A Blossom of Bright Light by Suzanne Chazin Page A

real estate lawyer and small-time developer, he quickly rounded up local civic and business leaders and community activists and forced them to sit in the same room with one another. He charmed the Hispanic community with his stilted, gringo-accented Spanish and willingness to partake in their culture. And he rightly pointed out to business leaders that Latinos were reinvigorating a downtown that had been slowly dying as middle-class residents took their business to the malls.
    He could not change everyone’s heart, but he changed enough of them, and Lake Holly—unlike so many other towns faced with the same challenges—managed to emerge from the crisis stronger and, at least in Adele’s mind, better than it had been before.
    She admired him. She owed him. And so she stumbled about now for an answer. “I haven’t spoken to my daughter about the position yet. Moving to D.C., leaving La Casa, those are big decisions—”
    â€œAs opposed to what, Adele? Organizing mitten drives and English classes? Figuring out how to squeeze another year’s worth of life from your copier? God knows, I’m your biggest fan. And, God knows, I appreciate the work you’ve done at La Casa, the contributions it has made to the community. To the county. But it’s time to move on. You’re a Harvard-educated lawyer, a woman with the vision and courage to change the lives of a much broader group of Latinos than you could ever hope to staying in Lake Holly.”
    â€œI know. It’s just that—”
    â€œI’m sure you could find someone else to take over the reins there.”
    Yes, she could. She had several highly competent people working there now. They could keep the place running and take over the fund-raising. But who would handle all the little details? Who would remember to give the Serrano children extra snacks when they came for tutoring because their mom was dead and their dad was overwhelmed with the fact that he was facing deportation? Who would scavenge garage sales for old SAT prep books so that maybe—just maybe—Orestes Pilar had a shot at going to college? Who would buy a cake for Nataly Mejia, who was too proud to tell anyone her tenth birthday was coming up and her family couldn’t afford a celebration?
    But no. Even those weren’t the biggest reasons. The biggest reason didn’t know he was the biggest reason. She hadn’t told him.
    â€œI just need some more time, Steve. I mean, the election’s still several weeks away. And you won’t be taking office until January, and—”
    â€œI recognize a stall when I hear one, Adele. What are you afraid of?”
    â€œNothing—”
    â€œBecause this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s not every day you get the chance to shape policy on a national level.”
    Oh God . What wouldn’t she have given for a chance like this straight out of law school? Or even a couple of years ago, right after her divorce? And then he came along. And overnight, everything changed. No man had ever made her laugh harder or caused her body to tingle from head to toe when he entered a room. Was that what happened when you fell in love? Did you rearrange the evidence to suit the verdict like some small-town judge fixing speeding tickets?
    They didn’t belong together. Anyone could see that. He loved predictability. She craved excitement. He didn’t like his opinions scrutinized. She relished a good debate. He was methodical and practical. She preferred to think big and fill in the gaps later.
    He didn’t understand her job or why it mattered so much to her. He’d deny that if she said it. But she knew it in the way he sometimes drifted off when she was sharing some dilemma about a client, the way he’d grow restless at functions, jiggling his legs, jangling his keys, playing with his phone or his Swiss Army knife. He viewed work—any work, even his own—through