Every Serengeti Sunrise. Rula Sinara
this was a work trip, she’d barely have time to see her family.
However, the color creeping up the back of Patrick’s neck did remind her of a sunrise over the Serengeti, or better yet, the vibrant red dress of a warrior in the Masai Mara. She tipped her chin up ever so slightly.
“Yes, sir. The Native Watch Global case.” The one she had yet to be fully briefed on. The one that, incidentally, had nothing to do with Patrick. Maybe he was being sent to their London office for something related?
“I had Helen book your tickets. I’m assuming you’ll be able to stay with your family while there.” Mr. Levy passed an envelope down to her via Patrick. “We need you to leave on Wednesday. I trust that all works for you?”
About a week sooner than expected, but did she have a choice?
“Of course,” Maddie said as she opened the envelope. That wouldn’t give her enough time to check on her grandparents a few hours west of Philadelphia. She’d call them. She also needed to drop by the store and get a slow-release vacation feeder for her Betta fish. She pulled the ticket out of the envelope.
“Patrick,” Mr. Levy continued, “I’ll need you to take over this Clear Lake discrimination case in her absence.”
Everything registered in the same second. The dates on the ticket. Mr. Levy turning her stack of blood, sweat and tears over to the enemy. Maddie’s feet went cold.
“Sir. I think there’s a mistake with the tickets. These have me gone a month. I was only supposed to be in Nairobi for a week. I think I’ve given you everything you need for now on the Clear Lake case, but I’ll have my computer with me if you need anything else.”
It had better be a mistake. She didn’t care if she sounded territorial; she couldn’t lose that discrimination case to Patrick. It had high-profile written all over it. If she helped propel her seniors to victory on it, it would build their confidence in her and, in turn, increase her chances of eventually making partner. Handing all her work over to the twerp was worse than a slap in the face. The corner of Patrick’s mouth curved up as he flipped through her files.
“I’m afraid we need you overseas longer than we previously thought,” Mr. Levy said. “Patrick, I’d like you to familiarize yourself with that paperwork, then return it to me after lunch. Today. I want you on the same track we’ve been on with it. This won’t add too much to your workload, given the Kline-versus-Boone case is over. I must say, I love a victory.”
“Absolutely, sir. I won’t disappoint with this one, either.”
You won’t disappoint because I did all the work.
She wanted to scream. She folded her hands on the table in as poised a manner as possible, crossed her legs and let her dangling foot buzz back and forth like a hovering hornet, itching to sting someone. Patrick sat back, all smug, in his chair.
“Feel free to get started on that right now, Mr. Cole.” Mr. Levy gave him a raised brow. Patrick jumped up and gathered his—no, her—assignment.
“Of course. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Levy. I’ll have this back to you today.” He hesitated briefly on his way out of the conference room. “Have a safe trip, Maddie. Say hello to your family for me.”
Maddie’s foot kicked up speed, but she managed to keep her lips sealed shut and her look composed from the waist up. What a phenomenal jerk. He didn’t know or care one iota about her family. He just wanted to emphasize to Mr. Levy that he’d be working hard while she’d probably waste time in Kenya lounging around with her siblings. Having younger brothers had helped her develop a certain level of immunity to button-pushing, but this kind of insidious workplace manipulation just irked the—
Her shoe flung off her foot and hit...something...with a thud.
Oh, God. Please, not Mr. Levy’s leg. Anything but the leg.
Mr. Levy frowned at her. Maddie smiled back, big and bright. She was toast.
She ducked her head under the table. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. Her heart eased back into its normal position. Her shoe had only knocked the table’s Federal-style leg. Hopefully the grooves would hide any nicks. She stretched her leg and managed to get her foot back in the pump, hands-free.
“Sorry about that. Umm...new shoes. They, uh, don’t fit well.”
He nodded as if that all made perfect sense. Then again, he was married. She’d seen the boutique heels his wife paraded around in whenever she dropped by the office. Shoes Maddie could never afford. Maybe it did make sense to him. She curled her toes in the knockoffs that were doing absolutely nothing for her confidence.
“Better take a more sensible pair to Kenya. You won’t be walking in the city,” he said.
“About that. With all due respect, I can handle both cases. I’m the one who brought the Clear Lake discrimination situation to our attention. I did all that research. The people involved know my name and face and—”
“And you’ve done a remarkable job with it. That’s in part why I personally recommended you for the Kenya case. Listen...” He folded his arms and sighed. “I understand your frustration. I was at your stage in my career once, more years ago than I care to mention. Everyone wants a high-profile case, or at least one that’s bigger than the rest. The Native Watch Global case may or may not be big in terms of headline news, but it’s significant in terms of humanitarian impact. When I interviewed you out of school, you made it clear you were interested in human-rights law.”
“I am.”
“Good. Because NWG is counting on us. What’s happening with Kenya’s native tribes—the Masai, in this case—is very similar to the type of land loss or encroachment our own Native Americans are still suffering. And on top of the tribe’s desperation, a more recent proposal was submitted to increase punishment for defending their crops against destruction by wildlife. Our barristers at the Nairobi office are currently inundated with other cases. Of course, they’ll still handle any actual court appearances with this one, as required by law there. However, they need the extra manpower in gathering firsthand research to counter this proposal before it goes to the Kenyan cabinet for approval.”
Maddie placed her hands on her laptop and nodded. Manpower. More of the same work, only overseas. It was like being a ghostwriter. A behind-the-scenes ghost lawyer. And they were getting off without paying for a hotel, to boot. She took a deep breath and was assaulted by the overuse of air freshener in the old building.
This case was absolutely a critical one. She couldn’t argue with that. She understood the cause and loved Kenya and its people. She really did. But the difference between being a lowly junior lawyer in the US and being one in Kenya was that her family was over there. She loved her family, but an entire month under the same roof? She hadn’t lived there since she was eighteen. A whole month under the watchful eye of her overprotective dad, her medical doctor mom...and her brothers.
Chad had made their dad proud by following in his footsteps and joining the marines. Ryan would be headed to college soon and said he wanted to study medicine like Hope. Maddie felt a bit sorry for Philip, Hope and Ben’s only child together, whom Maddie adored. He was only fourteen, and she could tell from his emails that he was feeling the pressure of keeping up with everyone else. As for Maddie, on one level she knew her accomplishments were great. She’d worked hard because she always felt the need to prove herself. Success meant getting out from under her dad’s umbrella. Sometimes his protectiveness and worry came off as critical no matter what she did. And now, he’d get to see firsthand how she was barely getting by as a lawyer, let alone excelling. She’d handled shorter holidays in the past with skillful maneuvering around certain topics of conversation. And those trips had been about kicking back. But a monthlong work trip was enough for everyone to catch on to the fact that she was basically a nobody. And then, heaven forbid, the career advice would start pouring in.
She shifted in her chair and put her hands in her lap, noticing belatedly that she’d left sweaty handprints on her matte laptop cover. Mr. Levy