“Do you know if there are other applicants, or is it just us?” she asked.
They shrugged, not meeting her eyes. A tense silence fell. They were each other’s competition, after all. Madison sized them up, running through the calculations in her mind. They weren’t Harvard Law, or she would recognize them. BU, then? Or BC, Northeastern, Suffolk? There were many good law schools in the city, but none with Harvard’s cachet. It was just a fact. Harvard hooked you up. Judge Conroy—an alum—hired exclusively Harvard grads as her law clerks, like Ty’s friend Sean. That said, the judge wouldn’t hire someone based on their Harvard pedigree alone. They had to have the grades, the credentials, and the personality to ace the interview. Fresh off law-firm recruiting season, Madison knew she could do it all. Her interview pitch had been honed on a dozen corporate law partners. She went over it now, in her head. Top grades, law review, internship at the legal clinic last summer, hands-on experience, a people person, organized, a hard worker, rose from humble roots, yada yada yada. It worked before. She had the offers to prove it, the pick of the top Boston firms. Besides, Judge Conroy knew her and had personally invited her to apply. This internship should be hers for the taking. And it would have been, if not for Danny.
Ugh. She wished she could just ignore the problem. But she had to tell the truth. It was the right thing to do. Integrity mattered. Judge Conroy would expect nothing less.
As if Madison’s thoughts had conjured her, the judge swept through the reception area in a swoosh of black robes, trailed by two young law clerks and an older woman with gray hair. The group disappeared through a door at the opposite end of the reception area without so much as glancing at the applicants. Judge Conroy wore business attire to teach. Madison had never seen her in robes before. Impressive. The vision lingered, along with the fragrance of the judge’s perfume, a velvety whisper of rose petals that she recognized from the classroom and breathed in now. How amazing to be part of Kathryn Conroy’s team, sitting in the courtroom during trial, coming back to the office to talk through the thorny legal issues. The judge asking her opinion, praising her legal analysis. Yet it could all slip through her fingers if she revealed the truth about Danny.
Beyond the tall windows, the sun set over the harbor. The receptionist was young, round, and pale, named Kelsey Kowalski, according to the plate on her desk. Kelsey looked at her watch, launching a jaw-cracking yawn. She lifted the telephone and spoke in a low tone.
“They’ll be out for you any minute,” she then said.
Then she put on her coat and walked out the door. The three candidates exchanged glances and settled in to wait, scrolling on their phones to avoid talking. Contrary to Kelsey’s assurances, it was forty minutes before the door to the inner sanctum opened and the law clerks emerged. Madison recognized them both—HLS grads from last year. The Black woman had been high up on law review when Madison was a first-year. The other was Sean Chen, Ty’s friend. He stopped short, looking at the applicants, and picked out Madison right away.
“Madison. I’m Sean. Tyler Evans told me all about you. Welcome,” he said, sticking out his hand.
They shook.
“Thanks, Ty mentioned you, too. Great to meet you,” she said.
“Tell him sorry I missed his party. We’ve just been real busy around here. Uh, Nancy’s gonna call you guys in one by one,” he said, directing the last remark to the group.
As Sean left, the other two cast resentful looks Madison’s way. The assumption was she had a leg up because of her connections. Maybe so, as far as the Harvard network went, but when it came to her brother, the opposite was true.
The gray-haired woman came up to them with a clipboard in her hand.
“I’m Nancy, Judge Conroy’s case manager, and I’m in charge of this application process. I’ll collect your transcripts and writing samples now, please.”
The case manager handled the judge’s docket, filing papers, scheduling court appearances, that sort of thing. Nancy looked the part of paper pusher, small and neat with a bland expression, dressed in slacks, a sweater, and loafers, with hot-pink readers hanging from a chain around her neck. They handed over their transcripts and writing samples. She went through the pages, shuffling them, sticking Post-its in places, then clipping them to her board.
“The judge will see you in alphabetical order by last name. Joshua Ackerman?”
The male candidate sprang up and followed Nancy into the judge’s office.
“What’s your name?” Madison asked the woman.
“I’m Priya Patel.”
“Madison Rivera. Nice to meet you. I guess you’re next.”
Joshua came and went. Priya was called. The interview blocks seemed to be about half an hour but felt longer to her as she sat there obsessing over what to say about Danny’s case. By the time Nancy called her, the sun had long since set, and Madison was starving on top of being mentally exhausted. She walked toward Judge Conroy’s office feeling lightheaded, shaky, and unusually anxious. Yes, she gave great interviews, but this time she was at a distinct disadvantage.
Goddamn it, Danny. Why do you always have to screw things up?
Then Nancy shut the door behind her, and she was alone with Judge Conroy.
She paused on the threshold, struck by the beauty of the scene. The skyline shimmering beyond the windows, and the judge, looking like an ice queen, all frosty blue eyes and pale skin, in a white silk blouse with diamonds glittering in her ears. For a second, Madison felt shy. Then the judge came out from behind her desk, a welcoming smile transforming her face. And Madison remembered that she was born for moments like these. She’d find the right words. She always did.
“Madison. I’m so glad you decided to apply. Come in, come in.”
“Thank you, Professor—or, I mean, Your Honor. I’m thrilled to be here. I was so flattered when you asked me to apply.”
“‘Your Honor’ is for the courtroom. Call me Judge; it’s less formal. Come, let’s sit over here.”
She led Madison to a cozy seating area with a sofa and armchair, and a coffee table with a perfect vase of white roses. Sinking into a corner of the sofa, Judge Conroy leaned back with a happy sigh, looking like she was ready to kick off her high heels. (She didn’t.) They were lovely, Manolo Blahniks, if Madison was not mistaken.
“It’s been a long day,” the judge confided. “A very dull trial, and now these interviews. I’m ready for a nap.”
Close up, the judge did look tired, with makeup caking in the delicate lines on her face and a tinge of sadness in her eyes. Or was she imagining that? The details of her husband’s death, fresh in Madison’s mind, cast her in a tragic light. From what she’d read in her search last night, Judge Conroy’s husband had been a wonderful human being and a dreamboat to look at. She’d never remarried. Of course, five years wasn’t that long a time to stay single after a loss like that. To the judge, it must feel like yesterday.
Wanting to cheer her up, Madison decided to hold off on mentioning Danny for the moment. She put on a perky smile.
“I’ll try not to be boring with my answers,” she said, perching on the edge of the armchair.
“I didn’t mean to imply that I expect to be bored. To the contrary. I’ve been looking forward to our chat. I enjoy your participation in class. You’re well-prepared and always have an opinion. I can tell you’re passionate about the Fourth Amendment, and it makes me feel the extra hours I’m putting in are worthwhile.”