The Second Chair by John Lescroart

make it up by the end of the year. She was having a hard time, and understandably.
    All in all, Hardy felt that it was much preferable, and far easier, to pretend that all was well when that’s what it looked like. And Wu certainly still looked the part of hotshot young associate—she wore her hair short and cropped around her ears; her always-crisp business attire couldn’t be faulted. Besides, with an IQ of around one fifty, Wu could be firing on only half of her cylinders and still blow away a great deal of the competition. Or so Hardy chose to believe.
    Certainly he didn’t want to inquire too pointedly about her personal life. That was neither his job nor his inclination. But he was her boss, and at the very least he should be awake to nuances that might affect her performance.
    The real problem, he knew, was that he was having some nuances himself. He’d be damned if he was going to think about those much, either, but Wu had missed another day of work on Friday—if she kept her absences at anything like this rate much longer, she would have some difficulty making the firm’s annual hourly billing minimum. He really felt he had to say something. He sat back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. “You’ve got a law question,” he said.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Well, before we get to that, can I ask you a bit of a personal one?”
    Her face closed up. “Of course.”
    “How are you holding up?”
    “Fine,” she answered automatically.
    “I noticed you were out on Friday.”
    “I saw a client in the afternoon. The case I wanted to ask you about, in fact.”
    “Ah.” He scratched at his desk. “I just thought that if you wanted some time off, you could ask and get it, you know. Even an extended leave if you felt you needed it. Sometimes that’s a better idea than taking a day at a time, piecemeal.”
    “I’m fine. Really.”
    “Okay. I’m not meaning to pry. Just making the offer. The firm places a high value on you and your work, and if you feel like you’d be more productive after a bit of a break, we’d be happy to give you one, that’s all.”
    “I don’t think I need that. I’m just working through some stuff, sir.” She tried a game smile. “Getting used to the new world order.”
    “Okay, but if it gets tough and you change your mind, you can come in here. Anytime.”
    “Thank you.” Wu half turned her head to the door behind her. “But maybe you could mention that to Phyllis first, just in case.”
    A ghost of a smile played around Hardy’s mouth. “You said you got by her this time?”
    “Yes. But I cheated and watched from my office until she left her post and went to the bathroom.”
    Hardy nodded, his smile genuine now. “You know,” he said, “when David was still with us, sometimes I used to do that, too. I’d be hiding on the stairs just out of sight and wait for Phyllis to get up off her phones, then I’d zip across the lobby and get inside David’s lair before she could stop me. She hated it. It was great. But I must say,” he went on, “since then I’ve gotten some appreciation of why he kept her around, in spite of that slightly witchlike quality. The gatekeeping does serve a purpose. Me, I’m trying to emulate how David did things. Keep an open door.”
    “But he didn’t keep an open door.”
    “Exactly. Except when he did.” Hardy came forward and linked his hands in front of him on the desk. “He always said that if it was important enough to make me figure out how to get around Phyllis, it was important enough for him.”
    It was a challenge and a question, and Wu nodded. “Seventeen-year-old kid up for double murder. How’s that?”
    “If that’s the case you wanted to ask me about, I’d say it’s good enough.” Hardy sat back, his own face tightening down. “Tell me about it.”
    Wu settled into her leather chair and gave him the short version.
    When she finished, Hardy didn’t move for a while; then he brought himself up to his desk, ready