Chapter 11

They drove back through West Virginia, detouring southward around the mountains and heading for Philadelphia via Washington and Baltimore.

"The Orioles are playing at home tomorrow night," Lois said. I figured we could drive to Baltimore and stop there tonight."

"What do we do all day tomorrow in Baltimore?"

"Sleep late, do a little sight-seeing, maybe take a nice afternoon nap, before the game."

"You're not always going to have all this much free time for playing, are you?"

Lois got serious. "No, I won't. Lawyers are famous for long hours, along with all the other unpleasant things we're famous for. My dad's firm is no exception, although they're pretty sensible, really, about such things. Compared to most, at least."

"When do you get back to the grind in earnest?"

"It won't really be 'getting back' to it, for me. Up to now, I've always been a part-timer at the office, and a student. I've just been piddling around, since graduation, and during the bar course. Now, it's time to start getting serious."

"Do you have to wait to hear from the Bar?"

"Not really. I can't sign any legal documents, or stand up in a courtroom and run my mouth, but in general I can start working on cases, do research, write briefs, and so on."

"So this is your little summer holiday, and then it's buckle-down time?"

"Right."

"I don't know where to begin, really, with my plans. It's kind of crazy, really."

"Do you have a computer? Are you on the 'net?"

"Sure."

"Well, why not start with researching schools of broadcasting. And after you find a couple of likely looking places, try to investigate how good they are. Remember, there are probably a lot of clunkers out there. And let me know your choices, too, and I'll ask around. There's probably someone in our law firm who'll know someone we can ask."

"Yeah, it would be nice to know I was choosing well."

"It's gonna cost, too. You have enough in reserve for tuition, and room and board?"

"Yeah, I've got enough -- unless it's even more expensive than I'm expecting."

"Of course, if you find something good right there in Philly, you're welcome to stay at my place, and save on expenses."

"As good as the fringe benefits are, staying at your place, I don't feel good about just moving in on you, so soon."

"To me, that's not a big thing to worry about," Lois said. "I'm already convinced we're compatible."

"Let me have the illusion of independence for awhile," Paul said. "It may be a waste of money, but I can pay my own way, and I'll feel better about it if I do."

"Anyway," Lois said, "I think it's pretty likely you'll have to go somewhere else -- maybe New York -- to find a really good broadcasting school."

"Hey, I want my own place, not my own town!"

"We'll work it out, wherever you have to go. It's a short-term thing. I don't think it's going to be like going to college for four years. I think we're talking weeks, or a few months, at a specialized school."

"I'm not looking forward to being too far away from you," Paul said. "Not for more than, oh, maybe six or seven hours at a stretch."

"Gotta be grown-ups, do the right thing."

"What if I go through all this and it turns out I get offered a broadcasting job in Butte, or Spokane, or someplace? Then what do we do?"

"I don't know, Paul. That would be tough to deal with. But don't borrow trouble, OK? For now, just keep your eye on what you're aiming at, and get ready to pull the trigger on Phase One."

"Good advice, Counselor. I guess you'll be getting about $250 an hour for that, pretty soon, huh?"

"Well, the firm will, anyway. They live off their young associates. Work them to death and pay them some paltry wage."

"What is your starting salary going to be, as a new lawyer?" Paul asked.

"Well, keep in mind, my dad's firm is a big one. He's one of 60 active partners."

"Yeah?"

"And there are about three hundred employees in the firm. It's a big operation."

"So how much?"

"Our starting associates are very high-ranking. They have the best resumes, they have exceptional records in law school. A lot of them have clerked for judges for a year or more."

"Is it a secret?"

"I'll be getting the same as most of the other new associates. Not quite as much as a couple of real all-stars we've hired. I'll get $110,000 a year."

Paul whistled. "Not bad! That's more than my signing bonus was. That's more than I ever made in a year."

"Well, yeah. It's more than most people make in a year. And if the firm does well, and I do well, it'll go 'way up," Lois said. "I agree, it's a nice place to be, at my age. But the work required -- it can be a real bear!"

"I hear you gotta sell your soul, too."

"Not me," Lois said. "One of the reasons I chose to join my father's firm was that they're better than most, when it comes to the soul-selling. Our firm is first-rate, all the way. We do loads of pro bono work, we have partners who are active in both major political parties and a couple of off-the-wall ones, and we have a well-developed set of really high ethical standards applicable to the firm -- tougher standards than those demanded by the Bar as a whole."

"You sound pretty proud of your Dad."

"Well, I am. But it's not just my Dad. I mean, he isn't the founder or anything. Just one of the partners. But he's a force, no doubt about it! A force for good."

"What's your Dad going to think about me?"

"What's not to like?"

"Get serious. Here's this super-successful man, and his one-and-only daughter, just getting ready to launch her career, and she comes up with Joe Ballplayer, from Pikeville. There's no way I can be what he has in mind for you!"

"You don't even know my Dad."

"No. But I know my Dad, and I know he was absolutely knocked on his ass by how charming you were, and how beautiful, and so on... But that didn't keep him from taking me aside and saying, 'You be careful, Son!'"

Paul was just getting wound up. "So why was ol' Dad so worried about me? Because he thought we were a pretty odd couple. He was -- hell, he still is -- worried that we might not make it as a couple, because of the enormous gap between us, economically. Socially."

"I don't think my parents are going to have that kind of reaction," Lois said.

"You ever bring a guy home, before?"

"Of course!"

"No, I mean, you ever bring home a man, and say, 'Hey, Mom, Dad, this is Joe Ballplayer. --Well, he was Joe Ballplayer -- in the minors, anyway, but a funny thing happened on the way to Camden Yards, and now he's come up a little short."

Lois pulled off the interstate and stopped the car. A succession of zooming fellow travelers were rocking her little Camry as the traffic went by at speed.

"Why'd you stop?"

"You've got me crying, and I can't see to drive!"