Chapter 14

14

W ill’s definition of ‘light appetizers’ was perhaps more elaborate than hers, Sasha realized as she surveyed the array of olives, meats, cheeses, and breads displayed on the conference room table. A silver tray held three fluted glasses, a pitcher filled with a bright orange liquid, and a bottle of prosecco in a marble chiller.

“Wow,” she finally managed. “This is quite a spread.”

“We heard you had a good outcome in your case for Daniel,” Will explained. “I thought this partners’ meeting should be celebratory.”

Naya popped the cork on the sparkling wine. “Aperol spritz?”

“Why not.”

Sasha filled each of the glasses with Aperol, club soda, and ice from the pitcher and Naya topped them off with the prosecco.

“Cin cin ,” Will toasted, raising his glass.

“ Cin cin, ” they echoed.

After filling their small plates with food, the three partners gathered around the table, noshing and sipping. Sasha waited for an opening in the chatter about billable hours, charity sponsorships, and speaking engagements to bring up her news. Suddenly, Will and Naya fell silent and exchanged a glance. Will nodded almost imperceptibly at Naya.

Uh-oh, what’s this? Sasha put down her glass and eyed her partners.

Naya smiled broadly. “So, Mac.”

“So, Naya.”

“Will and I were talking, and we thought maybe you should consider taking a sabbatical.”

Sasha burst into laughter. Her partners exchanged another look, this one more worried in nature.

“The program exists for a reason,” Will told her gently. “It existed at P&T for a reason, too. And that reason is partner burnout. It’s clear you’ve not been yourself. It’s not a badge of shame to take some time to recharge, explore something?—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Sasha got her giggles under control and held up her palm. “I don’t disagree. In fact, just last night, I told Connelly that I wanted to use the sabbatical program.”

Relief flooded Will’s face, and Naya let out whooshing sigh.

“Good. I think you’ll find it rejuvenating,” Will assured her.

“I’m not finished. But in the space of a day, my plans have changed. You’re right, I haven’t been myself. The law has felt like drudgery in recent months, rather than a calling. And when we feel that way, it does make sense to mix things up. Today, I was approached by a private intelligence agency that wants to retain the firm—retain me, actually—to do all of its work.”

Naya frowned. “Won’t that be a conflict of interest with whatever the heck it is Leo does?”

“It would have been, but Leo is no longer employed by the government.”

“He’s no longer employed by the government for real, or he’s employed by another secret agency that doesn’t officially exist?”

“For real.”

“Well, if your concern is financial, remember that the sabbatical is paid. You don’t need to keep working if a break would do you good.”

“This prospective client will pay an annual retainer that’s more than three times last year’s total firm billings,” Sasha countered.

“Oh,” Will said.

“Oooohhhh,” Naya echoed.

“Right.”

“What’s the catch?” Naya demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“The catch is they want me to work for them exclusively.”

She could tell Will was running the numbers by the way he squinted at the ceiling. After a moment, he nodded and said, “With a retainer that size we could easily hire two junior litigation partners to take over your existing work. Or an army of associates.”

“Is this something you want to do?” Naya asked.

Sasha popped a bright green Castelvetrano olive in her mouth and savored the burst of brine before answering. “It is. The work they do sounds exciting. Engaging. It’ll be like taking a sabbatical without pausing my practice.”

Naya nodded.

“Well, this was an easy meeting,” Will declared.

“Not so fast. There are two more items to discuss,” Sasha told them. “One, someone should take a sabbatical—one of you. Nobody else is going to use the program until one of the name partners does it. They’ll think it’s a trap to weed out the undevoted or something.”

Will chuckled knowingly. “That does sound like lawyer thinking. And to be honest, I’ve been noodling over taking on an expanded role at the food bank. But perhaps, a six-month sabbatical to dig into their finances, revamp their programming, and hire a top-notch director while working on my novel would be just the thing.”

“You’re writing a novel?” Naya asked.

Will blushed a deep red and busied himself with his cheese and bread.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Sasha told him. “What you about, Naya? Any interest in a sabbatical?”

“Not me. You forget. I haven’t been a lawyer as long as either one of you. I’m still in my world domination era.”

“Fair enough. But we should host a happy hour or another aperitivo for the entire firm to let people ask questions about the sabbatical program and explain how it works.”

“The entire firm?”

“The entire firm,” Sasha insisted. “We should make the sabbatical available to all employees. Equity partners aren’t the only folks susceptible to burnout or whose happiness matters.”

“You’re not wrong,” Naya said. “And with this new client you just brought in, heaven knows we can afford to do it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Will proclaimed. “That was the second thing, correct?”

“No, that was more like 1b. The second thing is while I don’t want to take advantage of the sabbatical program right now, I do need to take a vacation. A one-month vacation starting on Monday.”

Will blinked, owl-like. Naya gave her the side-eye.

“Will your new client find that acceptable?”

“Yes. It’s prearranged.”

This was true. She and Connelly were picking the twins up from Ryan and Rylie’s place as soon as she left work to head to the lake house for the weekend—a quick trip before beginning their four-week training as agents of The Lighthouse on Monday.

“Then that’s settled, too,” Will said.

“To new adventures,” Naya proposed.

“To new adventures.”