“Oh, they are. I absolutely adore your class. We all do. You know what Harvard Law is like. So many of the profs are ivory-tower types. All theory, with no understanding of the real world. You tell it like it is, and that’s invaluable to me.”
The judge actually blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. I love teaching. But not everybody here is excited that I’m doing it. Nancy is unhappy about my absence from court. We’re falling behind on opinions, and she hates that. It’s a point of pride with her to have the fastest docket in the courthouse. Which is why we’re moving to fill this internship quickly, to maintain staffing levels, to churn out opinions faster.”
Madison was tempted to ask what had happened to the last intern. Was she really fired, and if so, why? Judge Conroy seemed relaxed and open enough that she might answer. Better to keep quiet, though. Sensitive questions were best reserved for after getting the job. Although not when it came to Danny. That, she had decided to disclose up front. Yet here she was, dragging her feet. Maybe she should just get it over with.
“Judge, I should probably mention—”
Judge Conroy held up a finger. “Hold on, let me review your CV,” she said, perusing the application.
Madison folded her hands in her lap. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room. The office was large and beautifully decorated in shades of blue and gray, with soft lighting and silk drapes to soften the angular, modern lines of the architecture. In addition to the imposing desk and the seating area where they were, there was a conference table with chairs, and bookshelves lined with leather volumes. The one thing missing was any clue to the personal life of the woman who occupied it. The law partners with whom Madison had interviewed boasted credenzas covered in family photos, walls hung with diplomas, side tables brimming with their kids’ art. There was an explanation, of course. Her husband had been murdered. She had no children. There was no kid art to hang, no family photos. Even a wedding photo would be too painful.
The judge looked up, and Madison imagined she saw shadows in her eyes.
“Your credentials are impressive, but I need you to understand, this position is extremely demanding. You’ll be working for the law clerks, doing legal research and writing memos summarizing the results. The research you do will be directly used in drafting judicial opinions. The workload is intense. Do you think you can handle it?”
Madison had been asked that question on repeat during recruiting season. Her mind stuck on the Danny problem, she rattled off her standard reply. High honors in legal research class. Law review. Moot court. Judge Conroy nodded like she was paying attention, but her eyes glazed.
“I have to say, that sounded rehearsed,” the judge commented.
Madison’s cheeks flamed. She was distracted and screwing up.
“Sorry. I’ve been interviewing a lot.”
Conroy tossed the application aside. “Let’s get away from scripted answers. Tell me what’s not on your CV.”
What did that mean? Did she think Madison was hiding something? Was it possible that she knew about Danny?
“What I’m getting at,” the judge said, sensing Madison’s consternation, “is, what’s your background? Who influenced you? What made you want to be a lawyer?” the judge said.
“Oh. Okay. Well, you influenced me, to be honest.”
“I’m not looking for flattery. Dig deeper. Something from your past.”
“That is from my past. I went to Catholic Prep, like you did. I saw you speak at Career Day when I was fourteen years old. From that moment, I knew I wanted to be a lawyer.”
The judge’s mouth fell open. “I remember giving that talk. They asked me because they thought I’d set an example. I can’t believe you were there. Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. It was a tough time in my life, and school was my refuge. Hearing you speak was so exciting. I imagined myself in the courtroom, just like you. It gave me a goal to work toward. It meant a lot.”
Madison had wanted to tell her about their connection for the longest time. Now, the personal details came spilling out. Dad’s death, Mom’s breakdown, being sent to live at Aunt Nilda’s. The judge listened intently.
“My aunt supported my education,” she said. “She wanted me to go to private school, because I was academically gifted, and my mom was—well, she was going through a lot. My aunt was the one who helped me apply to Catholic Prep and get a scholarship, though it didn’t cover the whole tuition. I always worked outside school. But it was worth it. That place changed my life. I did Model UN. Debate. Student government. I branched out, took risks, tried new things.”
“Fantastic. Give me an example of that.”
“Well, for instance, I always loved to swim, but I never thought of myself as an athlete. I was encouraged to join the swim team. Turned out, I was pretty good. My year, the team went to the finals. Between the academics, the clubs, sports, and the excellent college counseling, I got into Harvard for undergrad. But I never forgot hearing you speak. From the beginning of college, I was aiming for law school.”
“I went to Harvard undergrad, too. Were you a Gov major?”
“Social Studies.”
“No kidding. Same. We went to the same schools, had the same major. And the personal journey really resonates, too. Madison, I can’t tell you how much this sounds like my own story.”
“Really?”
“Word for word. I’m from Southie, from a modest background, too. And I had hardships growing up.”
She never would’ve guessed. South Boston had gentrified a lot recently, but its history was as a tough, working-class neighborhood, mainly Irish, at least in the old days.
“I’m surprised. I would’ve thought your ancestors came over on the Mayflower.”
“I get that a lot. Whether it’s how I look, or the way I talk. And you, your heritage?”
“Puerto Rican from East Boston, though my mom recently moved to Revere. Rents are higher there, but the neighborhood is better. I’m glad for her. She has a good job now and is finally back on her feet. Things were tough after my dad passed.”
“I know just how that is. My mother wasn’t well, either. She had leukemia when I was a kid, and eventually passed away.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. I get the sense you understand the loneliness of it. The responsibility. Were you an only child, too?”
“Yes.”
What the hell? In the heat of the moment, the lie just fell out of her mouth. She was supposed to come clean about Danny. Instead she got caught up in their conversation and claimed he didn’t exist. Why? To seem more like the judge? She was an idiot. Now it was out there. She had to take it back. But how? The judge was leaning forward, her face aglow with emotion, going on about how alike they were.
“I knew it. You remind me so much of myself, Madison. I even had someone in my life—a family friend, but I called him Uncle—who supported my education when my mother couldn’t. Like you said, it wasn’t her fault. She was just ill, like your mom. Without Catholic Prep, I wouldn’t be where I am today. It made all the difference. The structure. The resources. Forget about Harvard. It’s our shared high school experience that convinces me you’re the right person for this job. And to think my Career Day talk all those years ago influenced you to become a lawyer. And brought us here, to this moment. That’s very meaningful to me. I want you on my team, Madison. You’re hired.”
Crap.
Instead of being thrilled, she felt trapped by her stupid mistake. It was too late to correct the record now. What could she do—say she forgot she had a brother? How would that look? The judge would start to wonder. She’d probably get suspicious and investigate. She’d find out about the drug case and think that Madison concealed it intentionally. Madison would look dishonest—exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.
Oh, God. She’d screwed up royally.