He said, “It doesn’t usually start as a direct conflict. Or so I’ve learned while defending white-collar professionals. Few have bad intentions. It starts as: we need to get business done. What’s the risk tolerance? Isn’t this a judgment call? What’s the risk of liability? And the risk tolerance moves down the sliding scale.”

Audrey thought about how to respond. Outside, it was snowing. The weather channel had been predicting a blizzard with possibly five feet of snow.

“Yes,” she said. “I do understand that—especially based on the white-collar cases I’ve done. I’m well aware of that risk, so that will help. I’m truly excited for this new opportunity. It was a hard choice because I worked so hard to become partner here and I’ll miss all my colleagues, but I don’t think I can pass this up.”

He nodded. “I wish you all the best then. It’s been a true pleasure working with you, and we will really miss you. You are a role model to many of the associates and partners here, and I was expecting you to have quite a positive impact on this firm.”

Touched by his gracious good wishes, she shook his hand and said thank you.

She stopped by Whitaker’s office to tell him she was leaving. He looked sad. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’re one of the good ones. I’ve been telling them for years that you can’t hire thoroughbreds and then treat them like workhorses.” He smiled suddenly. “We can have a joint departure party.”

“I’d like that,” Audrey said.

As she walked out of his office, she checked her gut to confirm that she still felt it was the right decision. She did. She had loved working here, loved the challenges and the camaraderie, but if she could have that type of legal work at Popflicks, in a warm and nurturing environment, with a life outside of the office? She was going to grab that opportunity with both hands.

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-One

T he snow was falling thicker now, blanketing New York City in white fluff. Outside in the garden, white snow covered the tops of the branches of the elm tree, contrasting with the underside of its dark boughs, as if outlining each limb and shoot. Even through the cloudy sky, the warm lights beckoned from the windows of neighboring houses, Christmas tree lights sparkling through the swirling snowflakes.

Audrey stood in her purple and blue cotton pajamas, gazing out her sliding glass door at the snowfall in her backyard. At least two feet had piled up against the sliding door. Watching the flurries, she felt that excited little-kid-on-a-snow-day exhilaration.