Conflict of Interest

8. Due Diligence

Regina pulled outside a small indie coffee shop and halted her engines. The shop, conveniently located not too far away from her office in Brooklyn, was also near her parents’ home and was a frequently visited spot in her teenage years – she still adored their moose tracks ice cream and the creamy hot chocolates adorned with fresh whipped cream.

She walked inside, the warm air and the smell of freshly brewed coffee enveloping her as she shrugged off her blazer and draped it over her arm. After ordering a caramel latte, she sat down into one of the cozy armchairs by the window and waited impatiently, tapping her manicured nails on the light wood of the table as she took tiny sips of her blazing hot drink.

“You’re early again!” A woman’s voice exclaimed behind her as a hand was placed on her shoulders. As Regina stood up and turned around, she was hit with the smell of Chanel #5 perfume – classic and timeless.

“And you’re late again, mom.” She replied with a small smile as she gave her mother a warm hug. “And so is Eleanor.”

“What can I say, not all of us are lawyers that are used to getting paid by the minute.” The woman chuckled, pulling out a leather wallet. “Why do you drink that thing? Pumpkin spice is just so much better.”

“I can’t understand why anyone would want to indulge in a drink made from a vegetable.” Regina retorted playfully.

Her mother waved her off dismissively. “It’s the spirit of the fall, sweetie!”

“She can drink what she wants, mom,” Eleanor’s dismissive voice sounded from the doorway. “It’s a free country. Oh, and, nice to see you, R.”

Regina smiled at her sister as she gave her a brief hug. The engagement seemed to be doing her well – her usual bags from long night shifts and stressful surgeries were almost invisible, and her usual attire of loose sweaters over jeans has been replaced with a cozy yet chic sweater dress. Her sister seemed to be positively glowing – Regina almost suspected pregnancy until remembering her sister’s meticulous and perfectionist nature as well as the fact that she had already pre-determined the age at which she would be having children. Her mother was most definitely wrong: there were at least two people in their family that lived by an absolute schedule.

After settling down with their steamy drinks and slices of signature cheesecake, they carried a light conversation for several minutes before moving to the only topic that seemed to be of true importance at the moment: her sister’s upcoming wedding. She had finally settled on the bridesmaid dress colors and had even made progress with selecting the flower arrangements. Regina nodded along eagerly, glad for the company of her family and the much-needed break from the office, until her sister breached the very topic she was dreading.

“So will my maid of honor be going home with the best man, as tradition says?” Eleanor said innocently, winking at Regina.

“Let me think about it…” She took a dramatic pause, “and that’s a…No.”

“You don’t even know who he is!” Her sister cried out dramatically. “What if he was the man of your dreams?”

“Unlikely,” Regina replied scathingly. “What’s more than likely, though, is that you and mom will set me up with another one of your rich family friend prospects, or some guy who shares dad or Andrew’s hobbies and can’t shut up about soccer, hockey or some new car or other they bought. Forgive me if I’m not particularly ecstatic at the prospect.”

“You’re way too harsh on them,” her mother chimed in, “you never really give these nice boys a chance! You’re always so busy with some case or other, or away travelling…Next thing you know you’ll be thirty five, and you know that clock is ticking!”