Chapter 13

It was embarrassingly clear that Nora's newly minted confidence needed some tweaking—her attempts to be part of the gang at work were not landing. And then there was the conversation with Colton Morris from accounting in the break room that had left her feeling unsettled.

"Soooo," he'd said as he'd poured an obscene amount of sugar in his coffee, "you're a surfer."

"Not anymore." Nora chuckled at her joke. That was different about her—she could laugh at herself... sort of. She hadn't tested the limits of jocularity yet.

"But, like... why were you surfing?"

A sudden memory rushed back of her standing on the beach, the wind whipping her hair. She remembered how cold and wet the sand was beneath her bare feet, how she'd shivered in the freezing temperatures. But there were pieces of her memory she still couldn't quite grasp. What was it? She suddenly felt lightheaded, like she needed to sit down.

"Seems weird to me," Colton continued. "Never knew any female surfers."

"I am offended on behalf of female surfers, Colton. There are lots of them. I was surfing because I wanted to try it." But as she spoke, the fizziness turned thick in her head. She felt off-kilter—she'd wanted to try surfing? Since when?

"You just, what, suited up and got a board? Without taking lessons?"

The buzz erupted in Nora's chest and spread to her extremities. She was not going to pass out. "Actually, I don't remember anything about the accident," she said. And when she tried, some invisible vise squeezed her brain. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

"Interesting," Colton said dubiously. He'd wandered off, but later Nora heard him telling someone that "you don't just get on a surfboard without some training."

Was he right? Would she ever know? It was incredibly frustrating that she couldn't remember what had happened to her.

Colton's skepticism made her loathe this place even more. She had to keep her focus on her reverse bucket list or she'd lose hope, because so far, her job search had yielded exactly zero opportunities. She'd sent her updated résumé to a dozen different job listings, most that sought experience in different corners of the law. Unfortunately, the only thing she was qualified for was personal injury.

She'd also posted on a website called "Lost and Found in the ATX" that was devoted to helping Austinites find missed connections. The website fed the posts out to social media. Nora hoped the corner store guy might see himself on at least one of those platforms. But so far, her post had only fourteen likes. She thought she'd been so clever too—she'd used one of her better photos and styled the page like the old-school missed connection ads that would show up on Craigslist: You: tall guy with blue eyes in beanie and handmade scarf. Me: trench coat. Together in the corner store when it was robbed and then held hostage in the storeroom by Darth Vader. Sorry I never called. Would love to meet up and explain.

Every day she checked. Every day, nothing. It was disheartening.

She'd also seeded her little pots, which Nick's pamphlet said would produce shoots in five days. But so far, nothing. Incompetence seemed to be her middle name.

Lacey still was not calling her back. She'd been sending curt texts in response to Nora's calls. Can't talk now, talk soon. Or Rushing out the door call u ltr.

At least that was a response—Gus hadn't been picking up or acknowledging her texts. But this morning she finally got lucky and Gus picked up.

"Gus!" she cried with relief. "I've been trying to get ahold of you."

"Oh. What for?" He sounded groggy.

"I was hoping we could hang out."

"Hang out?" He repeated the words like they were a language he didn't understand.

"Maybe go to a movie or something?"

On the other end of the line, she thought she heard a disbelieving snort.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I'm... I'm busy. I mean, I'd love to go, but... I'll have to try to fit it into my schedule."

Since when did Gus have trouble finding time in his schedule? "What, you mean your job?"

"This is the busy time of the year."

She didn't know cell phone sales had a busy season. Gus was brushing her off, and her disappointment felt crushing. What did she expect? That he would suddenly make time for her when she'd never managed to make time for him? "Can you look at your calendar and maybe figure out a time we could get together?"

"Sure." He sniffed. "Listen, can I call you back? I've got another call."

He didn't have another call. She wasn't sure what to say. "Right. Talk soon," she said. She clicked off, dismayed.

The ghost of Nora would have pulled down the blinds and sunk into despair, but the new Nora was going to keep trying.

Gus and Lacey had always been sympathetic to her struggle with depression. But it was difficult for them to understand how the disease could affect her to the point that she just wasn't very good at being a person. Things that seemed so simple—like showing up when she said she would—could turn into a massive slippery hill she couldn't seem to climb.

She had to prove to them that she was truly different now. That she could be a part of their lives. That she could be fun (working on it) and trustworthy (give her a chance). That she was not despondent; she was happy(mostly?).

She tried Lacey again on her way out the door and left a message. "Lacey? It's me. You still haven't called me back. Which means I'm going to show up without an invitation. If that's something you wish to avoid, then you'd better call me back." She clicked off and tossed her phone into her purse. She headed for work, feeling the pain of their division but determined to fix it.

James was waiting in her office when she arrived. She strode in and set down her garden tote, which she was now carrying as a handbag.

James looked at it, then at her. "Really?"

"I'm telling you, these totes are perfect for the home andoffice. And I have all my bags on consignment." So far she'd made a whopping one hundred bucks.

"What?" James sounded horrified.

"Who's out of the betting pool today?" Nora asked, changing the subject.

"Melissa from Admin and Ted Franklin."

"Ted?"Nora was stung. "But he's so nice."

"He would have won a grand. Anyway, the case review meeting starts in ten minutes. I hope you looked at the bus file, because it's on the agenda," James said.

He was referring to a case where a charter bus had slid off a rain-slicked road. If by "looked at" James meant skimming it while inhaling a bag of chips, then yes, she had.

Nora made a quick cup of tea, then walked down the corridor to the executive conference room with the long, oval-shaped cherrywood table, surrounded by thickly padded executive chairs.

Her seat was always next to her father. She'd once suggested that she should sit against the wall like the staff lawyers since she was still rather new to the firm. Her father had snapped at her, "You're not a staff lawyer. You're going to inherit this firm, so start acting like it."

Stupid Nora had thought she was acting like it by being respectful of the experience in that room.

"Good morning, everyone!" she said sunnily as she entered, persevering in her quest to be the Nora she'd always wanted to be. No one responded. Her father's expression closed. He probably saw greeting coworkers with enthusiasm as weak.

She took her seat beside him and arranged her files and cup of tea in front of her, acutely aware of his hawklike gaze. In the Before, she would have come in feeling inadequate and tense, and would have sunk into a vat of self-doubt as the meeting wore on. But today she felt uncharacteristically indignant. Why was it so hard to like her? She finally turned her head to look at him. "What?"

"I think you know."

There was always plenty about her to disappoint dear old Dad—it was easier to accept that than try to guess what it could be.

The weekly meeting proceeded as usual. The man-eating sharks in the room reviewed cases where a personal injury may or may not have been severe but had all the necessary ingredients to win Big Money. None of the staff attorneys wanted to do these briefings—no matter how good they were, fault would be found. It was a particularly evil game they played at November and Sons.

Forty minutes in, Nora thought she was going to skate through and mentally sighed with relief. No one even looked at her until the bus case rolled to the top of the list. It was typical fare for November and Sons, a slam dunk, an easy win. The small charter bus company had been hired to collect some wealthy teens from summer camp and drive them back to Austin. Nora knew they were wealthy because she recognized some of the family names—the parents had dined at her parents' bimonthly Sunday night suppers. The bus had slid off a road and into a ditch, and some of the kids had been mildly injured, although nothing worse than a broken wrist.

The parents were suing the bus company for damages. According to the police report, there was evidence that the kids' rowdiness might have contributed to the accident. In other words, they'd distracted the driver. But that didn't matter at November and Sons—it only mattered that you win.

Her father said, "We'll hear from Nora."

Well, hell.The ancient, familiar thrumming began in her chest. It was her old companion, fear of failure, that ever-present confidence blaster that mixed with her blood and her breath. She sat up. She cleared her throat. She reminded herself that the ghost of Nora was dead—or at least in the throes of death, as Nora was working on a complete burial but wasn't there yet. At any rate, today the new Nora was in charge. "I'll let Andrea give the briefing. I've decided to give her first chair on this one."

Andrea Silver's head snapped up so fast, it was a wonder it didn't bounce right off her neck and out the window. She gave Nora a murderous glare. "Thank you," she said and opened her file.

When Andrea had finished her review and had offered her assessment of damages, David November shifted his gaze to Nora. "What do you think?"

She thought she hated these meetings. She thought she was through allowing these meetings to nauseate her with anxiety and self-loathing. She clicked her pen a couple of times. All eyes were on her, and the quake got worse. But she refused to play the part of the old Nora, jittery and queasy, second-guessing every word she said. No matter how hard she had to fight, she would not allow that Nora to be resurrected.

She looked her father directly in the eye and said, "It's not complicated. The driver had an accident. Kids said they were hurt, but they weren't, not really. Nevertheless, their parents are suing for damages and it sounds like Andrea has evaluated the suit and assessed those damages using our guidelines." Wasn't that the way these things went? She glanced around the table for approval, but none was forthcoming.

"So," her dad said smoothly, "your professional assessment is... what?" His voice was low and deadly, and the little army of fearful ants scrambled in her, rallying to make her sweat.

"My professional assessment? Mine is that we should not pursue this case. It's ambulance chasing." Holy hell, did she really just say that?"But I know that's probably not a popular opinion."

The room grew deathly quiet, and every employee locked in on David November.

He slowly leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against the table in a dull rat-a-tat-tat while he considered her, delaying his response because he liked to watch people squirm. Especially her. In the Before, this was the point at which Nora's insides would turn to mush and she'd perspire and stumble over her words. Astonishingly, the new Nora rallied. Her fear gave way to annoyance. Why the power trip, Dad?

Her father looked at her like he wished she were anyone else. Preferably Nathan, but really, anyoneelse.

And the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Perhaps we ought to make Andrea a senior attorney," he said.

"She'd be a good one."

Her father wasn't used to her talking back. He calmly returned his attention to the meeting and carried on as if nothing had happened, curtly correcting what Andrea had wrong about her assumptions.

Nora was aware of the slight tremble in her. But oddly, it felt like this time, the fear was forging some long overdue mettle.

When the meeting was over, her father commanded Nora to stay put. He closed the door behind the last person and turned to look at her, his arms akimbo, his expression thunderous. "Just what was that little display?"

She curled her fingers into a tight fist to steady herself—her rage was pounding at the door, demanding to be let out, ready to smash any fear and maybe even smash his face. "Well, Dad,Andrea is better prepared on this case than I am. I thought she did well."

His expression morphed from thunderous to surprised to infuriated. He took two long strides toward her and she stepped back, bumping into the table, her pulse racing with anger and terror at once. "That should have been yourassessment, Nora. It should have been you."

She'd been hearing some form of that refrain all her life.

"I'm done waiting for you to get over the accident. I want you up to speed on the bus case by Monday morning. Do I make myself clear?"

She could feel the corners of her mouth tip up in an ill-advised wry smile. "You always do."

His breathing turned a little ragged. David November hadn't struck her in a very long time, but sometimes she wished he'd go ahead and do it, because the anticipation of the blow she always expected had to be so much worse than the actual thing. How embarrassing it was to be thirty-one and feel eight years old every time he walked into a room.

At the thought of that, a surge of courage—or rage—electrified her. Nora lifted her chin. "Do it, Dad. If you want to hit me, just do it."

His jaw clenched. He didn't hit her. But he didn't deny he wanted to. He composed himself, ran his hand over his head. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

Ugh,that word again. "I'm fine."

"Should I call Dr.Cass?"

"What? No!" The suggestion that she needed help angered her. She was standing up for herself. Could he not see that? Or did he see it clearly and want to undermine her confidence?

He nodded slowly. Smugly. "Then let's get back to work," he said. "Maybe leave early today and get some rest." He gave her a brief, blistering scowl as he exited the conference room.

Nora watched him move down the hall. Her knees were shaking, and it was possible she might throw up... but the new Nora had just done something that the ghost of Nora had never been able to do—she'd stood up to her dad. And it felt awesome. Empowering. She was not so foolish as to think she would go unpunished for it—he would find a way to humiliate her when the time was right—but she didn't care. Right now she felt like King Kong.

She glanced at her watch. "Yikes," she muttered. She had fifteen things to do before the end of the day. She didn't want to be late for her first cooking class.