The First Time Read Free Page A

about.
You’re fucking other women!
she screamed underneath her rants about wanting to renovate the kitchen.
I don’t want to be here!
he shouted beneath his protests that she wasspending too much money, that she had to cut back. Sometimes their angry voices would wake up Kim, who’d come running into their bedroom, immediately taking her mother’s side, so that it was two against one, another joyless irony Mattie doubted was lost on Jake, who was only there because of his daughter.
    Maybe Kim was right, Mattie thought now, glancing at the phone on the wall beside her. Maybe all that was needed was a little show of support, something to let her husband know that she appreciated how hard he worked, how hard he tried—had always tried—to do the right thing. She reached for the phone, hesitated, decided to call her friend Lisa instead. Lisa would know how to advise her. She always knew what to do. And besides, Lisa was a doctor. Didn’t doctors have an answer for everything? Mattie pressed in the first few numbers, then impatiently dropped the receiver back into its carriage. How could she disturb her friend in the middle of her undoubtedly busy day? Surely she could solve her own problems. Mattie quickly punched in the proper sequence of numbers, waited as Jake’s private line rang once, twice, three times. He knows it’s me, Mattie thought, trying to shake away the annoying tingle that had returned to tease the bottom of her right foot. He’s deciding whether or not to pick up.
    “The joys of call display,” she sneered, picturing Jake sitting behind the heavy oak desk that occupied a full third of his less-than-spacious office on the forty-second floor of the John Hancock Building in downtown Chicago. The office, one of 320 similar offices making up the prestigious law firm of Richardson, Buckley and Lang, had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Michigan Avenue, and stylish Berber carpeting,but was too small by half to contain Jake’s growing practice, a practice that seemed to be skyrocketing daily, especially since the press had lately turned him into something of a local celebrity. It seemed her husband had a knack for choosing seemingly impossible cases, and winning. Still, Mattie doubted that even Jake’s considerable skill and formidable charm would be enough to win an acquittal for a young man who’d admitted to killing his mother in an act of undeniable premeditation, and then proudly boasted of the killing to his friends.
    Was it possible Jake had already left for court? Mattie glanced at the two digital clocks on the other side of the room. The clock on the microwave oven said it was 8:32; the clock on the regular oven below it read 8:34.
    She was about to hang up when the phone was answered between the fourth and fifth ring. “Mattie, what’s up?” Jake’s voice was strong, hurried, a voice that announced it had little time for small talk.
    “Jake, hi,” Mattie began, her own voice delicate and tentative. “You were out the door so fast this morning, I didn’t get a chance to wish you good luck.”
    “I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait for you to get up. I had to go-”
    “No, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to imply—” Not on the phone ten seconds, and already she’d managed to make him uncomfortable. “I just wanted to wish you good luck. Not that you’ll need it. I’m sure you’ll be brilliant.”
    “You can never have too much good luck,” Jake said.
    Words to write on a fortune cookie, Mattie thought.
    “Look, Mattie. I really have to get going. I appreciate your call—”
    “I was thinking of coming to court this morning.”
    “Please don’t do that,” he said quickly. Far too quickly. “I mean, it’s not really necessary.”
    “I know what you mean,” she said, not bothering to disguise her disappointment. Obviously, there was a reason he didn’t want her in court. Mattie wondered what the reason looked like, then pushed the unwelcome thought aside. “Anyway, I just