Alejandra had a cousin in the real estate business, who helped Jenna find the perfect place to start her life over. It was a whitewashed stucco house with a red tile roof, behind a tall gate, situated on a small rise on the outskirts of the town, with a beautiful view of the mountains. It had a shady courtyard with a burbling fountain, and grounds lush with fruit trees and birds of paradise. The moment she stepped into the tiled hall, with its carved wooden ceilings and turmeric-colored walls, she felt like she’d come home.
Jenna bought it, taking up residence with her daughter. And while they still kept to themselves, the local people now understood, and felt sympathy. They had nothing but contempt for a man who’d mistreat his wife. Without being asked, and by tacit agreement among themselves, they kept a wary eye out for any Americans asking nosy questions. Jenna and her little girl, Grace, could live life in peace.
40
The sun broke through the clouds over Harvard Yard, lighting the last bright leaves that clung to the ancient trees. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and Danny was coming home that night. In a couple of hours, Madison would go to South Station to meet his bus. Mom had returned from New York, bringing Aunt Nilda with her. They were at Mom’s apartment right now, cooking like maniacs. Turkey with all the trimmings, lech?n with black beans and rice, two pies, and arroz con dulce. Exams were over, and she’d passed by the skin of her teeth. If future employers questioned her uncharacteristically weak performance that semester, she would point to the shocking death of her professor and mentor, Kathryn Conroy, who’d leaped into the Charles River under fire from the FBI. The final exam for Judge Conroy’s Fourth Amendment seminar had been canceled, with every student receiving a pass and an offer of counseling.
She ought to be celebrating. No charges would be brought against her. Danny’s charges had been not only dropped but expunged. He was a free man with a clean record, as he should be. Wallace and Logue were dead, killed in the crossfire on the bridge. Nancy was under arrest. Yet as she hurried toward the law school, late for a meeting, Madison’s stomach was in knots. She hadn’t slept soundly since leaping from that bridge. The judge was constantly on her mind. She couldn’t stand not knowing her fate. And that wasn’t the only thing making her nervous. She’d received a strange email asking her to report to the Financial Services Office regarding her financial aid.
She was ushered in immediately to meet with a financial services officer, who sat behind an L-shaped desk, turned sideways in her chair with her eyes on the monitor, not making eye contact. A bad sign.
“We close in twenty minutes,” the woman said. “I need to pull up your file right away or there won’t be time to complete your paperwork.”
“There must be some mistake. I filed my FAFSA last June. My paperwork is complete.”
“No mistake. Circumstances have changed. ID number, please.”
She recited it from memory. The woman typed. Madison tried to speak, but she held up her hand, peering at the screen.
“Please, you’re making me nervous. Changed how?” Madison said.
The woman finally looked at her. “Sorry, I assumed you knew it’s good news. You applied for this, right?”
“For what?”
“The Lucy Katz Memorial Award? You were chosen as the recipient.”
Lucy Katz. Lucy Cats. Kathryn Conroy.
“The— Oh. Lucy Katz. Yes. Lucy Katz, of course.”
The judge was alive.
She started to cry. The woman pushed a box of Kleenex across the desk toward her.
“It’s nice to see happy tears in here for a change. You know it’s a full ride, right?”
Shaking her head, Madison struggled to get control of herself.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Well, lucky you. This is one of the best scholarship packages I’ve ever seen. Full tuition retroactive to the beginning of law school, plus a generous stipend that can be used for living expenses during summer internships and any and all professional development expenses, including but not limited to training courses, bar review, tutoring, and—get this—wardrobe.”
“Wardrobe?”
“Yeah, you can buy clothes with it. I wouldn’t mind a scholarship like that myself.”
Madison laughed through her tears. Of course the judge would think of that.
“Now, if we can just get this paperwork filled out, I’ll cut your first stipend check. Somebody’s going to have a very happy Thanksgiving.”
* * *
The name of the scholarship was an inside joke, but also a reminder of something important left undone.