It's Wednesday, and I haven't spoke to Max since that awful conversation Monday night. At least a half a dozen times I've picked up my phone just to send him a quick text during the day, then remembered.
Max and I aren't together anymore.
Martina comes into my office just as I'm finishing up a motion that needs to be filed in court.
"How are you doing?" Her face is full of concern. So maybe I haven't been holding in my feelings as much as I thought I was.
I shrug. I told Martina yesterday that I wasn't seeing Max anymore, but that I didn't want to talk about it. It still feels too raw. Plus, I don't really want to tell anyone the reasons why, not even Martina.
She slides into my visitor's chair. The door to my office is shut.
"I saw Gabe last night."
I look at her, not sure what I'm supposed to say about that.
"So you're actually seeing him as in dating him?"
"Well, it's early days, but yeah. I really like him."
She frowns. "The funny thing is, he didn't say anything about you and Max breaking up. In fact, he was telling me that he won't be around this weekend because he's has to go on a business trip to New York. He said you were going with Max, but I guess Max just hasn't told him yet that things have changed."
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I still have to go to New York."
Her eyes widen. "So it's business for you, too? I assumed you were just going along so you guys could, you know, have some time to do things in the city when Max and Gabe aren't tied up with business. To be honest, I was kind of hoping Gabe would ask me to come too so you and I could hang out together, do some shopping."
My desk phone buzzes with an interoffice call, so I put it on speaker. It's my grandfather's legal assistant, asking if I could stop by his office when I have a moment.
I agree, and then hang up the phone, wondering if anyone else thinks it odd that Andrew Reese uses his assistant to make an interoffice call to his own granddaughter. But maybe he's just one of those old school lawyers who has his assistant place all his calls, leaving the other party waiting on hold until he comes on the line.
The law firm may have the absolute latest in IT and other technology, but my grandfather himself sometimes seems like he's stepped into the 2020's directly out of another era, with his three piece suits, pocket squares, old world decor, and the overly formal atmosphere in an office where even the other lawyers call him Mr. Reese.
"Hey," Martina says. "I'll let you get to it, but you want to grab a drink after work today? I have questions."
I reluctantly agree, not sure I'm ready to answer her questions, either about the breakup or why Max is still insisting I accompany him to New York.
But I also want to protect her from getting too involved with Gabe without knowing at least a little about how I understand Max's business works. I know she was the one who first told me that night at the club that Max was some kind of a crime boss, but that seemed more like an excited rumor - this club is owned by a reputed crime boss - than actual knowledge on her part. If she really is getting involved with Gabe, not just having fun, then I want her to understand that he's a lot more than just the co-owner of a security firm. He's Max's right-hand man, and from what I've seen, anything illegal Max is involved in Gabe is right there with him.
* * *
I head down the hall to my grandfather's office, hoping he has a case referral to discuss with me, and isn't just going to resume the conversation about how he's forbidding me to date Max, and how continuing to be seen in his company is not only dangerous for me but could also compromise my career as a lawyer and damage the law firm.
Although I realize now that he was right about all of that, I still don't like the idea of him trying to tell me who I can and can't see. I ripped my own heart out Monday night when I told Max my decision that we couldn't be together, and I'm really not in the mood to discuss any of that with my grandfather.
I step into his office. He looks up from the desk and tells me to shut the door, and I think, oh, no, this can't be good.
"Have a seat, Hadley."
One of the things you learn as a lawyer is not to show your emotions on your face, since it could give the other side an advantage. My grandfather is damn good at it.
He leans forward, resting his arms on his expansive desk.
"What are your plans this weekend?" he asks me, and my mind goes blank and my whole body freezes for a second. Has he found out somehow that I'm going out of town with Max this weekend? I hope my poker face is half as good as his as I stare back at him.
"Why do you ask?" I manage.
"I'm not trying to drop a new case assignment on you this weekend," he says, misunderstanding the reason for my evasive reaction. "I just thought you might want to spend some time with your grandmother." Again, for a moment, when I look at him I see a glimpse of man behind the invincible always-in-control image he protects to the world. "And with me," he adds, seemingly reluctantly.
"Perhaps a short excursion. She and Laura used to enjoy spending an afternoon there. Laura was particularly fond of the Koi pond and the butterfly garden."
I can picture her there, and the thought of my mother as a young girl - before whatever happened that drove a wedge between her and her parents, and before the cancer that later took her life - gives me a wistful feeling. In a way, walking through those same gardens with my grandmother now would be like being a part of my mother's life that I never got to share.
"Somehow walking through botanical gardens doesn't seem like your kind of thing," I tell him, and he nods.
"It's not really. But I want to join you for two reasons. First, it really means something to me to see Patricia happy. And you give that to her. When she thinks she's with Laura again, she's content."
I get that. My grandfather is a hard man, but his softness for his wife - and his paid at watching her slip away more each day while still being physically there, was obvious when I was at their house. And I remind myself that that's the reason he brought me here in the first place.
"What's the other reason?" I ask, curious, because I doubt it's the desire to spend time with me since he's ignored me my entire life.
He taps his pen on his desk. "I need to run interference in case I see anyone Laura knows. She was so outgoing, involved in so many things. There are so many acquaintances she had who have no idea what . . .the current circumstances are."
He seems to be speaking with an effort, choosing his words carefully, and I realize he hasn't completely accepted how my grandmother is now.
"When someone approaches her, clearly seems to know her," he continues, "and she can't place them, she gets confused and upset. I don't want an outing to do more harm than good. That's why we rarely go out anymore."
It makes me sad, thinking about how my grandmother's world has shrunk, not just mentally, but her physical world as well. Both her mind and her luxurious home have become a sort of prison.
My grandfather seems to have been lost in thought for a few moments, and I wonder if he's thinking back to happier days when he and my grandmother were involved in social and charitable activities in Miami, always someplace to go and something to do. I realize with a state that her illness has become his prison as well.
When he looks up and his gaze meets mine again, however, his eyes are sharp and clear, his inner thoughts shielded.
"Would you like to join us? Perhaps an exclusion Sunday morning, then back to the house for lunch? She's more . . . herself earlier in the day," he explains, and I get this sudden thick feeling in my chest and have to remind myself that as much as he obviously loves his wife and suffers for her, this is also the man who shut his own daughter out of his life and wanted nothing to do with me - his only granddaughter - until he realized he could use me for his own purposes.
But I can't help the cracks that have started appearing in my resolve to treat my relationship with him as purely a business proposition.
"I wish I could," I tell him, honestly meaning it more than he will realize since the image of my mother and grandmother walking through the gardens in happier days has now formed in my imagination and won't go away. Plus, my actual plans for the weekend are something I'm not looking forward to at all.
The regret on my face as I explain is not something I have to manufacture. "Unfortunately, though, I already have plans to be out of town this weekend. But I'd love to do the outing the following weekend," I add, "if that works for you." I realize that of course it works for him. His weekends have no plans. When Olivia is off-duty, he is Patricia's full time caregiver.
He frowns. "Are you still dating that Max Bennett despite what I told you?"
That's a question I'm not sure how to answer.
"I've been thinking about what you said," I tell him, deflecting. "Continuing to see Max Bennett is probably not a good idea."
My grandfather's reaction to this statement is a combination of surprise, satisfaction, and relief.
"Well, I'm glad you're finally coming to your senses," he says gruffly.
I decide to let that pass, although his demeanor now is doing a lot to erase the softening toward him I felt just a few moments ago.
"I already have plans that have been in place to meet up with some friends in New York City this weekend," I explain. "It's too late now to change them."
"Oh, that's fine," he says, nodding. "I was afraid you might have plans with Bennett and you know my feelings on that."
I just nod and smile. Although I haven't technically lied to him, I feel guilty. There's no way he'll ever find out that the "friends" I'm meeting up with are actually Mafia bosses I met in Las Vegas with Max whose invitations cannot be declined, and that I'm traveling there with the one person my grandfather has repeatedly forbidden me to spend time with.
I realize with a guilty twinge that I'm doing the same thing to Andrew that Max did to me when I asked him the first time about Ramon's mugging. Choosing my words carefully, and deceiving my grandfather by omission. I was so angry at Max when I found out, and accused him of being dishonest and betraying my trust.
But apparently I'm no better.
"Hadley?"
I realize my grandfather asked me something while I was lost in thought.
"I'm sorry, I let my mind wander for a moment."
"I asked what time you'll be back on Sunday. If it will be in time for dinner, then perhaps you could still join us."
"Oh. I'm not sure."
He looks at me strangely, and I realize that he's wondering how I would not know what time my flight gets in.
I come up with the best explanation I can think of.
"I'm scheduled for a late flight Sunday night, but on standby for an earlier one." Now I've moved on to outright lying. So much for the integrity I've always prided myself on.
He nods. Well, if you can't get the early flight, it's fine to just fly back Monday morning. You're not punching a time clock here, you know," he says magnanimously. He's apparently in a generous mood since he's concluded that I'm following his directions and severing any ties with Max. And probably thinking ahead to how happy Laura will be when we do the outing the following weekend.
"Thank you," I say simply.
I'm not as confident as him that it will go well, based on my limited research on dementia and my single conversation with Dr. Bancroft. Which reminds me I still need to make another appointment to ask him if real versus false memories are a thing.
Now I feel even guiltier as I walk back to my office. But I remind myself that he's only treating me this way because he thinks he's getting what he wants. It will be a different conversation altogether if he ever finds out the real reason I didn't know my return time is because I'm flying to New York as a guest on the Bennett family private jet.
But since I can't imagine any way he would ever find out, I put it out of my mind for now.
The next thing I have to figure out is how much - or how little- I'm prepared to tell Martina when we go out for drinks tonight.