“No hard feelings?” Luisa Brant asks.
“None,” says Fred Hollister. Always Fred, Call-me-Fred, except on the nameplate he must have packed over the weekend, on which he had been identified as Frederick C. Hollister III.
Lu assumes her former boss is lying, but considers that a mark in his favor. Lies can be kind, and this one shows more character than Fred demonstrated throughout the fall, when he spoke what he believed to be unvarnished truths. Fred means that he hopes there will be no hard feelings eventually, that one day he will be able to forgive her for taking his job. Otherwise, why stop by at all? If he were truly angry, he wouldn’t show his face. Maryland politics is rife with stories of ousted state’s attorneys who purged computer files or persuaded the remaining deputies to undermine the new boss. Since Election Night Fred has been a class act.
“My family is going to Iron Bridge for dinner,” Lu says. “If you want to stop by and have a drink with us.”
“Your family?”
“Dad, my kids. AJ’s out of town again.”
He pretends to consider her offer.
“It would be nice,” Lu presses.
“It would look nice,” Fred says.
“That, too.”
Fred’s smile is genuine, if a touch wistful. “We’ll raise a glass. Soon, Lu.”
“Dad would love to see you. He thinks the world of you.” Even after the crappy things you insinuated about his daughter.
“And I’d love to see him. Only—not tonight. I’m happy for you. But I reserve the right to be a little unhappier for myself.”
“Hell, Fred, you must be awash in offers. I know at least two firms have tried to hire you since November and some of the big lobbyists in Annapolis are probably after you as well.”
“I’m not worried about finding work,” Fred says. “But, right now, I’m going to take a little time off. To spend time with my family.”
It takes her a beat to realize he’s consciously wielding that old cliché as a joke, so maybe she laughs a little too hard when she does catch on. Fred is a decent man at heart and an old friend. Lu started out with him in the Baltimore City state’s attorney office, was genuinely pleased for him when he moved out here and made the leap to top dog. Five years ago, at the lowest point in her life, he persuaded her to come out to Howard County and work for him, promising the flexibility she needed, a rare thing in the life of a prosecutor. Fred was a good state’s attorney, too, conscientious and passionate, and an excellent boss. But something happened in his second term. He did less and less trial work. He fumbled a case against a serial rapist, became gun-shy, refused to take on anything but dunkers. He was the boss, no one would have begrudged him the big trials. But his insistence on doing as little as possible in court—that had been galling to Lu on principle, even if it allowed her to flourish professionally. Fred lost his appetite for trial work. If he had been one of his own assistants, he would have fired himself long ago.
Still, it had been hard, deciding to run against him. Lu did what she did with most tough questions, sought her father’s counsel.
“What would you do if he wasn’t your friend?” he asked.
“That’s easy. I’d run.”
“Then not running is the real hypocrisy, isn’t it? If you think Fred has done a lousy job, but decline to run against him out of loyalty, then you’re saying your friendship with him matters more than the day-to-day criminal issues that come before this county. It’s as I’ve always told you, Lu—the state’s attorney’s office represents the community. Your obligation should be to the people of Howard County. What’s best for them?”
Her father always made everything sound simple. And her brother had agreed with him. “I like Fred, too, Lu. He was good to you at a time when you really needed a friend. But he’s had a bad couple of years, with cases reversed on appeal because of mistakes made by his office. I’m just surprised that more people aren’t gunning for him. Must be some sort of gentlemen’s agreement among the players in the Republican Party.”
“Well, as you know, I’m no gentleman,” she told AJ, who laughed and said: “No, but you used to dress like one. Remember that outfit you picked out when—”