those men passing by might be my father.” He looked down, vaguely embarrassed.

  Maggie’s heart melted as she pictured a small boy always wondering if some strange man was his father. “Did you ever look into finding him?” she asked softly.

  He nodded. “Yep. And I did.” Maggie’s mouth dropped. He nodded again. “I had my private investigator find him a few years ago.”

  “And?” Maggie couldn’t wait to hear the rest.

  “And,” Michael sighed, “he was in a nursing home in Rochester. I went to see him.” He paused for a moment. “He had Alzheimer’s so it was pointless to try to ask him questions.”

  Maggie frowned, considering everything he’d said. “Were you glad you found him?”

  He smiled sadly. “Yeah.”

  “I have no desire to find my mother.” She shook her head emphatically. “Being abandoned by your mother as a two-year-old is a hell of a rejection. I won’t give her the opportunity to do it twice.”

  “I understand,” Michael said. “But if you ever change your mind, I can put you in touch with my guy.”

  Maggie nodded and sipped her papaya drink. They watched a charity bell-ringer in a Santa suit across the street. “So what are you doing for Christmas?” she asked him.

  He grinned. “I have reservations in St. Bart’s.”

  She shook her head. “I should have known.”

  “Should have known what?” he asked defensively.

  “That you’d have some amazingly fabulous plan for the holidays,” Maggie answered, rolling her eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to Rhode Island or something?” he asked, nibbling a curly fry.

  “Nope, I host the Annual Orphans and Misfits Christmas at my place,” she said wryly.

  “Orphans and misfits?”

  “It’s for those with nowhere to go. Like me, for example, with no family. And Ben. His family disowned him when he came out.” Michael frowned. “Although Ben’s Jewish, so they wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas at his house anyway,” Maggie laughed.

  “And Ben’s bringing his new boyfriend so we can finally meet him. Kevin usually comes, too. His family lives in Vancouver and he doesn’t always have the time to go all the way out there. I think he’s bringing a girlfriend. There’s a little old lady in my building who always comes. Oh, and I think Casey and John are crashing this year, so they don’t have to decide whose family they’ll visit.”

  She grinned at Michael. “Everyone brings something for the meal and we have a wicked gift exchange. There are always extra people who tag along. Everyone’s welcome; it’s sad for anyone to be alone on Christmas.” She eyed him shyly. “You qualify, you know. As an orphan. So you’re invited.”

  Michael nodded. “It sounds nice, Mags.”

  “I mean, obviously you have plans,” she said, “but just know that you’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” he said, genuinely touched. “And thanks for lunch, too.”

  She smiled broadly. “You’re welcome. I’m really glad you liked it.”

  * * *

  The next work week was shortened due to the holiday. On Tuesday afternoon, a large gift tower was delivered to Maggie’s desk. She was thrilled to see that it was from the Chelsea Market. In the three baskets was a generous assortment of all kinds of goodies like poppy seed cake, ginger cookies, salmon, salami, Camembert, and more. The attached Christmas card had been printed: Merry Christmas, From Michael.

  Maggie sheepishly retrieved a small gift bag from the cabinet behind her desk. I didn’t realize he was going to go all out, she fretted mildly. Walking down the hallway she noticed that everyone on the 50th floor had received identical gift baskets. Somehow, the realization made her feel better. It’s not like he spent a lot of time picking it out. He probably had Karen do it.

  Michael’s office door was open about halfway and she peeked inside. Dan was talking over his shoulder as he moved toward the door. “Thanks for the basket, Michael. It’s really nice.”

  “You’re welcome, Dan-o. Merry Christmas to you and yours.” Michael smiled at Maggie in his doorway. “Howdy, Mags.”

  Maggie and Dan exchanged holiday wishes and Maggie proceeded into the office, settling on a black leather chair across from Michael’s desk. “Yes, thanks for the gift basket. I never saw so many fancy foods. It’s going to be the hit of the Orphans and Misfits.”

  Michael laughed. “Orphans and misfits should have the best. Sounds like Karen picked out a good one this year.”

  “I wondered if you chose it. You shopped local, you know. I appreciate you telling Josh that we only use local business, too. I keep forgetting to tell you that.”

  “You’re welcome,” he grinned, winking at her.

  She felt her heart skip a beat. “Well, anyway,” she said, smoothing her skirt, “I have a little gift for you.” She placed the metallic green bag accented with a red bow on his desk.

  Michael sat up eagerly. “Really? What have we here?” He reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve bourbon and placed it on the desk, eyes wide. He looked to Maggie. “Do you know what this is?”

  She smiled. “It’s a very rare bottle of bourbon. Number 5 to be exact.”

  He picked up the bottle to examine it closely. “Holy shit, number 5.” He looked a Maggie, astonishment on his face. “Where in the world did you find this?”

  “I have my ways,” she answered coyly. “You like it, then?”

  “Hell, yeah, I like it. I love it! I’ve never had such a nice bottle before.” He grinned. “Thanks, Mags. This is a really nice gift. I’d hate to think how much it cost.”

  “And you won’t, because that would be rude.”

  Michael smiled, shaking his head. “No, I wouldn’t do that. Let’s have some.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, it’s for you!” She waved her hand emphatically.

  “Aw, come on, Mags,” he cajoled, reaching for two classes from a cabinet behind his desk. He carefully opened the bottle and poured some into each glass, passing one to her. Lifting his glass he said, “To friends at Christmas.”

  Maggie smiled warmly. “To friends. At Christmas.”

  They each sipped ap
preciatively. “That’s amazing,” he said. “I’ve only heard legends about this, never thought to own a bottle.” He gave her one of his signature Michael Rannigan smiles, eyes and all.

  “It is good. Even lives up to the hype,” she commented, pleased that she’d made him happy.

  Finally Maggie stood. “Well, Merry Christmas, Michael. Enjoy St. Bart’s. Think about us orphans and misfits down in the Village.”

  “I will definitely think about you. Merry Christmas, Mags.”

  Chapter 32

  Early Christmas morning, Maggie was up checking on the turkey in the refrigerator. She’d dressed in a long black and white striped sweater over black leggings, slippers on her feet. She had the table linens ironed and ready, waiting in the bedroom for the time to put up the tables in the living room. She plugged in the lights on her small tree in the front window, for the millionth time adjusting the decorations, many of which came from her childhood tree.

  A glance out the window told her that snow was still peppering down. A massive storm had hit the northeast the day before, dumping the white stuff in feet rather than inches. Thankfully, Casey and John were safely ensconced in their hotel room, having taken the train to the city the day before the storm hit. Most transportation had been shut down since early Christmas Eve.

  Maggie had braved the snowstorm on foot yesterday to get the final items she needed for today’s big dinner. She would supply a large turkey, stuffing, an assortment of beverages, adult and otherwise, and a large Dutch apple pie. The meal would be rounded out by what everyone else brought. Maggie never asked what people were bringing, and it always worked out. She enjoyed that element of surprise. Casey had, of course, called her with endless questions about what she and John should bring. “Anything you want. You’ll see, it all comes together.”

  By 11:00 am, Maggie’s apartment was abuzz with conversation and activity. Mrs. Gianopoulos from downstairs had been the first to arrive, bringing a heaping bowl of Greek vegetables. Kevin arrived next, introducing his new girlfriend, Jenny. They brought mashed potatoes and a case of beer. Casey and John were next with rolls, cranberry sauce, and green beans. Maggie rolled her eyes. “You always have to be the overachiever,” she quipped.