Chapter 20: Emily

Mother called me on Monday night while Patsy and I were watching "The Closer" on cable, and I was a little irritated, because I had been absorbed in the show. I signaled Patsy to turn on the DVR so that I could at least catch up, later, with Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson's doings.

"I hear you're in the market for a house," my mother said.

"Really? Where did you hear that?"

"Are you? Is it true?"

"Yes. It's true. How did you hear about it already?" I was doubly irritated now. Did my mother have my apartment bugged, or something?

"Your real estate agent's boss is the spouse of one of my law partners," she said. "I have connections everywhere."

"Evidently." I resolved to chew, hard, on my agent's ear about this, but I suppose her boss -- Mr. (or Mrs.) Spouse-of-Law-Partner, was the real culprit.

"Why the sudden interest in real estate?" Mom wanted to know.

"Stock market's in the toilet. Thought it would be a good investment."

"Does it mean you're planning to stay around the area, long-term? Go to grad school here, maybe?"

"Actually, Mother, I was thinking about following in your Ferragamos, and going to law school."

Now, why did I tell her that? Law school for me was, at best, a year away. Telling Mom about it now was premature, and it would just get her started.

"Really?"... I think that's... quite... wonderful... I think."

Her response didn't surprise me. I fully expected her to have some ambivalence about my new plan. On the one hand, she'd feel gratified that I was interested in lawyering -- of any variety. On the other, she'd worry -- some -- about what Daddy might think. Would he feel rejected? And supposing he did feel rejected? How would Mom feel about that? Good? Bad?... Both?

My parents were complicated citizens.

Her next question, too, was predictable. "Where would you go to law school?" she asked.

You'd think my Mom, high-powered Washington wheeler-dealer, might have gone to Harvard or Yale, right? At least Penn, or Chicago.

Actually, she'd gone to law school at the University of Wisconsin.

Hey, we've all got to start somewhere. I mean, Wisconsin had a perfectly good law school. It's just that -- now -- a quarter-century later, as the Next Generation, I was expected to progress beyond that level, standing as I did on the shoulders of my gloriously successful parents.

So (Mom was actually asking), what would it be, Emily Anne?... Harvard? Or Yale?

... And if I was going to Harvard (or Yale) why was I buying real estate in Arlington, Virginia?

"I'm thinking of applying at Georgetown Law, Mother. And maybe at George Washington, here in the District," I told her. "... And maybe George Mason, too, right here in Arlington... All the Georges."

"George Mason?" she said -- shocked into raising her voice an octave, on the "May" part of "Mason".

It was as if I'd suggested I might be considering selling my ass on a street corner in the District. I mean, George Mason was a State University.

Sort of like Wisconsin.

"The point is to learn to be a lawyer, Mother. Not just to build a resume."

She'd recovered her equilibrium. "I suppose Mason would be... convenient for you," she said dryly. So would the University of Phoenix, On Line.

She didn't say that last part, but I heard it.

God, my parents were stuffy people! They were going to just hate David Hooks! Even if I never ended up at George Mason, there was a good chance that Davey would -- if he followed through on his law school plans. It was, as Mother had observed, convenient. And if Davey became a Virginia resident, Mason would be relatively inexpensive. Mason's law school might even be willing to work with Dave on the kind of part-time-student schedule he would require, if he were going to keep playing ball.