“And how are things going with Penelope?” Joshua asked.
“Good, actually.”
Dexter’s eyebrows shot up. He filled the expectant silence around the table by topping up my wineglass.
“We had lunch and talked things through a couple of weeks back. We’ve told Bethany she’s her mother and she comes over to the house a few times a week.”
“Well, that sounds mighty civilized,” Dexter said. “And you seem okay about it.”
“It is and I am. It’s good for Bethany. Like Penelope said, she walked out, and it can be for three years or a lifetime. She’d prefer it to be three and . . .” I’d thought about it. I’d do anything for my daughter, and I wasn’t going to be the man who denied her a mother. “And so would I. It’s what’s best for Bethany.”
“So, she’s back for good?” Joshua asked.
“Yes, I think she is. And if she walks out again . . . Well, I’ll pick Bethany up and put her back together.” I didn’t think Penelope would leave again. She’d grown up. We both had. And she wouldn’t want to miss out on Bethany any more than she already had done.
“What about the two of you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s still the same woman I married but . . .” She wasn’t Autumn. And when Autumn came back, I wanted to prove to her that I’d done everything I could to try with Penelope, even if that’s not what I wanted. Autumn should have no doubt that I wanted her above all others.
“Too much water under the bridge?”
“I’m not sure I’m the same man she married.” My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket to find Mike’s number flashing at me and I groaned before ignoring the call.
“Wait, did you just ignore a work call?” asked Tristan.
I shrugged. I was sick of Mike. Ever since Penelope and I had lunch and she’d been surprised that I was still lawyering, it had gotten me thinking. “I’ve been considering that I might not like my job.”
“This is hardly breaking news,” Joshua said. “What would be a surprise is if you said you were giving it up.”
“Actually, I wanted you lot to talk me out of resigning.” Since Primitivo’s, I’d mulled over the idea of leaving the law. Penelope was right that, in theory, I didn’t have to work. The family trust meant that my father hadn’t worked a day in his life, and I wouldn’t have to either. I’d been a lawyer a long time, dealing with shitty clients like Mike and whoever came before him or would come after him. At long last, it occurred to me that I didn’t have to do something I hated to be a role model.
“Excuse me, did I hear you correctly?” Dexter asked.
“I’m not saying I’m about to resign from the partnership. I’m just thinking about it.” The more I thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. “But obviously it’s a terrible idea and I need to hear it. I wouldn’t even know what else I could do. I don’t want to sit around doing nothing and I don’t want to do something I’m going to enjoy even less.”
“You don’t have to work, do you?” Tristan asked.
“No, but I want to. It’s important that I’m a good role model for Bethany. And anyway, what would I do all day?”
“You could do charity work,” Joshua suggested. “Set up a foundation. Raise money.”
Didn’t thousands of rich men do that? It always seemed as much of an ego trip as a charitable endeavor. I’d rather just donate to someone else’s foundation.
“Set up your own business,” Andrew suggested, which was typical for him because he seemed to have a new business every time I saw him.
“Doing what?” I asked.
Silence stretched around the table. That was the problem with lawyers. No one could see them doing anything but being lawyers, including the lawyers themselves.
“You could go into politics,” Dexter said. “You’ve got high moral standards and great decision-making skills.”
“I think that disqualifies me,” I said. “And anyway, I can’t think of anything worse.”
“You could sell tables,” Tristan said. “Like the one you made for your kitchen.”
Warmth gathered in my belly as I remembered Autumn describing how I gave furniture a new lease on life. I drummed my fingers on the table. “I didn’t make it,” I said.
“But you . . . polished it up or something, didn’t you?” Tristan asked.
Or something. It had taken me six months of evenings to get that table into a useable state. “I do that for fun,” I said. “To unwind.”
“Right,” Andrew said. “So make it into your job and you’ll never feel like you’re at work. But don’t do it unless you feel it in your heart. In your gut.”
“You’re saying that you feel it in your heart every time you want to start a new business?” I asked, ready for him to say of course not.