The hostess seated them at the far edge of the softly lit bar area, at a small marble-topped table. Music played in the background, mingling with the low buzz of conversation. Judge Conroy shrugged out of her plaid coat, smiling.
“It’s so nice being here with you. I really feel that we connect.”
Madison lit up. “Me too.”
But when they loaded the menu on their phones, she got a shock. Damn, she couldn’t afford this place.
“I’m thinking an omakase platter to share, and a bottle of sake. How’s that sound?” Judge Conroy asked.
Her brow scrunched. “Well, it’s just … I bought lunch out, and I—”
“Oh, my treat, of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“Madison, I’m not a million years old. I remember what it felt like to be a broke law student.”
“Then, thank you. I’m very grateful.”
“Thank you for accompanying me. I know women are supposed to be cool eating alone in fancy restaurants, but I always feel conspicuous. It’s nice to have a companion.”
They ordered, then got to chatting. The trial happening in the judge’s courtroom. How one of the jurors kept falling asleep. The lawyer who appeared to have a flirtation going with her young associate. And so on. It was fun. So much fun that she didn’t want to spoil it.
The waitress brought the sake on a tray with two miniscule cobalt-blue glasses. The judge poured with a ceremonious flourish and then threw hers back like a shot.
“Cheers,” she said, her cheeks pinkening.
Madison followed suit and gasped, tears coming to her eyes. She’d been expecting a hot, oily drink. But it was ice cold, fruity, as bracing as gin, and went immediately to her head.
The judge laughed. “Powerful stuff, huh?”
She nodded, choking.
Judge Conroy poured her another, and she downed it. They were tiny glasses after all, and it was Friday night. Being out with the judge, she didn’t want to seem like a lightweight or a prude. After the third glass, her head was spinning. If Judge Conroy had kept up with her, it didn’t show. Other than two spots of color burning in her pale cheeks, the judge seemed completely unaffected.
The sushi platter arrived and was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, the pieces expertly arranged, colorful as jewels in a velvet case. The room shimmered and swayed through her alcohol haze, the conversation flowing like the sake. It was a mind meld. They were kindred spirits who’d gone to the same high school, college, and law school （albeit twenty years apart）。 They talked about their favorite teachers. About the cliques at Catholic Prep, and where they fit into them—or didn’t. The judge claimed to have been a late bloomer socially, awkward as a teen, which Madison couldn’t believe, looking at the woman now. Was she really more popular in high school than Kathryn Conroy had been? That somehow led to a discussion of how men treated women in law school, and in the legal profession, and if that differed depending on whether the women were perceived as attractive, the underlying assumption being that they both fell into that category. Then on to how to dress for success. What clothes they liked. What books they read. Bliss. She imagined her friends wandering in and seeing them together. Not just any friends. Ty and Chloe in particular, because if she tried to tell them about this, they’d say, Pics or it didn’t happen. Well, it was happening—a heart-to-heart over delicious sushi with the woman she idolized. And the best talk she’d had with anyone in ages.
The sushi was gone. The judge ordered a piece of chocolate fondant cake for them to share, though didn’t touch it. She was busy showing off photos of her cat. With ink-black fur and seafoam eyes, the cat looked like a witch’s familiar.
“She’s gorgeous.”
“Matthew gave her to me when she was a tiny kitten. You should’ve seen her when she was little, so precious. I wish I had those photos on here.”
“Matthew? That’s your husband?”
A sudden sheen of tears appeared in the judge’s eyes. Shit, what was I thinking? She’d upset the judge, who put her phone away.
“Let’s get the check,” she said.
She signaled for the waitress, and Madison’s stomach went hollow. This magical evening would end on a sour note because she’d said a stupid thing.
“I’m so sorry, Judge. I shouldn’t’ve—”
“No, it’s no problem. It’s just late.”
“I screwed up.”
“Madison, it’s fine.”