"Completely innocent?" he pressed. "As in, everything she told you was the truth?"
"I don't think I could possibly know her well enough to know if everything she told me was the truth. But he does," she said, pointing with a nod toward Gus.
They watched through the window as Gus and Beth embraced. It seemed genuine, not staged in the least. They Were alone inside, completely unaware of Isaac and Andie watching from the outside.
"All right," said Isaac. He sounded as if he were just then making up his mind. "Tell the Wheatleys they can go home."
"Good instincts, boss." Andie stepped toward the door.
"Hey," said Isaac, stopping her. She looked back. He seemed confused, as if there were something he wanted to say.
"Take the rest of the day off," he said.
"Thanks." She reached for the doorknob.
"Hey," he said again.
She stopped again, met his eyes.
He blinked twice, then asked, "You free for dinner?"
It was the expression on his face that had confused her--a certain nervousness that made it seem as though he was actually asking her out, not just buddies after work. "Tonight?"
"I was thinking maybe . . . Saturday night."
She smiled wryly. "I know a great little place that makes awesome camas cakes."
"What cakes?"
"Never mind. You pick the place. Just be sure the reservation is for two. Kira and Willow are staying home." "Two it is, then," he said, smiling.
She gave a wink, then turned and entered the conference room.
*
Autumn
"Wheatley and Partners," the receptionist said into the phone.
Gus had a spring in his step as he passed her desk in the main lobby. Over the past eight months he'd probably heard his receptionist answer a thousand calls the same way, and the sound of it still tickled him. His own firm.
With eighteen lawyers, it wasn't Preston & Coolidge. That was the good news. They were big enough to do the same quality work, small enough to run their own lives and actually have a life beyond time sheets: Most had come over with Gus from P&C. A few were old friends of Gus's, talented lawyers who could never have gotten hired by the old firm, like Jack Shode, the bankruptcy guru who spent weekends on lead guitar in one of the hottest local bands. Maybe he didn't fit the old P&C mold, but who could have possibly known more about debt than a guy surrounded by rock-star wannabes?
"Nice earring, Jack."
"Nice wing tips, chief."
It was their standard tongue-in-cheek greeting every afternoon as they passed in the hall on their -way to the coffeemaker. For Gus, it was a pleasure just to have time in the day to get off the phone and get his own cup.
It hadn't been all smiles, of course. The end of the "Echo Killings" had been an enduring media event in Seattle. Everyone from Isaac Underwood to Steven Blechman's fifth-grade teacher had been on television. It was like the silly season, till the losses were tallied. So many innocent people had been hurt, from the murder victims themselves to the mortified families of misguided cult members. The prosecutor was determined to put the cult permanently out of business, having brought first-degree murder charges against Carla. She'd spent the last eight months in jail awaiting trial.
Neither Gus nor Beth had done much talking to the media. Just a short statement from Gus that they were sorry for the victims and were moving forward with their lives. It had taken months for the press to leave them alone, but life finally had started to take on some semblance of normality.
Their lives were changed forever, but that wasn't a bad thing. They had more time together, more dinners as a family, longer talks that reached well beyond the obligatory "how was your day?" They'd even moved to a smaller house--one with no echoes. Progress had come more quickly than expected, and not just because Gus had heard it both from Carla and Blechman that Beth had never actually joined the cult. The truth was, they had fallen out of love, but they had never stopped loving each other. Getting back the spark would just take time, and it was perhaps right around the corner. He'd noticed that Beth had recently taken to wearing those little diamond-chip earrings again, the ones he'd given to her on her twenty-first birthday. They were practically worthless, but the way Beth used to wear them on important occasions--birthdays, anniversaries--had always served as a reminder of what was good about their marriage.
It was nice to know she was sending him little reminders again.
"Excuse me, Gus?" It was his secretary poking her head into his office. Gus looked up from his desk.
"Yes?"
Your wife's on line one. She's calling from the shop."
The shop was a fine-linen boutique in Bel Square that Beth had patronized fory ears. She was now the assistant manager and thinking about buying it from the seventyyear-old owner, who was about to retire. Getting into business was a good way to rebuild her confidence and focus on the future. Gus was all for it.