Flight Risk

by Cara C. Putman

  But right now she had to focus on the mediation and couldn’t consider the times she should have taken someone’s advice, whether it was the designer’s opinion about a more muted shade or her mom insisting she shouldn’t marry before finishing law school.

  Each decision was water under the bridge, but on days like her fortieth birthday, it was hard to keep her stiff upper lip and press on.

  She shook her head and pressed the depressing thought away as she pulled the file in front of her.

  An hour later her phone buzzed and Bella’s voice filtered through. “Clients are looking for parking and should be here any minute.”

  “Thank you.” They were early but that was not surprising. “Let me know when they arrive.”

  Savannah stayed in her desk chair for a minute. It was an expensive number, an ergonomically appropriate chair she’d bought to celebrate a tough trial victory five years earlier. It served as a visual reminder that she was very good at winning for her clients. On days when self-doubt was her closest friend, she needed the tangible token. It was too easy to forget her accomplishments when each hearing felt like a slog to survive.

  Mediation was only marginally easier, requiring similar work to an oral hearing. But when it worked, mediation could shortcut a trial, saving time and money, which is what her current clients needed.

  Savannah’s phone dinged.

  Running late but be there soon.

  Emilie. The woman had probably stayed up late working on an article for the paper or meeting with a domestic violence client in her downtime.

  Emilie had joined the power team after unraveling a twisted case involving the death of one of her domestic-violence clients. Her big heart for marginalized people was a great balance to Hayden McCarthy, who’d come to the practice under Savannah’s mentorship. Hayden recently had an impressive win against the government for the murder of a juvenile in an immigrant detention facility. Her combination of litigation smarts and drive had increased their flow of cases. Savannah hoped their friend Jaime Nichols would come aboard soon too. A criminal-defense lawyer would round out her team perfectly.

  She texted a reply to Emilie. No problem. We haven’t started final prep.

  Savannah finished an email to update a client on an upcoming hearing date, then closed her eyes. If the clients weren’t here, she’d take two minutes, that’s all she needed to clear her mind quickly.

  A rap on her door roused her, and Bella stood in the doorway. This morning she wore a dark suit with a ruby-toned blouse adding a pop of color. Her silver hair was styled in waves around her face. The woman projected the perfect competent first impression Savannah needed, in addition to being a crack queen of all trades. There wasn’t much she couldn’t do or hire out via her paper Rolodex of contacts.

  “John and Rochelle are here, and they’re nervous as a cat near a fox. I’ve put them in the small conference room like we discussed.”

  “Thanks. Send Emilie that way when she arrives.”

  “Will do.” Bella made a show of looking at her smartwatch. “Don’t forget your lunch appointment.”

  Savannah met her gaze and quirked an eyebrow. “Really? I know it’s my birthday.”

  “Of course you do, but let the girls have fun celebrating you.”

  “Absolutely.” Between prep and mediation. “Time for the clients.” She’d seen how much kinetic energy John had on the best of days. Savannah could imagine what he was like when nervous.

  “Hayden needs to talk something over with you too.” Bella stepped back from the doorway as Savannah came through. “She’ll walk with you to lunch.”

  “Thanks, Bella.”

  Savannah paused outside the conference room. Rochelle Lingonier and John Martin were the impressive brains behind Mnemosyne. They’d named their nascent company after the Greek goddess of memory, because their code used satellites to stream live data to a series of mainframes. Their devices could replace the current black boxes, which Savannah had learned were actually orange.

  The problem was that a competitor, Flight Technology Solutions, had sued Mnemosyne for patent infringement, alleging the tech actually belonged to FTS. The mediation marked seventeen months of wrangling and delays and an effort to avoid an expensive trial whose outcome was far from certain.

  John stood as she entered.

  “Is this it? Will we finally get to resume our tests?” John pushed his glasses up his nose. The injunction had halted the final tests to prove the efficacy of Mnemosyne’s system to the Federal Aviation Administration. “Every week of delay means someone else could beat us to market.”

  Savannah could have predicted his words. “John, that’s today’s goal.”

  “We can’t wait much longer.” His gaze darted everywhere but avoided her eyes.

  “You have got to relax and trust me. This is why you’ve hired me.”

  Rochelle eased back into her seat. About fifteen years older than John, she was the adult managing a brain who hadn’t quite grown up. In different circumstances, Savannah would have called Rochelle to meet for coffee, because she sensed they could be friends. But for now, she needed to keep the lines drawn between client and attorney. “Exactly. We trust you to guide us through this storm. It’s just taken longer than we’d hoped.” The lines around her eyes were deeper than when they’d first met. “What do you need from us today?”

  “Listen. Take notes on your impressions of FTS’s arguments. You’ll understand the technical claims better than I will.”

  John pulled out his phone and started clicking away.

  “Does it matter if mediation works?” Rochelle’s hands twisted together on top of the table.

  “It should. Don’t forget, you hired me because I think four steps ahead.” At least four. Her phone pinged and she glanced at the screen. Emilie had just arrived. “We go in expecting today to be successful. If it isn’t, I’ll be ready with the next knockout option.”

  Emilie slipped into the room, her thin form clothed in an understated chic sheath that hinted at her old family money. John barely glanced up, though he usually took full advantage of enjoying Emilie’s quiet beauty, something the woman tolerated but didn’t encourage. Sometimes Savannah wanted to grab his phone and launch it far away.

  “Everything okay, John?”

  He paused, face blank, and then it flashed into focus. “Not until this is over.”

  Rochelle nodded, her short bob swaying. “It’s in the back of my mind constantly. There’s no escaping the reality that we could lose our tech with this lawsuit.”

  “Let’s see what happens this afternoon. If anyone can mediate this, Mr. Garbot can.” Savannah had seen great things happen when he managed disputes.

  The questions continued and Savannah briefed the pair on what they could expect. Before she knew it, Hayden was knocking on the door.

  “Ready for lunch?”

  Savannah stood and glanced at John and Rochelle. “You are welcome to join us at Il Porto. It’s great Italian with a nice atmosphere.”

  John shook his head. “We’ll grab a quick bite at La Madeline and meet you here at one.”

  Rochelle slid on a lined denim jacket that had a fun ruffle along the bottom. Its style indicated she worked with a younger labor force. “Does that work for you?”

  “Of course. Is there anything I can do to help John relax?”

  “Not really. It’s a hard place to be. This feels like our last chance.”

  “I understand. Legal wranglings are nerve-racking.” Savannah turned to Hayden and Emilie. “I’ll get my coat and meet you there.”

  Emilie nodded. “I’ll go ahead and make sure our table and drinks are ready.”

  Hayden waited while Savannah grabbed her purse and her long navy trench coat for the quick walk. She stopped at the reception desk to update Bella. “We’ll be back in an hour, but call or text if Mr. Garbot arrives earlier and indicates he’s ready. We can be back in five minutes.” Well, it would take a bit longer, but not much. The r
estaurant manager had the firm’s credit card on file for those meals she had to leave on a moment’s notice.

  John held the door as the foursome exited the firm. Cold air rushed into the reception area, and Savannah shuddered.

  “Feels like it’s dropped twenty degrees since I arrived this morning.” Savannah stepped outside and noted the inch of slushy snow that had fallen. Traffic inched down King Street toward Jeff Davis Highway, with pedestrians carefully picking their way down the sidewalks lining the historic streets.

  John was quiet as he strolled onto the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his khakis pockets. His Eddie Bauer vest probably wasn’t warm enough for the turn the weather had taken. He and Rochelle headed across the street toward La Madeline, while Hayden continued with Savannah down King Street.

  Savannah took a minute to breathe in the cold air and try to clear her mind. She’d never tire of winding her way through crowds down the bustling street of town houses and storefronts, many of which were decorated for Christmas, lending a festive air to the street. Today the businesspeople and tourists were bundled up, but the excitement on their faces mirrored what she’d see in the spring or summer. An energy pulsed here, but one different from striding down K Street or along Constitution Avenue in the District. While you could look across the Potomac at certain points and see the Capitol or the monuments, this area felt like a slice of history preserved for modern times. She’d never regretted making Old Town Alexandria her base.

  She bobbled as her foot hit a compacted bit of slush and slipped, but she managed to stay upright as Hayden reached out a steadying hand. “Careful.”

  Savannah grinned at the picture. “How many times have I told you that?”

  “Enough. Glad to return the favor.” Hayden’s words puffed out on a cloud.

  Il Porto’s white-painted brick building with burgundy shutters sat proudly on the corner of a busy intersection. Savannah waited for a car to pass, tires spitting out the dirty mix of snow, before crossing. Her shoulders relaxed as she opened the door and the rich aroma of fresh Italian food wafted toward her.

  She’d barely stepped inside when she felt arms wrap around her and heard a squeal. She knew it was Caroline Bragg before the petite dynamo said a word.

  “Happy birthday, friend.” Caroline’s words were as heavy with joy as they were with the South.

  Savannah turned around and gave her younger friend a hug. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” A dimple at the side of Caroline’s mouth popped out impishly.

  “Happy birthday, boss.” Jaime Nichols walked up with a mock frown. It was good to see a new freedom in the woman. It had come at a high and very public cost, but was worth every hard-fought moment.

  “Does this mean you’re joining the firm?”

  “Not yet. I’m really not sure it will be right for me.” Jaime shrugged but there was a light in her eyes. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Savannah bit back a smile at the hint of Eeyore that still poked out from Jaime’s manner. One didn’t change completely overnight, but Jaime was well on her way to owning her fresh start.

  Emilie waited at their table. Someone had lit the candles even though during the day they were usually flameless. A couple antipasto boards rested atop the paper-covered white cloth. In her usual efficient manner, Emilie had already ordered a round of iced tea as well.

  Something about the atmosphere of the restaurant, with its red-tile floor and heavy-beamed ceiling, made her feel like she’d stepped into old-world Italy. Relaxing had become a visceral and immediate response after so many good, fellowship-filled meals within its walls.

  After a round of hugs, the gals settled at the table and placed crisp white linen napkins in their laps.

  The waiter approached in his black pants and white shirt covered with a gold and black vest. The colors always reminded her of her undergrad alma mater’s colors. Purdue wore the black and gold with a pride similar to the restaurant’s staff.

  “Look.” Emilie had a crazy grin on her face as she tugged Hayden’s left hand from the woman’s lap.

  Hayden blushed to her dark roots and tried to tug free. “Emilie.”

  “I can’t believe you won’t lead with your news.” Emilie wrinkled her nose as she nudged Hayden’s shoulder. “Looks like I’ll need a new roommate in a few months.”

  “This isn’t the time.” Hayden tried to tug loose again, then continued in a stage whisper. “We’re here to celebrate Savannah.”

  Savannah caught a flash of light as Hayden’s hand moved. “Hayden, does this mean Andrew finally proposed? I can’t believe you didn’t say anything on the walk over.”

  Caroline didn’t wait for the answer but stood with a squeal, napkin flying from her lap, and scurried around the table for a hug. “Girl, it is about time.”

  Even Jaime smiled. “That’s great news.”

  After they placed their orders, Savannah tried to stay fully present, but Hayden’s wonderful news only highlighted her own aloneness. She wondered if pity was why Hayden hadn’t wanted to tell her. The girls were passing her right by, but she had to be fine with it because there was little she could do to change her situation. Not when she couldn’t make it past a first date. Guess that’s what happened when one had a strong personality. Being her own boss at age forty certainly hadn’t moderated that in her.

  The scent of spicy tomatoes and other wonderful Italian aromas wafted toward them as their waiter and a second man approached the table loaded with trays of food.

  The conversation flowed over the antipasti course and into the pasta della casa. Every bite of her manicotti alla fiorentina was wonderful, the ricotta and spinach blending perfectly. Just when she knew she couldn’t take another bite and get anything done afterward, thanks to the food coma, a waiter came out with a slice of cheesecake. Her mouth watered as she took in the raspberries atop the homemade delight. She put a hand on her stomach and then smiled. “I hope you brought fresh forks for everyone.”

  The handsome waiter flashed a bright smile. “Whatever the birthday donna wishes is my command.” He gave a slight bow and turned away. A moment later when he returned, a fist of forks at the ready, his demeanor had changed.

  Emilie watched him a moment. “What’s wrong, Antonio?”

  “There has been a horrible accident. It is on the TV in the office.”

  “What kind of accident?” Savannah leaned toward him. “Does it involve someone you know?”

  “No.” The man shook his head, and not one of his dark hairs moved. Yet his eyes were weighted with sadness and the shadow of something more. “It is a plane. It looks bad.”

  “Oh no.” The memory of a plane careening by as she looked out a courtroom window in downtown Washington, DC, years earlier flashed through her mind. Savannah fought a shudder as she withdrew a credit card from her phone case and placed it on the bill, only for Hayden to slide it back to her and replace it with her own.

  “Thank you.”

  Please let this be a terrible accident and not the beginning of another 9/11.

  Jaime’s head was bowed over her phone as she clicked the screen. “Looks like an isolated crash.”

  All Savannah could think was that Jaime should add so far to her sentence. “That’s what we all thought on 9/11 too.”

  Then a second plane careened into the Twin Towers. She saw the plane that hit the Pentagon, and a fourth plane crashed in Pennsylvania, killing one of her fellow law students. She cleared her throat and stood, motioning the gals to join her.

  “Let’s get back to work and see what we can learn.”

  As they left her favorite restaurant, her phone buzzed and she paused to pull it out of her pocket.

  She glanced at the text message on the screen and her blood froze.

  911. From Addy. Their emergency code.

  two years earlier

  “Daddy, can I have the keys?” Gracie smiled at him, her teeth perfect after the years in braces. She seemed to smile all the time
, as if inviting comments about her beauty, but he shrugged the thought to the side.

  She was perfect. He would protect her to the end. That’s what fathers did, at least the good ones. And that’s what he was. A good father. He would never repeat the sins of his father.

  “Daddy?” The quizzical wrinkle in her forehead telegraphed he’d drifted into his thoughts.

  He chuckled as he pulled the keys from their hook by the door. “Where are you headed?”

  “Meeting the girls at the Pink Penguin for froyo.”

  He glanced out the window, at the six inches of fresh snow that had fallen overnight. The roads were barely clear. Maybe he should keep her home where he knew she was safe. “Isn’t it too cold for anything frozen?”

  She rolled her blue eyes, so much like his wife’s. “Dad, it’s just an excuse to get together.”

  “I don’t know if you’re ready to drive on the snow.”

  “Mom had me out on it several times last year. I know what to do.” She held her hand out and wiggled her fingers for the keys as she gave him her brightest smile. “Besides, it’s only a mile from here. What can go wrong?”

  He handed her the keys. Two hours later her words haunted him.

  He might never know what had gone wrong, but when he took the call from Lauren, her best friend since kindergarten, asking where Grace was, he knew he’d always hate himself for letting her go.

  What could go wrong?

  His family was about to find out.

  Chapter Seven

  Savannah hurried along the sidewalk as fast as the falling snow allowed, composing a text to Addy as she walked, keeping one eye on the ground and the other on her phone. No response. So she called. No answer. Savannah left a message telling her niece to contact her immediately.