After the Golden Age

Then he’d want to stay with her. She had to think of a way to tell him no without hurting his feelings.

She found a dry towel, dried off, and changed while Mark arrested the kidnappers. She finished before him, and went to wait in the front lobby of the rec center.

Meeting Arthur Mentis on the way in was almost the last straw. Presumably he was here to scan the kidnappers before they could get their thoughts in order. He saw her; she couldn’t hide. Not that he had to see her to see her.

She turned her back to him, as if that would make him disappear, or hide her thoughts from him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave you alone,” he said, continuing through the lobby to the pool area.

Almost, she called out to him. Almost, she begged him to wait. She could tell him how she was feeling; he’d understand.

But he kept walking, and she kept her mouth shut.

Mark brought her dinner to her place. It took three hours to convince him to leave. He couldn’t understand that what she most wanted—the best way to handle days like these—was to get back to normal as quickly as possible. No coddling, no special treatment. Just normal. Was it so hard?

TWELVE

CELIA was back at work the next day. She started in on the first thing in her in-box that didn’t involve the Sito case.

The receptionist buzzed her at noon. “Celia, you have a visitor.”

She wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe it was Mark, still showering her with concern. But he always called first. She braced herself for a surprise.

Arthur Mentis waited in the lobby.

“Hi,” she said bluntly, before mentally shaking herself into a more polite frame. But she couldn’t think of a polite way to ask, What are you doing here?

“I thought you might like some lunch,” he said. “I was in the neighborhood.”

He might very well have been. “You always seem to know exactly when I’m ready to break for lunch.”

“Logic,” he said. “It’s noon. You aren’t implying something nefarious, are you?”

“It’s your babysitting shift, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Yes, actually. But what better way to keep an eye on you?”

If it had been anyone else, her mother or Robbie or even Analise, she’d have grumbled and ranted about how they couldn’t leave her alone, and didn’t they trust her, and couldn’t they show a little respect. But with Arthur, she had to laugh.

They went to the Italian place in the building’s ground floor.

They sat, exchanged pleasantries. Her parents were fine. He’d convinced them not to call right away after the latest kidnapping, for which she expressed her gratitude.

“Do you want to talk about it? You seemed rather upset yesterday.”

At least he waited until the breadsticks were out before asking. “Are you asking as a psychologist or as a friend?”

“Which do you prefer?”

Psychologist implied she needed counseling, that something was wrong with her. While that very well may have been true, she’d been doing pretty well lately—she thought—and preferred to maintain the illusion. “Friend, I suppose. It wasn’t the kidnapping that upset me. It was finding out about the surveillance. That you guys have been keeping tabs on me, in secret.”

“Typhoon told you?”

“I confronted her. She showed up too quickly. I just want to be left alone, to take care of myself—but I can’t do that, evidently. Not when it seems like half the town’s crooks are after me. I guess I need superhuman bodyguards. I hate that I can’t get away from that part of my past. I’ll never get away. I’m not making choices about my life, it’s all just … trapping me. No matter what I do. I’ve worked so hard—”

“What else?”

What else indeed? What wasn’t there? “Sito’s defense called me to testify. I think they want to use me to discredit the prosecution. Bronson’s trying to get me out of it, but it doesn’t look good. It’s all going to come out.” She wanted to pretend it didn’t bother her so much, but thinking about it made her either want to break a chair or burst into tears. She tried to clamp down on the feelings. But around Arthur, why bother? So she seethed, quietly.

“Would you like me to do something about it?”

“Like what—change the defense attorney’s mind for him? Mess with the judge?” She said this last in a whisper.

He didn’t react. He never reacted. She might have asked him to pass the sugar, as concerned as he seemed. He’d do it, too, she realized. If she asked.

“Could you?” she said. “I mean, I know you could. But would you? It’s not right, you know.”

He shrugged. “There’s right and then there’s right. You don’t deserve to get raked over the coals for this.”

As he said, there was right and then there was right.

“No, I guess not. But if I don’t want you guys around at all, I can’t come running to you for help when I want it. It’ll be okay. I’ll get through it.”