The judge nodded, as if weighing the answer. Madison wasn’t sure whether she’d passed or failed that one.
They drove up a ramp to a metal gate. A tone sounded and the gate lifted, putting them out on a rain-slicked street. Tree branches and street signs swayed in the wind. They stopped at a traffic light and watched a pedestrian struggle to hold on to his umbrella.
“Thanks for coming out with me. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
The words sounded like they came from the heart, and Madison shot a surprised glance the judge’s way. In the light from oncoming cars, her face looked white and strained.
“Is something wrong?”
The judge shook her head, clamping her lips tight, eyes on the road. Madison wondered if she was thinking about her husband. The clerks said they never spoke of him in chambers. But talking was good for the soul, for healing. The swish of wipers and drumbeat of rain on the roof created a sense of intimacy. Maybe the judge would open up to her. Though she was known to be very private, and Madison didn’t want to pry. Besides, once she came clean about Danny, the judge might not trust her with personal confidences. That thought was so awful, she wanted to cry. Maybe she should put off mentioning him until later in the dinner.
“Thank you for asking me to dinner,” she said to fill the silence. “I’d probably have forgotten to eat otherwise.”
“Oh, I remember what it was like, being a law student. Every second spoken for. Classes, extracurriculars. And I imagine you have a big social life. Friends, a boyfriend perhaps?”
“Not at the moment. I dated Ty Evans last year, but we split. We were too competitive to make it as a couple.”
“Hah, I can totally see that. He’s with Chloe now, right?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Her dad’s a friend from my prosecutor days. For what it’s worth, Doug Kessler really likes Ty.”
“Well, charming parents is the sort of thing Ty excels at.”
The judge’s mouth quirked into a half smile. It came as no surprise that she knew Chloe’s dad, a big-name partner in the firm where Madison would work next summer. Douglas Kessler was the kind of lawyer that Judge Conroy probably actually hung out with, as opposed to that lowlife Raymond Logue, who seemed like he got paid with suitcases full of cash. Danny was telling the truth about some things. Madison saw that now. But he was wrong about Judge Conroy being corrupt. She knew it in her heart. Besides, he had no evidence.
They pulled into an open parking spot and dashed through the rain to the restaurant. At the hostess station, the judge once again seemed jumpy.
“A table in the back, facing the door, please,” she said, and Madison shot her a glance.
Coming from someone else, that would sound melodramatic, like the person thought they were in a gangster film. But given the judge’s history, there could be reason for concern. As they followed the hostess through the bar, Madison found herself looking over her own shoulder. What she saw was heads turning as they passed, people checking out Judge Conroy. Was she known outside the legal community? Or just a beautiful woman, impeccably turned out on a stormy night, like the raindrops left her alone?
The hostess seated them at the far edge of the softly lit bar area, at a small marble-topped table. Music played in the background, mingling with the low buzz of conversation. Judge Conroy shrugged out of her plaid coat, smiling.
“It’s so nice being here with you. I really feel that we connect.”
Madison lit up. “Me too.”
But when they loaded the menu on their phones, she got a shock. Damn, she couldn’t afford this place.
“I’m thinking an omakase platter to share, and a bottle of sake. How’s that sound?” Judge Conroy asked.
Her brow scrunched. “Well, it’s just … I bought lunch out, and I—”
“Oh, my treat, of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“Madison, I’m not a million years old. I remember what it felt like to be a broke law student.”
“Then, thank you. I’m very grateful.”
“Thank you for accompanying me. I know women are supposed to be cool eating alone in fancy restaurants, but I always feel conspicuous. It’s nice to have a companion.”
They ordered, then got to chatting. The trial happening in the judge’s courtroom. How one of the jurors kept falling asleep. The lawyer who appeared to have a flirtation going with her young associate. And so on. It was fun. So much fun that she didn’t want to spoil it.
The waitress brought the sake on a tray with two miniscule cobalt-blue glasses. The judge poured with a ceremonious flourish and then threw hers back like a shot.
“Cheers,” she said, her cheeks pinkening.
Madison followed suit and gasped, tears coming to her eyes. She’d been expecting a hot, oily drink. But it was ice cold, fruity, as bracing as gin, and went immediately to her head.
The judge laughed. “Powerful stuff, huh?”
She nodded, choking.
Judge Conroy poured her another, and she downed it. They were tiny glasses after all, and it was Friday night. Being out with the judge, she didn’t want to seem like a lightweight or a prude. After the third glass, her head was spinning. If Judge Conroy had kept up with her, it didn’t show. Other than two spots of color burning in her pale cheeks, the judge seemed completely unaffected.
The sushi platter arrived and was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, the pieces expertly arranged, colorful as jewels in a velvet case. The room shimmered and swayed through her alcohol haze, the conversation flowing like the sake. It was a mind meld. They were kindred spirits who’d gone to the same high school, college, and law school (albeit twenty years apart). They talked about their favorite teachers. About the cliques at Catholic Prep, and where they fit into them—or didn’t. The judge claimed to have been a late bloomer socially, awkward as a teen, which Madison couldn’t believe, looking at the woman now. Was she really more popular in high school than Kathryn Conroy had been? That somehow led to a discussion of how men treated women in law school, and in the legal profession, and if that differed depending on whether the women were perceived as attractive, the underlying assumption being that they both fell into that category. Then on to how to dress for success. What clothes they liked. What books they read. Bliss. She imagined her friends wandering in and seeing them together. Not just any friends. Ty and Chloe in particular, because if she tried to tell them about this, they’d say, Pics or it didn’t happen. Well, it was happening—a heart-to-heart over delicious sushi with the woman she idolized. And the best talk she’d had with anyone in ages.
The sushi was gone. The judge ordered a piece of chocolate fondant cake for them to share, though didn’t touch it. She was busy showing off photos of her cat. With ink-black fur and seafoam eyes, the cat looked like a witch’s familiar.
“She’s gorgeous.”
“Matthew gave her to me when she was a tiny kitten. You should’ve seen her when she was little, so precious. I wish I had those photos on here.”
“Matthew? That’s your husband?”
A sudden sheen of tears appeared in the judge’s eyes. Shit, what was I thinking? She’d upset the judge, who put her phone away.
“Let’s get the check,” she said.
She signaled for the waitress, and Madison’s stomach went hollow. This magical evening would end on a sour note because she’d said a stupid thing.
“I’m so sorry, Judge. I shouldn’t’ve—”
“No, it’s no problem. It’s just late.”
“I screwed up.”
“Madison, it’s fine.”
“I want you to know,” she said, desperate, “it’s been an absolute dream having dinner with you. And if you ever want to talk again, I’m here. I’m a good listener, really. Very discreet. I would never share a confidence. You might not believe that, the way I blab on, but it’s true.”