page? Or go another mile until I find out …” I swallowed as if I were the one downing a six hundred–calorie breakfast. “I just keep going deeper and deeper with God and I want to make sure that’s not too much for Chief.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
I raked my hands through my hair.
“You’re afraid to do that, too.”
“I’m terrified.”
Hank pushed the plate aside. “One thing I’ve learned in my marriage to Joe: if you can’t talk about everything with your partner without being afraid, you aren’t going to make it. You’ve faced thugs in dark alleys and dragged prostitutes out of darker ones, and yet you’re afraid to talk to the man who is so crazy about you he’d cut off that ponytail if you asked him to.”
“I’m a mess.”
“We all are. But you less than most because you get the big time Nudges.” She patted her mouth with a napkin. “I want to go back to ‘go another mile.’”
“Anywhere, as long as it takes me someplace,” I said.
“You know where that expression ‘go the extra mile’ comes from?”
“The Sermon on the Mount.”
“‘If somebody asks you to go one mile, go the next mile too.’ I’m paraphrasing, but that’s basically it.”
“Why didn’t I even think to look that up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re trying to do about sixteen things at once.”
I glanced at my watch. “Aw, man, I’m supposed to be meeting with Chief right now.”
“Perfect timing.”
“I don’t know about that. We’re going to talk about my personal finances.”
Hank’s eyes bulged. “Whose idea was that?”
“Bonner’s.” I put up both hands. “I’m not asking Chief to handle them. I’m just hoping he’ll know somebody who can.”
Hank waited again.
“Okay,” I said, “and then I’ll be less strung out and I can look this up and talk to Chief and stop freaking out.”
“You’re killin’ me, Al,” she said. “You’re killin’ me.”
Between Sacred Grounds and the Wells Fargo Building around the corner there wasn’t a whole lot of time to contemplate the Sermon on the Mount. If anything, I needed a Sermon on the A mount. The morning heat hadn’t picked up enough to account for the fact that I was sweating like Miss Piggy. Just the thought of dealing with money did that to me.
The ground floor of the building was occupied by the Wells Fargo Bank, spacious and high-ceilinged and reeking wealth. The first thing visible as I passed through the heavy glass doors off the sidewalk was the massive vault, trimmed in conservative brass with just the right amount of intricacy in its hardware. My father always said having the vault in the front showed the bank as an institution of integrity and trust. I’d once told him I wasn’t sure he’d have known those two things if they bit him in the behind. One of the many reasons he left me out of his will.
Chief’s office suite was on the third floor facing the long, rectangular park known as the Plaza that stretched between the two one-way streets, Cathedral Place and the “good” end of King Street. This office had a higher class factor than his previous digs. When he invited Kade in they’d needed more space as well as better visibility, although the modest sign on the door that said simply “Ellington and Capelli, Attorneys at Law” wasn’t exactly a billboard.
Inside, their secretary, Tia Davies, continued the understated tone. She was only in her early fifties, but she carried on the pre-Baby Boomer traditions of having her graying hair washed, set, teased, and sprayed into a helmet every Monday afternoon and wearing panty hose even in the summer. I could always count on Tia to have Kleenex, breath mints, and a double dose of decorum.
“Mr. Ellington is just about ready for you, Ms. Chamberlain,” she said when I entered the outer office.
She offered me coffee, which I turned down, and a tweed and leather chair, which I accepted, and looked at me with perfectly
“Have you talked to him about it?”
I raked my hands through my hair.
“You’re afraid to do that, too.”
“I’m terrified.”
Hank pushed the plate aside. “One thing I’ve learned in my marriage to Joe: if you can’t talk about everything with your partner without being afraid, you aren’t going to make it. You’ve faced thugs in dark alleys and dragged prostitutes out of darker ones, and yet you’re afraid to talk to the man who is so crazy about you he’d cut off that ponytail if you asked him to.”
“I’m a mess.”
“We all are. But you less than most because you get the big time Nudges.” She patted her mouth with a napkin. “I want to go back to ‘go another mile.’”
“Anywhere, as long as it takes me someplace,” I said.
“You know where that expression ‘go the extra mile’ comes from?”
“The Sermon on the Mount.”
“‘If somebody asks you to go one mile, go the next mile too.’ I’m paraphrasing, but that’s basically it.”
“Why didn’t I even think to look that up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re trying to do about sixteen things at once.”
I glanced at my watch. “Aw, man, I’m supposed to be meeting with Chief right now.”
“Perfect timing.”
“I don’t know about that. We’re going to talk about my personal finances.”
Hank’s eyes bulged. “Whose idea was that?”
“Bonner’s.” I put up both hands. “I’m not asking Chief to handle them. I’m just hoping he’ll know somebody who can.”
Hank waited again.
“Okay,” I said, “and then I’ll be less strung out and I can look this up and talk to Chief and stop freaking out.”
“You’re killin’ me, Al,” she said. “You’re killin’ me.”
Between Sacred Grounds and the Wells Fargo Building around the corner there wasn’t a whole lot of time to contemplate the Sermon on the Mount. If anything, I needed a Sermon on the A mount. The morning heat hadn’t picked up enough to account for the fact that I was sweating like Miss Piggy. Just the thought of dealing with money did that to me.
The ground floor of the building was occupied by the Wells Fargo Bank, spacious and high-ceilinged and reeking wealth. The first thing visible as I passed through the heavy glass doors off the sidewalk was the massive vault, trimmed in conservative brass with just the right amount of intricacy in its hardware. My father always said having the vault in the front showed the bank as an institution of integrity and trust. I’d once told him I wasn’t sure he’d have known those two things if they bit him in the behind. One of the many reasons he left me out of his will.
Chief’s office suite was on the third floor facing the long, rectangular park known as the Plaza that stretched between the two one-way streets, Cathedral Place and the “good” end of King Street. This office had a higher class factor than his previous digs. When he invited Kade in they’d needed more space as well as better visibility, although the modest sign on the door that said simply “Ellington and Capelli, Attorneys at Law” wasn’t exactly a billboard.
Inside, their secretary, Tia Davies, continued the understated tone. She was only in her early fifties, but she carried on the pre-Baby Boomer traditions of having her graying hair washed, set, teased, and sprayed into a helmet every Monday afternoon and wearing panty hose even in the summer. I could always count on Tia to have Kleenex, breath mints, and a double dose of decorum.
“Mr. Ellington is just about ready for you, Ms. Chamberlain,” she said when I entered the outer office.
She offered me coffee, which I turned down, and a tweed and leather chair, which I accepted, and looked at me with perfectly
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