“Hello?” Bowie answered gruffly into the receiver.
“Where are you, man?”
Bowie paused. “Home, why? What’s up?”
Graham knew he wasn’t but chose not to dig deeper. “There’s been an accident,” Graham said hurriedly and with panic. “He’s so fucking stupid. The fucker took the trawler out, and it fucking capsized. Fucking rogue wave tipped the boat over. My dad, he’s heading out now, and my mom’s freaking out. I can’t get a flight until tomorrow.” The more Graham recalled the conversation with his father, the more worried and distraught he became. The boys were smart, raised better than to play with nature this way. Austin, of all people, knew better.
“Who?”
“Austin, man. Fucking Austin, and he’s gone!” Graham screamed.
“What do you mean?”
Graham paused. The word gone played over in his mind. Had he spoken too soon? What if Austin was perched on a buoy? Or clinging to a rock? He could be on one of the islands, waiting to be rescued.
“What do you mean, Graham?”
The line went dead before he could answer his friend. He had no time to call him back. He wanted to get on the road and get home to his family. He had one last call to make before he left, and that was to Rennie. Brooklyn would need her.
When Rennie’s roommate answered, Graham said, “Is Rennie there? This is Graham. It’s important.”
“Ren, for you.”
Graham counted the seconds until she picked up. “What’s up?”
“Austin’s been in an accident. I’m heading home.”
“Is Brooklyn okay?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You and I both know, wherever Brooklyn is, Bowie isn’t far behind. Now that he knows about Austin, he’ll be by Brooklyn’s side.” He let the words hang in the air. He and Rennie both suspected something was going on between their friends but never asked either of them. Graham recounted everything his father told him and heard Rennie start to cry. “I’ll call you when I get to town to let you know what’s going on.”
“I’m coming with. Can you pick me up?”
“I’ll be there in thirty.” He hung up and finished packing. He found one of his roommates and gave him a quick rundown of what was going on and called his boss, telling him what he knew and asking for the week off. He tried to remain positive, reassuring himself Austin would be found by the time he arrived home, and all this panic would’ve been for nothing.
ONE
Fifteen Years Later
Renee Wallace stood in front of her floor-to-ceiling window, peering out over the Seattle skyline. Her corner office in the First Bank Tower offered her the best view of her beloved city. Small drops of rain, some meeting together and streaking down the tinted windows, made the white and colored twinkling Christmas lights from neighboring buildings and apartments a blur. On a clear night, one she hadn’t seen in some time, the view from her office afforded her the ability to see the area of Queen Anne and the faint outline of homes on Bainbridge Island. She missed spring and summer. Even the crisp air and changing leaves fall brought. But it was the dark, dreary winter that kept her from admiring her beautiful city day in and day out. It had been days since she saw the sun, and she missed it. Rennie needed it and longed to be on a tropical island instead of looking out her window as she sipped the gin and tonic her assistant poured and left for her before heading upstairs to the Rhoads PC annual Thanksgiving feast, where Rennie should’ve been.
Sagging against the glass, she didn’t worry that it couldn’t hold her weight but was fearful that the emotional baggage she carried might crack the thick panes. She watched the office floor across from her and about eight floors down. Every so often someone would come to the table the other company had set up by the window and load up a plateful of food or make another drink. Her company hired a bartender, caterers, and a DJ to play music meant to get people in the spirit. Men and women would be dressed in black slacks and white shirts, carrying around silver trays, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres until the sit-down dinner was ready. You were expected to work the room with a smile. Laugh at Bob the copy guy’s corny dad jokes, which he had plenty of; feel sorry for Jenny’s third cousin, twice removed, because her bunion surgery didn’t go quite as planned. Mingle with that ever-annoying coworker you wouldn’t talk to on a normal day. Tonight’s party was one of three that would happen over the next few weeks. Happy faces all around. No moping, which was why Rennie had yet to join the festivities. Everyone upstairs was living it up, and she felt like she had nothing to celebrate.
By all accounts, she was a fierce lawyer, fighting for her clients and getting them everything she thought they were due. She did her job, her due diligence, and put in her time. She busted her butt for every promotion, being passed up each time for someone willing to kiss a little more ass, someone male. When her promotion had come and her boss asked to see her in the conference room, she had finally felt validated. She was the first woman in the law firm to hold the title of junior partner. She was quickly becoming the go-to divorce lawyer in the city, even though her specialty in college was family law. Her client base was slowly becoming what it had been when she’d lived in California, when she would sit second chair to some of the most powerful lawyers celebrities could hire. Spouses scorned by adulterous affairs. Tech giants who made it big after they were married and now wanted out. They were people married to their careers who had fallen out of love with each other. It was cases like the latter that Rennie preferred. She wanted to work with people to find a happy medium, a smart and healthy resolution for everyone. She hated fighting dirty but would when required. It was those cases, the ones where the media meddled too much because her client had a substantial portfolio or had invented the next best thing, that would catapult her to be the most sought-after divorce lawyer in the area. She would rise to the top and make partner faster than anyone else in the firm.
The day after her promotion, she saw her office for the first time. When she first walked in, she thought her boss was playing a cruel joke on her, possibly showing her what she could have if she were ever to make partner, because there was no way the corner office with a view of the city was hers. He paraded her around the room, showing her the wet bar, the kitchenette with a refrigerator hidden behind the mahogany cabinet and under the black granite countertop. There was a large bathroom that had a black-and-teal-tiled stand-up shower, complete with dual showerheads and the option to switch to the overhead rain shower just in case the Seattle drizzle wasn’t enough for her. The bathroom looked like something her best friend, Brooklyn Hewett, had designed. Attached to the bathroom were a dressing room and a space for her to keep extra clothes and shoes. Her boss referred to it as small, but the closet was bigger than her one-bedroom walk-up. The more she looked around, the more she surmised this office wasn’t for her. He was dangling a prize in front of her, something for her to work toward. To continue the tour, he told her that the couch pulled out into a sleeper in case she needed to stay the night. In that moment, she wanted it. She wanted it all. She could easily see herself spending countless hours in her office, watching the sun set over the sound. She could see her future, sitting at the large desk stained a rich dark brown that almost looked black, curled up on the leather couch under the afghan her grandmother knitted for her in case of a snowstorm. Her future was in this room, and it was within her grasp.